Göz Lokumu

Regular visitors to Aman Yala will know that many of my entries focus on art and music. I write about a genre of Greek music known as Rembetika and also works of art, some well know and others lesser known, that strike me as homoerotic or simply celebrate the beauty of the male form.

The point of these posts is not to mimic an encyclopedia entry. I often provide some basic background information usually in the form of historical context or biographical information about the artist. However, that information is secondary, and those who wanting a more thorough or academic treatment should probably look elsewhere, perhaps Wikipedia.

The purpose of these posts is simply to share my subjective response to the work, my observations and feelings when I see or hear the work in question. Naturally, a different person might respond differently. S/he might make different observations, might think and feel something different than I do. For example, a man might look at the Mona Lisa and be reminded of his wife, or mother, or co-worker. Such is the evocative power of art. Moreover, those who are not interested in my observations are under no obligation to read further.

Now that I’ve said that, I’ll turn to September’s Göz Lokumu. As you might recall from a previous post, I recently visited the Musée d’Orsay in Paris. I was frankly blown away by their collection and I took many photographs (don’t worry, it’s allowed). I suspect that some of the works I photographed will show up in future Göz Lokumu posts.

The museum’s central barrel vault features an impression sculpture collection with a few by sculptor Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) thrown in. One of them, The Age of Bronze (1877), is shown above. His John the Baptist (1878) can be seen in the background.

If you like lean, muscular builds, then you’ll like The Age of Bronze. I stood looking up at the fig-leaf clad figure for several minutes, my gaze lingering over his abdomen and then drawn upwards past his navel, to his chest, into his armpit, and then over to the rapturous look on his handsome face.

Is he waking up? Is he bathing? It’s not clear. What I see, however, is pleasure. I see none of the agony suggested by the work’s earlier title, The Vanquished. I do not see the dejection observed by the anonymous critic writing for L’Etoile Belge (January 29, 1877), which caused him to write that “it seems as if the artist wanted to represent a man on the point of committing suicide.”

For The Age of Bronze, Rodin chose a twenty-two year old Belgian soldier, Auguste Neyt (shown left). When the sculpture was first displayed in Brussels, critics were suspicious of its incredible realism and accused Rodin of making a cast from a live model, a charge that caused him no small amount of anguish. Rodin vigorously defended himself against the rumors, which followed him to Paris. He made sure that his next sculpture was larger than lifesize.