I thought about doing something sarcastic, tongue in cheek, a joke...something clever. But I decided to go against that because I have this blog, see, this other blog that I sometimes devote attention to but mostly ignore like a red headed step child. Actually, I adore red heads, so maybe an Asian step child. We don't need love since we don't have souls.
Anyway, I thought I'd go ahead and share my favorite sculpture, something I intended to do over there on that blog, but since I hate it and all, I'll share it here first.
*pets Nerdy Rabbit* Yes, mummy loves you best.
Skipping all the historical blab that you can surely click for yourself, yes, this is basically a statue monumenting a Greek god attempting to rape a feminine figure. Someone will probably ask me to revoke my feminist card for this, but just hear me out. Considering that the subject matter is so old and is a depiction of a myth AND was created in a time where the feminist ideals we hold dear today were hundreds of years away from being conceived, I'm going to give it a pass.
Plus I just think it's kind of hilarious that Apollo's wood is being cock blocked by Daphne turning into wood.
What I love most about this statue is the technical achievements Bernini was able to produce as well as obviously conveying artistry through how fluid the figures are. Normally sculpture tend to be very ridged because, hey, they're made of rock, and rock is hard to work with, and the more straight lines, the better. But Bernini clearly said to hell with that! and made the whole thing move. Move. It's like a Matrix action sequence permanently stuck on pause.
It's hard to see from this photo, but on top of that, Bernini went all balls out in displaying his technical skills. Notice the drapery wallowing around Apollo's midriff, Daphne's turbulent curls, her entire lower body texture as tree bark, and finally, my favorite bit, her fingers turning into leaves. Leaves that were sculpted so thin that light bleeds through, like real leaves.
The Baroque era often has many negative stigmas attributed to it, and some for rather good reasons (it is fairly gaudy as hell, though not quite as bad as Rococo which would probably suit Edward Cullen quite nicely), but it capitalizes on the idea and continuation of depicting realism in artwork that the Renaissance started.