The Story of Art (thoughts)

(Note from Eva: the small pictures decorating the space between the pagraphs are thumbprints of my favourite art shown in the book; click to enlarge them, and scroll to the bottom to find a complete list.) I first came across The Story of Art by E.H. Gombrich while reading his children’s book A Little History of the World (which I’m still moving slowly through!). In the little author bio, it mentioned that he’s best known for his art history primer The Story of Art. Since I often wished I could take an art history class in college, I immediately perked up. And when I saw the Art History Challenge, I signed up and put this one at the top of my list. I was so excited to read this, I checked it out of the library right before New Year’s, since I knew it wouldn’t be open on the 1st. And as soon as that clock hit midnight, I broke open the book (I tend to avoid partying on New Year’s…I’d rather be with my family or a few close friends, quietly doing our own things, then coming together for a toast).

You know how, sometimes, when you have really high expectations, the book falls flat? Well, The Story of Art lived up to every single one of my expectations.

First of all, I was very intimated, because it’s over 600 pages and a big hardcover (I think it’d beat my War and Peace in a brawl). So in case you feel similarly, let me tell you not to worry! There are a ton of pictures in the book, so it’s not actually 600 pages of text. And for the text, the font is a reasonable size (you know how sometimes academic books need magnifying glasses? not this one!) and the writing style is very accessible. As someone who knew nothing about art history going in to this, I never felt confused or in over my head, just enthusiastic and curious. It’s like having coffee with a really intelligent professor, who’s chatting with you about his favourite topics.

Speaking of the pictures, possibly my very favourite thing about the book is the way it’s laid out. All of the pictures are high-quality cover, and since there are so many the pages all have a great glossy feel. And there are several fold-outs! Most importantly, the picture of the art is on the same page or facing one of the text discussing it. Gombrich talks in his preface about how this made publication more difficult, but he found it to be essential and I completely agree. There’s no flipping around or anything, which is great.

As for the scholarship, as a newbie to the art history field, I definitely don’t have a critic’s eye. But there were a few things I really liked abotu Gombrich’s style. First of all, he continually said that even though he’s presenting the ‘story’ in chronological order, that doesn’t mean the artwork of the 1800s is at all ‘better’ than the 1600s, just different. I think it’s easy in Western cultures to get caught up in the idea of Progress, so I loved that Gombrich tookthe time to deflate that, and he did it more than once. And I just love his whole attitude towards the subject; here’s how the introduction starts out:

There really is no such thing as Art. There are only artists. Once these were men who took coloured earth and roughed out forms of a bison on the wall of a cave; today some buy their paints, and design posters for hoardings; they did and do many other things. There is no harm in calling all these activities art so long as we keep in mind that such a word may mean very different things in different times and places, and as long as we realize that Art with a capital A has no existence. For Art with a capital A has come to be something of a bogey and a fetish. You may crush an artist by telling him that what he has just done may be quite good in its own way, only it is not ‘Art.’ And you may confound anyone enjoying a picture by declaring that what he liked in it was not the Art but something different.
Actually I do not think that there are any wrong reasons for liking a statue or a picture.

I’m so glad he’s not a snob. :) At the same time, he pushes the reader, reminding them to not write off a piece of art simply because it isn’t immediately beautiful.

The rest of the book looks at how art has changed, beginning with cave drawings, moving quickly to the ancient world of Egypt and then Greece, all the way up through modern times. I will say that the book is heavily focused on Europe; there are a few chapters on Asia, the Middle East, etc., but the majority of chapters deal with Europe from England to Italy. So if you’re not super-interested in European art, this probably isn’t the book for you. But for anyone who’s never known about art history, but always been at least a little curious, I think this would make an excellent starting point. The chapters are easily digestible-very few break twenty pages, and most hover around fifteen-and Gombrich really believes that art is for everyone. Oh-and he doesn’t just look at paintings; there’s also architecture, sculpture, etchings, etc. included. I’m certainly glad I began the Art History challenge with such a wonderful selection, and I’ve discovered a ton of new artists I want to find out more about! (And even though I read a library copy, I think I’m going to buy one for myself, because I think it’d be a wonderful reference to dip into and even reread. Can praise get any higher?)

Other Favourite Passage
Of course, the fact that a thing is difficult does not necessarily prove that it is a work of art. If it were so, the men who make models of sailing ships in glass bottles would rank among the greatest artists. But this proof of tribal skill should warn us against the belief that their work looks odd because they cannot do any better. It is not their standard of craftsmanship that is different from ours, but their ideas. It is important to realise this from the outset, because the whole story of art is not a story of progress in technical proficiency, but a story of changing ideas and requirements.

Favourite Works of Art
Portrait Head, c. 2551-2528 BC, Found in tomb at Giza; limestone; Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna
Madonna and Child on a curved throne, c. 1280, Altar-painting, possibly painted in Constantinople, tempera on wood; National Gallery of Art (Mellon Collection), Washington, D.C.
Matthew Paris, An elephant and its keeper, c. 1255
Simone Martini & Lippo Memmi, The Annunciation, 1333
St. John the Baptist’s, St. Edward the Confessor and St. Edmund commend Richard II to Christ (the Wilton Diptych, c. 1395, National Gallery, London
Paul and Jean de Limbourg, May, c. 1410
Jan van Eyck, The betrothal of the Arnolfini, 1434
Benozzo Gozzoli, The Journey of the Magi to Bethlehem, c. 1459-63
Martin Schongauer, The Holy Family, c. 1480
Giorgione, The Tempest, c. 1508
Correggio, The Holy Night, c. 1530
El Greco, The opening of the Fifth Seal of the Apocalypse, c. 1608-14
Jean Goujon, Nymphs from the Fontaine des Innocents, 1547-9
Diego Velazquez, Las Meninas, 1656
Jan Vermeer, The kitchen maid, c. 1660
Gian Lorenzo Bernini, The ecstasy of St. Teresa, 1645-52
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Miss Bowles with her dog, 1775
Jean-Baptiste-Simeon Chardin, Saying grace (Le Benedicite), 1740
Francisco Goya, Group on a balcony, c. 1810-15
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, ‘Ecce Ancilla Domini’, 1849-50
Edgar Degas, Dancing class, 1873
Auguste Rodin, The hand of God, c. 1898
Henri Matisse, La Desserte (The dinner table), 1908
Paul Klee, A tiny tale of a tiny dwarf, 1925
Henry Moore, Recumbent figure, 1938
Marc Chagall, The Cellist, 1939
Rene Magritte, Attempting the impossible, 1928