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guido-reni-paintings · 1 day

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-The Baptism of Christ-

#art #art history #artwork #culture #guido reni #history #museum #museums #painting #vintage

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granstromjulius · 2 days

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Guido Reni

#guido reni #art #artwork #fine art #fineart #painting #art history #history of art #christ

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the-golden-vanity · 6 months

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The Terror, s1e9; "The C, The C, The Open C" José de Ribera; The Head of Saint John the Baptist Guido Reni; Ecce Homo The Terror, s1e4; "Punished, As A Boy"

#the terror #amc the terror #the terror amc #baroque art #art history #classical art #jose de ribera #guido reni #baroque painting #hickeygibson #cornelius hickey #billy gibson #william gibson

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baroque-art-history · 6 months

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St Cecilia painted by Guido Reni (1575 - 1642)

#art #art history #artwork #baroque #culture #history #museums #painting #vintage #curators #guido reni

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stigmatam4rtyr · 6 months

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Ecce Homo (1575-1642, oil on panel) | Guido Reni

#art #fine art #painting #oil painting #ecce homo #guido reni #religious art #16th century #17th century

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twinsfawn · 4 months

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having thoughts……

(left is guido reni edited by @lacefuneral / right is nicolas régnier)

#saint sebastian #guido reni #nicolas régnier #the self #they/them #trans art #paintings #art edit

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fordarkmornings · 1 year

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Guido Reni (Italian, 1575-1642)

Salome with the Head of Saint John the Baptist, ca. 1639

#Guido Reni #women in art #italian art #1600s #1630s #*

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illustratus · 8 months

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Archangel Michael defeating Satan

after Guido Reni

#archangel michael #satan #art #guido reni #religious art #angel #angels #archangel #archangels #michael #christianity #christian #religion #europe #european

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polishchuk · 6 months

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Yukio Mishima as Saint Sebastian (60s)/ Guido Reni - Saint Sebastian, 1615

“I was flipping through one of the last pages of a volume. All of a sudden, from the corner of the next page, there flashed before my eyes an image that I had to assume had lurked there for my benefit alone.

It was a reproduction of Guido Reni’s Saint Sebastian, which figures in the collection of Palazzo Rosso in Genoa.

The trunk of the tree of torment, black and slightly oblique, stood out against the Titianesque background of a gloomy forest and a serene sky, gloomy and distant. A young man of singular loveliness stood bound naked to the trunk of the tree, his arms drawn up, and the straps that clasped his crossed wrists were fastened to the tree itself. No ties of any other kind were discernible, and the only covering of the young man’s nakedness consisted of a rough white cloth that loosely wrapped around his loins.

I imagined that it was a description of a Christian martyrdom. But since it was due to a painter of the eclectic school derived from the Renaissance, even from this painting depicting the death of a Christian saint exuded a strong aroma of paganism. The young man’s body - one could even compare it to that of Antinous, Hadrian’s favorite, whose beauty was so often immortalized in sculpture - bears no trace of the hardships or exhaustion derived from missionary life, which imprint the effigy of other saints: instead, this one uniquely manifests the springtime of youth, uniquely light and pleasure and gracefulness.

That white and incomparable nudity of hers sparkles against a background of twilight. His sinewy arms, the arms of a praetorian accustomed to flex his bow and brandish his sword, are raised in a harmonious curve, and his wrists cross immediately above his head. The face is turned slightly upward and the eyes are wide open, contemplating the glory of heaven with deep tranquility. It is not suffering that hovers over the expanded chest, the taut abdomen, the barely twisted lips, but a flicker of melancholy pleasure like music. Were it not for the arrows with their points stuck in his left armpit and right hip, he would rather look like a Roman athlete relieving fatigue in a garden, leaning against a dark tree.

Arrows have plunged into the heart of the young, pulpy, fragrant flesh, and are about to consume the body from within with flames of heartbreak and supreme ecstasy. But the blood is not gushing out; the swarm of arrows seen in other paintings of St. Sebastian’s martyrdom has not yet raged. Here instead, two lone arrows send their quiet and delicate shadows over the smoothness of the skin, similar to the shadows of a branch falling on a marble staircase.

But all these interpretations and discoveries came later.

That day, the moment I glimpsed the painting, my whole being quivered with pagan joy. My blood roiled in my veins, my loins swelled almost in an emptiness of rage. The monstrous part of me that was close to exploding waited for me to use it with unprecedented ardor, rebuking my ignorance, gasping in outrage. My hands, not at all unconsciously, began a movement I had never learned. I felt something secret, something radiant, launching itself rattily to the assault from within. It erupted suddenly, bringing with it a blinding intoxication....

Some time elapsed and then, in a desolate mood, I looked around at the desk I stood in front of. Outside the window a maple tree was casting a vivid glare everywhere -- on the ink bottle, on school books and notebooks, on the dictionary, on the image of St. Sebastian. Splashes of a dim whiteness appeared here and there - on the title in gold letters of a textbook, on the margin of the inkwell, on an edge of the dictionary. Some objects dripped lazily, others glowed with a dim gleam like the eyes of a dead fish. Fortunately, a reflexive movement of my hand to protect the figure had prevented the volume from soiling.

That was my first ejaculation. And it was also the clumsy and totally unplanned beginning of my “bad habit.”

–Yukio Mishima “Confessions of a Mask”