This painting by Klimt is of Wittgenstein’s sister, also known as Margaret Stonborough (1905). Wittgenstein’s father also commissioned works by Rodin and fully funded the Vienna Secession building. Basically, he was the sugar daddy for many artists and architects of the various modernist movements. The Vienna Secession was primarily founded by Josef Hoffman, Joseph Maria Olbrich, Otto Wagner, and Koloman Moser.

Wittgenstein not only rubbed shoulders with the gifted artists of his day, but also one particularly mediocre artist, as well. At school, he was two years above Adolf Hitler, despite being born six days after the future Fuhrer. Thirty six years later, Wittgenstein would be on the run from his former schoolmate, and ironically require his assistance. With the advent of the Anschluss, or Germany’s annexation of Austria, Wittgenstein was racially classified as a Jew. In order to be reclassified—to receive a Befreiung—as a Mischlinge, the applicant required the personal approval of Hitler. Out of 2100 applications in 1939, Hitler approved 12 (but not because he was stingy or really hated Jews; he was simply too busy designing flamboyant leather uniforms for his troops). The Wittgensteins’ sheer wealth, which the Reichsbank had likely been eagerly eyeing for quite some time, definitely made the slim odds seem more in their favour to have their grandfather (and therefore his progeny) reclassified. And it would certainly cost them. In August of 1939, for the hefty sum of 1.7 tonnes of gold and other assets (way over $50 million in our time), the Befreiung was granted. If the Wittgensteins had transferred the money to the Reichsbank a few weeks later (i.e, after the outbreak of the war), it actually would have been considered a war crime, the punishment being death by hanging.

But before Hitler ruined the Wittgenstein’s party, Ludwig had met some pretty cool people and tried his hand at a few artistic pursuits, as well. Brahms and Mahler hung out at his house, and Brahms even gave his sister piano lessons.
Wittgenstein’s sister commissioned Josef Hoffman to build this desk, which i have not been able to get out of my head since my visit to the Neue Gallerie. Hoffman stained the oak and then rubbed chalk into the wood grain to achieve this effect.

In 1925, Margaret Stonborough also commissioned her brother Ludwig—then a gardener in a nearby monastery—as an architect to design a large house for her in Vienna. Wittgenstein worked alongside Paul Engelmann, his friend from the army. Just to get an idea of how all the modernist movements are intertwined (not necessarily harmoniously), Engelmann had studied under Adolf Loos, who was also a friend of Wittgenstein. Loos basically bashed the Vienna Secession, whose building Wittgenstein’s father had financed.

During the building of his sister’s house, Wittgenstein also focussed more on sculpture. He had met the sculptor Michael Drobil when they were both in a POW camp, and Drobil had been a member of the Secession, as well.

It’s fascinating to contextualise philosophers and artists with their cultural milieu. That being said, i’ve barely scratched the surface of the modernists, and i welcome any suggested reading.

This painting, from 1620, entitled ‘The Childhood of Christ’ was executed by Gerrit Van Honthurst, a Dutch painter from Utrecht. He travelled to Italy to imitate Caravaggio. In fact, loads of Dutch artists took the trip, and were known as the Dutch Caravaggisti. For an excellent intro to Caravaggio, Simon Schama’s The Power of Art is fantastic. He’s refreshingly funny, so he makes art history particularly exciting! Here’s the first part. By clicking it, you can get to Youtube and see the rest. Enjoy!
By the way, what do you guys think of the tools here? Also, here we have another picture of J not really as an active craftsman. It’s almost implying he didn’t sully his hands with the work, but he was familiar with it because it was his father’s occupation. It reminds me more of Millais’s painting than William Holman Hunt’s, but i still find it beautiful.

I got my folding rule from Walt. Anyway, i should have taken a ‘before’ shot. I decided to clean it, and i ended up messing it up, i think. Is it beyond repair? I saw this entry from Chris Schwarz, but i can’t get any Borax here, or oxallic acid.

So i am turning to you, my LJ buddies for help!

If you thought the last painting was out of control, this one will blow you away. It’s pretty graphic. Since i’m not satisfied with the formatting on this blog (prob my fault, not LJ), i’m just going to put a link below to my main blog below. Enjoy!

http://gradstudentadd.blogspot.com/2009/09/william-holman-hunt-shadow-of-death.html

Most woodworkers would probably admire the way Millais painted the shavings on the floor of Joseph’s shop (with nary a handplane in sight…). In fact, Dickens did concede that ‘it is particularly gratifying to observe that such objects as the shavings which are strewn on the carpenter’s floor are admirably painted.’ However, Dickens did go on to make futher comments, which, while hilarious at times were not particularly generous to Millais. For the more complete text of his critique, click here.

Unfortunately, not all critics have an interest in woodworking, and many were certainly not impressed with the realism of Millais’s carpentry shop:

But this painful display of anatomical knowledge, and studious vulgarity of portraying the youthful Saviour as a red-headed Jew boy, and the sublime personage of the virgin a sore-heeled, ugly, every-day sempstress, will in no way tend to the consummation so devoutly to be wished—click here for the rest

To add insult to injury, the model for the virgin, or ‘sore-heeled, ugly, everyday sempstress’ was actually Millais’s mother! Oh no he didn't!

Side note (or endnote, rather): After receiving a comment on previous post that an appended comic depicting Jesus as a carpenter may have been offensive to Christian readers (so far, no complaints) i went off in search of paintings which portrayed Jesus as a woodworker. This is the first instalment of some rather interesting results.

By clicking here, you should get to a Google Doc of about 41 pages of the Joinery section. Let me know if you have any problems accessing it.

Wednesday 7 February 1665/66

It being fast day I staid at home all day long to set things to rights in my chamber by taking out all my books, and putting my chamber in the same condition it was before the plague. But in the morning doing of it, and knocking up a nail I did bruise my left thumb so as broke a great deal of my flesh off, that it hung by a little. It was a sight frighted my wife, but I put some balsam of Mrs. Turner’s to it, and though in great pain, yet went on with my business, and did it to my full content, setting every thing in order, in hopes now that the worst of our fears are over as to the plague for the next year. Interrupted I was by two or three occasions this day to my great vexation, having this the only day I have been able to set apart for this work since my coming to town. At night to supper, weary, and to bed, having had the plasterers and joiners also to do some jobbs.

Recently, i came across this cool book. It’s quite helpful in understanding the religious environment in early modern England. I’m not up to the Gunpowder Plot yet. Elizabeth has just died, and so have many, many, English Jesuit priests who came over from their seminary in Spain to save English Catholic souls. Pretty sad. But, there is a pretty cool angle that Hogge goes into (thankfully, with photos!), and that is the hiding places for the priests. It’s pretty mind-boggling that the deadly cat-and-mouse game between the pursuivants and the Jesuits, in fact the outcome of the religious power struggle in early modern England (perhaps one of the most important historical turning points) was heavily dependent on a dude called Nicholas Owen, a joiner from Oxford.

He was instrumental in creating ‘priest holes’ in country homes of wealthy Catholics. These were so good, they couldn’t be detected by knocking on walls, etc. Father Henry Garnet (head of the Jesuit mission) employed Owen, who was so dedicated to his craft and its importance, that even servants of the households had no idea where the hiding places were! In fact, Hogge provides photographs of a priest hole that was discovered accidentally in 1879 by boys who were playing in a derelict country home. Who knows how many more priest holes the masterful and discreet Owen created which have yet to be uncovered?! Not a job i would mind having!

Sadly, Owen was captured and tortured, and like many other Jesuits, this layman gave no information before dying on the rack. In 1970, Owen was canonised as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales, and his feast day is actually a week from today—16th of March. {Confusingly, it’s also listed as the 25th of October (i guess it’s a communal feast day for the other 39), and 2nd of March (the day he died).} Well, whenever it is, to students of early modern England and traditional woodworking, happy (bittersweet?) St. Owen’s day…