Baroque Without Boundaries

Trade and Commerce: Dynamic Circulation of Artistic Practice and Conventions

Situated near the edge of a marble table in a darkened room, Willem Kalf paints a lavish arrangement consisting of a porcelain bowl, a nautilus cup, a Venetian glass, a silver tray, and a lemon all resting upon a crumpled, vaguely Herati rug (fig. 1).  Like other seventeenth and eighteenth-century still-life paintings, Still Life with a Chinese Bowl, Nautilus Cup and Other Objects emphasizes Kalf’s rendering of these items to show his skill as a painter and Anne Lowenthal has even suggested that the painting employs symbolism that evokes the eternal and spiritual. However, the still-life genre does not only allude to artistic genius or religious ideas, rather, these paintings can also be understood as references to a complex system of multinational trade and commerce that was flourishing during the period.

Each of the objects depicted in Kalf’s painting points toward these systems of trade and commerce. Routes of multinational trade did not suddenly emerge in early modernity, though these routes quickly expanded and new modes of trade developed during the period. Chinese traders and communities of merchants alike were established along the Indian Ocean in the thirteenth century, the movement of Islamic goods along what is referred to as the Silk Road was well underway by the fourteenth century, and the seventeenth century saw the establishment of national trading companies. Some of the items in Kalf’s painting were commonly brought to the Netherlands by the Dutch East India Company (also known as V.O.C). However, the V.O.C was not the only company with stakes in trade across the Asian seas; other corporations such as the French East India Company, The Dutch West India Company, and the English East India Company were all also manufacturing, importing, and distributing similar types of materials. Yet, avenues of trade during the seventeenth and eighteenth-centuries were not solely limited to countries east of Europe. Colonial efforts also prompted the circulation of goods between Europe and the Americas. 

The production and circulation of such goods came with shifts to the visual landscape and artistic practices for all groups that were implicated by these networks of trade and commerce. As is exemplified by Kalf’s still-life, artists from European countries began employing imported objects in their artistic pursuits. However, the visual influence of trade and commerce was not so simplistic as to affect only the European countries that extracted these goods. Rather, objects such as the Biombo with the Conquest of Mexico and View of the City of Mexico reveal the multifaceted ways in which these systems impacted material production and artistic conventions. While this biombo, featuring a colonial historical narrative was produced in Mexico, its form originated from Japanese folding screens. Moreover, such biombos were commonly bought by Spanish colonialist in Mexico or brought back to Spain for consumption. In this sense, the biombo complicates the oversimplified concept of trade’s influence on visual culture that Kalf’s still-life might suggest. One of the aims of this mapping project is to do just that, to challenge the   Eurocentric notion that trade and commerce only shaped European artistic practices. Instead, this project asserts that the circulation of artistic ideas, forms, and material innovations became more dynamic and multifaceted due to expanding trade and commerce. 

FC

From Marble to Feather: Materiality in Baroque Art

One of the integral aspects of Baroque and Rococo art as a whole is the incorporation of luxurious materials in order to elevate an object both as a work of art and as an object of luxury and prestige. One indisputable example of this is Bernini’s spectacular marble sculpture, Apollo and Daphne (fig. 1). Bernini uses marble, an admired material used by sculptors for centuries, to display his incredible skill and mastery over nature itself. Blurring the lines between art and nature, this quintessentially Baroque sculpture is focused on metamorphosis. Not only does it depict Daphne’s transformation from human to nymph, but as Paul Barolsky so aptly puts it, “Bernini’s own metamorphosis of stone into flesh, metamorphosed in turn into tree trunk, roots, branches, and leaves.”  To fashion the living out of precious stone is truly remarkable and undeniably Baroque.

This essay and indeed this project argues that this desire to create spectacular works of art with luxurious materials is not a uniquely European phenomenon but was seen across the globe. Whether working with turquoise, ivory, porcelain, or feathers, artists from a variety of cultures were producing works of art that emphasized the importance of the material and the skill required to work with it. For example, consider the art of Mesoamerica, specifically a beautifully intricate Feathered Shield with Coyote (c. 1500) illustrated below (fig. 2). 

Prized not only for their brilliant colors, feathers had strong ceremonial and spiritual implications in Mesoamerica. The beautiful blue and green feathers of the quetzal, which are seen in the Feathered Shield, have been used in sacrificial and other ceremonial contexts. The quetzal bird was extremely important as it was linked with one of the most important gods in ancient Mesoamerica, Quetzalcóatl (quetzal serpent). As such, the feathers themselves, as well as feathers from other rare birds, were seen as a direct link to divinity and only the most important members of society or sacrificial victims were able to wear them. 

Feathered shields in particular were luxury goods produced with a variety of precious materials and by a series of artisans in Tenochtitlan, including carpenters, feather workers, painters, and goldsmiths. Many of the birds and other raw materials used to create the blue canine shield did not originate in Tenochtitlan, but traveled across the Americas through trade and tribute.

The creation of just one feathered shield required 26,400 feathers, several days, and excellent skill.  Each shield was unique, “the colors and designs selected following a strict metonymic code that added complexity to the contexts in which the shield was used.”  The sheer amount of materials used, the technical complexity with which the Feathered Shield was made, and the beautiful, iridescent effect of the feathers display the Baroque desire to create spectacular works of art with luxurious materials. Just as Bernini displays his mastery over nature through marblein Apollo and Daphne, so too do the artisans of the Feathered Shield display their technical finesse through feathers. 

SL

Spectacle and Splendor

Art and architecture in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were frequently employed to assert power, whether imperial, religious, or artistic. Although the Baroque period is well known for ostentatious display, this spectacle was not simply decorative but rather used to express the authority of the patron and sometimes the artist themselves. In perhaps the most famed example of early modern imperial splendor, the Palace of Versailles was built as a sprawling work of political propaganda for King Louis XIV of France in 1631. In 1682, Louis made the remodeled former hunting lodge his main residence and required the upper nobility to spend part of the year there in a bid to keep them more tightly under control. Versailles is notable for its immense scale and elaborate decorative scheme centering around the iconography of Louis as the Sun King Apollo. 

In a strikingly similar manner across the globe in Beijing, the rulers of the Qing dynasty moved the court away from the existing imperial palace to the newly built Yuanming Yuan, often translated as the Garden of Perfect Brightness (fig. 1). Established in 1709 and completed in 1744 with subsequent landscaping additions, the now destroyed palace was similarly organized around a lavish display of royal power. The emperor Qianlong referred to himself as the “Son of the Heaven,” and indicated so in the north-south alignment of the palace, much like the Sun King’s east-west alignment at Versailles. Both palaces’ extensive gardens served to further this narrative of royal dominance over nature, and their impressive collections of fine arts helped to characterize the rulers as representatives of national culture.

One particular section of the Yuanming Yuan featured a complex clock fountain called the Haiyan Tang. Designed by the Jesuits Giuseppe Castiglione and Michel Benoist, the fountain consisted of a basin filled by a stream of water and surrounded by the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac. The twelve animals represented the twelve divisions of the day and functioned as a clock, with a different animal spouting water every two hours and in synchrony at noon. The fountain served to celebrate Qing imperial mastery of Western technology through the display of imperial time using a combination of European hydraulics and Manchu waterwork knowledge.

    Kings and emperors were not the only ones to employ spectacle as an expression of power, let alone the only ones to use fountains to do so. In one example, Bernini’s Fountain of the Four Rivers in the Piazza Navona in Rome functioned as an assertion of both papal authority and Bernini’s artistic mastery (fig. 2). The fountain was a statement of Pope Innocent X’s ability to provide for the city by bringing water to the people of Rome, and the design went even further to suggest papal dominance over the world through the four sculpted river gods at the base representing Europe and the three continents where Catholic missionaries traveled. For Bernini, however, the spectacular construction of the fountain served as a salve for his own damaged reputation. After the failure of the Saint Peter’s bell towers, Bernini’s positioning of the massive obelisk over a void created by the four river gods was a daring reclamation of his status as an artistic master. From the theatricality of a nearly doomed artist to the sprawling complexes of rulers across the globe, the splendor of Baroque art and architecture was frequently used to serve narratives of power.

EB

Christianity Across the Globe

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, global religious practices changed greatly as missionaries worked to spread Christianity to new regions. The missionaries developed multiple approaches to their work; some missionary efforts required the development of diplomatic relationships while others were far more forceful. Many of the efforts sought to erase Indigenous religions, especially in regions that were colonized. Additionally, missionary efforts introduced Christian art to the people they were converting resulting in the production of new types of artistic and religious objects. 

    For instance, throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Mughal Empire coexisted with the British East India company. The Mughal artistic culture continued to flourish despite losing economic centers to the British. They recognized and protected religious freedom and frequently hosted debates between religious leaders to facilitate discussions. When the Jesuits arrived, they were invited to take part in the debates and did so with the intention of converting the Mughals. This allowed the Jesuits to spread their message, and for Emperor Akbar, the Christian art he admired became more accessible and was adopted into the Mughal artistic tradition.

    Rubens’ The Martyrdom of Saint Thomas was commissioned for an Augustinian monastery in 1637, it depicts the story of the missionary work done in India by Saint Thomas (fig. 1). It was said that Saint Thomas was commissioned to build a palace, but he instead began working as a missionary and gave all the funds to impoverished people in the area. Because of this, he was tortured and killed with a spear by the king whose palace he was supposed to have built. The Martyrdom of Saint Thomas was meant to inspire members of the monastery, and demonstrates the way emphasis was placed on missionary work in Europe. It was intended to encourage the order to continue their missionary efforts to spread Christianity globally.

    Christianity also spread to the Americas, where conversion efforts by missionaries led to the adoption of Christian beliefs into the artistic traditions of the Indigenous people. The efforts of colonists to convert the Indigenous people were so expansive that crosses had become a part of the local landscape. The Atrial Cross (fig. 2), located at the Convento San Agustín de Acolman, brings the Indigenous artistic language into concert with Christian imagery. This religious multilingualism is apparent in the Arma Christi on the shaft as well as other symbols carved on the cross. These symbols are all Christian imagery but they are executed in the style Aztec Glyphs.  It also recalls the “World Tree”, an ancient Aztec symbol, which was important in tying the Indigenous religion with the newly introduced Christian faith. Here, traditional Indigenous symbols and style help tell the story of Christ and demonstrate the effectiveness of Christian missionaries in infiltrating Indigenous societies.

    During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, European colonization expanded across the globe and  led to increased efforts to convert Indigenous people in the Americas to Christianity. The result of these efforts was the spread of Christianity globally and the creation of artistic objects that combined local traditions with European iconography.

HD

Artistic Assimilation: Representing Europe in China

Representation is ubiquitous, as images, materials, and objects hold various meanings based on where, when, and how they are interpreted. The depiction of human figures unavoidably displays how the artist or patron perceives the identity of the subject. While assessing the representation of non-European peoples is fundamental for understanding the early modern imaginary and its global ramifications, this essay focuses on Chinese representations of Europeans, widening the scope of research presented in this project and exploring a perspective sometimes overlooked.

During the Qing Dynasty (1644 - 1911) in China, a craze for European-styles developed out of the increased connection between disparate parts of the world. In Beijing, the Qing court established artistic workshops and commissioned numerous artworks to produce Euro-Chinese products as gifts for domestic and foreign diplomats, contributions to massive royal collections, and consumer objects for both export and domestic markets. Within these objects, artists assimilated specific facets of Western art and represented Europe within Chinese artistic traditions, developing a multicultural style that conveys China’s global identity. 

In the sixteenth century, Jesuit missionaries aiming to convert the Qing court to Christianity brought numerous art objects to China, including prints, books, and paintings. Jesuit artists such as Giuseppe Castiglione and Matteo Ricci introduced Chinese patrons and artists to European styles of art and novel artistic techniques, such as copper enamel painting and intaglio printmaking. While at the Qing court, Castiglione was trained in Chinese-style painting, hired to lead Beijing palace workshops and teach native Chinese people European styles and techniques, and commissioned to create purposefully hybrid objects. This dissemination of artistic knowledge allowed China to domestically produce yanghao, or “ocean goods,” as they were referred to. The most notable Qing patrons of the arts, emperors Kangxi (r.1661–1722), Yongzheng (r.1723–35), and Qianlong (r.1736–95), were avid collectors of such Occidenterie, and established glassmaking, clockmaking, and enamel painting workshops in Beijing. In the royal collections, these European-style goods were labeled as qi, meaning strange and rare, a term comparable to the ubiquitous title of “Indian” given to exoticized objects in European collections. In fact, emperor Qianlong built numerous palaces modeled after European architecture in the Forbidden City’s Eternal Spring Garden to house these intriguing items. However, the popularity of European art styles and techniques did not mean that philosophical and religious doctrines were also accepted in China, as the failure of the Jesuits to convert the Qing court demonstrates. Instead, Chinese artists were guided by imperial patrons to create objects which utilized European techniques but upheld traditional Chinese traditions, rejecting or ignoring aspects of the artworks that were not aligned with the goals of the Qing patrons. 

By assessing how Chinese artists represented European-ness in material culture, one can determine which aspects of European art appealed to Chinese patrons, and which were rejected. While clearly impressed with the “perfect accuracy” of Western linear perspective, Chinese connoisseurs did not accept the works brought from Europe as ‘true art,’ because of their reliance on technical skill and lack of creative spirit. The Chinese literati, a class of elite Chinese scholar-artists, favored antimimetic, expressionistic ink paintings, and many condemned the harsh shadows of European-style figures, which were seen as dirty marks which ruined the image. Nevertheless, European figures were used to decorate small objects, including snuff bottles and table screens, adding an intriguing Western element to both familiar and foreign objects. Europeans were usually depicted with round blue eyes, large noses, Western-style clothing, and light hair, emphasizing the differences between European and Chinese features. Examples of this simplification of Western culture and features can be seen in the Huang Qing Zhigong tu, “Illustrations of the Tribute-bearing People of the Imperial Qing,” from 1761, in which specific European nations are represented by stylized male figures. These figures display Chinese portraiture conventions, such as delicate shading, a plain background, and a still subject, but on a European figure. On the other hand, Western conventions of shading and foreshortening were folded into in traditional genres of Chinese art, such as meirenhua, ”beautiful women paintings.”  Whether Chinese styles on European objects or subjects, or Western styles and techniques assimilated into traditional Chinese art genres, items displaying both the familiar and foreign were popular with consumers of all social levels precisely for this juxtaposition. Performing as both Occidenterie in domestic markets and Chinoiserie in Europe, the production of objects combining Chinese and European art styles thrived during the Qing dynasty. Their details, however, reveal how representing Europe became meaningful and profitable only when mitigated and assimilated into Chinese artistic traditions. 

JL

The Making of Meaning

Each of the objects discussed in this project signal global connections, by participating in complex networks of circulation. As things that have traveled, circulated, and changed ownership they have become inscribed with meaning at each point in their social history. The significance of an object is determined not only from its final form, but the raw materials used to create it. The process of making and the materiality of these objects are vital to their reception and value as these materials, whether coconuts or feathers, ivory or porcelain, hold specific cultural significance. How is this meaning created, lost, or altered when these objects are circulated?  

Let us focus on the material of celadon which is discussed in relation to the celadon bamboo vase included in this project to better answer this question. This vase was valued due to the materials used to create it in both France and China, albeit in different ways. Originating in China, celadon is a particular type of porcelaneous ware that has been glazed in a range of soft green shades. Its manufacture has been dated as early as the fourth century, although it was not fully developed until the beginning of the Song Dynasty (960–1279). Both the soft and subdued cool tones that celadon exhibits and the complexities required to create it, have made this material valuable to the Chinese elite when it was first being manufactured. In order to create celadon-glazed ceramics, a set of specific conditions must be met exactly within the kiln. The ceramic must be fired in a reducing atmosphere and a small amount of iron must be present in the glaze. This can be a very difficult process and requires highly specialized knowledge. Celadon wares, particularly those of the Longquan District of the Southern Song Dynasty, were an imperial mode of production made specifically for the court, indicating that this material was seen as prized and valued by the elite in China.

Celadon was also used as an export ware, traveling first to Korea where it was received with much acclaim. During the Koryo period (935 - 1392 CE) a form of Korean celadon was mastered and this type, as well as other Chinese examples, eventually made their way to Japan. Therefore, from an early date, this material moved across complex circulatory paths in Asia. Additionally, celadon was notable for its beautiful gray-green color which, due to the softness and opacity in color and texture, closely resembled that of jade. Jade was another highly prized material and thought to contain healing and magical properties. Thus, by evoking this color, celadon wares of the Song dynasty and later were seen as being imbued with the power of jade and participating in an important part of material culture in China and throughout Asia. 

When the celadon bamboo vase traveled to Europe, it eventually entered the home of a French elite and its meaning was altered as it changed ownership. The term celadon is often thought to have been coined by Europeans and derived from the distinctive gray-green costume of the character Céladon, the hero in a seventeenth-century French pastoral comedy. Thus, in a European setting, celadon brought with it not only associations of Asia, but was linked to a distinctly French theatrical tradition. Additionally, the soft green colored porcelain may have continued to make reference to jade in its new European context. In European collections, luxurious pieces of jade signaled their provenance not only from China, but from the Americas as well. In this way, the celadon bamboo vase refers beholders to the larger networks of circulation between Europe and Asia, and to some extent Europe and the Americas. Celadon is not just the material this object is crafted from, but it is the material through which its meaning is made. 

SL

Collecting in the Age of Global Expansion

A European man’s travelogue, a Dutch kunstkammer, a Medici guardaroba, a Goan marketplace – within each of these lay pieces of knowledge that contributed to early modern Europeans’ understanding of Asia. In this era, the transmission of “exotic” goods from countries such as India and Indonesia created a hunger for these items in Italy and the Netherlands, which bubbled into formalized, extensive networks of trade between continents. Although European nobles and consumers were not universally able to travel to these newfound centers of commerce, agents, serving both private and national interests, were deployed to shop and procure. The paths of commerce that agents embarked upon were both long-established, in the case of trade along the Silk Road, as well as driven by more contemporary colonial ambitions. In both India and Indonesia, Italian and Dutch agents worked to communicate their experiences and physical findings back to principals in Europe. Within these descriptions of Asia, travelers selected what was worthy to represent based on their own interests and temperament. These first-hand accounts and objects simultaneously contributed to a European understanding of Asia as a center for extraction and ethnographic curiosity – an understanding that shifted the meaning these objects once had in their source countries.

Collecting via remote agents served to construct political capital in some contexts. In Italy, Medici grand dukes were fascinated by India. This fascination, and subsequent collection of Indian goods and cultivation of Indian plants allowed the Medici to posture themselves as worldly and powerful in an era of exploration and conquest, regardless of whether they actually physically conquered India. Medici agents supplied the dukes with desirable consumable objects, such as spices and utilitarian tortoiseshell boxes. Such objects reflected the status of their owners, demonstrating their erudition and worldliness, elevating their personal standing, and, in a way, that of India. The Medici family acted as arbiters of the Italian notion of India, constructing meaning of place through the process and politics of collection. These objects, in turn, experienced a shift in meaning to account for their new role as social and political symbols of Medici power.

Collecting also had the result of altering the meaning of objects by filtering their significance through European perceptions of their source country and creators. In the mid-17th century, the Dutch East India Company (also known as the VOC) deployed agents to India and Indonesia on their behalf. Although the VOC was not the only national trading corporation engaged in the global flow of goods in the early modern era, Dutch forces in particular were able to successfully exploit their domestic mercantile traditions to establish formalized, pragmatic ties with indigenous merchants. This resulted in a stronger flow of goods between the Netherlands and their trade partners, heightening the Dutch desire for Asian wares and increasing the VOC’s position as a powerful player in global trade. Alongside goods reaching the Netherlands, first-hand descriptions of economically conquered countries such as Indonesia also arrived and drove interest amongst the Dutch population. These travel accounts from the time indicate that men who ventured to Indonesia were attracted to the adventure and wonder associated with travel to the then-unknown land. The anticipation of wonder is palpable from first-hand accounts of Dutch individuals in Indonesia, as they described swashbuckling conquer, chaotic grand markets, and “obstinate, infidel, evil, and murderous” indigenous peoples. Objects such as krisses, Javanese daggers imbued with spiritual power and personal importance to its wearer, also appear in these accounts. In a European understanding, Krisses would have usually been linked to Bantam, a market town in Indonesia described by Dutch accounts as simultaneously a disorderly urban environment, and the central emporium for the region. As krisses reached the Netherlands, their spiritual significance melted away, making way for a constructed Dutch understanding of these objects as trophies of adventurous Europeans. In effect, this replacement of meaning obstructed the possibilities of early modern cross-cultural understanding of the kris as a spiritually empowered object, rather than an ethnographic curiosity to be obtained and held in a domestic kunstkammer.

EP

Biombo with the Conquest of Mexico (front) and View of the City of Mexico (back)

Standing at almost seven feet tall and eighteen feet in length, and composed of ten panels of painted and gilded canvas, this Biombo with the Conquest of Mexico and View of the City of Mexico has historical and cultural ties that stretch across three continents. Biombos were made in Mexico in the style of Japanese folding screens and then displayed in the homes of wealthy colonials or taken back to Spain as souvenirs. As luxurious decorative objects, they conferred a status of taste and cosmopolitanism on their owners while communicating visual narratives of colonial history and identity. 

    The trade network established by the Spanish Manila Galleon in the sixteenth century facilitated the movement of objects across the Pacific and Atlantic, creating a vogue in Spain for Asian goods. The term biombo is a Hispanicization of the Japanese word for folding screen—byōbu, which means “enclosure” or “protection against the wind.” In addition to their domestic function as barriers between rooms, byōbu also served as diplomatic gifts, which designated them as objects of cultural exchange. Part of the appeal of byōbu screens lay in their materiality. They feature bright pigments, gold applique, black lacquer frames, and silk brocade, all materials that conveyed a sense of opulence and exoticism. Their popularity spurred production in Mexico, where artisans adapted the materials to suit local availability and transformed the subject matter to appeal to Mexican and Spanish consumers. 

    This particular Biombo creates a dialogue between the past and the present through the distinct imagery depicted on its two sides. On one side is a chaotic jumble of scenes from Hernán Cortés’s conquest of the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlán (later Mexico City). It shows indigenous and Spanish military processions, confrontations between Cortés and Emperor Moctezuma, and bloody battles between Spaniards and Aztec warriors. Each scene is designated with a letter that corresponds to a legend in the lower left-hand side explaining what the event represents. 

    On the reverse is a calm, organized vision of post-conquest Mexico City. Likely based on a contemporary map, it presents an aerial view of important civic and religious structures, symbolizing the imposition of Spanish power on the former center of the Aztec Empire. There are no visible signs of human life nor traces of the indigenous communities that actually surrounded the city. The peace and order of this image drastically contrast with the turmoil of the battle scenes on the opposing side, creating a narrative of conquest and its outcome. This narrative, however, idealizes Spanish intervention in the “New World,” promulgating the notion that Spaniards brought civilization to a barbarous realm, while completely overlooking the achievements of the indigenous populations that preceded them. 

    As such, this Biombo would have appealed to its elite owner, perhaps a high-ranking Mexican colonial or Spanish citizen, whose ancestors may have had a role in the conquest. The visually captivating screen functioned as a conversation piece and in interacting with this object, the owner and his or her guests may have enjoyed the challenge of identifying the events of the conquest on one side and matching up their locations with the distinct buildings of the city map on the other. The Biombo’s physicality required movement from one side to the other, calling upon the viewer to make connections between the historical landscape of conquest and the contemporary urban landscape. Such a performance implicated its viewers in a recreation of the city’s past and in a construction of its present.

KD

Coconut Cup

The Coconut Cup in the Cleveland Museum of Art is a prime example of the way the colonization of the New World impacted the artistic goods produced for European consumption during the Baroque Era. This coconut cup features three relief carvings depicting Indigenous people and a tropical landscape and is set in a silver mount made in England (fig. 1). Scholars are unsure whether it was carved by a Dutch artist in Dutch Brazil or the Netherlands, after details about the New World arrived. Seemingly every element of the Coconut Cup has a different origin and highlights the Dutch interest in collecting so-called ‘exotica.’ Even the coconut itself made a long journey to arrive in the New World. The coconuts growing in Dutch Brazil were brought there by Europeans from the Indian Ocean basin. 

The scenes depicted on the Coconut Cup most likely represent Indigenous Brazilian people based on the similarities to Albert Eckhout’s Series of Eight Figures and the Humboldt Cup. In the first scene, an Indigenous person draws an arrow on a Dutchman that looks as though they have just landed in a tropical land.  The scene articulates the Indigenous person as an aggressor towards the Dutch. The second scene shows a presumably European woman handing an Indigenous person a fish, a symbol of Christ, and may be indicative of the missionary activities of the Dutch (fig. 2). By the third scene, the Indigenous men are shown in classicizing stances, like some of the figures depicted in Eckhout’s Series of Eight Figures. This suggests that the people depicted on this cup had assimilated to European culture enough to be deemed worthy of the classicizing poses by the artist who carved this cup. This novel iconography, illustrates “the concepts of ‘savagery’ and ‘civilization’ in Dutch Brazil in the mid-seventeenth-century.”

The geographic distribution of coconut cups helps to show the interactions between European countries in South America and the connections between rulers. For instance, one coconut cup found its way into the possession of Albrecht Dürer, an influential German artist, as a gift from Rodrigo Fernandez d’Almada the first secretary of the Portuguese royal trade representative. The governor of Dutch Brazil, Johah Maurits, presented a coconut cup to King Frederick III of Denmark and from there it entered the the Copenhagen Kunstkammer.  Coconut cups frequently found their way into a Kunstkammer, or cabinets of curiosity which were “meant to contain a sampling of the world, representing both naturalia and artificalia, works of nature/God and man, with antiques, exotica, rarities, and art being kept in a special room for display.” 

The Coconut Cup not only demonstrates the Dutch presence in Brazil but how exotica brought to Europe was used for political diplomacy. They help highlight the interactions between the Dutch and the Portuguese in South America since both groups produced them and they indicate an exchange of precious goods between the elites of multiple European regions.

HD

Lidded Saltcellar

The Lidded Saltcellar is exemplary of the manufacture of saltcellars for European consumption by Sapi artists native to the Sierra Leone region of west Africa. Europeans believed salt to be rare at the time, and had extravagant vessels created to hold the beloved mineral. The Portuguese were impressed by the Sapi workmanship and commissioned Sapi artists to create various art objects. The resulting artworks, referred to as Sapi-Portuguese, demonstrate complex iconographic programs and cultural mixing.

The form of the saltcellar is not original to the Sapi culture, and appears to be informed by popular European prints which included covered cups. Sapi artists may have seen these prints, or may have been explicitly told by Portuguese patrons to replicate the shape seen in the engravings. The results are two general formats: a chalice stand with an egg rather than a cup, or hollow-cut designs holding a sphere aloft. This example from the Metropolitan Museum of Art combines these two forms. A ball sits atop a chalice-like base. However, the artist includes snakes that loom over growling hounds, suggesting the empty space within hollow-cut designed saltcellars.

European iconography decorates the top of the Lidded Saltcellar, suggesting the superiority of Portugal over the Sapi. The acorn at the top of the saltcellar and the rosettes which surround were never seen in Sapi art up until the creation of saltcellars such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art example. This is not to say that the Sapi artists completely bowed to European tastes, as two other iconographic traditions are interwoven in a complex program on the Lidded Saltcellar.

A time of great political unrest had just ended in the Sierra Leone region when the Portuguese arrived. The Mende had invaded the Sapi territories numerous times prior to the Europeans’ arrival, resulting in political unease and a shift in artistic practice which now included elements from Mende culture. In the Lidded Saltcellar, this may be expressed by the sphere which holds the salt, likely symbolizing the primordial egg from which all life comes in Mende beliefs. The orb as primordial egg then implies a connection between salt and existence, which may echo European’s elevated opinions of salt.

 Sapi iconography was not destroyed by the Mende’s invasions, and the artist of this example ensured their native artistic forms were included. The snakes which face off with hounds may be identified as Ninikinanka or Niniganné, also called Rianséou. Ninikinanka is an invisible water spirit, only controlled by a dual-headed Janus person, for whom the serpent would bestow great treasures but also posed as a threat. Dogs, believed at the time to see invisible things, loathed Ninikinanka. Therefore, the pairs of Ninikinanka and hounds may represent a battle between invisible and visible worlds.

Ultimately, Sapi ivories were not for local consumption. Most Sapi-Portuguese saltcellars found their way into princely collections, cabinets of curiosity, and in at least one instance, secular reliquaries. Less than one hundred Sapi-Portuguese saltcellars survive to 2020, and until the nineteenth century these objects were not identified as saltcellars, but instead as “chalices” or “pedestal cups.” In the sixteenth-century, similar misattributions occurred. Albrecht Dürer likely owned a Afro-Portuguese saltcellar, which he sold to the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. Dürer refers to his saltcellar as an Indian creation, and Charles V’s is later described as an Egyptian Pasha. While neither attribution is correct, the fact that Dürer saw it fitting to sell such an object to the Holy Roman Emperor, who in turn brought it with him into retirement, underscores the perceived value of these objects. These Sapi-Portuguese ivory saltcellars were displayed in cabinets of curiosity due to their material, craftsmanship, and otherness. Their status hinged on their infungibility; Sapi-Portuguese saltcellars transcended tableware and were instead precious objects to be seen, not used.

The Lidded Saltcellar’s form and iconography is a result of numerous cultures mixing and denies any one culture importance over the other. This transcendence is first hinted at in its very attribution of “Sapi-Portuguese.” As such, the saltcellar demands to be understood through both Sapi and Portuguese eyes together and separately. 

CT

Celadon Vase

This celadon bamboo vase is an example of an “entangled object, composed of both Asian and European material and visual components.” Originally produced in Jingdezhen, China in the early 18th century, this object made its way to France by the mid-century where it received the addition of gilt bronze mounts by the French owners.

Understanding the significance of the materials used to create this object is crucial to its interpretation as global art. Celadon is a green glazed porcelain originating in China, and has long been held in high esteem due to its beautiful color and the laborious process required to create it. Porcelains have been produced in China and other parts of Asia for millennia; Jingdezhen was the world’s largest porcelain production site during the time this vase was made. It was not until the 16th century, when Portugal began trading directly with East Asia, that porcelain made its way to the European courts. Porcelain quickly became a highly sought after material for decorative objects, valued for both its exoticism and the refined skills necessary to work with it. Here the celadon is in the form of bamboo, a plant growing naturally on all continents except Europe and one that holds both economic and cultural significance in many Asian cultures. 

This object is indicative of the ways in which Chinese materials and imagery migrated to the households of Europeans and the way society responded to and interacted with these objects. This becomes apparent when viewing the added material - gilt bronze. This was a typical material in French Rococo decorative objects, embellished with swirling imagery and completed with skilled craftsmanship. The addition of metal mounts to Chinese ceramics was a common practice in Europe, dating back to when porcelain objects were first introduced to European consumers. Silver and gold mounts were added to emphasize the value of the new material as well as allow the foreign object to fit within the style of the home. By the time this vase was made, porcelain was widely known and the choice of gilt bronze indicates the assimilation of the object into the rest of the decor of the French home. Here, the bronze starkly contrasts with the soft, cool green of the celadon and the linear and simplistic imagery of the bamboo form. When on display in the French home, this contrast would have indicated the wealth and sophisticated tastes of the owner. 

Not only has this object travelled far, but it has been altered along the way, becoming truly entangled beyond the line connecting China and France. Although originally of Chinese material and form, the French addition of the gilt bronze usurped Chinese ownership of the object, transforming it into something different altogether. 

SL

The Holy Family

The Holy Family, in the Cleveland Museum of Art, is demonstrative of the artistic exchange that occurred between Portuguese Jesuits and the Mughal court from the late sixteenth to the mid-eighteenth century (fig. 1). The opaque watercolor, embellished with gold, depicts a Mughal artist’s take on a traditional Christian theme. In the scene, the Virgin Mary sits with the Christ child on her lap with Joseph standing behind her. Although Mary wears European-style robes, many details in the painting are distinctly Indian. Mary has henna on her fingertips and a bindi on her forehead, and she wears ruby and emerald jewelry typical of Mughal royalty. The jewelry serves to communicate Mary’s status as the Queen Mother, a Catholic concept, but it does so by using iconography familiar to a Mughal audience. Mary holds a blue and white vase with her left hand, preventing Jesus from knocking it over. The decorations on the vessel depict St. Francis, a Catholic saint, kneeling and looking up to the sky, perhaps evoking Indian worship of the sun. The vase is reminiscent of Chinese ceramic wares imported to the Mughal court, a reminder of the burgeoning trade and global relations of the time period.

A search for new trade relationships brought the Portuguese to India in 1503, when they established their first port in Cochin. By the end of 1510, they had taken control of Goa, setting up a colony that would remain for the next 450 years. In 1542, Francis Xavier arrived in Goa intent on spreading the Jesuit faith. Jesuit influence increased steadily during the sixteenth century, with the establishment of many Jesuit schools in the area. 

At the same time, the Mughal Empire was flourishing under Emperor Akbar (1556-1605), who was later succeeded by his son Jahangir (1605-27). The variety of spiritual practices represented under the empire included Islam, Hinduism, Christianity, Zoroastrianism, and Jainism. This diversity of beliefs necessitated religious tolerance, which was embodied in Akbar’s creation of interfaith debates in 1575. 

Having heard about the Jesuits’ skills in religious discourse, Akbar invited them to participate in his debates in 1580. The Jesuits accepted in hopes of spreading their beliefs, and they went on to complete three missions to the Mughal court. The first lasted from 1580 to 1583, and the second spanned just a few months in 1591. The third and longest mission began in 1595 and lasted until 1773. Although Akbar had no interest in conversion, a great disappointment to the Jesuits, he wholeheartedly appreciated Christian stories, practices, and artwork. He encouraged his artists to study the European style and Christian themes, which they began to appropriate in their work. The Holy Family exemplifies the artwork produced as a result.

Although the holy family theme may seem like an unusual choice for a predominantly non-Christian audience, such images were not as foreign to the Mughal people as one might expect. Images of Jesus and Mary were associated with moral leadership, divine guidance, and royal lineage. In fact, Emperors Akbar and Jahangir valued Christian themes because they could be used as propaganda to reinforce their divinely sanctioned rule. Mentions of holy figures also occur several times throughout Islamic religious literature, with Christ representing an example of piety and humility. For this reason, The Holy Family would have been well-received by an Indian audience of various religions and understood as a symbol of morality, divinity, and devotion. 

SC

India Orientalis

Created by Theodore de Bry and his publishing firm for the Latin edition of their geography India Orientalis, this engraving depicts an idol of Jagannath as it is carted by elephants and celebrated by a nearly nude crowd during the chariot festival that honors the Bangladeshi deity (fig. 1). Instead of the jovial atmosphere one might expect from such a festivity, the scene feels frightening because beneath the devilish effigy, the wheels of the chariot crush piles of bodies. This engraving is not based on first-hand observation. Rather, it is based on the illustrations and written accounts from travel reports published in the late 16th century authored by Jan Huygen van Linschoten and Willem Lodewijcksz, respectively. In addition to these visual adaptions, text from the Dutch reports have also been translated to German and Latin. Though there are minimal differences between the German and Latin versions of the book, the content that does differ is textual and most often regards religious concepts or pagan practices. The Latin edition omits some of the Christian, specifically Protestant, sentiments of the reports while the German edition does not. These differences may only stem from linguistic variations or, they might suggest a strategic decision to broaden the market for the India Orientalis. 

The latter is not unlikely given that there was a substantial market for geographies that relayed the non-European world as exotic. By the 17th century, the well-developed discourse of these exotic geographies had bolstered sentiments that favored European expansion and imperial efforts by sensationalizing the foreign and manufacturing excessively deviant ‘others.’  This engraving from the India Orientalis highlights these points. The intended consumers of de Bry’s books were undoubtedly European, and as such, they were presumably unfamiliar with elephants, their adornment, or their use to draw chariots. This sense of foreign curiosity is furthered by the landscape, particularly the palm trees and the rock formation or ruins in the background. The festival depicted partially adds to the sensationalization of the foreign that the engraving puts forth, though it primarily showcases the Bangladeshi people's deviance. To a European, Christian audience, their nudity, rituals, and the violence shown would seem both uncivilized and immoral. While the opulence and wonder in the engraving prompt the interest and desires of viewers of foreign goods and lands, the savage depiction of the Bangladeshi proposes a negative and even violent interpretation of foreign cultures. Thus, engravings from geographic texts like that by the De Bry brothers can be understood as one form of media that strengthen sentiments which justified European expansion and imperialism.

FC

Screen with European Figures (obverse) and Landscape (reverse) with Stand

Table screens functioned as decorations and symbols of intelligence and sophistication in early modern Chinese culture. Elites, such as government officials and scholars, kept these screens atop their work surfaces to maintain privacy and provide shield from drafts while writing. Traditionally, table screens could display flat antiques such as inkstones, jade ornaments, or slices of interesting and beautiful rocks. This unique table screen exhibits how European art styles were incorporated into Chinese decorative objects during the Qing Dynasty (1644 – 1911). Objects made in the Qing court workshop featured designs based on prints and techniques such as enamelware, brought to Asia from Europe by Christian missionaries. 

Although the religious groups were generally unsuccessful in converting the Qing court, European imagery was assimilated into the existing Chinese art canon.  Linear perspective, naturalistic shading, and European floral patterns intrigued early modern Chinese patrons and artists, who were trained in calligraphy and traditional Chinese painting. Familiar Chinese art elements, such as rhythmic linearity, idealized human figures, and flattened perspective, are visible in the landscape painting on the reverse of this screen. The frame only has European-style floral decorations on the side which shows European figures. One possibility for this choice is the principle of balancing negative space in Chinese visual culture. The presence of both European and Chinese painting styles on opposite sides of this object convey the simultaneous interconnectedness and separation of the two artistic traditions, which were forced together by Qing emperors and patrons. Such hybridization was at first only popular within the Qing court, but the trend grew out from the imperial circle and eventually became desirable oddities for both domestic and international markets.

JL

Ewer

Made during the 16th century in Venice, Italy, this glass ewer is a stunning example of the skill of Venetian glass makers (Figure 1). Although it was created in Venice, an analysis of the materiality and form of this object reveal complex connections between Italy and the Middle East in the early modern period. Glasswork objects were a specialty of Venetian artisans. The eye-catching, colorful striations on this object were created with a technique known as calcedonio, or “chalcedony.” In this technique, silver is used as a coloring agent in a molten glass mixture that is not fully blended in order to maintain the striped look. This type of glass was meant to imitate the veined surfaces of the semi-precious chalcedony stone. Chalcedony stone is a type of jasper, and naturally occurs in many variations. Driven by an interest in natural phenomena, this type of stone was highly prized and collected by many Renaissance courts, often polished and embellished with gold mounts or used in pietre dure works. Venice in particular was at an advantage in terms of importing chalcedony and other semi-precious stones during the early modern period with its thriving trade with India, Indonesia, and China. Chalcedony glass was thus a highly appreciated material, able to evoke the beauty of nature in a variety of objects. This ability to recreate nature in the form of glass played into the Renaissance idea that art was meant to imitate and even out-do nature itself. 

Another important aspect of this object is its shape. The shape of the ewer is based on that of Islamic types. An ewer is an elongated vessel with a bulbous body, a handle, and long, typically curved spout. In India this type of object is referred to by the Persian word aftaba, and is often accompanied by a matching basin. Ewers have a long history and were created in a variety of styles. Meant to hold water, they also have an important symbolic role in Islamic and Hindu culture. The handle of an ewer was often made in the form of a stylized dragon. While it is not clear that this handle is representing a dragon or any animalistic form for that matter, the curves near where the handle connects to the body and the indents in those areas do evoke that idea. At the time this ewer was made, Venice had been through a series of conflicts with the Ottoman Empire and yet still depended on mercantile relations with the Middle East, Istanbul being one of the most popular trading locations. Ewers such as this one would have likely been recognizable as foreign objects and sought out for collections of exotica, much like the chalcedony stone. By referencing a specifically Islamic type of vessel and a semi-precious stone imported from Asia, but rendered in a specifically Venetian material, this object signifies global connections, serving as both a symbol of a foreign place and promoting an Italian position of power. 

SL

The Qianlong Emperor in Ceremonial Armor on Horseback

Giuseppe Castiglione (Chinese name Lang Shining 郞世寧), an artist who trained in Milan, painted The Qianlong Emperor in Ceremonial Armor on Horseback in 1758 while working for the Qing court in Beijing.The Emperor is shown in rich, brilliant yellow armor covered with dragon motifs as he prepares to review his troops at a military parade. Both he and his horse are depicted with soft shading, creating an Italian style dimensionality, though the detail of his armor and the cut-out characteristic of the horse lend the painting its strikingly Chinese quality. The background is similarly a composite of European painting elements and Chinese traditional style: the sky is painted with voluminous clouds and the lower left foreground includes plants done in chiaroscuro, while the rest of the landscape is in the Chinese manner, though scholars disagree on whether it was done by Chinese artists or by Castiglione himself. The painting is a tieluohua (贴落画), a format unique to the Qing dynasty in which a painting is bound around the edges by a strip of cloth or paper and stuck directly to a wall. The Milanese technique of using tempera on silk was similar to tieluohua and would have been known to Castiglione; his familiarity with more liquid rather than oil-based preparations also likely aided his success in Beijing since Qianlong believed mediums like Chinese watercolor were more elegant because they could be viewed from any angle. The composition refers to the Western tradition of equestrian portraiture stretching back to antiquity with the Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius that has been used to convey the subject’s power and ability to rule. The portrait is highly flattering, perhaps surprisingly so considering the artist was Jesuit, Qianlong non-Christian, and that the emperor was committed to defending Manchu culture from Western influences that included Christian missionaries. 

Castiglione, in fact, was only able to work in Beijing due to the efforts of these very missionaries. During his reign, the earlier Qing emperor Kangxi expressed great interest in Western science, art, and technology; Jesuit missionaries sought to utilize this curiosity in order to convert royal elites to Christianity. The Qing emperors, however, viewed European innovation as a source of competition and new knowledge rather than an opportunity to replace existing cultures through religious conversion. Despite this resistance to Christian influence, when Kangxi requested a European artist to be brought to his court, the Jesuits were quick to fulfill his wishes. Castiglione, then still a young painter in Milan, was taken into the Jesuit order as a lay brother in order to be sent to China as quickly as possible. Upon his arrival in 1715, however, Castiglione was not permitted to use any Christian images or themes in his paintings for the emperor. Though Jesuits came to Beijing with the aim of using Western art and technology to convert new Christians, Qing emperors like Qianlong were able utilize imported talent and knowledge to serve their own imperial agendas.

EB

Kris

This object is a kris, a Javanese dagger typified by its distinctive wavy blade. This kris is located in the collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art and has likely sat in storage for its entire career in Ohio. The kris blade displays oscillating layers of iron and a pamor, a pattern in the center of the blade that echoes the grain of its wooden hilt. The pamor and sinuous blade are the result of a careful process of welding, etching, and beating the blades. While scholars have noted the similarities between kris pamors and the dappled metal of Indian and Persian blades, the method of producing the pamor on krisses is likely an early modern technique local to the Indonesian archipelago. The Cleveland Museum of Art does not specify the kind of wood used in this kris. By failing to mention the organic, and potentially endemic, materials that make up the kris, the Cleveland Museum of Art prevents the viewer from gaining information on the specific geographic origin of this particular kris. The handle of this object displays another distinctive kris feature – a pistol shaped grip. A rounded metal ring connects the wooden pieces, and its warm, brassy tone is a subtle complement to the cool, undulating waves of the silvery blade. Krisses are traditionally almost always stored in a sheath. However, it is unclear whether the Cleveland Museum of Art stores the dagger within the sheath specifically made for it, or if the sheath arrived in Cleveland alongside the blade to begin with.

Krisses are socially important tools in Javanese culture, functioning as utilitarian weapons, active, sacred objects and national symbols for Indonesia. By the 1700s, krisses had entered European collections through trade and the efforts of Dutch, Danish, and English merchants. Although some krisses may have been given to Europeans as gifts, others were likely taken through violent means. The means through which this kris, and every single other kris in the Cleveland Museum of Art’s collection, arrived at the institution is unclear, as the museum fails to provide a detailed description of these objects’ provenance. The Cleveland Museum of Art’s cavalier treatment of krisses such as this one demonstrates how museums are capable of stripping these objects of their function as familial heirlooms upon entrance into collections -- the lack of provenance provided by the museum separates this active object from the generations of a family it was likely once connected to. The only provenance information recorded for this kris is that “C.S. Hill” donated it to the Cleveland Museum of Art. According to provenance researcher Mirjam Shantanawai, museums have often failed to document the circumstances surrounding donations from private owners. Thus, the possibility of tracking down the specific geographic origin or lineage of this kris becomes a potentially endless search, as there may not be any documentation regarding where C.S. Hill purchased this kris or whether it was obtained through ethical means. How should museums and provenance researchers reckon with these black holes created by the incomplete provenance practices of the past?

Keystone object essay

Frans Francken the Younger’s The Cabinet of a Collector (Preziosenwand), painted in 1617, presents the viewer with a plethora of objects acquired for private consumption in a kunstkammer, an array of wondrous objects such as naturalia, exotica, and ethnographic material assembled for domestic consumption. The Cabinet is part of a larger trend of still-life and kunstkammer paintings that became popular in early seventeenth-century Antwerp. An international center for trade and commerce, residents of Antwerp would have had access to a geographically diverse array of goods to purchase and marvel at. Although the assemblage of these painted items is not impossible for an Antwerp resident, these paintings are likely idealized depictions of collections rather than documentary accounts. Thus, the artist’s choice of collected objects and allusions to certain European styles are rhetorical devices, meant to lead the viewer to some sort of conclusion about the nature of collecting and exotic objects. But what could this conclusion be?

One object that Francken depicts in this work is a kris, a Javanese dagger that, in its original context would have been used both as a weapon and a symbol for its owner’s masculinity, identity, and status. The kris frames the left side of the canvas, its sheath drawing the viewer’s eyes downward towards an array of exotic-coded naturalia. In this way, the kris is highlighted as a foreign wonder, as awe-inspiring to the Belgian viewer as the shells and insects from another land. The kris stands out amongst the presented objects as the only identifiable weapon in the assemblage, although its distinctive wavy blade is hidden from view by way its sheath. To a Seventeenth-century Belgian viewer, the most distinctive Javanese element of this blade would likely be the idol-shaped hilt. Seventeenth-century viewers would have recognized the demonic appearance of the hilt, allowing them to distinguish the dissimilar belief system of “pagan” Java and Christian Belgium.

The depiction of the kris in this painting highlights the transformation of meaning these weapons underwent over the course of their transition from use in a Javanese context to placement in a European collection. Through the purchase or, sometimes, theft of these ancestrally significant weapons, European collectors reframed the meaning krisses carried with them. No longer would a weapon allude to an ancestral chain or spiritual tradition. Rather, krisses stood as dual signs of Dutch exploration and the depravity of its original owners. Francken’s painting further demonstrates this recontextualization by sheathing the kris, which, in the view of some scholars, forcibly tames the weapon. This reading of Francken’s painting is one which emphasizes the functional silencing of the kris, resulting in an implication that the kris and its source-culture require Dutch civilizing. The painting’s visual subjugation of the kris hints, to modern viewers, at the colonial conquest of Indonesia that the Netherlands would eventually embark on. However, it is important to note that kris sheaths, sarongs, were valued by Indonesian wielders, as the sheath was an integral method of preserving the kris’s power when not in use. Thus, although Francken may have attempted to tame and silence this kris in this painting, the sheathing of the dagger and inadvertent protection of its spiritual power may be read as a post-hoc decolonial symbol for Indonesian agency and resistance against Dutch colonization.

Although this painting’s sheathing of the kris does fully strip the object of its agency, Francken’s act of painting the kris nonetheless removes it from its material use as an active, embodied weapon. By removing the kris’s ability to stab, cut, and pierce, the painting furthers the re-contextualization that occurred through early modern collecting practices by relegating this specific kris to the medium of painting, rather than spiritual wielding. Interestingly, this specific kris has appeared in at least three other paintings. The whereabouts of this kris are unclear, and its repeated recurrence in early modern kunstkammer paintings solidifies its transformed status as a Javanese wonder for European consumption, mediated through the static role it plays in this composition, as well as others. Today, krisses in contemporary museum collections face similar silencing of their spiritual pasts and familial connections through scant presentations of provenance history and limited discussion on the nature of these objects. Do these contemporary methods of displaying and presenting krisses to the public echo the taming of krisses as seen in this painting?

EP

Snuff Bottle with European Figures

The circulation of goods, representation of culture, and adoption of foreign styles and habits characterize the early modern period. Expanding trade networks fostered cultural encounters, and the relationship between China and Europe can be explored through a Qing Dynasty snuff bottle decorated with Western figures.

Snuff bottles are small vessels created for the storage and consumption of a processed mixture of tobacco and herbs, called snuff. Tobacco originated from the Americas, but early modern colonialism brought the substance to Europe and eventually to China. In the 16th century, Portuguese, Spanish, and Dutch traders brought tobacco overseas, spurring a new market.  The Chinese believed that tobacco had medicinal properties, but its consumption was considered shameful until the late-17th and 18th centuries. In fact, the Ming court banned tobacco in the late 1630s, and threats of beating, fines, and even death were not enough to curb the consumption of the product. The Qing court, on the other hand, showed indifference towards the substance, allowing a boom in the production and consumption of tobacco in China. 

Snuff bottles, and the unique herbal mixtures they held, were signs of wealth and status in Qing China. The small decorated vessels were associated with the imperial court and were often made of unique and desirable materials. Snuff bottles were also highly sought after by art collectors, and were popular items for both export and domestic consumption.

Possibly because of their wealthy buyers, snuff bottles were a favorite vehicle for artistic experimentation in Qing China. Artists in imperial and local workshops decorated the vessels with unconventional subjects, including European figures. In these unique objects, Western-style figures emphasize the foreignness and novelty of both the object type, the snuff bottle, and the medium, painted enamel on copper. Enamel, colored glass with a low melting-point used to decorate the surface of another material, was a technology introduced to China in the 16th century. 

The image of a nursing mother is especially effective in connoting European-ness, as Christian Madonna Lactans imagery had been a staple of European religious imagery since the medieval period. Undoubtedly, the image of a young woman with one breast exposed for a suckling child would have been brought by Jesuit missionaries for their evangelizing efforts. In the Chinese workshops, however, the religious symbolism of the virgin mother was ignored, as Western imagery was typically divorced from its meaning in favor of formal study and experimentation. Instead, the nursing mother may be compared to the image on the reverse of the bottle, which shows a European woman with a low-cut neckline. The exposed neck and low-cut dresses on these figures exoticizes both European dress and the European female body. In Chinese travel writing and artistic depictions, the European female body was associated with sexual depravity and availability, with exposed arms and necks considered acts of display for voyeuristic pleasure.  Some scholars argue that images of women were used as metaphors for cultural values, with sexual immorality linked to political threats from Europe. 

This snuff bottle with European figures engages with numerous facets of the globally connected early modern world. The use of the object is predicated on the consumption of tobacco, an American crop which came to China through vast trade networks connected by European colonizers. In China, the substance and the vessel connoted wealth and status because of their foreignness and limited availability. The material properties of the bottle were novel, the technique of enamel painting on metal introduced by Europeans, as were its decorative elements. The object type, materiality, and imagery all emphasized an exotic Western origin, but the choice to depict two European women on a snuff bottle may have had deeper moral implications.

JL

Weeping Virgin, Juan Cuiris

This brightly colored, shimmering image of the Weeping Virgin may first appear to be a painting but is actually a mosaic constructed from thousands of small feathers. Combining a Mesoamerican technique with European-Christian iconography, this work transcends geographical boundaries and reflects the entangled artistic relationships between the so-called ‘Old’ and ‘New Worlds.’ Made towards the end of the 16th century by a Mexica amanteca, or feather artist, and based on an earlier French engraving, this work also highlights ideas surrounding circulation, imitation, and representation in the early modern world.

The amantecas of Mesoamerica used the brilliance of feathers to ascribe value, creating objects such as headdresses, capes, and shields entirely out of feathers. Feathers carried moral and sacred associations in Mexica cultures. As Diana Fane describes, “the concept of preciousness was central to the natural, social, political, and sacred order of the Mexica world.” The iridescence of feathers, therefore, served to materialize this concept. Featherwork technique was laborious and required precise skills: each feather painting required a model to be made by local painters or scribes which was often inspired by an already existing work. Patterns were created from the model which could then be copied numerous times. Once a drawing was affixed to a rigid support and a thin piece of cotton adhered on top, thousands of cut feathers were glued down. Black or purple feathers were used for the outlines, ordinary feathers made up the background, and the radiantly colored precious feathers filled in the details. 

Upon arriving in New Spain, Europeans also took note of these brilliant ‘paintings.’ Hernan Cortes, amazed by their brilliance and ability to depict natural subjects, sent many featherwork pieces back to the court of Spain as well as and to other countries. In this way, featherwork became synonymous with the Americas in general and New Spain in particular, visually representing Cortes’s control over the New World. In addition, Europeans viewed these works as a new form of painting, likening them to their own artistic practices. Alessandra Russo argues that feather art from New Spain was seen as a contemporary artistic practice, discussed and appreciated as such in Europe because of already-existing pictorial ideals. Early modern humanistic theories of art as imitatio naturae, or the imitation of nature, emphasized the primary goal of artistic production. Artists were praised for drawing from life, focusing on naturalism. Mexica feather mosaics were appreciated and valued so highly by European audiences because they not only served this function but did so through the medium of nature itself. Amantecas were able to recreate nature through nature. 

This idea of imitation is furthered on another level with this particular piece, The Weeping Virgin. This mosaic, and its partner (figure 2), were commissioned by Juan Cuiris and depict a scene from the episode narrated in Luke 2:41-50; the visual source for this mosaic is an engraving which was printed in the workshop of Philippe Thomassin and Jean Turpin (figure 3). This engraving was inspired by a miniature done by Giulio Clovio. Thus, the feather mosaic of the Weeping Virgin completed a cycle in which the miniature-turned-engraving regains its former chromatic energy through the radiance of feathers. Additionally, further links can be seen to the act of engraving and feather art making. The soft edges and subtleties that are created between feathers are reminiscent of the fuzzy lines created by an engraver's burin. Like feather art, the printing process in early modern Europe was also an inherently reproductive process, often used to reproduce the composition of paintings, which served to validate the painting itself and allowed for the depiction to be studied and viewed by a wider audience. 

This feather mosaic of the Weeping Virgin eventually made its way to the Treasury of Rudolph II in Prague. There it would have not only conjured associations of the exotic New World but would also have been admired as an artistic form, capable of imitating a previous image and using the natural world to do so. The Weeping Virgin can be seen as a translation of the sacrality of the virgin through the precious iridescence of feathers.

SL