Disclaimer: it must be said: the first time I laid eyes on Jean Pierre Tassert’s Love and Friendship, the inexcusable phrase “It’s not you, it’s me,” made an immediate appearance in my noggin. One cannot always help these things. While those words were not intended to dismiss that smooth Flemish tableaux, my trite pop-culture banter appears to do so all the same. This clash of time lines, between current and classical, speaks directly to the temporal existence of the art object. We cannot help but approach works from our own point in time, society, and experience no matter the context/no matter how hard we (attempt to) grasp hold of context. As old meanings are shed, new meanings emerge. However with this piece it feels as if/though old intentions match (my) modern interpretation. In this way there is merit to be found in the flippant and focused alike.
Tassert’s masterful marble duo (deliciously rounded and smooth as all get out) is composed of two figures with a small altar between/separated by a small altar, all atop a marble base about calf/hip height. The figure to our left is Love, a pudgy little cherub: cupid-esque with a fierce and flowing look upon his chubby little face. His wavy hair streams back(ward) wildly. With little/stubby wrists defiantly crossed, Love’s eyes are flaming orbs (captured in stone) beneath a furrowed brow. They flash over and upwards toward a towering figure of extreme placidity. Upon the altar lay a stack/quiver of arrows, still aflame. These arrows are broken, the result of time or intention I know not.
The right most form looms calmly over Love and the viewer alike; a small smile splayed upon her well shaped lips. Lids hang low over the warm and uncritical downturned glance of Friendship, un-singed/un-tinged by the wattage of Love’s burning/smoldering frustration. The kindling of Love’s gaze will not catch. Her breasts are bared as with/much akin to common depictions of Venus though this partial nudity is not to be taken as an invitation. COMPARE VENUS TO FRIENDSHIP HERE--OR MAYBE AFTER THIS PARAGRAPH One smooth hand rests lightly upon a tall-upright staff on her left (our right) side. Tendrils of ivy curvy in curly cues around the length/at the top of the staff. The other nestles/lays/is laid amongst the ruffled fringe/swaddling cloth encircling her cleavage. There is an “aw, how sweet” sort of loving condescension to this gesture. Her stance and expression are akin to/that of a parent towards a child, with a sort of “mother knows best” stance/stature. The child rages against the unyielding abd patient parental force. Love pushes, Friendship is simply waiting/simply waits for the tantrum to end/pass. When the balance of love and appreciation shifts and hearts diverge, the aforementioned emotional power structure will emerge/can also emerge/emerges/is struck. Stubborn lovers try to hold fast, begging and pleading in heated/angry denial of the inevitable (after all, breaking up is hard to do). Despite the heartbroken party’s best attempts/efforts the breaker will not budge. His/her internal awareness/knowledge (stance/needs/desires--or lack there of) creates/can create stoic/quiet/calm/wordless/serene certainty/ weight and certainty/serene and unchanging certainty. The ventricular decision’s been made. “But, certainly, we can still
be friend?”
god of desire erotic love --cupid
love beauty sex fertility military victory enticement seduction--aphrodite
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