Curio Cabinet / Art Curio

There's nothing like home sweet homestead. With autumn just around the corner, we’re looking forward to changing leaves, apple cider, and pumpkin pies. The piece above, American Homestead, shows a family in 19th century attire in front of their house in the autumn. A man is on a ladder picking apples while a woman and three children are on the grass putting them in a basket. Idyllic scenes like this were the bread and butter of Currier & Ives, a printmaking company based in New York City. Founded in 1835 by lithographer Nathaniel Currier, James Merritt Ives joined later on as lithographer and bookkeeper. Currier & Ives considered themselves publishers of “cheap and popular pictures," and indeed, they produced over 7,500 unique images and over one million prints. They're even mentioned in the popular Christmas song Sleigh Ride, as they were practically synonymous with holiday cards. The company struggled financially in the early 20th century as lithographs fell out of fashion in favor of photography, and shuttered their doors in 1907. They couldn't keep up with the times, even if they could help you remember the good times.

 
American Homestead, Nathaniel Currier (1813–1888) and James Merritt Ives (1824–1895), 1869, Lithograph, hand colored, 8.25 x 12.5 in. (21 x 31.7 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art

 
[Image credit & copyright: Nathaniel Currier and James Merritt Ives. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of Mrs. S. Prentiss Baldwin on her 94th birthday 1946.448. Public domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

Here's one horse you can lead to water while you have a drink. This horse-shaped drinking vessel was made in ancient Iran, where horses were seen as symbols of power and prestige. The animal is seated, with a cropped tail, and is adorned with an ornate saddle and other accessories. This particular vessel dates back to sometime in the Sasanian dynasty (224–651 CE) and is made of pure silver with some gilded details. Horses were instrumental in the military success of ancient Persians and were used for everything from hunting to communication over vast distances, so it’s no wonder that they were held in such high regard. Although this particular horse is dressed in regal trappings, something appears to be missing: stirrups. While stirrups were used in China by this point, they hadn’t been universally adopted yet. Stirrups enhanced the utility of horses in military applications by providing stability and making the animals easier to control. But maybe this particular specimen is taking things at a more leisurely pace.

 
Horse-Shaped Drinking Vessel, Iran, Sasanian Empire, 200–325 CE, Silver, partially gilt, 4.75 x 4.25 x 12.87 in. (12 x 10.8 x 32.7 cm.), Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund 1964.41. Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.]

Today, Notre-Dame Cathedral is as famous as the city in which it resides, yet this beautiful Parisian landmark once fell into disrepair, and there was even talk of tearing it down. That all changed thanks to Victor Hugo's 1831 novel, Notre-Dame de Paris (The Hunchback of Notre Dame in English). The piece above is an illustration from an 1889 edition of the novel. It depicts a man hanging from a gargoyle. The man is being attacked by a crow as he dangles. Behind him is the city of Paris. In the early 1800s, Paris underwent a series of drastic changes. Following the ideals of the French Revolution, Parisians were eager to erase some of their ties to the past, including certain old buildings. But Hugo was a great admirer of Parisian architecture, and advocated for its preservation. His greatest success in this regard came in the form of his 1831 novel, which featured Notre-Dame as a sort of character as well as a setting. Readers were once again enchanted with the cathedral, and it was saved. In fact, thanks to Hugo, Paris has retained much of its historic architecture. Paris without Notre-Dame? That's like wine without cheese.

 
Notre-Dame de Paris, Luc-Olivier Merson (1846–1920), 1881, Pen and black ink, brush and black wash, white gouache and graphite on paper, 12.81 x 8.56 in. (32.6 x 21.7 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Luc-Olivier Merson (French, 1846–1920), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Bequest of Muriel Butkin 2008.359, Public domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

It’s not quite clear what’s going on with this guy, but one thing’s for sure: he’s in trouble. German artist Hans Baldung created this woodcut illustration that continues to confound scholars. The piece, titled The Bewitched Groom, shows a man lying on his back. There is a horse in the background looking toward the man, and an old, laughing woman carrying a lit torch is leaning through a nearby window. Baldung was deeply concerned with themes of death, the threat of witchcraft, and female sexuality in general, which is reflected in many of his illustrations. It’s not entirely clear, though, what this piece is meant to represent. The coat of arms featuring the head of a unicorn that is hanging above the old woman is Baldung’s own, and the man on the floor also resembles the artist. It’s possible that the old woman is meant to be a witch, and that Baldung was simply expressing his fears about black magic or even his own mortality. The woodcut was completed in 1545, and Baldung actually died that same year. If the meaning of the illustration was a secret, he didn’t have to wait long to take it to the grave.

 
The Bewitched Groom, Hans Baldung (1484/85–1545), 1544–45, Woodcut, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Hans Baldung (German, 1484/85–1545), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Mr. and Mrs. Charles G. Prasse Collection 1966.172. Public domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

They may look fearsome, but their meaning is actually quite friendly. Guardian lions, sometimes called “Foo Dogs” in the West, still stand watch in front of Buddhist temples all over the world. The piece above is a stone sculpture of a lion sitting on a square base. Its head is looking up and to its right, and its front legs are outstretched. Although these lions are heavily associated with China, they were actually introduced during the Western Han Dynasty (206 BC – 9 AD) by a diplomat who was returning from Central Asia. Since their introduction, they’ve become intertwined with Buddhism and the spiritual practice of feng shui. The lions are always supposed to be placed in pairs in the north, west, or northwest, with one male on the left and one female on the right. They’re believed to guard temples from evil spirits and to protect the truth. Over the centuries, they’ve been created in many different styles, ranging from more austere examples like this one to intricately-adorned versions made of gold or copper. No matter what they’re made of, these guardians always seem full of pride.

 
Guardian Lion, Tang dynasty (618-907), c.600, White marble, 31 in. (78.8 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund 1965.473. Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation, public domain.

Imagine running into this kid in the playground! This portrait of a young King Louis XIII of France was painted by Flemish artist Frans Pourbus the Younger. It depicts the boy-king dressed in regal, pink attire. He also wears a blue sash around his torso and his left hand rests on the hilt of a sword. Louis XIII was crowned king of France in 1610, when he was just nine years old, after his father was assassinated. Although his mother, Marie de’ Medici, effectively took control until the young monarch grew up, he was king nonetheless. Thus, his portrait was created by Pourbus, who was prized by royalty and nobility for his skill at capturing both the physical likeness and regal air of his subjects. Like many other portraitists of his time, Pourbus was also adept at recreating the dazzling, intricate rooms, objects, and fashion that went along with French royalty. In some ways, the outfit looks more realistic than the king himself.

 
Portrait of King Louis XIII of France, Frans Pourbus (1569–1622), 1611, Oil on canvas, 62.68 x 37.5 in.(159.3 x 95.3 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Frans Pourbus (Flemish, 1569–1622), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Mr. and Mrs. William H. Marlatt Fund 2003.225, Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

He may have been an artist, but he wasn’t a hopeless romantic! Max Bohm was an American painter whose work often displayed powerful but measured emotions. His piece above, Lucy, depicts a woman standing in a winter landscape with a full moon in the background. She is wearing a black hat and coat over a purple dress as she looks into the viewer’s eyes. The subject of this painting was once in a relationship with the artist. When Bohm proposed to her, she rejected him, concerned over his ability to earn a living as a painter. Bohm did go on to be successful, and he spent most of his life in Europe. His paintings, like the piece above, are defined by bold brush strokes and simple composition that efficiently convey mood and atmosphere. In his time, he was considered one of the greatest American painters by critics in Europe. Maybe Lucy was wrong about him, or maybe she simply gave him the motivation he needed!

 
Lucy, Artist (birth-death), 1909, Oil on canvas, 49.62 x 49.62 in. (126 x 126 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of Barbara and Edmund Hajim 2021.148, Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

Even when you have nothing, you can have dignity. This was often the message conveyed by Käthe Kollwitz, a German artist whose works were as much political commentary as they were art. Her piece above, Working Woman with Blue Shawl, shows a blonde woman looking down and to her left. Shadows obscure her face, which has a neutral expression. Kollwitz was born in 1867 in Königsberg, or modern day Kaliningrad, Russia. Although she initially trained as a painter, she began to favor printmaking like lithography and woodcuts. She believed that the medium’s ability to reproduce works of art on a larger scale and reach a wider range of social classes made it more equitable. Indeed, much of her work is based on highlighting the disenfranchisement and hardships that affected the poor and the working class. She once wrote in her diary, “I felt that I have no right to withdraw from the responsibility of being an advocate. It is my duty to voice the sufferings of men, the never-ending sufferings heaped mountain-high.” It’s not just “fine” art, it’s very much “things are not fine” art.

 
Title, Käthe Kollwitz (1867–1945), 20th century, Color lithograph, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Käthe Kollwitz (German, 1867–1945), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of The Print Club of Cleveland 1932.320, Public Domain Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

This goddess doesn’t take bull from anyone. The drinking vessel pictured above originates from modern-day Iran or Afghanistan, and depicts the Hindu goddess Durga. It’s made of silver with glass inlays and gold details, and it depicts a woman’s head on top of a water buffalo’s head. The woman has a gold mark on her forehead and the buffalo has horns that curve backward. In Hinduism, Durga was created by the principal gods of Hinduism to defeat the demon Mahishasura, who had taken the form of a buffalo. The goddess is typically depicted with up to 10 arms, and is often seen riding atop a white lion, or slaying the buffalo demon. Her portrayal here contains elements of both Greek and Persian art, as well as art from the Indus River Valley and Hindu Kush regions. What can’t be seen is the filling hole on her head, though the vessel’s drinking spout is visible on the buffalo’s mouth. It’s wine from the divine.

 
Woman and Water Buffalo Rhyton, 500-700, silver with mercury gilding and glass inlays, 7.5 in. (19.1 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. Fund 1964.96, Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

Even in ancient times, big cats were a big deal. The people of the Roman Empire and the Eastern Roman Empire were enamored with exotic animals, but not in quite the same way that people are today. The piece above is a mosaic made of square tiles called tesserae. The image shows a female tiger with three cubs, one of which is laying on her back. Tigers rarely feature in Roman art, but when they do, it’s usually a female tiger. No one knows for sure why this is, but it might be because hunters trapped female tigers after stealing their cubs to lure them. Once captured, tigers and other exotic animals were placed in the Roman coliseum to be “hunted” for entertainment in events called “venationes.” But just because this brutal sport was popular doesn’t mean that it was universally accepted. Philosopher Cicero believed that the coliseum games appealed to the worst of human nature, and even some emperors like Marcus Aurelius had little interest in or even outright disdain for them. Nowadays, when you hear about a big cat getting destroyed in a stadium, it’s usually a football team!

 
Mosaic of Tigress and Cubs, 300s CE, Tesserae, 56.25 x 53.31 in. ( 142.9 x 135.4 cm.)

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Eastern Roman Empire, John L. Severance Fund 1987.65, Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

This leader certainly seems to have a good head on his shoulders. The carving above portrays a Mayan ruler who has undergone artificial cranial deformation (ACD), also known as head binding. The carving appears on a large fragment of a conch shell. The white shell is engraved with the image of a seated Mayan man with an elongated head smoking a cigar while wearing an animal headpiece, possibly made from a rabbit or deer. ACD has been practiced among a variety of cultures around the world, and it was particularly popular throughout various indigenous cultures in the Americas. The process of reshaping the skull started when the subject was still an infant, and usually involved applying constant pressure with wooden boards or tightly wrapped cloth. The infants were usually restrained so they couldn’t move, and the process could last around six months. In ancient Mayan culture, elongated heads were considered a sign of nobility. Still, the long, involved process sounds like a bit of a headache.
 
Shell with Seated Noble, Maya, 600-900, Medium, 6.56 x 3.12 x 1.37 in. (16.6 x 7.9 x 3.5 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, The Norweb Collection. Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.]

That looks like an impressive haul for a day's work. Claude-Emile Schuffenecker created this scene out of black chalk, and despite its humble subject matter, it’s one of the defining pieces of the Synthetism movement. Seaweed Gatherers, Yport, shows women at a rocky beach carrying bundles of seaweed on their backs. The women are crouched forward as they walk on the sand with the sea in the background. Schuffenecker, along with Paul Gaugin, created Synthetism, a post-Impressionist style that moved away from relying on nature and the focus on the study of light. Instead, the artists relied more on memory and emphasized flat, two-dimensional shapes. Synthetism also heavily featured symbolism, and often had surreal, dream-like scenes. Despite his contributions to art, Schuffenecker's legacy was forever marred after his death, when it was discovered that he was involved in the sale of fake van Gogh paintings. It’s a revelation that certainly doesn’t paint him in a good light.

 
Seaweed Gatherers, Yport, Claude-Emile Schuffenecker (1851–1934), 1889, Black chalk, 11.5 x 8.93 in., The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Claude-Emile Schuffenecker, Gift from Samuel and Paul Josefowitz in tribute to Jane Glaubinger and Heather Lemonedes, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Public Domain Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.]

Is this pottery too kitschy, or is that just a matter of taste? Tin-glazed earthenware has been around for millennia, and allowed for colorful creations like this charming ceramic serving dish. Its lid is shaped and painted to look like a bundle of asparagus. One side of the piece is a yellowish off-white color that gradually turns into a dark green at the “head” of the asparagus. Elaborate pieces like this serving dish were produced at a factory in Sceaux, France, outside of Paris. The factory mainly produced a type of tin-glazed earthenware called faience, which uses tin oxide to create a white glaze, and porcelain starting in the mid-1700s up to the early 1800s. While most faience were more conventionally shaped with elaborate designs painted on, the factory also produced whimsical designs like this one, often used when entertaining guests. As for what might have been served in this particular piece of earthenware…why not some veggies?

 
Box in the Form of Asparagus, probably Sceaux Factory (active 1748–66), c. 1765, Tin-glazed earthenware (faience) with enamel decoration, 2.5 x 7 x 3.25 in. (6.4 x 17.8 x 8.3 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Sceaux Factory (active 1748–66), the Cleveland Museum of Art, The Norweb Collection 1966.229, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) public domain.]

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then this portrait might have been a confession letter. French Impressionist Edouard Manet often painted his colleagues, but his relationship with the subject of this painting was a little more complicated than usual. It’s a portrait of a woman with dark hair wearing a fur coat. She has her hands in a matching fur muff and her eyes are looking to one side. The subject’s name was Berthe Morisot, and she was a renowned Impressionist in her own right. Morisot and Manet became close after meeting each other in 1868 through a mutual friend, and ultimately, she would become a frequent model for him. Although Morisot married Manet’s younger brother Eugène, some art historians suspect that Morisot and the elder Manet brother may have shared a romantic connection on account of their close bond, their prolific correspondence, and her frequent role as his model. Much of their most intimate correspondence was destroyed by the authors themselves, so all that remains is speculation. It’s just like Impressionists to leave a muddled picture.

 
Berthe Morisot, Edouard Manet (1832–1883), c. 1869–73, Oil on fabric, 29.12 x 23.62 in. (74 x 60 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Edouard Manet, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Bequest of Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. 1958.34, Public Domain CC0.]

This is certainly one way to beat the heat. French-born British artist Edmund Dulac painted this scene of the Queen of Sheba staying cool as she rides on the back of a camel. The Queen of Sheba depicts the titular queen in an elaborate dress sitting on a camel litter. The camel is being led by its reins, and a city is visible in the distance. The Queen of Sheba is a figure who appears in a number of texts in Abrahamic religions, and though accounts differ somewhat, she is invariably described as being a woman of fantastical splendor who was adorned in the finest jewels. It’s only natural, then, that she would be portrayed by Dulac. A prolific book illustrator known for his dreamlike imagery, Dulac spent much of his career creating artwork to accompany the literature of everyone from Hans Christen Andersen to Edgar Allan Poe. His style is defined by meticulous detail and an otherworldly atmosphere that lends itself well to portraying scenes written by similarly imaginative authors. If this depiction isn’t classy enough for you, then you just might be the “Queen of Sheba” yourself.

 
The Queen of Sheba, Edmund Dulac (1882–1953), 1911, Pen and brown ink, watercolor, and gouache, with graphite and color wax crayon, on artist’s drawing board, 12.43 x 10 in. (31.6 x 25.4 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright:The Cleveland Museum of Art, Edmund Dulac, Bequest of James Parmelee 1940.738. Public Domain, CC0 1.0 Universal.]

If funerary rites are a reflection of a culture’s values, this is practically a kaleidoscope. Egypt was, at various times, ruled by Greeks, Romans, and the Byzantines, and each regime left a mark on the culture of the area. The piece above is a portrait of a young girl with gilded details. Her lips, crown, earrings, necklaces, and robe are painted with gold. The gold paint in this portrait isn’t just a way to represent the deceased’s accessories—it has symbolic meaning. Her golden lips symbolize her transformation into an akh, an effective entity and an aspect of the deceased’s soul that can visit the world of the living. The girl in the portrait was also mummified, as was customary in Egypt at the time, but her manner of dress and hairstyle suggest strong Hellenic influence. That’s not too surprising, since she lived and died less than a century after the end of the Ptolemaic dynasty, which consisted of the descendants of Ptolemy I Soter, a general of Alexander the Great. What a time to be alive. Or dead.

 
Funerary Portrait of a Young Girl, c. 25–37 CE, Encaustic on wood, 15.5 x 6.87 in. (39.4 x 17.4 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright:The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund 1971.137, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.]

Sitting for a portrait by a master painter might seem like an honor anyone would relish, but the subject of this piece didn’t care for the finished product. Adeline Ravoux was the 13-year-old daughter of the innkeeper at the Auberge Ravoux, where Vincent van Gogh spent the last 70 days of his life. The piece above is a portrait of her, a young girl in a greenish-blue dress next to white flowers. She has blonde hair and blue eyes, and she’s looking to the right. Van Gogh made several portraits of the innkeeper’s daughter, but Adeline herself didn’t like the paintings, believing they looked nothing like her. These portraits were among the dozens of paintings the artist made in his final days. After van Gogh shot himself in the chest in an apparent suicide attempt, Adeline witnessed the artist’s rapid decline as he succumbed to infection. The details of the last two days of van Gogh’s life were recorded by Adeline in a memoir she wrote decades later. Maybe the portraits would have been more to her liking if the artist had been in a better state.

 
Adeline Ravoux, Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890), 1890, Oil on fabric, 19.75 x 19.87 in. (50.2 x 50.5 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Vincent Van Gogh, the Cleveland Museum of Art, Bequest of Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. 1958.31. Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation, Public Domain.]

Would you buy a painting of yourself looking at a painting by the painter who painted you? Honoré Daumier was a French painter and caricaturist who contributed to the rise of Impressionism. His piece above, Art Lovers, is a mostly black-and-white image of charcoal and watercolor with only small bits of color. A group of men are looking at various paintings on display, and the one at the very front is crouching down for a closer look. Daumier’s work could be anything from dark and satirical to pointed and melancholy. Whether in caricatures, paintings, or prints, Daumier excelled at producing vibrant human figures, depicting movement and emotion with striking silhouettes and sometimes grotesque details. Art Lovers is one of his more subdued works but still characteristic of his style. Apparently, Daumier liked to paint art collectors as they browsed his works, and these pieces were sold to the collectors themselves. It’s possible, then, that this piece was sold to the very person it depicts. Now that’s a hustle!

 
Art Lovers, Honoré Daumier (1808–1879), 1863, Gray and black wash, charcoal, and graphite, with watercolor, on cream laid paper, 10.31 x 7.62 in. (26.2 x 19.4 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Dudley P. Allen Fund 1927.208. Public domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.

This sure beats an ID card on a lanyard. During the Ming dynasty (14th to 17th century), Chinese officials were given elaborate, woven badges to show their rank. The piece above depicts a white bird flying over water, surrounded by vibrant flowers hanging from tree branches. The image is made of different colored threads in the overall shape of a square. Rank badges such as these were worn on the front and back of military robes. The image denoted a person’s rank through iconography, with birds representing civil officials and terrestrial animals representing military officials. The red circle on the upper left is the sun, which represents the emperor, and shows the official’s allegiance to him. More than a form of identification, these were also intricate works of textile art. This type of tapestry is called kesi, and dates back to the Tang dynasty (7th to 10th century). Kesi combined silk and metal threads to create detailed images, and some kesi even had different images on both sides. Now those are some sharp threads!

 
Rank Badge (buzi), 1736–95, Silk, satin weave; silk, gold metal thread, and peacock feather embroidery, 12.25 x 12.25 in., The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright:The Cleveland Museum of Art. Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund 1948.70. Public Domain, Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.]

No need to beg for mercy from this deity; mercy is kind of their whole thing. Guanyin is a deity of Chinese mythology and Buddhism who helps people in the afterlife. The ancient sculpture above, Seated Guanyin, depicts the deity sitting with one leg raised and one arm resting atop it. The figure is wearing a crown and jewelry, and there are faint traces of red and gold paint. Guanyin was the Chinese name for the bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara. A bodhisattva is someone who is on their way to attaining Buddhahood, and they are often revered as deities in their own right. In the case of Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva vowed to delay his own Buddhahood until every sentient being escaped Samsara, the cycle of death and rebirth. In China, Guanyin is mostly depicted in their female form, and English translations of her title refer to her as the Goddess of Mercy. When someone manages to leave Samsara and is on their way to the Pure Land, the eternal afterlife, Guanyin is said to send them on their way in the heart of a lotus. It seems a fitting way to get around in a blissful afterlife.

 
Seated Guanyin, late 1100s–1200s, Wood with polychromy and gilding, 54.31 in. (138 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund 1984.70, Public Domain Creative Commons Zero (CC0) designation.]