Curio Cabinet / Art Curio

This man doesn’t have a good head on his shoulders. In fact, he doesn’t have a head at all! Bronze statues were produced prolifically in ancient Greece and Rome, but that doesn’t mean that artists skimped on quality. The piece above is a bronze statue of a man with the right arm in front with the hand raised. The left arm is behind the figure’s body and covered in cloth. The statue is missing its head. Bronze was the perennial favorite of sculptors in the Hellenistic era (323 B.C.E. to 32 B.C.E.), because it allowed artists to capture exquisite detail. As in the example above, the statues were cast to be hollow, allowing the figures to be light and hold poses that wouldn’t be possible with marble. Unfortunately, the figure above is unidentifiable without its head, but the pose and outfit suggest that the subject was a philosopher or orator. Maybe he had a silver tongue in life, but he doesn’t even have a bronze one now.

 
Draped Male Figure, c. 150 BCE–200 CE, Bronze, 76 in. (193 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. Fund 1986.5, CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain]

Coffee, anyone? Italian designer Carlo Bugatti created this lavish tea and coffee service set sometime in the early 1900s. It consists of four vessels set on a salver, or formal tray. Each piece is made of gilt silver and features the likeness of an animal, embellished with ivory horns. The salver also features two curved pieces of ivory at either end. Like many of Bugatti’s works, this set combines organic and exotic aesthetics to create something that feels familiar and alien at the same time. Regardless of its beauty, a set like this couldn’t be made today because of the international ban on ivory trade. The ban grants exceptions for antiques and existing ivory stockpiles, but there are few legal avenues to obtain the material, which is sourced from elephant tusks. By the way, if the artist’s name sounds familiar, that’s because Carlo Bugatti was the father of Ettore Bugatti, founder of Automobiles E. Bugatti, known for their luxury sports cars. Seems like sleek designs run in the family.

 
Tea and Coffee Service, Carlo Bugatti (1856–1940), 1907, Gilt silver and ivory, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Carlo Bugatti, The Cleveland Museum of Art, The Thomas L. Fawick Memorial Collection, CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain]

It’s not a duck, but it could be a waterfowl. This bird-shaped relic was used as a water vessel, and was made during the Seljuq period (from around 1037–1194 C.E.) in what is now Iran. It’s crafted from bronze and features circular, geometric patterns. The bronze surface displays a patina, and the bird has blue-green stone eyes. Named for the ruling family of the Oğuz, a confederation of Turkic tribes who ruled much of southwestern Asia beginning in the 11th century, the Seljuq period gave rise to a wealth of art and architecture in the region. Artists in Iran were known for their bronze work, which often included inlays of precious metals. They were so influential and their style so persistent through the ages that many bronze artifacts produced after this period have been mistaken for Seljuq-period pieces. This particular sculpture embodies the detailed work for which artisans of the period were known. Used for handwashing, the hinged beak of the bird would have opened when water was poured through it. That’s one way to wet your beak.

 
Bird-shaped Vessel, c. 1100s, Bronze, cast, with chased and chiseled decoration; eyes inlaid with blue glass, 6.87 x 3.75 in. (17.5 x 9.5 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Edward L. Whittemore Fund, CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain]

Even on the battlefield, there’s room for holiday tradition. American artist Homer Winslow painted this scene depicting soldiers of the American Civil War breaking a wishbone on Thanksgiving Day. Thanksgiving Day in the Army - After Dinner: The Wish-Bone, shows two soldiers seated on a log. One has a pipe in his mouth while the other holds a pipe in his in his left hand. The two men each have one hand on the wishbone while another soldier looks on. Part superstition, part fun, breaking the wishbone is a cherished tradition on Turkey Day. Technically known as the furcula, the wishbone is the bird’s collarbone. The significance of the furcula dates all the way back to the Etruscans (neighbors of the ancient Romans), who practiced “rooster divination.” They believed that the scratches a rooster left as he ate food off the ground could be deciphered to tell the future, and the furcula was kept even after the bird was eaten as a way to hold on to its power. The practice was adopted and spread by the Romans, and eventually became part of Thanksgiving tradition when people started eating turkeys. Of course, if anybody asked the turkeys, we’re pretty sure we know what they’d wish for.

 
Thanksgiving Day in the Army - After Dinner: The Wish-Bone, Winslow Homer (1836–1910), 1864, Wood engraving, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain]

Better get your order to go at this bistro. Swiss French painter Félix Vallotton was known for creating scenes of eerie stillness, but this one’s an exception. The piece above shows a group of men gathered at a bar. They are drinking, talking, and placing orders while three bartenders in tuxedos work behind the counter. Born in 1865, Vallotton initially became known for his satirical illustrations, and then became part of the Nabis, a French art movement that was a transitionary style between impressionism and modernism. Although he was a prolific painter, he also enjoyed an impressive array of other artistic occupations. He wrote three novels and eight plays and also worked as a photographer, printmaker, and set designer. Perhaps due to his eye for theater, many of his paintings, which are known for their deftly crafted lighting, have been greatly influential in cinema. Works by directors like Alfred Hitchcock or Wes Anderson, for instance, echo Vallotton on the screen. He may not have been an impressionist, but he certainly knew how to make an impression.

 
The Bistro, Félix Vallotton (1865–1925), 1895, Oil on canvas, 8 3/4 x 10 5/8 in. (22.2 x 27 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Nancy F. and Joseph P. Keithley Collection Gift, CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain.]

Fall in love with this autumn scene. American artist William Hart began his career by painting horse-drawn carriages, but he became a master of landscapes in no time at all, specializing in the natural vistas of his home state of New York. His piece above, Autumn Scene in the Adirondacks, shows a creek surrounded by trees. Red and yellow leaves frame the center of the scene, where an opening lets in the sunlight. Hart was born in 1823 in Scotland, but his family immigrated to the U.S. when he was 8, arriving in Albany, New York. His first painting job was as a coach and ornamental painter, though he began traveling through the U.S. and Europe as a young man to develop his art. A member of the Hudson River School of art, Hart became one of the most renowned landscape painters in the U.S. Art seems to have run in his family—both his siblings became well-regarded landscape painters in their own right, and his grandson was none other than E. B. White, author of Charlotte’s Web. From paint to print, that’s one busy family.

 
Autumn Scene in the Adirondacks, William Hart (1823–1894), 1877, Oil on canvas, 12 5/8 x 10 7/16 in. (32 x 26.5 cm.), Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, William Hart
(1823–1894), Hinman B. Hurlbut Collection, CC0 1.0 Universal, Public Domain]

Here’s one stone-faced fellow. There may be lots of frightful masks on Halloween, but nothing compares to the eerie visage of a death mask—a cast made from a mold of a dead person’s face. British portrait artist Sir Thomas Lawrence had his likeness preserved in the form of a death mask, a practice that was once common but has now fallen out of fashion. The piece above is a lithographic print showing the mask from three different angles. The death mask shows the subject’s face from the chin to the hairline with a high level of detail. It’s fitting that a man who dedicated his life to portraying others faithfully should have his own face preserved for posterity. In all, Lawrence had a hand in 691 portraits throughout his illustrious career. In England, death masks like this were used as reference when creating tomb effigies or statues, but they were also simply a means of remembering the dead. It gives a whole new meaning to “stiff upper lip.”

 
Death Mask of Sir Thomas Lawrence, Richard James Lane
(British, 1800–1872), 1830, Lithograph, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio.

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis B. Williams Collection, CC0 1.0 Universal, Public Domain]

Is this really meant to be a monster? The 2nd edition of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus contained illustrations by Theodor von Holst, but Frankenstein’s so-called “Adam” (the monster) doesn’t look anything like he’s portrayed today. The piece above is an engraved illustration that shows a naked, muscular figure on the floor alongside a pile of human bones. The figure’s hands are long and bony, and he appears surprised as he looks down at himself. Another man is leaving through a door on the right, a frightened expression on his face. In the novel, Frankenstein’s monster is described as having long black hair, black lips, thin skin, and a “dull yellow eye.” He is also proportionally huge, and stands around eight feet tall. The monster shown in this illustration seems a far cry from that description, but it’s even less similar to the patched-together, green-skinned monster with bolts in his neck made famous by Boris Karloff’s performance in 1931. In fact, the novel’s monster is eloquent and highly intelligent, which does come across in this illustration’s human-esque portrayal. Now you’ve got the Holst picture.

 
Image in Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus (Revised Edition, 1831), Theodor von Holst (1810-1844), 1831, engraving

 
[Image credit & copyright: Theodor von Holst, Wikimedia Commons, This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published (or registered with the U.S. Copyright Office) before January 1, 1928.]

Are you afraid of the dark? After looking at this painting, you just might be. Japanese painter Tani Bunichi created this creepy scene in 1810, but it looks and feels right at home during Halloween season today. Ghost and Oil Lamp depicts a female specter with her hand on the base of a black lamp stand. Half her body is faded away, and her skin is pale white. Tani Bunichi was the adopted son and pupil of Tani Buncho, a master painter in the nanga school of art. Nanga artists typically painted in the style of Chinese masters and even painted Chinese landscapes, so this piece is an unusual example in Tani’s body of work. Tani reportedly didn’t like painting ghosts, but was so inspired after hearing a ghost story that he made an exception. The figure in the painting is likely a yurei, a female ghost clad in a white burial kimono who is bound to the world of the living by some unfulfilled desire. It might be best to just give her whatever she wants!

 
Ghost and Oil Lamp, Tani Bun'ichi 谷 文一 (1787–1818) , 1810, Ink, color, and gold on silk, 43 x 19.25 in. (109.2 x 48.9 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: Tani Bun'ichi 谷 文一, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Kelvin Smith Fund 1992.71, CC0 1.0 DEED, CC0 1.0 Universal, Public Domain]

A ceramic vessel shaped like a flying mammal? What’s bat about? This untitled piece of ancient pottery portrays a big-eared brown bat with its mouth open and its wings spread out. The vessel is light brown except on the nose and claws, which have a darker, reddish-brown hue. This vessel was created by the Moche people (also called the Mochica) of Andean Peru, who lived between the 1st and 8th centuries. Just as bats are associated with Halloween today, the Moche also believed in a connection between bats, spirits, and death. In Moche culture, the bat was seen as a paradox—it could fly like a bird but had fur like an earthbound animal. For that reason, they considered it a creature in transition between the world of the living and the land of the dead. Interestingly, the bat depicted in this piece of pottery is a big-eared brown bat, which wasn’t rediscovered by modern scientists until 2021. In honor of the Moche, it was given the scientific name Histiotus mochica. The Moche may be gone, but their spirits live on in the animal they so often depicted.

 
Big-Eared Brown Bat Vessel, 200–850 C.E., Ceramic, (18.4 x 17.7 x 15.8 cm.) 7.25 x 6.93 x 6.25 in.), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund, CC0 1.0 Universal, Public Domain Dedication]

Does this funeral seem strange, or is it just us? Jean-Jacques Grandville, a French caricaturist in the 19th century, created this whimsically morbid, Halloween-season-worthy scene for a songwriter. Drawn in brown ink, The Relics depicts a skeleton, wearing a religious mitre, rising from its casket. There are smoking candles on either side of him, and a few, nearby witnesses speak to each other. Grandville’s illustrations were often featured in satirical journals that were critical of the government, but he drew this piece for a songbook of Pierre Jean de Béranger’s complete works. Lacking the usual solemnity that surrounds a reliquary, the casket is instead a stage for a musical revue. Indeed, the song that the illustration accompanies is supposedly sung by the skeleton. Such an irreverent take on religion might have been shocking to Grandville’s more devout contemporaries, but it’s a fair representation of the artist’s fantastical body of work. Not to mention that it’s spine-tinglingly silly.

 
The Relics, Jean-Jacques Grandville (1803–1847), 1835, Pen and brown ink on paper, 4.62 x 3.68 in. (11.8 x 9.4 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Bequest of Muriel Butkin, CC0 1.0 DEED, CC0 1.0 Universal, Public Domain]

This is one horse that can’t be outrun. American painter Albert Pinkham Ryder created this dreary scene while mourning the loss of a friend. The oil painting, titled Death on a Pale Horse, depicts a ghostly humanoid figure holding a scythe while riding a galloping white horse around a racetrack. A snake in the foreground looks through a broken section of the track’s fence. Ryder painted this scene of sickly greens and grays after a tragic event; a friend of his had bet his life savings on a horse race and lost it all, leading him to take his own life. As an emotionally visceral reaction to the tragedy, Ryder’s painting contains straightforward symbolism: Death from the Christian Book of Revelations and a snake, which represents temptation in Christian imagery. As if to say that no one triumphs over death, the pale horse and its rider are the track’s sole racers. Only the snake is there to beckon viewers’ eyes toward the scene. But beware: it’s a race you can’t win.

 
The Race Track (Death on a Pale Horse), Albert Pinkham Ryder
(1847–1917), c. 1896–1908, Oil on canvas, 27.75 x 35.43 in. (70.5 x 90 cm), Cleveland Museum of Art

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Albert Pinkham Ryder, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0)
Public Domain Dedication.]

A decent suit can make any man look more distinguished, but a suit of armor shows they mean business. Painted by French artist Philippe de Champaigne, the royal portrait above tells a story. Portrait of King Charles II of England, shows the eponymous monarch wearing black cuirassier's armor with gold trim. Behind him is the sea and a fleet of ships by the Dover cliffs. The king points toward England as a declaration of his intention to return. Charles II fled England as a prince in 1649 during the English Civil War. His father was tried and executed that year, and the prince was declared King of Scotland by Scottish allies loyal to the monarchy. He attempted to reclaim England alongside these allies in 1651, but his forces were defeated by Oliver Cromwell. Following his defeat, he fled once again, this time to France, and remained there in exile. It was only after the deaths of Cromwell and Cromwell’s son that Charles II was able to return to England to much fanfare. You could say it was the original return of the king!

 
Portrait of King Charles II of England, Philippe de Champaigne (1602–1674), 1653, Oil on canvas, Dimensions, 51 x 38.25 in. (129.5 x 97.2 cm.)

 
[Image Credit & Copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, The Elisabeth Severance Prentiss Collection, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication]

When is a weapon not a weapon? When it’s a symbol. Once the dominant polearm, or poled weapon, of European battlefields, the halberd is still in use today, but for much less bloody purposes. The halberd above, from 16th-century Saxony, has an elaborate head, complete with an ax, spearhead, and spike. The surface of the head is covered in intricate engravings, including a coat of arms featuring two swords crossing. When first introduced in the 1400s, Halberds were versatile weapons capable of dismounting a rider and penetrating their plate armor. But by the late 1500s they became obsolete as Europe moved away from plate armor and embraced firearms. Afterward, they remained in use by bodyguards for high-ranking officials due to their association with high status. This associate came about because halberds require extensive training to use and, in their heyday, were the weapons of distinguished soldiers. Today, halberds are carried in parades and by ceremonial guards like the Swiss Guard, the Pope’s official bodyguards. By now, these weapons have been veterans of pomp longer than of war. It’s easy to make a lasting impact when your head has three sharp sides.

 
Parade Halberd (from the state guard of Elector Christian I of Saxony, 1560-91, Steel, gilt and etched; round wood haft, 93.75 in. (238.2 cm.), The Cleveland Museum of Art,

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. John L. Severance, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication]

It’s hard enough to get a decent family photo, but imagine capturing six generations at once. The piece above is an ancestor group portrait that once belonged to a court official in China’s Qing dynasty. On the right are 13 men and on the left are 17 women, each row accompanied by a block of text with their names and titles. The figures are portrayed sitting down, wearing large, elaborate, traditional outfits in bold colors, such as red and blue. All of the men wear red hats. The rows are ordered from the oldest generations to the most recent, from top to bottom, and each row represents one generation of married couples. The portrait would have been displayed during Lunar New Year celebrations as a way to honor the family’s ancestors. Curiously, there appear to be more women than men. That’s because, at the time, men were allowed to have more than one wife, and one of the women on the left is also meant to represent a servant, not one of the ancestors. If every family had a painting like this, it would certainly make genealogy much easier to trace.

 
Ancestor Group Portrait, 1796–1820, Hanging scroll, ink and color on paper, 61.87 x 35.5 in.(157.2 x 90.2 cm), Cleveland Museum of Art

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of Joyce G. Ames in honor of her husband B., CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0)
Public Domain Dedication]

Inspiration itself can be an inspiring subject. French artist Charles Meynier painted the piece above in 1798, and it pays tribute to the muse, Calliope. In ancient Greek mythology, the muses were protectors of the arts and entertainers of the Olympian gods. In his painting, Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry, Meynier depicts the Greek deity wearing a white tunic and green robe. She sits on top of a boulder, holding a scroll in one hand and a golden, horned instrument in the other. She is wearing a laurel crown and looking upwards, to her left, at a bust of Homer. Calliope was the oldest of the nine Greek muses, and her name is made up of the Greek words ‘kallos’ and ‘ops’, meaning “beautiful-voiced.” She was the goddess of music and dance, and was often depicted holding a musical instrument, usually a lyre. She was also considered the goddess of epic poetry, and was thus depicted with a scroll or writing tablet. That also explains why Meynier included the bust of Homer, the most celebrated poet of ancient Greece. If the muses were real, Homer certainly would have been a fan!

 
Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry, Charles Meynier
(1768–1832), 1798, Oil on canvas, 108.25 x 69.68 in. (275 x 177 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art

 
[Image credit & copyright: Charles Meynier, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Severance and Greta Millikin Purchase Fund, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0)
Public Domain Dedication.]

Just because something is made to last, doesn’t mean it doesn’t show its age. The Chola dynasty, which ruled over much of southern India between the 10th and 13th centuries, was renowned for its intricate architecture and sculptures. The Chola sculpture above depicts the Hindu god Ganesha. The elephant-headed deity, made of bronze and covered in green oxidation, is portrayed with four arms, each holding a different object. During the Chola dynasty, rulers built many temples in honor of the Hindu gods. Some of these structures still stand today, along with the sculptures of deities that were once housed inside them. These sculptures were cast in bronze using the lost-wax process, in which the molten metal burns away a wax model inside the mold. Smaller sculptures were made to be portable and handled frequently to be venerated and anointed, and many of the original fine details of these ancient artifacts are worn away from generations of use in rituals. So if these artifacts look a little weathered, it’s not because they were mistreated. Even kid gloves would leave a mark after so long.

 
Ganesha, c. 1070, Medium, 20 x 10 x 7 in. (50.8 x 25.4 x 17.8 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of Katharine Holden Thayer 1970.62, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0)
Public Domain Dedication.]

You've head of pink unicorns, but don't forget about pink griffins. These mythological beasts, with their lion-like bodies and eagle-like faces, have been portrayed in art and used as symbols since before writing was developed. The statues above show a pair of griffins carved out of pink limestone. This stone was also known as Verona Marble, after the northern Italian city of Verona. The griffins lie on their stomachs with their forelegs in front of them, each looking slightly to the side. One holds a knight between its paws, the other a calf. The origin of these legendary beasts is disputed, but they’ve been portrayed since at least 4,000 B.C.E. by various cultures. While these statues were created in Italy by an unknown artist, Griffins were also an important part of Greek mythology, where they were seen as noble guardians of riches. In medieval Europe, griffins were used in heraldry and art to represent Christ as beings of both Earth and heaven. They’re still featured in fantasy stories today, but for centuries they were thought to be real animals, with travelers reporting sightings along the Silk Road. Well, eagles and lions are both real, so you never know.

 
Guardian Griffin (pair), 1150–1175, Pink limestone (called "Verona Marble"), 29.87 x 19.75 x 47.5 in. (75.9 x 50.2 x 120.7 cm.),The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright: The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of the John Huntington Art and Polytechnic Trust, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0)
Public Domain Dedication.]

When you look at a painting, you normally think about how the paint was applied, not removed. In the above piece by 19th-century American painter Homer Winslow, a technique called scraping helped create the subtle effect of glistening water. Leaping Trout shows a trout in mid-air, snapping at an insect with its mouth agape. Below the trout is a splash of water and a reflection of the fish above the surface. Winslow was a distinguished painter in his time, largely recognized for his depictions of camp life in the American Civil War. Like many artists, he experimented with different media and evolved his style over decades. Beginning in the 1870s, he often worked in watercolor and focused on nature. Leaping Trout is a great example of scraping in watercolor, where the artist uses a knife or other object to remove paper fibers after paint has been applied. With so much skill, it’s no wonder that Winslow enjoyed an illustrious career, rather than just scraping by.

 
Leaping Trout, Winslow Homer (1836–1910), 1889, Watercolor over graphite, 13.75 x 19.93in. (35 x 50.6 cm), The Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit & copyright:The Cleveland Museum of Art, Winslow Homer, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication.]

Forget football—a good foot tournament will put some hair on your chest. Combat sports were all the rage during the Renaissance period, and competing nobles liked to dress in style. Shown above is a set of half armor that covers the wearer from the waist up. Made from many pieces of leather and steel plates, the armor is intricately decorated with etchings and gilded designs, especially the chest piece. This armor wasn’t designed for battle, but rather for foot tournaments in which competitors stood at opposite sides of a barrier and fought with spears or poleaxes. In some ways, Renaissance-era tournaments were as much fashion runways as they were mock battlefields, and anyone wearing a set of armor designed by Pompeo della Cesa would have been the envy of all. Della Cesa was the preeminent armor-maker of 16th century Italy, and the set above makes it clear why. As elaborate as it is practical, the armor is a marriage of form and function. Although leg protection wasn’t necessary for foot tournaments, competitors did wear equally flamboyant pants to cover their legs and show off their wealth. Trust a nobleman to wear actual fancy pants.

 
Half Armor for the Foot Tournament, Pompeo della Cesa
(1572–1593), 1590, Etched and gilded steel, brass rivets, leather, and velvet fittings, 12.5 x 10.87 x 8.5 in. (31.7 x 27.7 x 21.6 cm.), Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, Ohio

 
[Image credit and copyright: CLeveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund, CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain Dedication]