During this unseasonably warm holiday weekend, my thoughts turn to Sandro Botticelli's 1485 tempera panel Venus and Mars. This scene could depict any of us, were we women still given to wearing gowns, we men fond of snoozing in a state of undress (actually, that is not too much of a stretch) and all of us tolerant towards tiny, romping satyrs--who were hopefully capable of fetching ice and minding the grill. Mars, you will note, has completely conked out under the hot sun. One can almost hear him snoring.

However, the real reason this painting has made the news is because a researcher claims to have identified the flower in the extreme lower right-hand corner as Datura stramonium, commonly known as jimson- or "loco-" weed here in the United States. In properly trained hands, its highly toxic, hallucinogenic seeds and leaves have been used sacramentally and ceremoniously for thousands of years. In untrained hands--which means all of us who aren't Native American shamans--it'll kill you dead. No joke. Don't touch it. But, I digress.

The theory is that Botticelli, always huge on symbolism to begin with, "planted" this plant in reference to Renaissance locoweed love potions that made their imbibers uninhibited. What do you think?

Just a reminder, Gentle Readers, that the long awaited, formerly untitled art project reality television show Work of Art: The Next Great Artist is set to premier on the Bravo Network Wednesday, June 9th, 2010 at 11 p.m. EDT.

To reiterate, not a fan of reality competitions on the TeeVee machine. However, I've been reading the judge and cast bios, and have watched the preview--in which one of the contestants is shown on camera saying, "I am not responsible for your experience of my work." That quote alone leads me to believe this series may have its particular charms.

My non-arty friends are intrigued, yet puzzled. "But, how can Fine Art be judged?" they ask. "It is subjective in the eyes of the viewer." A valid point, true. As any art school survivor will tell you, though, we were judged every day on technical proficiency in any given medium or discipline. And any working artist will tell you that commissions, sales, shows, grants, representation and recognition are all about being judged. Visual art? She is not a career for the faint of heart.

So, I think the larger question here is this: for those of us who will be tuning in, what will be the trigger word in the drinking game? Choose wisely, Dears; it's an hour-long show. My educated guess is that "conversation," "exploration" or "dichotomy" might see me hammered before the midway point.

© Tate, London

(The artist who painted this lovely portrait was born on May 12, 1828--182 years ago, today.)

See more Wordless Wednesdays on About

As a Mother's Day gift to myself, here is an image gallery of the recently-opened exhibition The Modern Myth: Drawing Mythologies in Modern Times (on view at The Museum of Modern Art, New York, from March 10 through September 5, 2010). Drawing, the king of visual art, will always be my first love, mythology has always thrilled me and the roster of artists included is stellar. Any time a curator manages to show the connection between Francisco de Goya and every other artist who followed, we can safely assume it is a show worth seeing.

Beyond that, the theme intrigues me because we all deal with mythology in everyday life. Take, for example, Yves Tanguy's The Great Mutation (1942), pictured here. For many, this will register as a prime example of Surrealism-on-paper. For me, it is a perfect metaphor of motherhood. We mutate from daughters to mothers--often with unexpected and, initially, unrecognizable results. The tallest, central element? Could be any one of us, balancing the myriad parts of our unique lives' compositions.

"Ah," you say. "But where does the mythology come into play?" To which I can only give you my interpretation: "Mother" is dealing with the mythologies that clean socks and underwear appear (magically) only in designated sock and underwear drawers; that ice cube trays refill themselves; that umbrellas are indicated when it is raining; that a uterus is necessary for finding the television remote (note the figure lounging on the right); that children don't need hugs, an anchor and their wings; or that Mother deserves--let alone gets--one day off per year. I assure you, I am smiling as I write this. I know the drill and love the job. Nice work if you can get it ... just don't ever buy into the myth that motherhood is not work.

Enjoy the gallery. And Happy Mother's Day!

Image Credit:

Yves Tanguy (American, b. France, 1900-1955)
The Great Mutation, 1942
Cut-and-pasted painted paper, gouache, and pencil on paper
11 3/8 x 8 5/8 in. (29.1 x 21.9 cm)
Kay Sage Tanguy Bequest
The Museum of Modern Art, New York
© 2010 Estate of Yves Tanguy / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York