Scandals and Secrets Tour of the Metropolitan
In 1884, John Singer Sargent’s painting Madame X caused a huge scandal at the Paris salon, damaging the rise of the society beauty who had posed for it and almost destroying Sargent’s career. But surely that’s not the only scandalous work in the Metropolitan?
No, there are several works that caused scandals in their day. And many works that almost did. Because through history many artists have loved to titillate and scandalize the viewer—within limits—just at the edge of the limits, whenever possible. Want to know more?
Come on this stroll through the Metropolitan, and let us open your eyes to the racy side of the collection: works that created scandals, and works that just teased the viewers….
On this fun and informative 2 hour walk, we will learn about:
This tour will open your eyes to a different vision of art—one that revels in raciness, instead of pretending it away. This is not what they taught you in elementary school!
Fragonard seems to have made this painting as a sample of his work for a royal mistress. It is typical of 18th century French art of sexy, humorous genre scenes were common. A woman has received a bouquet of pink roses—the flower of passion in the 17th and 18th centuries. As the dog’s raised ears show, the woman is looking not at the viewer but at someone else in her scene, presumably the man who brought her the flowers. Her expression is coy, but she certainly does not seem displeased by the present.
Nydia is a character from Bulwer-Lytton’s novel, The Last Days of Pompeii, who attempts to help her friends escape the eruption. The sculpture tells her story in a programmatic way: her closed eyes represent her blindness, her cupped hand the fine hearing that allows her to hear the volcanic rumblings; her walking stick tells you what she is doing, and the Corinthian capital at her feet how it will end. She is an exciting figure, both admirable and pitiable. One detail, her bared right breast, does not derive from the novel, but it undoubtedly accounted for some of her popularity.
This painting of a Mardi Grad party (note the beads) features three people the foreground: a “maiden”—actually, a boy, as his Adam’s apple, scraggly hair, and stubby fingers reveal— dressed in an elegant brocaded gown and two men representing traditional Dutch clown figures. At this time, boys still played women’s roles in the theater, and this could be a boy actor; perhaps he is wearing a queen costume, which would explain his commanding gesture. The two men are on intimate terms with him, and the one on his left is making an obscene gesture, indicating a desire to know him even more intimately.