SELF-PORTRAIT OF A MANGO, Renaissance art re-interpretation
AIP2, Session 4
The Renaissance is famous for many things.
It has, for example, become the golden age of invention and innovation. No longer under such strict scrutiny from the church, ideas flourished, where before they might have been shot down for unorthodoxy.
The Renaissance, in some ways, was a turning point for art—its new ideologies allowed a more liberal view of expression. No longer was art restricted for purely religious purposes, it became a means of studying, appreciating and conquering the natural world.
In other ways, the Renaissance was memorable for its abilities to shock. The first thing that comes to people’s mind when they hear the world “Renaissance” is Da Vinci, and the second thing that comes to mind is how he dug up dead bodies in order to study human anatomy.
Grave-robbing aside (though he probably got his bodies from crypts rather than graveyards), it was an age that welcomed pagan symbolism and pagan narratives, as seen from Titian’s many references to Greek mythology in his paintings, when a few hundred years before it might have been labelled unorthodox. Female models were used more, when before male models had done the job for both sexes. It was an age of brilliance, an age of creativity and an age of testing grounds out of the box.
After reaching this conclusion, I made a painting titled simply Self-Portrait of a Mango. In order to fully explain the reasons behind this painting, I shall analyse it as if it were done by someone else (not difficult, as I often consider myself as two different people).
A self-portrait, by definition, is a representation of an artist, drawn, painted, photographed, or sculpted by that artist. A self-portrait of a mango, therefore, can only be made by that very mango. And yet, how is it so? Needless to say, we can all agree that it is impossible. A more likely explanation is that the artist sees herself as a mango, and if this is true, what does the mango represent, and why?
You could say that the mango represents maturity, the blossoming of a flower into a fruit. OR it could represent fertility, or greed, or pleasures, as fruits in paintings generally do. However, the mango’s position presents a conundrum. Held rather plainly in the woman’s hand, it is not in any position of importance, nor does it draw attention or seem to be sending any kind of message to viewers. In fact, if it weren’t for the title, viewers would have assumed the woman was the subject of the painting. She fills a large portion of it, she is in perfect position to create a statement and her eyes seem to be looming over the viewer in quiet observation. So why is it not so?
The message of the painting lies not in the painting itself, but in its correlation with the title. “Names do not matter anyway,” someone once said to me. But if there is any hidden meaning behind this painting, then surely its name is a clue to solving the puzzle.
Or not.
People say that pictures speak a thousand words, but perhaps it is the title that speaks for the picture. A photograph of the sky with the captions “a lovely day” immediately transforms a boring, nondescript sheet of blue into a piece of self-expression. Call that piece of junk in the corner an “iBox” and boom! It’s not a piece of junk nobody wants, it’s a work of art, a masterpiece of innovation, a revolutionary piece of technology you just have to spend a hundred bucks on! Slap the words “Self-Portrait of a Mango” on a woman, and yes, suddenly the woman is of no importance, it’s all about the fruit you didn’t notice two minutes before. Or what it represents, of course.
A misplaced lark? Perhaps. An unnecessary statement? Quite possibly. A briefly entertaining piece of satire that leaves you feeling slightly dazed? I hope so!
Just like its Renaissance predecessors, Self-Portrait of a Mango is an interpretation
re-interpreted, a definition redefined, and a proof that sometimes, art can be appreciated without the need for holy symbolism and church shenanigans.
It is art for art’s sake.