拍品專文
The picture seems pretty clear to me, being a more or less literal rendering of St. Anthony complete with pig, desert and temptation. Naturally one could ask why the venerable holy man has three heads--to which one could always reply, why not?
You will notice the veteran's suit to be whitish and of an unbrellaoid form which would lead one to believe that the original colour had been washed or bleached out by the vagaries of the weather or that the monkish apparel had been cleverly constructed out of used mummy wrappings in umbrella or sunshade form for protection from sand storms and sun, practical for someone leading an open air life and given to contemplation (as Egyptologists apparently didn't exist in those days, mummy wrappings were no doubt gathered like blackberries and therefore to one of an economical and modest turn of mind they would provide a durable and apt clothing for the desert).
The Saint's traditional pet pig who lies across the nether half of the picture and reviews the observer out of its kindly blue eye is adequaltely accounted for in the myth of St. Anthony, and likewise the continually flowing water and the ravine.
The bald-headed girl in the red dress combines female charm and the delights of the table--you will notice that she is engaged in making an unctuous broth of (let us say) lobsters, mushrooms, fat turtle, spring chicken, ripe tomatoes, gorgonzola cheese, milk chocolate, onions and tinned peaches. The mixture of these ingredients has overflowed and taken a greenish and sickly hue to the fevered vision of St. Anthony, whose daily meal consists of whithered grass and tepid water with an occasional locust by way of an orgy.
On the right, the Queen of Sheba and her attendants emerge in ever-decreasing circles out of a subterranean landscape towards the hermit. Their intention is ambiguous, their progress spiral.
And last to the ram with the earthenware jar one could only quote the words of Friar Bacon's brazen head: Time was--Time is--Time is past. I was always pleased with the simple idiocy of these words.
(Leonora Carrington, Serpentine Gallery exhibition catalogue)
We are grateful to Dr. Solomon Grimberg for his generous help in cataloguing this painting.
You will notice the veteran's suit to be whitish and of an unbrellaoid form which would lead one to believe that the original colour had been washed or bleached out by the vagaries of the weather or that the monkish apparel had been cleverly constructed out of used mummy wrappings in umbrella or sunshade form for protection from sand storms and sun, practical for someone leading an open air life and given to contemplation (as Egyptologists apparently didn't exist in those days, mummy wrappings were no doubt gathered like blackberries and therefore to one of an economical and modest turn of mind they would provide a durable and apt clothing for the desert).
The Saint's traditional pet pig who lies across the nether half of the picture and reviews the observer out of its kindly blue eye is adequaltely accounted for in the myth of St. Anthony, and likewise the continually flowing water and the ravine.
The bald-headed girl in the red dress combines female charm and the delights of the table--you will notice that she is engaged in making an unctuous broth of (let us say) lobsters, mushrooms, fat turtle, spring chicken, ripe tomatoes, gorgonzola cheese, milk chocolate, onions and tinned peaches. The mixture of these ingredients has overflowed and taken a greenish and sickly hue to the fevered vision of St. Anthony, whose daily meal consists of whithered grass and tepid water with an occasional locust by way of an orgy.
On the right, the Queen of Sheba and her attendants emerge in ever-decreasing circles out of a subterranean landscape towards the hermit. Their intention is ambiguous, their progress spiral.
And last to the ram with the earthenware jar one could only quote the words of Friar Bacon's brazen head: Time was--Time is--Time is past. I was always pleased with the simple idiocy of these words.
(Leonora Carrington, Serpentine Gallery exhibition catalogue)
We are grateful to Dr. Solomon Grimberg for his generous help in cataloguing this painting.