The Art of Poverty is the first book in English to analyze depictions of beggars in 16th-century European art. Featuring works from Germany, the Low Countries, Britain, France, and Italy, it discusses a diverse body of imagery from crude woodcuts to monumental church altarpieces. It argues that these works largely conformed to two paradoxical, though mutually supportive, representational approaches. The book tracks the emergence of a trenchantly negative approach in Northern art, in which beggars are shown as vagabonds, alongside the other predominant visual mode, where beggars are exalted as examples of sacred purity. The Art of Poverty's progressive approach and cross-disciplinary theme makes it vital reading for those concerned with the development of early modern European culture.

An unconventional socio-economic analysis of the economic position of the arts and artists

The Dominican friars of late-medieval Italy were vowed to a life of religious poverty, yet their churches contained many visual riches. Featuring works by supreme practitioners such as Cimabue, Duccio, Giotto and Simone Martini, this book sets the art of the Dominican churches in a wider context.

How the poor eat: an ambitious visual anthropology of diet and poverty in 36 case studies across the world To demonstrate what it means to live at the poverty line, Beijing-based artist duo Stefen Chow and Huiyi Lin visited 36 countries and territories on six continents--from Germany and China to New York and London--examining poverty with regard to food. From local markets, they bought vegetables, fruits, cereal products, proteins and snacks, basing the amount of food they could afford per day on the respective poverty-line definition set by each government. The duo photographed the resulting food, placed on a page of a local newspaper bought that day, calibrating lighting and shooting distance to ensure uniformity and comparability. In addition, the duo selected nine foods available in most of the economies observed to illustrate the globalization of production and the variations in prices and consumption. With this brilliantly conceived project, Chow and Lin render the problem of poverty visible and comprehensible to all.

The history of art in the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance has generally been written as a story of elites: bankers, noblemen, kings, cardinals, and popes and their artistic interests and commissions. Recent decades have seen attempts to recast the story in terms of material culture, but the focus seems to remain on the upper strata of society. In his inclusive analysis of art from 1300 to 1600, Rembrandt Duits rectifies this. Bringing together thought-provoking ideas from art historians, historians, anthropologists and museum curators, The Art of the Poor examines the role of art in the lower social classes of Europe and explores how this influences our understanding of medieval and early modern society. Introducing new themes and raising innovative research questions through a series of thematically grouped short case studies, this book gives impetus to a new field on the cusp of art history, social history, urban archaeology, and historical anthropology. In doing so, this important study helps us re-assess the very concept of 'art' and its function in society.

"In mid-December, 2018, a man stood before one of the most beloved paintings in Europe, Botticelli's The Birth of Venus, and had a heart attack (Henri Neuendorf,ArtNet News, December 19, 2018 https://news.artnet.com/art-world/heart-attack-botticelli-uffizi-1425448). Venus is that painting you're thinking of, the one with the shapely, wheat-haired woman standing in a seashell, with one hand covering her breasts and the other holding her long, golden locks in front of her groin. Floating above her right shoulder are two winged figures with their arms wrapped around each other, who blow air on her like distant kisses. On her left stands a woman (the Hora of Spring?) who holds what looks like a drape and gazes directly at our goddess, whose face, tilted just so, looks toward the viewer with a gentle yet mature glance, as if she was born knowing all one needs to know of love and seduction. Fortunately, the man whose heart failed while looking back at our all-knowing Venus survived, but he was not the first to collapse while viewing art in Florence, and no doubt he will not be the last. It has happened often enough that there is a medical term for the phenomenon named after the first notable man to succumb, "Stendhal Syndrome." Apparently the French author of On Love, a treatise on romantic passion, reported that he fell ill in 1817 after viewing too much Florentine art (Bamforth 945). Is it any wonder that Botticelli's winged figures hang on to each other so tightly? To be awestruck is to be in imminent danger"--