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Orientalism and Turkish Coffee
1 – Jean-Baptiste Haussard after Jean-Baptiste van Mour, Turkish Girl Having Coffee on the Sofa and Street Coffee Seller Birth of an “Iconema” The pictorial Orientalism is a so wide and various configuration, that with all the more reason an iconologist needs visual common denominators, in order to identify iconographic typologies and possible stereotypes. With a neologism coined after the Greek term eikōn, we might call them “iconemas”. They could even be minor details, susceptible to focus on themselves a recurring representation. For instance, a cup of Turkish coffee or an Arabian coffee-house. In fact over Near East and North-Africa the private fashion of this beverage, and subsequently that of the public coffee-houses, spread before than in Occident. Actually, we can meet with such an “iconema” at the dawn or in the immediate antecedent of the Orientalism. That iconographic season usually assumes the French definition of
Turquerie, due to some fashionable influences from the Ottoman Empire. Just then, this began to be the destination of European learned travellers as diplomats, writers or artists. In the first decade of the 18th century, the Flemish-French painter Jean-Baptiste van Mour was invited to go to Istanbul – where he lived for 37 years – and commissioned to do several portraits of local people and customs, by the French ambassador Charles de Ferriol. A few years later De Ferriol edited an album of engravings etched by Jean-Baptiste Haussard after those drawings and paintings, Recueil de cent estampes représentant différentes nations du Levant (Paris: Le Hay, 1714). There, we can find two relevant images: Fille turque prenant le caffé sur le sopha and Vendeur de caffé par les rues, respectively “Turkish Girl Having Coffee on the Sofa” and “Street Coffee Seller”. More than once the former was imitated by other French painters of the same epoch, as we can see in Women in the Seraglio Having Coffee by Étienne Jeaurat (1697-1789), and in a more autonomous and fine painting by an unknown author at the Pera Museum of Istanbul. At least, those artists seem to be pleased in representing the same subject, with some variants. Among one hundred images, as many as Van Mour had pictured and Hassaurd had engraved – there are also coloured editions of the same album – circa only one had emerged as a prototype. Let us wonder why. The title itself of Jeauratʼs picture suggests an answer. In Italian, “seraglio” – better, serraglio, from the Turkish sarāyi – means “palace”, more specifically “harem”. The depiction of a coffee scene worked as a good pretext for penetrating into the intimacy of that forbidden representation and feminine dimension of Oriental life, in a more discreet way than that chosen by another Rococo French painter, François Boucher, who was the first to imagine and depict erotic and nude odalisques. The Turkish coffee scene was a different aspect of harem life, represented for idle ladies rather than for voyeuristic gentlemen. In this genre, an original masterpiece is Sultana or Portrait of M.me de Pompadour as Sultana Taking Coffee, by the French Charles-André van Loo (ca. 1747-54; we have two versions of it, at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs in Paris and at the Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg). Notoriously, Madame de Pompadour was a member of the French court. Above all, she was the chief royal mistress of King Louis XV. Such a “Second Lady” is portrayed in profile, while sitting on a sofa and wearing an elegant Turkish costume, inside a shady Oriental-like interior. A Nubian dark-skinned maid is offering her a cup of black coffee. The small cup on its plate figures as a bridge point
between the hands of the women, who are familiarly gazing at each other. Likely, the quite complex composition is so studied, not only as to communicate a comfortable atmosphere of intimacy, but also in order to credit the unofficial princess as an open-minded “sultana”. That looks an homage to her alleged democratic influence, on the French monarch and his paradoxical Enlightened Absolutism. In later portraits of Madame du Barry the coffeeservant is a supposed Bengali slave boy, set free by the courtesan countess, who presented him as an African to her friends. Anyhow, the presence of black servants or slaves, both female or male, will recur in the Orientalistic production, still in the 19 th century. Reliably it reflected a local reality, such as reported by the Italian traveller Cristina di Belgiojoso in her description of the harems, in Asie Mineure et Syrie, souvenirs de voyage (Paris, 1858). Van Looʼs artwork is a synthesis between different typologies as the Turkish coffee scene and the portrayal in Oriental dress, even older as in some male or self-portraits by the Dutch Rembrandt van Rijn, Jan Victors and Johannes van Swinderen, in the 17 th century. In the 18th century, a specialist in this field was the Swiss Jean-Étienne Liotard, who lived in Turkey for a period. And the most portrayed in Oriental attire was the British traveller and writer Mary Wortley Montagu, whose Turkish Embassy Letters are a foundation of the literary Orientalism. Yet let us return to a documentarian painter as Van Mour. The Turkish Girl Having Coffee on the Sofa and the Street Coffee Seller were not his sole works pertaining to our theme. Armenian women drinking coffee in an interior, A Turkish interior with a maid serving coffee in zarfs... (which are ornamental holders for cups), and A Turkish interior with servants offering coffee and fruit to a sultan surrounded by dignitaries: they are all long titled paintings by him, recently sold in Londonʼs auction houses. In the Turkish manner of Van Mour, that drink also worked as an elitarian means of socialization.
2 – Charles-André van Loo, Sultana; Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Paris The Coffee Bearers In the Turkish Girl Having Coffee on the Sofa by the painter Jean-Baptiste van Mour, and by the engraver Jean-Baptiste Haussard, of course we can see the Turkish girl seated on the sofa, portrayed in frontal position while going to soak a small biscuit into her beverage. But we cannot see the face of the servant, standing and awaiting with a coffee-pot in one hand and a tray in the other. In fact she is turned toward her somewhat fat mistress, so that her slender, long haired figure is seen from behind. In the analogous painting by unknown author at the Pera Museum of Istanbul, we can see frontally mistress and maid alike, even though the face of the latter is emerging from the shade in the background. In the Sultana by Charles-André van Loo, either the “sultana” and her maid are visible in equal measure. As an international language made of images, a creative iconography possesses its own logic structure and objective development paths. They wait for being interpreted and explained, despite a possible approximation or subjectivism in the criticism, which are part of a cultural dialectic anyway. Not seldom in the history of art, the details grew subjects as well as the subjects became details, within the same kind of representation. In our particular
case, we have a little revolution. Slowly, the artistic attention so much focused on the servant characters, that at last their mistresses or masters were excluded from the view. In the 19th century, some Orientalistic painters began to depict isolated “coffee bearers”, both female or male, what is a sort of aesthetic emancipation of them. No longer they appear in a dark background, but they advance into a lighted foreground and fill the whole picture. The best known is The Coffee Bearer by the English John Frederick Lewis (around 1857; City of Manchester Art Gallery), who lived in Cairo from 1841 to 1850. Indeed, this Oriental beauty is so elegantly robed, as to look a young hostess better than a servant or a waitress. Probably, what she wears is a long dress for ceremonies, as a wedding or other merrymaking. She is holding a coffee-tray with both hands, and walking from an open air country space to a courtyard, along a short passage covered by a Moorish vault. Thus, two thirds of her figure are in the shade, the lower part is in the sun. Yet her smile is so radiant, as to brighten all shade. Doubtless, the artistʼs skill plays a great role in this painting. And the Romantic quality of the image makes it something akin to a mysterious allegory. What makes us think of the possible model of so many Magdalenes as “myrrh-bearers” in the sacred art, with the obvious difference that Mary Magdalenʼs expression is usually sad. Other fine portraits of the same type and approximately epoch are by French painters: Odalisque, by Louis Galliac (undated; sold at Sothebyʼs, London, in 2006); Young Woman Bringing Coffee, by Édouard Louis Dubufe (1872; sold at Sothebyʼs, Paris, in 2008), and Arab Girl Serving Coffee, by Charles É. H. Vernet-Lecomte (1873; Mathaf Gallery, London). Whereas the “coffee-bearer” depicted by Dubufe looks as elegant as that depicted by Lewis, the very young and nice girl chosen as a model by Vernet-Lecomte is more simply dressed, albeit adorned with pretty jewels. She does not smile any longer though. Her quite pensive attitude likely reflects certain feelings of the artist himself, who was not merely a sensitive portraitist of Oriental anonymous women. With special reference to the Near and Middle East and after another aspect of the Romantic lesson – let us remember the Orientalistic production of Eugène Delacroix –, he was also interested in topical questions and dramatic events of his times, as evidenced by his works concerning the war of Crimea in 1853-55 or the slaughters of Syrian Maronites in the Ottoman Empire, in 1860-61. The main charges against the Orientalistic exoticism have been that often it was an arbitrary representation, and that it worked as justificatory and complementary with the
European colonialism. Partial apologies might be that it occurred to fill a local lack of representation, due to a religious interdiction of the figurative arts, and that what idealized in the Oriental culture was nostalgically referred to something missing in the modern Occidental civilization. On the other hand, sometimes what negative represented in that civilization could have alluded to something then still present and dissimulated or inadmissible in ours. That is the case of slavery, or of an inferior and discriminated condition of the “coloured” people, even there where the differences of skin colour should result a bit less evident. In the Sultana by Charles-André van Loo, we have seen the character of a black maid. Nor are dark-skinned “coffee-bearers” lacking later, as Kadija, the Tunisian Girl Bringing Coffe by the German Hermann Katsch (1883?; sold at Sothebyʼs, Paris, in 2008) and The Nubian Coffee Boy by the British Frederick Goodall (1863; sold at Christieʼs, London, in 2008: there are two versions of it, very similar to each other).
3 – John F. Lewis, Life in the Harem, Cairo, detail (1858; London: Victoria & Albert Museum); and The Coffee Bearer: City of Manchester Art Gallery. In the history of painting, this was not the first time that a
detail grew the subject, or the background became the foreground, or else vice versa... Interiors and Terraces Rather than servants in a private context, The Tunisian Girl Bringing Coffe and The Nubian Coffee Boy might have well been waiters respectively in a Tunisian and in an Egyptian coffee-house, since Frederick Goodall travelled to Egypt in 1858-59 and 1870-71. Yet this does not implies that their condition would have been free or a better one. Goodallʼs painting The Song of the Nubian Slave dates from the same year of The Nubian Coffee Boy, what tells us that the problems of slavery and poverty were not absent from his mind. In A New Light in the Harem, again we can see a black maid. She seems to be a nurse, as she is playing with a new born baby, while his mother is watching over and reclining on a sofa (1884; Sudley Art Gallery, Liverpool). For a while at least, that recent birth has made that life of seclusion less idle and boring. And the setting looks luxurious. But it is also true, hardly the painter could have visited it, because the access to the harems was forbidden to male visitors. Mostly, this and other harem scenes were the fruit of an artistic imagination. However, the Arabic-Turkish coffee insists to be a frequent element in the conventional pictures of interiors, along with a sofa and several times with a smoking device as a water or a long stemmed pipe. For example, the three details are found altogether in prints and paintings as An upper-class lady of Aleppo, relaxing with her pipe as she awaits a cup of coffee (in Alexander and Richard Russell, The Natural History of Aleppo; London, 1794), Phanariote Greek Ladies attributed to the British Daniel Valentine Rivière (ca. 1840; Pera Museum, Istanbul), or The Siesta by the North-American Frederick Arthur Bridgman, where an odalisque is lying down and resting on her sofa (1878; Spanierman Gallery, New York). Other times, the third element can be a musical instrument, embroidery materials or a simple fan in one hand of a lady. Particularly in the fabulous harems, much more than sexual excesses or other vicious activities, a problem for odalisques or favourites seems to have been the search for adequate pastimes, as if a timeless time was their worst tyrant. A tray with coffee cups, a sofa and a water-pipe – or hookah –, appear also in a postcard with a coloured illustration printed in Paris, in about 1915, which is titled Coffee and Hookah. Most probably, it was drawn from a lost or unknown painting by the Italian
Fabio Fabbi, who visited Egypt before 1886. In the scene, one woman is sitting on the floor and drinking coffee, while a standing dark-skinned maid pours a cup for another lady, seated on the sofa. A novelty is that the related setting is not an interior, but the open air of a terrace, with the skyline of an Oriental town – Cairo? – just discernible beyond. For the artists, the subject of a female coffee-party on a terrace was the occasion for a lively representation and for a glance at the landscapes in the distance. In Coffee on the Terrace by the Belgian Émile Deckers, that landscape is an Algerian seascape (1934; sold at the Digard Auction House, Paris, in 2009). In a modern miniature by the Algerian Mohammed Racim (1896-1975), Terrace of the Casbah, the view extends as far as the old port of Algiers. Also of Coffee on the Terrace there are two versions almost identical, both of them in private collections. We refer to that one, where the intensity of colours better renders the brightness of its Mediterranean setting. In both pictures indeed, more important is the coral composition, where the coffee meeting and drinking is the ideal focus. The gestures and postures accompanying it determine the divergent lines of a virtual perspective, along which each of the four silent girls of the group acquires her own individuality, as a visual character. No doubt, the precedent considered by the painter is Algerian Women in their Apartment, by Eugène Delacroix. Yet here the internal dimension is so converted into an external one, as to somewhat change even the existential horizon. Unlike the young ladies depicted by Delacroix, these girls look popular and modest. The most impressive is the sole standing one, who just drank her coffee and is now gazing upon the blue wide. At the same time, slowly and pensively she turns back toward her mates, as if foreseeing her next detachment from them or suddenly got aware of certain limits of their common condition. In other paintings by Fabio Fabbi, the Oriental terrace works as an intermediate “iconema” between a closed dimension like that of the harems and the freer one which could be represented by external life, in a society where the dominant tendency was to assign the tasks of reproduction and of production separately to its different gendered components. Yet let us scan a few indoors scenes more. In The Coffee, Arab Interior at Tlemcen by the French Gaston Casimir Saint-Pierre (1833-1916), sold at the Artcurial Auction House, Paris, in 2009, two women are sitting or reclining on a carpet with a coffeeset by them. The former is playing a small stringed instrument, the latter is listening to her. In The Cup of Coffee by the French Marie Antoinette Izart, an Oriental dressed girl is
portrayed alone, while having her coffee on a sofa and smiling in an advertising way (1901; private collection). Also a Turkish paintress, Mihri Müşfik, portrayed herself with a cup of coffee in her hands. In Ramadan, after the Breaking – that is, of the Islamic ritual fast –, and The Coffee Hearth were painted by the Turk Osman Hamdi in 1879. In both pictures, today in private collections, we can see a male character, with his customary turban on the head. Seated on a sofa, he is smoking his long pipe, whereas a maid or wife is serving him coffee. In the background, it is visible a typical fireplace for the preparation of Turkish coffee.
4 – Hermann Katsch, Kadija, the Tunisian Girl Bringing Coffe; and Frederick Goodall, The Nubian Coffee Boy: Private Collections The Coffee-Houses Did exist interior but public spaces, where an Oriental woman could play some a role? And, which sort of women? Such a kind of them was called ‘ālmeh or, better, ‘ālimah. Literally, in Arabic it means “learned woman”. Her type of learning was very peculiar though, as dealing with Oriental dance, singing and sometimes music. Exceptionally, it could have been associated with prostitution, so that our corresponding concept and word might be “courtesan”. Incidentally, it is quite a paradox that the masculine form of the same noun, ‘ālim, designates a legal scholar in religious studies. Amid this Muslim clergy in a broad sense, the ‘ulamā, there were and are several adversaries of the ‘awālim, and of their
traditional learning – by the way, ‘awālim is the plural of ‘ālimah, as well as ‘ulamā is the plural of ‘ālim. Reliably, theirs is a somewhat integralistic point of view, even if there are those who deem it as a reaction of a culture of spirituality against one of mere physicism. Not a few ‘awālim were used to frequent and to perform in coffee-houses, where the public was essentially made of male patrons. Thus, some ‘awālim happened to become the subjects of Orientalistic paintings, as Almehs Playing Chess in a Café and Sabre Dance in a Café by the French Jean-Léon Gérôme, who visited Turkey and Egypt and was also a master-painter of Osman Hamdi (respectively, 1870 and 1875; private collection and Herbert F. Johnson Museum, Cornell University, Ithaca, New York). Actually Gérôme was so charmed by the theme of the Eastern dancer, that An Almeh is titled his best female portrayal (1882; private collection). Nevertheless, the Oriental coffee-houses were not only pastime places where it was possible to drink coffee, to smoke water-pipes, to play chess or to watch dancing ‘awālim accompanied by folkloric musicians. In some of them and sometimes, men could listen to storytellers and even discuss politics or literature. From means of socialization, the Turkish coffee ran a risk to grow a political and cultural factor. Already during the 17th century, the worries of the ‘ulamā about public morality had converged with those of the rulers concerning public order. In Ottoman Turkey, the coffeehouses had been closed for a period. In 1834 the ghawāzī, a lower class of ‘awālim or street and coffee-house dancers, were banned from Cairo and exiled to Upper Egypt. No wonder, a lot of Orientalist artists – and writers – paid their attention to such a picturesque and spectacular, but also doubly alternative Orient: that is with respect to Occident, and not seldom to itself. Surely, the morbid Orientalism of harems and that centred on coffee-houses went hand in hand. Not necessarily they coincided, since harems and coffee-houses themselves could reflect and represent complementary, but even potential alternative aspects of one society. In 1974, when the harems had got memories of the past, the Cairote Nagib Mahfuz, Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988, will issue a short novel titled Karnak Café. In the narration and setting of the story, Orientalistic clichés as the ‘ālmeh and the coffee-house evolve into an autonomous, progressive synthesis. The author himself was an assiduous customer of coffee-houses, nor is an influence of the relevant Orientalistic production to exclude, upon him. Yet let us resume something of the far-sighted tale. When younger, Qurunfula had been a famous, charming belly dancer. Now, she is the middle-aged
mistress of the Karnak Café in Cairo, but she remains a social outsider. Her coffee-house is a meeting point for young Egyptian democrats, both male and female. All of a sudden, the totalitarian regime of the country begins to repress and persecute them. More than once, the victims are so lucky, that they can return to recount their suffered detentions and tortures. At last one of them, Qurunfulaʼs lover, does not come back. Sadly, the regulars of the café wonder and inquire about his destiny. What prevails is an impotent feeling of reciprocal suspicion. The coffee-house will never be again that oasis of free relax which was before. Mahfuzʼs novel is the metaphor of a wider society and age. Some integralists will even attempt his life. If some might object that he was a modern Oriental, not an Orientalist, they would be just right. Therefore, we like to conclude about the old pictorial Orientalism, with a hint at the rare Oriental coffee-houses in Europe. As Thomas Allom, Théodore Frère or Amadeo Preziosi, many depicted Turkish or Arabian coffee-houses. Others did not travel so far. It is the case of the Austrian Franz Schams (1823-83), who painted The First Coffee House in Vienna, 1684, owned by the Austrian Art Society. In this internal scene, the patrons gather around a Turkish dressed proprietor. More showily Oriental are two guys having coffee seated around a table, outside a café at Trieste. The drawing, by the Italian Francesco Beda, is titled The Oriental Café of Trieste (ca. 1888; Civico Museo Orientale, Trieste). Not less odd is a sculpture of the early 18th century, over the entrance of the Museum zum Arabischen Coffe Baum in Leipzig, ascribed to the German Johann B. Thomae. In this highrelief, a reclining Turk is given a cup of coffee by a child Cupid!
5 – Émile Deckers, Coffee on the Terrace; Private Collection Coffee, Eros and Thánatos An “iconema” is nothing but an iconic semantema. In the history of culture and in a broad sense, often common beverages as wine, tea and coffee, worked as semantemas, easy to be connected with human relations. Already in the Old Testament, in the Genesis account of Noahʼs drunkenness, the wine becomes significant about a conflictual relationship between patriarchs and sons. In the Genesis book again, the two daughters of Lot offer their father wine to drink, in order to induce him into a drunken stupor and to have an incestuous encounter with him. Coffee is a more modern and Oriental drink than wine, the usage of which is not allowed by the Islamic religion. In Karnak Café by Nagib Mahfuz, clearly it emerges the relationship between persecutors – or their possible forced informers – and their victims. There was no better setting for such a story, than a coffee-house. Yet the coffee, we have noticed above, may be also central in another problematic relationship, that between servant and master. The harem, the terrace, the coffee-house, the coffee-bearer: they were all “iconemas”, which could be easily associated with the coffee, in an Orientalistic art.
That is not less true for a pseudo-Orientalistic painting, such as the 18th century Turquerie largely was. Do you remember the dark-skinned house-boy, serving coffee in a portrait of Madame du Barry? We have more than one version of it. The best known, in the Palace of Versailles, is entitled Madame du Barry à sa toilette, à laquelle Zamor présente une tasse de café. This is a 1838 copy by Jean-Pierre Decreuse after an original by FrançoisHubert Drouais or Jean-Baptiste-André Gautier dʼAgoty, dating from about 1770. There and elsewhere, we get informed that Zamor was the name of the child page of Madame de Pompadourʼs successor, as a favourite mistress of Louis XV. When grown up, he acquired the name Louis Benedict or Benoit, continuing to be depicted by esteemed portraitists at their times, no longer as a “coffee-bearer” but like a French gentleman. We can mention Portrait of Zamor by Jacques-Antoine-Marie Lemoine (1785; sold at the Auction House Ader, Picard and Tajan, Paris, in 1993), another Portrait of Zamor by Marie-Victoire Lemoine (1785; Cummer Museum of Art & Gardens, Jacksonville, Florida), and Le nègre Zamor attributed to Charles-Amédée-Philippe van Loo (undated; Musée Carnavalet, Paris). He himself ran a risk of becoming an “iconema”, the civilized projection of a “noble savage” theorized by the mind of the philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau. What did happen? Let us read the Memoirs of the Comtesse du Barry, Chapter XIII, about him whom she herself calls a “cup-bearer”: “I christened my little negro Zamor, to whom by degrees I became attached with all the tenderness of a mother. You ask me why? Indeed that is more than I can tell; perhaps at first I looked upon him as a sort of puppet or plaything, but, imperceptibly to myself, I became passionately fond of my little page, nor was the young urchin slow in perceiving the ascendancy he had gained over me, and, in the end, to abuse his influence, and attained, as I have before said, an almost incredible degree of insolence and effrontery”. Yet let us listen to an indirect reply, of Louis Benedict too: “If the beautiful countess brought me up, it was in order to reduce myself to a plaything. She allowed that I was humbled in her own mansion, as an abused subject of mockeries and insolences”. It was during the French Revolution, that the life of the Christianized Zamor turned from a dim Enlightened fable into a dark bitter drama. Converted into an extremist Jacobin, his obsessed revolt was mainly directed to the now middle-aged “beautiful countess”, born Marie-Jeanne Bécu. He accused her of activity against the State, giving testimony before a revolutionary court in Paris. At last, she was sentenced as a traitor and beheaded on 8
December 1793. With a gruesome play on words, it could be said that thus the career of Louis Benedict had evolved from a coffee-bearer to a “death-bearer”. What can we comment on, in his defence? He himself was imprisoned for six weeks or months, as suspected of having been an accomplice of his former stepmother; soon after fled France. If we read back Zamorʼs reported words, by comparing them with the passage from the writing of M.me du Barry, we will realize that the former are echoing the latter, as if someone had suggested such an artful and tendentious mixing. What might let us guess that the denouncer and accuser had been coerced, by realistic cowing and blackmailing, just like some characters in the above fiction by Mahfuz. It is a fact that Louis Benedict – or Benoit, with a variant name – returned to Paris in 1815, past the final defeat of Napoleon. In his last years, he was a scarcely esteemed school-teacher. An anecdote has been invented, that once he found a rusty guillotine blade, allusively put out of his house door. A few people at his funeral, in 1820, were probably the only ones acquainted with his mystery. Even his old name Zamor could sound like a mockery, for a man left with no amor at all, or – rather – whose “love” was so troubled, as to eventually degenerate and be twisted into a lethal tool.
6 – Jean-Léon Gérôme, Almehs Playing Chess in a Café; Private Collection Copyright firstname.lastname@example.org 2011 Other essays by the same author, in English, at the Websites below: http://www.scribd.com/doc/2531940/Space-and-Time-of-the-Annunciation http://www.scribd.com/doc/2681466/The-Cat-and-the-Angel-of-the-Annunciation http://www.scribd.com/doc/2913375/The-Hands-of-Mary-States-of-Mind-in-theAnnunciate http://www.scribd.com/doc/2988387/Hail-Mary-Nazarene-and-PreRaphaeliteAnnunciations http://www.scribd.com/doc/3817130/Women-and-Angels-Female-Annunciations http://www.scribd.com/doc/4597267/Byzantine-Annunciations-An-Iconography-ofIconography http://www.scribd.com/doc/5837944/Marian-Icons-in-Rome-and-Italy http://www.scribd.com/doc/8650381/The-Flight-into-Egypt-A-Transcontinental-Trip http://www.scribd.com/doc/9568413/A-Long-Way-to-Emmaus-Almost-a-SamaritanStory http://www.scribd.com/doc/11517241/The-Bodily-Christ http://www.scribd.com/doc/12902607/Magdalenes-Iconography http://www.scribd.com/doc/15057438/Marys-Gaze-in-the-History-of-Art http://www.scribd.com/doc/14136622/Mimesis-in-Ancient-Art http://www.scribd.com/doc/16420824/Thinkers-in-a-Landscape http://www.scribd.com/doc/19582647/Figures-of-Absence-in-the-History-of-Art http://www.scribd.com/doc/24221344/The-Smile-of-the-Sacred http://www.scribd.com/doc/26251175/On-the-Traces-of-Alcestis http://www.scribd.com/doc/28930322/Trains-and-Trams-An-Archaeology-ofModernity http://www.scribd.com/doc/30742254/Eros-and-Psyche-A-Hermeneutic-Circle http://www.scribd.com/doc/32595697/Mirrors-Masks-and-Skulls http://www.scribd.com/doc/35178388/Excursions-into-Female-Portraiture http://www.scribd.com/doc/37125849/Pythagoreanism-An-Early-Italic-Philosophy http://www.scribd.com/doc/42468642/Stupor-Mundi-The-Pathos-of-Philosophers http://www.scribd.com/doc/51101694/Orientalism-Veiled-and-Unveiled http://www.scribd.com/doc/2075273/Italy-through-a-Gothic-Glass
7 – Madame du Barry in her Dressing Room, Receiving a Cup of Coffee from Zamor, engraving after a painting by FrançoisHubert Drouais or Jean-Baptiste-André Gautier dʼAgoty
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