MASTERPIECE #3106

Jan van Ravesteyn and Workshop, Dutch

Ivan Wasn’t Too Psyched About Getting His Portrait Painted, But He Figured He’d Better Do It Before His Helmet Molted, 1612

Oil on canvas

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mabrndt
mabrndt
1 year ago

Info, and perhaps links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here, here (archived if necessary), here, and here (if truncated, can be read in full for free on Fridays), perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page (Google translated Dutch Wikipedia page has more).

Solstice*1947
Solstice*1947
8 months ago

/// This posh outfit is not what he wore
when he followed his Prince into war.
His black armor’s not scratched
and the feathers attached
to his helm was a boa before.

/// He is grateful nobody had said
that the helmet be worn on his head.
Orange feathers galore
are too high for the door,
yet his wife makes him wear it to bed.

/// (I’d had serious doubts as to whether
I’d find rhymes for the tint of that feather.
The plumes are bright orange
like a rusty old door hinge,
quite a combo with armored black leather.)

/// The tall plumes are for being displayed.
Orange hues laud the Prince he obeyed.
Still, he thinks it looks silly,
and his wife agreed, ‘til he
brought it home as a marital aid.

/// About “toys” for adults, she’s a stickler.
Were they come from? She’s also partic’lar.
As an aide to romance
there are rubbers from France,
but she’d never heard of a Dutch Tickler.

/// His wife grumbled with dissatisfaction.
Then the thought of spurs spurred her to action.
She said, “Though I may carp
that your toenails are sharp,
wearing spurs to bed might give you traction.

/// This stout officer once was a charmer
who fit into a smaller size armor.
For this portrait he posed
(with his breastplate unclosed),
looking more like a fretful fat farmer.

/// All these officers on “Picture Day”
had been posed in the same exact way,
to be hung in The Hague,
with expressions so vague:
“We were young! How’d I get old and gray?”

/// Their demeanor’s intended to say
that they’re men of war, not here to play.
Had they thought for a while—
maybe bothered to smile—
then for wallet-sized copies they’d pay.

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