Norris Kelly Smith has a point of view about art through the ages that may cause clangor among art instructors but will undoubtedly find compatible audience with artist and art viewers who enter the realm of looking at pictures with a hope for transcendence. HERE I STAND: Perspective from Another Point of View is a lovely extended essay that postures the concept that mathematics and science probably have little to do with the way paintings have been constructed and executed from the Renaissance forward. Texts on art emphasize the 'vanishing point', showing how artists use lines and graph squares to create a since of foreground and background, distance, and depth. Smith explores the internal vision of painters and argues that such 'mathematical clues' had much less significance to artists than the presence of social, religious, and political values - insitutionsa of the times outweigh the scientifc dissection approach. If grids are applied to, say Piranesi, then the matematical mind finds little but contradictions. If however the paintings of castles, or battles, or even vistas of boulevards and cityscapes are observed from the eye of an artist who places more value on his view of man's place in the conteext of what is being represented, then 'perspective' just naturally develops. Observation is a response to the eye and the eye relfects the mind and experiences of the painter. This is not an earth-shattering postulate, but it is certainly a refreshing new way of observing paintings both from the past and from the present. He closes his find little book by stating "Architects cannot be pessimists, cannot give way to despair. They can devise ways of making us more comfortable, of moving traffic more expeditiously, but they cannot, any more than can deracinated painters, install the institutions that must, in the long run, be more important and more enduring than any work of art can possibly be." The book is generously illustrated and beautifully designed. Recommended for open-eyed artists and art lovers.

Functioning modern states have their own myths, stories (historical or otherwise) that illustrate the shared communal values that the state is believed to embody and wishes to project (to citizens and foreigners alike). For Renaissance Venice, the myth was that of the Most Serene Republic, built on a perfect foundation of justice, peace and the rule of law, established as the Christian heir to pagan Rome and protected by the saints. In this brief, elegant book, David Rosand shows how richly that political myth was embodied in the public art of the Venetian state, focusing on the paintings and sculpture of the Doge's Palace, the Loggetta of the Campanile, the Libreria di San Marco, and various of the scuola grande. Rosand does a superb job of teasing out all of the multi-layered mythological meanings and allusions present in individual works and in the relationship of one work (or even one building) to another. He also shows that these meanings, although not transparent to most visitors today, were easily understood by educated Venetians and foreigners (and recorded in their diaries and descriptions of the city) throughout the Renaissance. I saw many things that I had not seen before, and will go back to these works with a new appreciation of their meaning and function.

This is not art criticism or art appreciation (there is barely a mention of anyone's technique or of aesthetic issues), it's real art history. Rosand's goal is to show how the artwork he considers functioned to both present the Venetian state's self-image and to persuade viewers to accept that image. Given Venice's important role as an early example of a modern state (one that viewed the state itself as an abstract concept, separate from the ruler, who is himself subject to the rule of law), we can still learn much from the methods that Venice used to envision and market itself.

Rosand writes for an educated audience, but is readily accessible to non-scholars. He assumes a fair degree of familiarity with Venice -- if you do not know the Piazza from the the Piazzetta, or which facade of the Palace is the south one, you will occasionally find yourself confused. Nor does he stop to explain in any detail the Venetian constitution or the organization of Venetian society. This is a book to take with you on your second or third trip to Venice, or to read while planning such a trip. It does not pretend to be comprehensive, but will give you a real insight into one of the many beautiful threads that make up this complex city.

This book would have recieved 5 stars if it wasn't for an apparent misunderstanding of Tintoretto on the part of Prof. Rosand. The first section of the book is oustanding, laying out beutifully such necessary background info/theory as the role of the artist in 16th century Venice and (even better) the aesthtics of the disengo vs. colorito / florence vs. venice controversy. Now for the bad: while it is generally a nice, concise overview of Tintoretto's artistic production, Rosand misses the point in terms of expressive content of his art, debunking the notion that Tintoretto communicates a real, personal passion and piety. He also claims that, contrary to popular scholarship, the Council of Trent had little effect on the outcome of his paintings and "any attempt to link associate specific doctrines may be misleading" (approx. quotation regarding the San Giorgio Maggiore "Last Supper). Despite these questionable views (which he contradicts in other sources, by the way) it is a valuable volume to anyone's personal library.

I haven't seen the book, but i have a feeling it will be grea

I cannot believe the mish mash (see what I mean) written in Drawing Acts. And every 5 pages there is the word which should be used sparingly. I am always defiant when some one uses it out of context i.e. Hegel or Marx. I had hoped Rosand would deal with connaisorship. Instead he rambles on what the artist's hand should or shouldn't be doing and how to analyse it. Loss of time.

As someone who is writing my dissertation on drawing, I can tell you that this is one of the great books on the subject. Rosand writes beautifully and with great feeling. He makes you feel the hand of the artist (be it Michelangelo, Rembrandt, or Picasso) at work, and that is what drawing is all about.