On a recent trip to the DIA, my Art History class was pleasantly treated to a tour by the museum’s director (who is AMAZING, if you ever meet her).  If you have never been to the Detroit Institute of Art, I highly reccommend it.  Although the surrounding area can be quite dodgy, once inside, you forget all about the modenr squalor of a fallen urban landscape and transport yourself to a time of soaring white marble, vaulted gothic cathedrals, and gleaming suits of armor that demand acknowledgment.  The African art is kind of scary, the Egyptian art is mystic and abstract, and everything is full of eye-catching shapes and colors.
While every piece moved my eyes, what moved my mind was when the director took us beyond the suits of armor, to the European portrait gallery, where she showed us one painting in particular.
It was a portrait of Eleonora de Toledo by Bronzino and it was jaw-dropping.
The layers of fabric, the folds, and the dancing patterns that were choreographed down her bodice…
Seeing my reaction, the director of the museum told us, “We were just in the main hall where the suits of armor were displayed.  Now as you know, there were suits of armor for military campaigns, jousiting tournaments, and also fancy suits of armor which were much like tuxedoes are today.  And here,†the director gestured to the Bronzino, “Was what I consider to be female armor.â€
Her metaphor intrigued me. Â And moreover, it got me thinking about the limits and capabilities of women throughout history. In the Renaissance especially, an age where women had little control over their fortunes, marriage lives, and living situations, there was one sphere where women could exercise control and could exude all of the confidence and personality that society allowed her: in her dress.
Never before I had ascribed so much power to an article of clothing. Â But this dress and this woman, was not just one piece of clothing. Â She was the pure angel of the pearls around her neck, the hardened, wrought iron of the black swirls on her gown, and she was a living, breathing human being who had few avenues for self-expression.
As I stood there, gazing up into the serene face of a female who lived a vastly different life from me, I found a connection through the power of clothes. Â I thought about what I was wearing (a light blue button-down, jeans, a dark blue cardigan, and my tan, canvas trenchcoat) and then picked up my gold and pearl necklace around my neck.
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