The ancient sculpture of Laocoön and his sons is a turning point in the artistic representation of man – but the piece is also an object of projection for constantly changing ideals of masculinity.
The German Prince Leopold III had a fondness for stained glass. On a shopping expedition to Switzerland, he purchased some valuable specimens which can be seen in Wörlitz today.
A drinking bowl from Stein am Rhein is among a trove of precious glass finds dating from the Roman era. The piece itself is spectacular, but the circumstances of its discovery are just as remarkable.
Two German painters, contemporaries, reacted to the ‘age of catastrophe’ of 1914-1945 in very different ways. One painted a harsh and objective depiction of the world he saw. The other persisted in a rural idyll. Both approaches are political.
On 1 April 1944, Schaffhausen was mistakenly bombed. The municipal museum lost more than 80 paintings. Then, artworks to match the scale of the losses started arriving from all over Switzerland. Even now, this level of cultural donation is testament to the huge solidarity compatriots felt for the stricken city.
His, more than any other, was the hand that shaped Switzerland’s image in the 19th century: Zurich-born artist, watercolourist and art publisher Rudolf Dikenmann. His prints produced using the aquatint technique were churned out in their thousands: for travellers, collectors and members of the public.
As the 19th century drew to a close, Lydia Welti-Escher’s unhappy love affair led to the establishment of the Gottfried Keller Foundation. And the suicide of the daughter of magnate Alfred Escher.
