It’s painful for me to admit
this, but I must come clean and confess that I am a sentimental man. Yes, I pore over the same old family photos
again and again, reliving the golden days of yore and making the same stale
observations, until my wife is ready to pull her hair out. I get attached to cars and refuse to give
them up even when the radio is shot, the air conditioner can only sputter out
the occasional warm exhalation and annual repair costs exceed by far any
potential payments on a new vehicle. On
my office bulletin board, I still display drawings that the kids made during
visits to my workplace over a decade ago.
Damn it! I’ve been known to
quietly weep while watching Disney movies.
On the other hand, I am also
exceedingly practical. I’ve never
prepared a dish that required the addition of truffles. Not ever!
I don’t watch videos of babies, puppies and kittens being ever so
adorable on the internet. My wife and I got
married at city hall, barely observe our anniversaries, have on occasion forgotten the day altogether and have no intention of ever renewing our
vows. I torture the toothpaste tube
until the last of its contents have been extracted. When sick, I don’t want to be pampered; I’ll
just crawl off to a dark corner to lick my wounds and you can ignore me. I don’t own a cellphone; no matter how
critical a communication is deemed, it can wait.
While I might contend that
these conflicting outlooks blend together quite successfully to produce a
perfectly peachy personality, I must also concede that I may not be the easiest
person to live with. I mean my poor wife
probably is never sure how I will react in any given situation. Quite conceivably, she could be dealing with Barry
Goldwater or Barry Manilow. The secret
to maintaining a balance between sentimentality and practicality is never
permitting one inclination to dominate the other completely. For instance, I would say that most of my
paintings begin with a sentimental impulse which, if pursued without restraint,
would most likely result in saccharine slop – the kind of tripe we categorize
as “kitsch”. Hopefully, with most work,
reason prevails and I tamp down the sentiment until only a subtle undercurrent
remains. That wisp of sentiment may be a
painting’s hook, but it’s the practical application of reason that can elevate
a work of art into something more substantial… more significant.
No season of the year
elicits greater sentiment than Christmastime.
This probably explains why so few artists choose to address the theme of
Christmas in their work. It’s just too
dangerous. One false step and you’ll
find that you’ve trespassed into the syrupy and artificially upbeat territory of Thomas Kinkade and Norman Rockwell.
|
Norman Rockwell - Home for Christmas - 1955 |
|
Norman Rockwell - I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - 1954 |
|
Thomas Kinkade |
|
Thomas Kinkade |
All the same, I thought it
would be fun to present a few works of art that successfully address the theme
of Christmas without intruding into the overtly sentimental. It’s precisely because these artists
restrained the inclination to sweeten these images and heighten the sentimental
content that these works have a powerful emotional charge.
|
Peter Bruegel the Elder - The Census at Bethlehem - 1566 |
|
Gentile da Fabriano - Adoration of the Magi - 1423 |
|
Giotto - Adoration of the Magi - 1305 |
|
Edward Burne Jones - The Star of Bethlehem - 1890 |
|
Jan Steen - The Feast of Saint Nicholas - 1665 |
|
Caspar David Friedriich - Winter Landscape - 1811 |
|
Paul Gauguin - Christmas Night - 1894 |
|
Paul Gauguin - Nativity - 1896 |
|
Currier and Ives - Evening - 1854 |
|
Birge Harrison - Christmas Eve - Undated |
|
Grandma Moses - Out for Christmas Trees - 1946 |
|
Fairfield Porter - Christmas Morning - 1971 |
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Fairfield Porter - Lizzie, Guitar and Christmas Tree - 1973 |
|
Andrew Wyeth - Last Light - 1988 |
|
Andrew Wyeth - Crescent - 1987 |
Finally I must confess my
fondness for the work of Carl Larsson (1853-1919), a Swedish artist who defied
the call to join the modernist revolution.
Larsson grew up in extreme poverty in Stockholm, only maintaining some order in his
life through the efforts of his mother who worked tirelessly as a
laundress. While attending a school for
poor children, Larsson was recognized as a talented artist and was encouraged
to apply to the Royal
Swedish Academy
of Arts. There, he eventually gained
confidence and flourished. He pieced
together a living working for newspapers and publishers as a caricaturist and
illustrator, but real success still eluded him.
He moved to Paris
in 1877, where he shunned involvement with the avant-garde, choosing instead to
associate with his more conservative Swedish colleagues. At the Scandinavian artists’ colony at
Grez-sur-Loing, he met his future wife, Karin Bergöö, a talented artist and
designer. It was at this time that
Larsson developed the watercolor technique for which he is best known. After Carl and Karin married, they settled in
Sundborn, Sweden in a small house provided by
Karin’s father. The couple transformed
their home into a work of art, giving great attention to detail and
incorporating many traditional Scandinavian themes into its decoration. It was here that the Larssons raised their
eight children, and it was also here that Carl created his most significant
work, a series of watercolors which documented the unique home life that his
family enjoyed in their fantastic retreat.
Larsson felt that his larger
works on historic themes would be his major contribution to Swedish art. When the watercolors of their family life in
their cozy home, Little Hyttnäs, were published, the Larssons were shocked at
their popularity. But, of course, these
were Carl’s most intimate and honest expressions of his artistic sensibility;
the public only responded appropriately.
Fine art reproductions of the watercolors were sold in albums, but it
was a book of watercolors and drawings with a text by Carl Larsson called Das Haus in der Sonne (The House in the Sun) that truly
established the artist’s fame and reputation.
The book was a bestseller upon publication and has been reprinted forty
times through 2001. The descendants of
Carl and Karin Larsson continue to own Little Hyttnäs in Sundborn and make the
house available to tourists from May to October. It remains one of the most popular artist’s homes
in the world. I hope to visit it
someday.
|
Carl Larsson - Boy Skiing at Falun Home - Undated |
|
Carl Larsson - Julaftonen - 1904 |
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Carl Larsson - My Country Cottage in Winter, Sundborn - 1904 |
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Carl Larsson - Now It's Christmas Again - 1907 |
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Carl Larsson - The Cottage in the Snow - 1909 |
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Carl Larsson - The Yard and Wash-House - 1895 |
|
Carl Larsson - Christmas Morning - 1894 |
I was lucky enough to see
Larsson’s Now It’s Christmas Again at
Scandinavia House in Manhattan
a couple of years ago. The watercolor on
paper was larger than you would expect: 22” X 57”. Having no previous knowledge of Larsson, I
stood before this work marveling at the detail and taking delight in its
subject matter: a large family gathering at Christmastime. It was included in the show Luminous Modernism which presented
artwork produced by Scandinavian artists who were influenced by the modernist
movement at the turn of the twentieth century.
I doubt if Larsson would qualify as a modernist; I’m not even sure that
his work could be categorized as fine art.
But I now know why the curators chose to include one of his watercolors
in the show; his work has a loyal and enthusiastic following and its inclusion
was sure to delight them as well as the uninitiated.
Having now revealed my
sentimental side and confessed my affection for the work of Carl Larsson, I
feel justified in getting a bit soppy here.
I wish all of my readers a season of peace and joy. Take solace at this time of the year in fond
memories of Christmases past, those peopled by our younger selves and friends
and family often no longer with us, and cling steadfastly to those loved ones with
whom we share the holiday at present.
Try to find within yourself the wisdom and compassion to transcend the
divisiveness that isolates us from our fellow man and seek to find the
commonality that unites us. I wish you
all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
I’ll conclude this entry
with a couple of photos I’ve taken this December of the holiday decorations in New York City. Hope you enjoy them.
As always, I encourage
readers to comment here. If you would
prefer to comment privately, you can email me at: gerardwickham@gmail.com.
2 comments:
Great post.
Appreciated, Stacie.
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