Showing posts with label Ferdinand Hodler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ferdinand Hodler. Show all posts

Saturday, January 16, 2021

Entry - 1.16.21

 Thus far in my life, most of the people I’ve come across have been wearing clothes, so I guess you can say that I’m used to it. On the other hand, even though there is a large contingent of folk out there who believe that it’s a blast to dress up the family pet in human attire, when I view the inevitable snapshot documenting the transformation, I can only opine that the poor animal looks ridiculous. It makes me wonder if, when the first human decided to don a raggedy animal skin to cover his or her nakedness, the rest of the troglodytes didn’t roll on the cave floor convulsed with laughter. “Man, you look ludicrous!” No. Wearing clothing is definitely not natural. But I must admit there have been times when riding the crowded NYC subways that I’ve wished I were ensconced in a couple of extra layers of clothing… maybe even a medieval suit of armor, or, while strolling past the Fire Island nude beach, a brief span of pristine sand littered almost exclusively with the carcasses of superannuated males festooned with bronzed paunches sagging beneath a rat’s nest of snowy white chest hair, that I have chosen to cast my eyes out to the vacant sea rather than subject myself to the ghastly spectacle.



Surely wearing clothing has many positive points, but, all the same, perhaps we've pushed a good thing a little too far. I mean each of us was born with a body. For better or worse, it's always with us. We can't escape it. It occupies space and asserts its existence on our consciousnesses a hundred times a day in a multitude of ways. It's in our best interests to make peace with our bodies and coexist rationally. To feel shock or shame at the display of nudity seems both laughable and aberrant. We must recognize that, though commonly just a head and two hands protrude exposed from our cocoon of clothing and footwear, there are also many square inches of hidden flesh under that protective covering equally deserving of attention.

Venus of Willendorf

Ever since Paleolithic times, artists have striven to develop approaches to represent the human body. Humans are pretty unique, the only fur-less and featherless biped I know of, so executing an easily recognizable likeness of one is fairly elementary. It would be difficult to draw a gopher that couldn't be mistaken for an agouti or a sparrow for a wren, but humans are a piece of cake. Be that as it may, the conventions the artist adopts for conveying the human form tells a lot about his or her perception of the human condition and reveals much about the society in which he or she has matured. It is my thinking that making even an abridged and imperfect survey of how the nude has been presented throughout art history has the potential to “expose” much. I'll give it a try.


Art for the ancient Egyptians was created for a variety of reasons, primarily relating to projecting governmental power and endorsing a state religion. Over Egypt's long history, murals and relief paintings served as vehicles to decorate space and document aspects of the population's experiences, both in practice and spiritually. Though the Egyptians produced many eloquent and poignant works of art, their society certainly didn't promote individual expression and originality in the arts. During a history that literally spans thousands of years, very little stylistic development occurred. I suspect that artists were viewed as craftsmen and did not hold a particularly high station within Egyptian society. Once an effective convention was formulated for depicting a being or object, it would be pointless to “reinvent the wheel” and establish new approaches for conveying this information to the viewer.


In depicting the human form, the Egyptian artist sought to present each part of the body in its most recognizable and archetypal configuration. So, the lower body, arms and head were presented in profile, while the eye and upper body were shown frontally. When tackling a nude, artists applied the same conventions, infusing their subject with neither greater import nor erotic energy and executing their portrayals with businesslike efficiency.


Based on my limited observations, I would say that the ancient Egyptians regarded nudity pragmatically. Living in a hot climate compelled people to wear as little clothing as possible. Men are usually portrayed wearing only a short wrap-around skirt and woman a sleeve-like dress that left the breasts exposed. Children wore nothing until reaching their teen years. I include here a painting of the royal family, the children presented naked. (Could you imagine a court portrait of a British aristocratic family displaying the children similarly?) Slaves were not provided with any clothing whatsoever. On the other hand, nude figures rarely appear in Egyptian art. Besides children, the most common individuals to be depicted in the nude are performers: dancers and musicians. This leads me to believe that, though the Egyptians viewed nudity practically, under the right circumstances, they could find it entertaining and arousing.






The art of ancient Greece celebrated the magnificence of Man. Whether analyzing sculpture, drama, poetry, ceramic decoration, architecture or philosophy, we cannot ignore one central fact: that the Greeks held faith in the unlimited potential of humans, both physically and intellectually. And it wasn't sufficient that the Greek citizen excel solely as an athlete or a scholar; ideally, he had to strive for a perfection of both body and mind. This objective reflects the Greeks' desire for balance. Two of their gods, Apollo and Dionysus, came to personify opposing, but equally appreciated, inclinations within the human psyche. While Apollo was the emblem of rationality, order, purity and discretion, Dionysus was the proponent of drunkenness, excess, wantonness, emotionalism and chaos. Though the Greeks were proponents of productive, structured labor, they also recognized the need for release and relaxation. A number of their festivals, intended to honor the gods, promoted that participants surrender to a frenzied, ecstatic mindset and pursue irrational, instinctive inclinations.


In Greek art, this longing for balance is most perfectly exposed in the employment of contrapposto, whereby the individual depicted is shown resting his or her weight on one stiff leg, while the other leg is relaxed and bent at the knee. This very natural pose impacts on every other aspect of the figure: the slope of the hips, the relationship of the shoulders, the tilt of the head. Wisely, the Greeks recognized that a static, symmetrical pose would not convey a sense of visual harmony as perfectly as a naturalistic one.


It was the norm (not the exception) for individuals to be portrayed unclothed in Greek art. How else could the artist pay homage to the majesty of Man? How else could the artist exhibit his understanding of human anatomy and mastery of his craft? The Greeks were comfortable with nudity. Their athletes trained and competed publicly in the nude. During some religious festivals, processions of naked men and women were organized. In fact, the Greeks believed that their ennoblement of the nude was a sign of their sophistication, a trait that separated them from the barbarians on their borders. But let's be clear about this, the Greeks did not believe that imperfect and deformed bodies were suitable for representation in art. Their goal was to express perfection and balance, so only the idealized human physique could facilitate their achieving this aim. Additionally, the Greeks determined that the male body was the most perfect vessel for communicating their faith in human potential.








The Romans shrewdly adopted Greek culture, perhaps their most manifest artistic innovation being the development of a style of realist portraiture which captured objectively, and at times brutally, the features of an individual in a sculptured bust. Many of the greatest works of Greek sculpture with which we are familiar today are known from Roman copies. But with the fall of the Roman Empire, the influence of the Greeks came to an end. This is unusual in that commonly a conquering people (in this case northern barbarian tribes) will embrace the culture of a more sophisticated, though defeated, civilization. Consider the history of China for example. But when Rome fell, the northern tribes were unable to sustain the kind of infrastructure and organization that would permit the production of refined, complex artworks.


During the Middle Ages, art became what I might call “purposeful”. Whether decorating a weapon or a ship, illustrating a book or adorning the interior of a church, art served a practical purpose. At times, it increased the value of or sanctified an object. At other times, it served as an educational tool, communicating a narrative to a largely illiterate population. In playing this role, it no longer mattered if art that represented the human form exhibited a knowledge of human anatomy or an urbane aesthetic as long as it effectively conveyed its intended message.


Once Christianity took hold in Europe, it brought with it the novel idea that pleasure was sinful. The concept of the seven deadly sins is a potent expression of a philosophy which prohibited many natural human proclivities and attributes such as pride, sloth, gluttony and lust. In this new cultural epoch, presenting the image of a naked human being that might inspire impure thoughts and provoke sinful activity was frowned upon. So representations of nudes are rare in Medieval art. On those occasions when artists did depict the unclothed human body, they were compelled to do so by an interest in conveying medical information, illustrating stories from the Bible or chronicling the lives of the saints. Their portrayals were crude, awkward and naive and exhibited no potential to arouse sexual desire in their audience.









During the 14th century, Italy rediscovered Classical culture. This interest in ancient Greece and Rome impacted on nearly every aspect of Italian life. Technical innovation and scientific research, including anatomical study, were encouraged. Latin became the language of the educated elite and the lingua franca of the Catholic church. Scholars and aristocrats latinized their very names. The poetry, philosophy, histories, drama, architecture and literature of the ancients were investigated, and, of course, the visual arts were rejuvenated. As we all know, this period became known as the Renaissance. It occurred over centuries and eventually impacted on nearly every realm in Europe.


Exposure to the art of Greece and Rome led to the development of complex, sophisticated sculpture that portrayed the human body realistically and in anatomical precision while attaining an aesthetic perfection not achieved in Europe throughout the previous millennium. Suddenly, the contrapposto pose reappeared in art. Life-sized figures carved in marble or cast in bronze adorned the interiors and exteriors of churches and government buildings or occupied public squares. Large scale equestrian statues that celebrated rulers and warriors presided over city centers. Often the gods, goddesses and minor deities of the ancients were depicted in this period's art.


Artists of the Renaissance didn't just copy Classical Art; they made numerous innovations of their own. Unlike their Greek and Roman predecessors, Renaissance artists developed techniques that brought two-dimensional representation to an aesthetic level on par with sculpture. Initially, the fresco was the preferred medium of painting, but ultimately, because of their ease of use, illusionistic potential and durability, oil colors became nearly universally adopted. Very importantly, scientific rules for creating the illusion of perspective were established during the Renaissance. In Southern Europe, a style of representation that favored an idealized version of reality was adopted, while in the North art presented a harsher more illusionistic view. Artists chose to revisit themes from Classical literature and mythology but also determined that Biblical stories and contemporary notables were worthy of representation.


With a renewed interest in Classical Art, the nude once again became a viable subject for artists. They studied anatomy and participated in human dissections. Artists strove to understand the mechanics of the human body, and the nude was the perfect vehicle to display their newfound knowledge. At the same time, “Man” in all his physical and intellectual perfection once again became the centerpiece of every form of artistic expression. Paintings and sculpture that celebrated the glory of Man were embraced and financed by society's secular and religious elite – the nude being regarded as a completely acceptable means for expressing this new focus on the individual. In addressing the nude, many artists retained a sensibility very much in line with their Greek and Roman forebears. They employed the nude dispassionately to assert their skill and knowledge while achieving an astounding aesthetic perfection. I would include Michelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci and Albrecht Dürer among this class of artists. But during this period, we also first see artists presenting the nude as an object of carnal interest. Art now held the power to arouse as well as edify.


Sandro Botticelli - The Birth of Venus - 1485

Michelangelo - David - 1504

Titian - Venus of Urbino - 1534

Caravaggio - Amor Vincit Omnia - 1601-02

Albrecht Durer - Adam and Eve - 1504

 
For centuries afterward, the nude remained an acceptable motif for artistic expression. At times, the mores of society drifted toward the conservative and the display of representations of naked figures was not favored. For instance, even before Michelangelo's death, drapery was being painted over the genitalia of figures included in the Sistine Chapel's Last Judgment. Plaster fig leaves, positioned strategically to assuage the delicate sensibilities of the pious and prudish viewer, were affixed to Classical and contemporary sculpture. But, regardless of changes in mores and taste, the nude continued to be represented in art and art students were expected to study anatomy and work from the nude model. I would say that, for many years following the Renaissance, depictions of nude figures fell into one of two categories: realism (as epitomized by Rembrandt) or ornamentation (as represented by Peter Paul Rubens).


With the arrival of the nineteenth century and the rise of Victorian standards, the nude experienced a subtle transformation. A wave of prudishness and propriety took hold in Europe, making artistic themes that overtly addressed issues relating to sex unacceptable. Nudity could only be condoned if it was considered edifying, so artists justified their potential moral transgressions by relying on a few elevated themes that necessitated the inclusion of nude figures in their work: biblical stories, classical mythology and history. At the same time, the nude was now presented in a manner meant to titillate the viewer. Perhaps, the Victorians, hampered by impracticable standards, sought a welcome, yet surreptitious, release in their art.

Francesco Hayez - Susanna at her Bath - 1859

Lawrence Alma-Tadema - The Tepidarium - 1881

William-Adolphe Bouguereau - Psyche et L'Amour - 1889

As the Victorian era drew to a close, artists, weary of the unrealistic longing for piety, purity and chastity (never even remotely realized), began to openly address themes relating to sexuality. The Symbolists sought to explore the universal leitmotifs that defined human existence, many of which concerned the cycle of life and relations between the sexes. The Decadents went even further. Fueled by a disgust with a civilization which had seemingly reached a moral and cultural impasse, they created an art that expressed a cosmopolitan cynicism and savored sexual perversion. For the first time, European artists employed the nude as a vehicle to flagrantly expose the mechanics of sexual attraction, going so far as to delve into inclinations and proclivities which inspired activity that fell outside the realm of what was perceived as morally acceptable.


Edvard Munch - Death of Marat - 1907

Gustav Klimt - Goldfish - 1901-02

Ferdinand Hodler - Youth Admired by Women II - 1904

Aubrey Beardsley - Cinesias Entreating Myrrhina to Coition - 1896

At the turn of the twentieth century, with the Modernist revolution taking hold, the nude remained a viable subject for artists, but now the nude, like every other genre of representation, simply became a vehicle for exploring the current “ism” that was being advanced by the artist. To a greater extent than ever before, technique reigned supreme in art. How one painted or sculpted was primarily what a work of art was about. The nude lost the ability to challenge the stuffy standards of a righteous, religious establishment. The artist no longer utilized the nude to startle the viewer out of comfortable complacency, to arouse, to expose and propose practices that trespassed beyond the confines of the norm. If a nude were to offend the tastes of the public, it would do so not on the basis of its subject matter but by how that representation of its subject matter was executed.

Henri Matisse - Male Model - 1900

Pablo Picasso - Nude Combing her Hair - 1906


Ernst Ludwig Kirchner - Bathers at the Shore - 1913


Marcel Duchamp - Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 - 1912


Eventually the avant-garde's passion for technical innovation led to the rejection of all representational imagery, and consequently serious artists no longer considered the nude worthy of exploration. Several decades passed before artists felt provoked to address the nude again as a legitimate subject for examination, and when they re-approached this traditional subject they did so dispassionately... with a new objectivity.


Traditionally, only youthful, physically-fit models were considered worthy of representation as nudes, and many artists continued in this tradition. But something had changed: the nude was now removed from the narrative and was coolly examined as one would a potted plant or a side of beef. During this period, it was permissible to paint representationally as long as the artist did not infuse his or her subject with meaning... that the illusion that subject matter was selected randomly was maintained... that subject matter simply provided the artist with the occasion to mechanically reproduce the visual experience of an external appearance was asserted. The nude provided the opportunity to explore anatomy, the structures that compose the human body, the sinews that hold bones together, the blood vessels that move oxygen throughout the body, the wrinkles that form from the repeated flexing of the epidermis. Commonly, the figure was presented in overall, artificial lighting that was neither mysterious nor dramatic and left no doubt that this work was executed in the antiseptic confines of the studio. The work of Philip Pearlstein and William Beckman comes readily to mind.


Philip Pearlstein - Two Models on Wooden Lounge with Swan - 2013

Philip Pearlstein - Female Model on Chrome Stool, Male Model on Floor - 1979

William Beckman - Studio Five - 2010-12

Andrew Wyeth also produced extremely detailed and carefully executed depictions of nudes. It is thought that he ran afoul of the critics by remaining faithful to representative imagery throughout the most turbulent years of the Modernist revolution in the United States, especially the period during which Abstract Expressionism was becoming established, but his real sin resided in continuing to address subject matter in an empathetic and poetic fashion. I believe that it was his portrayal of a specific kind of light, one that recognizes its own feebleness and transience, that generates an aura of melancholy in his work. This, of course, violated the taboo, incontrovertible at that time, that all serious art must eschew meaning and, above all, sentimentality.


Andrew Wyeth - Lovers - 1981

Some artists chose to depict nudes that defied the norms of what would traditionally be considered appropriate: the aged, the obese, the imperfect. At times, artists did this to confront or disturb the viewer in a snide or comic manner. But, conversely, other artists wanted to reveal a more inclusive perspective of humanity, one that realistically documented all aspects of the human experience.

Alice Neel - Self Portrait - 1980

Odd Nerdrum - Unarmed Man - 1995

Larry Rivers | Double Portrait of Berdie | Whitney Museum of American Art


In my opinion, the most important nudes produced by any contemporary artist were executed by Lucian Freud. He painstakingly recorded every nuance of the human body, often reevaluating tonalities and contours multiple times and, in the process, building up magnificent thick encrustations of paint. His models were required to pose for him for an endless series of sessions, while he scrutinized every facet of their forms. For Freud, painting the nude offered the opportunity to explore the psychological condition of his subject, not only through an examination of facial expression but through the depiction of gesture, posture and attitude. And Freud refuses to omit in his explorations of the human body the flagrant exposure of his subject's genitalia, a feature of equal importance in defining an individual as the arch of an eyebrow, the deportment of the mouth or the contraction of a hand. His nudes are not inviting; they are raw and real, displayed uncomfortably for our inspection.



Lucian Freud - Naked Girl - 1966

Lucian Freud - Naked Girl Asleep II - 1968


Lucian Freud - Benefits Supervisor Sleeping - 1995

And this seems an appropriate place to end my brief survey of how the nude has been represented in western art from pre-Christian times to the present. It is clear that artists have used the nude for a wide variety of purposes: to promote an ideal, to display scientific scholarship, to inspire religious fervor, to titillate and arouse, to defy moral standards, to advocate an avant-garde approach to creation, to assert an existential viewpoint and, on a most elemental level, to explore what it means to be human. The nude is not going to disappear as a viable subject for artistic exploration. Our interest in the nude is hardwired by evolution into our human architecture. Nevertheless, it's hard for me, after seeing Freud's work, to imagine where future artists will take the nude, but it is inevitable that a new perspective will emerge.


As an epilogue to my survey, I will relate a personal experience.


That's me wearing a cap in the background.

I have mentioned in earlier blog entries that I attend weekly life drawing sessions at the Unison Arts Center in New Paltz. At the end of one of our Saturday sessions in January 2019, the proctor announced that an exhibition of nude figurative work was opening that afternoon at Barrett House in Poughkeepsie and that his work would be included in the show. The exhibition was called The Body Beautiful II. As I was crossing the Mid-Hudson Bridge on my ride home, I thought to myself that it would be unforgivable of me not to attend the opening, especially as I would be passing through the heart of Poughkeepsie during my drive anyway. I mean I'm retired now with lots of free time on my hands and certainly can bear a little inconvenience in order to be supportive of the local arts scene. Right? So I made the slight detour to stop by Barrett House.


I wasn't sure what to expect from this show. I'd never attended an exhibition at Barrett House before, but I knew from past experience that the quality of work shown at local venues can vary greatly. As I entered the show's first room, I was pleasantly surprised to find most of the work to be of fairly high caliber – technically competent and often refreshingly inventive. I found myself going back to take second looks at several pieces. The opening was well attended, with a good-sized crowd sharing the first room with me. At some point, a petite, elderly woman made a beeline for me from across the room and began talking to me about the show. She took my arm and led me through the exhibit pointing out specific pieces of interest and introducing me to artists. She seemed to know I was an artist, but, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how. I mean I am definitely not a local celebrity, and I wasn't carrying a portfolio or wearing a beret. She explained to me that she was one of the curators of the show, and just to make conversation I asked if all of the show's contributors were members of Barrett House. Instead of answering my question, she invited me to submit work for consideration for the next Body Beautiful exhibition and provided me with her email address. At that point, she wandered off to attend to other visitors, and I made my way through a number of rooms on various levels to see the remainder of the show.


The possibility of participating in the Barrett House exhibition the following year actually appealed to me, but I hadn't painted a “serious” nude in many years. I really didn't possess any work that I would consider worthy of submission, so I thought I would have to forfeit this opportunity. However, over a week or two, I contemplated the possibility of executing a large nude before the next exhibition, and, though doing so would mean surmounting some organizational and logistical hurdles, I began to grow enthusiastic about the potential project. I won't bore you with all the details, but over the next month, I made contact with a model I thought ideally suited for this project; and she proved agreeable to participate. I also secured a location at which I could properly distance myself from the model and position my lights as I desired (in order to heighten the contrasts between lights and darks while not obscuring detail). Though it would have been great to paint from life, I don't have the resources to hire a model and rent a space for what would amount to countless sessions. So one afternoon, I took over a hundred photos of the model, some full body, others details... some in natural light, others artificial. I never experimented with the pose - only my positioning, the exposure settings on my camera and the lighting. And, luckily, after reviewing the results of this photoshoot, I was very satisfied with what I had captured. (In truth, even less-than-superb pictures are perfectly serviceable to me since imagination and personal conventions play an equally important role in my creations as the information I gather from photographic documentation.)


I decided I wanted to paint a strongly vertical image of the model, slightly larger than life-size, and prepared a canvas of appropriate dimensions (70”x 30”). I spent several sessions establishing the figure on the canvas and blocking in my underpainting, and then initiated months of sessions developing tonalities, building up layers of paint and laying bare detail. Though I love painting the nuances of flesh, tackling several square feet of it proved a challenge to me. It took me over a year to complete this work.


Gerard Wickham - Emily - 2020

Even with such a simple subject matter, I was able to explore the dualities and ambiguities that usually excite my interest. When selecting my model, I was careful to choose an individual who, though attractive and fit, was not a paragon of perfection – preferably an ordinary person who would not capture one's attention if passed on the street. Without a doubt, my model is youthful, her body toned from regular exercise, the muscles in her shoulders and abdomen being particularly defined, but her very youthfulness means her body retains the ungainly elasticity of adolescent development. In particular, the attenuated spans of her shins, conspicuous in my painting, are evidence of the strain of a not very distant growth spurt. The model's youth and fitness make my image inviting, even alluring, but there is also something slightly repulsive about it – akin to the cold illustrations of patients displayed in medical journals. The harsh lighting exaggerates the swollen network of veins in the hands and feet. The skeleton proclaims its presence, particularly in the knees, rib cage and collarbones. Tonalities within the epidermis vary in accordance to exposure to sunlight and the chafing of clothing. The rather blasé pose leaves the model's genitalia displayed coolly and casually. Within an unwavering repetition of horizontals, the model is posed, vertical, static, central and symmetrical, but the varying axes defined by the relation of foot to foot, knee to knee, hand to hand and shoulder to shoulder along with the tilt of the head create a sense of movement. And, though this painting is without a doubt a figure study, it also serves as a portrait of a specific individual.


Gerard Wickham - Emily (Detail) - 2020

This blog entry ends with what may be a lamentable or comic postscript – depending upon your perspective. When I completed this painting after months of effort, I contacted Barrett House to learn more about when the next Body Beautiful exhibition would be held and gather details of how I should make my submission. I was informed that because of the coronavirus pandemic the organization had no plans to schedule another Body Beautiful exhibition at this time. So this large painting now sits in my studio gathering dust. I do show locally from time to time but can't imagine another venue at which exhibiting this work would be considered plausible. Whatever the ultimate outcome of this endeavor, I honestly have no regrets about executing this large nude. I was motivated to tackle a subject matter that would normally intimidate and overwhelm me just on the basis of the complexities involved in organizing its implementation. I am satisfied with the results of my efforts. And, believe me, if my incentive for creating my artwork was about a public response, I would have hung up my palette long ago.


As always, I encourage readers to comment here. If you would prefer to comment privately, you can email me at gerardwickham@gmail.com.


Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Entry - 11.29.19


From my first exposure to his art, I’ve retained an undiminished interest in the paintings and prints of Edvard Munch.  After reading a lot about his life and looking at many reproductions of his work, I came to understand that Munch’s oeuvre could be classified as belonging to three major periods: a developmental stage during which he was influenced by Naturalism and Impressionism, an interval of mature fruition which lasted from about 1890 to 1910, and finally a long period of decline characterized by a diminution of ability.  I recall that during my years of undergraduate art studies one professor summed up the course of Munch’s production in a nutshell: he created amazing works which reflected his intensely volatile lifestyle and a perspective colored by mental illness; after he sought treatment and adopted a more moderate way of living, his art lost its edge and was no longer worthy of serious examination.  I am always wary of any easy summing up of an artist’s output, but I must admit that my own observations corresponded to a large degree with this evaluation.  The powerful works that really grabbed me and I returned to again and again all seemed to have been produced during that relatively short interval of mature fruition.  I refer to works like:

Edvard Munch - Summer Night-Inger on the Beach - 1896

Edvard Munch - The Sick Child - 1896

Edvard Munch - Puberty - 1894/95

Edvard Munch - Death in the Sickroom - c1895

Edvard Munch - Madonna - 1894

Edvard Munch - Jealousy - 1895

Edvard Munch - Melancholy - 1891

Edvard Munch - The Scream - 1893

Edvard Munch - The Brooch - 1903

Edvard Munch - The Voice - 1896

Edvard Munch - Ashes - 1895

Edvard Munch - The Storm - 1893

But I can’t help wondering, if these three periods hadn’t been defined for me so categorically, would I have been disposed to see his output, instead, as part of one continuum defined by regular peaks and valleys.  In 2017, just before I retired, The Met Breuer hosted an exhibition, Edvard Munch – Between the Clock and the Bed, which featured many of Munch’s late paintings, the majority of which I’d seen only in reproduction.  The show included works from throughout Munch’s career, and I must admit that, though I was curious to see the late work, I wasn’t expecting much.  I was surprised to find a good many of the late paintings in the show to be emotionally powerful and technically sound – in fact, I was impressed at how intuitive his painting continued to be in his later years, surfaces varying from thick impasto to thin washes to bare canvas, and I recognized that he successfully pulled off some fairly audacious exploits in these canvases, adopting practices that I would hesitate to attempt.  I was impressed.

Edvard Munch - The Night Wanderer - 1923/24

Edvard Munch - Starry Night - 1923

Edvard Munch - Self Portrait between the Clock and the Bed - 1940/43
Of course, my impression could have been a response to some very selective curating on the part of the show’s organizers.  Without a doubt, Munch’s vision did undergo a major adjustment in his later years.  I would say he went from seeking through generalization a universality of experience during his youth to striving to present a specificity of experience by documenting real observations in his later years.  In these later works, the “players” are real people, with real occupations and class affiliations; they wear clothing specific to their function and status.  Munch is no longer the dissipated, intellectual outsider exposing the internal workings of a troubled mind; he is a member of a community whose members struggle against natural and manmade forces to survive or even thrive in the first years of the twentieth century.  While earlier, Munch would use compositional devices to obscure the effect of perspective, he now stressed that effect, depicting lines of crops converging in the distance or emphasizing the difference in size between individuals and objects in the foreground and those further away.  Often the later pictures record specific locations revealed in the distinct light of a specific time of day.  Even in a work whose theme encourages a more universal interpretation like Adam and Eve of 1909, Munch chooses to rely on specifics; we witness a somewhat well-to-do schoolgirl encountering an awkward young worker in an orchard – she confidently and coquettishly grasps a branch and bites into an apple, while the dumfounded boy is passive, his hands planted firmly in his pockets.  This painting is not a depiction of an engagement between the archetypal “man” and “woman”; the actors are members of specific classes as defined within an identifiable epoch.

Edvard Munch - Adam and Eve - 1909

Edvard Munch - Life - 1910

Edvard Munch - Workmen in the Snow - 1912

Edvard Munch - Man in Cabbage Field - 1916

Edvard Munch - Horse Team - 1919

I must admit that the above works don’t engage my interest as powerfully as the earlier work.  Here Munch documents externals rather than piercing externals to reveal the hidden core of things.  Often these paintings have an almost “photographic” quality to them – as if Munch captured a snapshot of a moment in time and translated it into a lushly and energetically painted image.  Perhaps my response to these images may only be a matter of personal preference.  And while there are many obvious failures included within his late oeuvre, Munch’s mature production is also riddled with many awkward, inconsistent and mawkish works.  I think the modernist revolution demanded that artists make forays into uncharted territory both thematically and technically – most particularly during the opening years of the twentieth century; inevitably radical experimentation would often result in less than perfect outcomes.

To understand how Munch’s approach to painting evolved it would be a good idea to explore briefly his own history and the changes that were occurring within the art world during his developmental years.  Born in 1863, Munch saw his mother succumb to tuberculosis when he was five years old, to be followed by his favorite sister within the following decade.  Later on a brother who had survived to adulthood passed away shortly after marrying.  Munch himself was a sickly child, often restricted to bed where he developed an interest in drawing; he believed that he was being pursued by death, that an inescapable fate awaited him.  To compound his jaundiced perception of the human condition, Munch believed his family to be inflicted with mental illness. His father, who Munch described as “temperamentally nervous and obsessively religious”, was a poor provider, unable to furnish a reliable income for his family.  His younger sister was diagnosed with mental illness at an early age and was later committed to an asylum.  Munch had a number of unsuccessful relationships with women but, being naturally wary of family life and fearful of his own mental condition (exacerbated by alcoholism), was unable to make a commitment to any of them.  Considering his personal history, it seems inevitable that Munch would address weighty matters within his art.

During his early studies, Munch was exposed to Naturalism and Impressionism and initially experimented with these styles.  But he recognized fairly quickly that the direct replication of outward semblances would not satisfy him.  Fortunately, in the late nineteenth century, a movement was evolving amongst a loosely connected, geographically diverse group of writers, artists and musicians who sought to expose absolute truths and explore personal perspectives in their work, often employing mythological references or dream imagery.  Members of this movement sought to address large themes, to examine the private motivations and drives that fueled human behavior and to develop a new language to describe the indescribable.  This movement was dubbed Symbolism.

Ferdinand Hodler - The Night - 1889/90

Arnold Bocklin - Island of the Dead - 1880

Gustave Moreau - Jupiter and Semele - 1895

Gustav Klimt - Death and Life - 1915
In many ways, Munch was the consummate Symbolist.  Paintings like Melancholy, Puberty, The Sick Child, Madonna, Jealousy, Death in the Sickroom, The Dance of Life and The Scream absolutely address essential themes central to universal experience.  In these works, Munch finds the quintessential vocabulary that permits the viewer to readily empathize with the monumental themes which he explores.  Somehow he finds a way to unite the universal and the personal in a single image.

But Munch is at times also categorized as an Expressionist.  More so than any of his contemporaries, Munch pushed the limits of what was acceptable technically in his art.  He used paint intuitively, often employing thin washes to rapidly cover large sections of canvas, streams of running color comingling as gravity drew them downward.  At other times, he applied paint in thick blobs, without seeking to achieve fine nuance or effect a satisfactory transition between individual strokes of color.  He employs long, sinuous strokes of paint that snake across his canvases, whether depicting water or hair or sky or jetty, creating a dizzying, unsettling effect. Often, in his haste, he left the bare canvas exposed.  He paints rapidly, presenting only those basic elements essential to the recognition of form and eschewing detail and nuance.  Munch has developed a method of painting that is deeply personal: intuitive as opposed to deliberate, emotional rather than intellectual.  He apparently works very quickly and energetically, giving immediate vent to the emotions which spark his efforts.  Immediacy and authenticity are critical to his process.  This approach conforms with many of the basic tenets of Expressionism.



Earlier this year, I read Karl Ove Knausgaard’s examination of Munch’s oeuvre, So Much Longing in So Little Space, in which the author not only provides a personal evaluation of Munch’s art but engages in discussions with a number of contemporary artists about Munch’s place in history and his influence on their own work.  I found the book to be enlightening and informative, often indulging in the author’s very subjective reactions to lesser known works of the artist.  A very astute observation of Knausgaard, one I had never made myself, was:

“One might say that Symbolism consists of solemn or grandiose motifs painted in a careful or pusillanimous way.  That is true of Gustave Moreau and Böcklin, for example.  And one could say that Expressionism is trivial motifs painted in a wild way.  What is striking about Munch, and what makes him special, is that he paints solemn motifs, like The Scream and Despair and Melancholy, in a wild way.  He stands midway between the two schools.”

He’s right about the motifs addressed by the Expressionists.  Often they were prosaic, but it was how they were addressed that made them significant.

Maurice de Vlaminck - Sailing Boats at Chatou - 1906

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner - Street, Dresden - 1908

Henri Matisse - Open Window, Collioure - 1905



Chaim Soutine - Pastry Cook of Cagnes - 1922

Erich Heckel - Path between Bushes - 1907

I might go further than Knausgaard and suggest that Munch’s exposure to the work of contemporary Expressionist artists may very likely have been responsible for his eventual shift from grand themes to more everyday ones.  Maybe seeing Expressionist work much more firmly grounded in aesthetics made Munch recognize what, I believe, most modern viewers now feel about Symbolist art – that, in addressing grand, dramatic and aberrant themes, it often descended into sentimentality and awkwardness.

Knausgaard also recognizes something that I’ve thought about for years - that an interesting parallel exists between Munch’s late work and that of fellow Norwegian Knut Hamsun.  While Munch began depicting ordinary townspeople, farmers and laborers in his art, at about the same time Hamsun in his later novels stopped presenting odd outsiders, mysterious strangers and struggling intellectuals and chose to address lowborn and unsophisticated people in his writings.  In works like The Growth of the Soil, The Women at the Pump and Wayfarers, Hamsun apparently pays homage to the unworldly folk who scratch together a living from soil and sea, tirelessly labor while battling the unforgiving elements and have no time, patience for or interest in intellectual pursuits.  Something was definitely happening in Northern Europe at that time which made people suspicious of sophistication and engendered in the individual a desire to return to his or her roots.  The Nazis recognized this development and embraced “the Volk” in their propaganda, relating the soul to the soil and celebrating the simple peasant worker.  Sophistication became synonymous with degeneracy, education with indolence.  There are probably a million reasons for the evolution of this perspective.  I believe that primarily this kind of thinking came about as people became aware of the drawbacks of industrialism and rampant capitalism.  Also the pointless slaughter and destruction of World War I must have made ordinary people question the judgment and motives of their elite, ruling classes and promoted an allegiance to local, grassroots initiatives.  Later on, the financial collapse that came with the Depression must have made people question their reliance on big business and financial institutions and encouraged them to look back wistfully to a golden age when their wellbeing would have been linked inextricably with their own personal industry.  I think both Munch and Hamsun couldn’t help but be influenced by the development of this outlook.



I believe this blog entry to be even more meandering and unorganized than usual, so a brief summation might prove helpful.  It is my contention that the commonly held belief that Munch’s artistic production can be placed in either of two specific categories (pre or post psychiatric treatment) is erroneous and misleading.  I also assert that the premise that his technical skills diminished after treatment is inaccurate; there are certainly plenty of late Munchs that show the same technical brilliance and inventiveness as his earlier work (particularly the self portraits).  Munch’s personal history made him a natural participant in the Symbolist movement, providing him the opportunity to address epic themes that related directly to his own life experiences.  His work did change over the years, but the change was more of a slow evolution than an abrupt cataclysm.  And that change was more thematic than stylistic, most likely resulting from exposure to Expressionist art and the influence of an early twentieth century Northern European Weltanshauung that idealized the simple existence of honest, unrefined laborers.

(By the way, Oslo’s Munchmuseet invited Knausgaard, also Norwegian, to curate an exhibition that was held at the museum in the summer of 2017.  The exhibition, Towards the Forest, featured many paintings, prints and sculptures culled from the museum’s own collection that had never been shown before.)

As always, I encourage readers to comment here.  If you would prefer to comment privately, you can email me at gerardwickham@gmail.com.