Numb and Alive

Alexi von Jawlensky, Schokko, oil on board mounted canvas, 1910.

This piece evokes drama. Although the woman depicted is emotionally dead, the bold colors create the emotion instead. Reduced to simple lines and stark primary colors, there’s still intensity in Jawlensky’s methods.

The woman’s face is mask-like in her facial features and sickly green color. Her eyes are mere slits seeing out into the world and her lips are slightly puckered with inner-thought. The nose is long and droops with the oval shape of her face.

The portrait of the woman is intended to depict a well-dressed and well-off woman of the ages, but instead illustrates a lifeless form with life only in the bold contrasts of color.

The woman’s hat adds vibrancy to the image with flowers and loud feathers around the brim of the hat. The hat, in itself, is probably the most energy-infused aspect of the portrait.

Her dress is much simpler in contrast. The shape of the dress is just a tombstone outline with a neck stuck on top of it, suggesting it's lifeless nature. The square, possibly lace, neckline essentially cuts off the neck of the woman. There’s no hint towards a sexual meaning in this closed off neckline.

Besides the restraining neckline, there is also the ribbon tied around the middle of her neck which more obviously implicates the idea that this woman is being suppressed or marginalized in some sense. Tied as if physically straining her from speech, the idea that there is a pent-up issue, is made clear.

This piece was titled in reference to the model’s request for hot chocolate, or Schokko. Without the back-story, hot chocolate as the title of this painting would seem ironic to me because everything about this image is chaotically spicy while a title like hot chocolate would imply that the image would be in warm shades of brown.

As a whole, this painting interprets this idea that even in the most emotionally numb times in our lives, we can still appear to be full of energy simply by the colors we evoke, just as in Jawlensky's work. Put in the right vibrant pink backdrop of the world, the dullest red and the most lifeless face can appear cheerful.

The Good Life

David Hockney, A Bigger Splash, 1967, acrylic on canvas.

This should be a movie still from The Graduate. A classic 60s, clean line house in the background, the breezy Californian palm trees standing tall and a perfectly geometric pool screams the good life of Ben Braddock.

I imagine the splash in the pool belongs to Dustin Hoffman. After a mid-night run in with Mrs. Robinson, he jumped off the diving board as a sort of a re-birth to cleanse his wrong-doings.

Outside of the undeniable resemblance to The Graduate, there is a certain moment that this painting is depicting. This splash in the pool is a fleeting moment where Dustin Hoffman, in our case, jumps in the pool to escape from life for one short second. Unseen by the viewer, the only trace of the person is the big splash. Dramatic.

It’s a childhood dream of ours, that has still stuck with me, to flee when we’ve done something we regret. Even when we simply want to fall off the face of the earth for just a second. Hockney depicts this escape as a splash, in a picturesque setting.

There is also a pop art element to this painting. The symmetrical, contrasting planes of color have a pop art sense that was quickly becoming the art of the moment.

However, there is more depth than in Andy Warhol’s pop art work because of the details and also because it’s not a portrait. It's far from a portrait because their is no visible subject.

A shadow of the neighborhood shines from the mirror-like windows and the empty director’s chair creates a notion that the person jumping in the pool is important. Also, the splash itself has a lyrical dimension as the thin lines almost look like abstract body forms.

Whether that emblematic splash is Dustin Hoffman’s or my own, it’s executed beautifully and, most importantly, portrays that brief instant where we can truly be invisible.

Beyond Appearances

Alberto Giacometti, Walking Man, 1960, Bronze.

An honest, unsettling sculpture of a man walking through life is Giacometti’s Walking Man.

Although daunting, I thought this would be an impactful first sculpture for me to write up. This elongated, literally withering, body can be taken past the first impression and onto the deeper, troubling core this body symbolizes gorgeously.

In this man's single step you can see his bronzed flesh pealing off in the sweeping motion and his face growing longer with pure desperation. There’s an inner struggle in the sculpture that is represented in a dramatic style.

It’s rare to see someone this physically warped which therefore might bring the notion that the sculpture is unrealistic. However, internally there have been many times when we could, in fact, relate to this man. As if the world is pushing vehemently against us and we’re left hollow, we are the Walking Man.

There’s not just the weighty aspect of the inner struggle but also the matter of fragility, both physically and emotionally. No matter how closed off or numb we are to the world, part of human nature is our fragile state. When we are stripped down to our core, purely our existence makes us delicate and easily broken down.

Whether it’s the love of your life, your family or yourself, our trust in each is so brittle that one simple move can break us just as this sculpture appears. Like a mere toothpick, we are, eternally.

It’s in Giacometti’s energetic, digging dashes that the sculpture opens an entirely shut off realm of our being. Walking Man represents the relationship that never had an ending and the internal struggle that we never make known.

Simplicity

Carel Fabritius, The Goldfinch, 1654, oil.

Simple and striking. This painting is the epitome of simplicity and I’m not even disappointed.

I’m a huge fan of birds, weird I know, so I’m a bit partial to this image to begin with. The fact that I’m also a firm believer of "less is more," only adds to the appeal of this image.

The warm intimacy that the painting oozes pulls your eye in and you can’t help but wonder the story this little finch has to tell. His glossy, small eyes could be saying anything.

I wonder how he got to the perch and where’s he’s been. Did he just get back from a travel with his love and got separated? Or is he young and this spot is where he’s beginning his journey.

It’s hard to tell. Just like the guy you see everyday at the coffee shop and can’t help but wonder where he’s from, what heartbreak he’s had and where he’s going. That man is this bird, and we’ll never know.

Outside of its intriguing expressive quality, the composition of this piece broke boundaries. A student of Rembrandt, Fabritius used the lighter color in the background and the darker, richer color on top. This was unheard of in the artistic world of this age. The dark color was always used in the background and the lighter, brighter color was to go on top.

Although a shove to the man at the time, this painting is truly a masterpiece. The combination of cool colors in the image creates a tender sentiment that you can’t help but immerse yourself in. Everyone has a story so therefore everyone is, in some way, a little Goldfinch.

An Overgrown Forest

Max Ernst, The Forest, 1927, oil on canvas.

Stuck in a small cage in the center of an overgrown, slightly manic forest seems to be an accurate illustration of my thoughts recently.

With the pace of classes picking up swiftly and extracurricular activities also picking up, Ernst’s trees’ are grades and my social life and I’m the bird stuck enchanted, even a little petrified, of everything growing over me in the bird cage.

This beautifully structured, almost industrial representation of a forest really caught my attention in more than one aspect. It reminded me of a Where the Wild Things Are scene from the new movie trailers. The image appears flat initially, like a book, but with deeper examination, the image turns into a motion picture. The tan lines that create this depth are primeval in style but there’s still modernity in the abstract nature of the lines.

The lines in Ernst's image are actually a result of a technique that he created called frottage. It consisted of drawing on paper that is directly on top of a rough surface which essentially makes a modern relief. This unpredicted aspect of the technique gave Ernst's paintings an edge and contrast.

The bird in the cage also adds compositional contrast in a red, sienna shade that actually looks whimsical and opposes the industrial lines. The bird’s eye looks like a sweet, white button with red stitching while the trees appear dead and lifeless.

In the amalgamation of horizontal and vertical lines, there is a beacon of hope for the bird suffocated by the forest in the pale blue sky towards the top register of the painting. The sky is the light waiting to reach the bird underneath the smothering trees, just as there is a bit of liberation and bliss at the end of an emtionally overwhelming week, or maybe even month.

Degas' Ballerinas

Edgar Degas, The Rehearsal, pastel on canvas, 1873-4

This is one of, if not my very favorite, paintings. In the most simple, concise terms- it’s pretty. Degas’ lyrically painted ballerinas and his elegant use of warm colors is unmatched by any other impressionistic painters.

Touching on Degas’ smaller details, there is also elegance in the fragmented light coming in through the windows, the use of a muted but somehow still striking color palette and the simple and yet expressionistic faces of the figures which all contribute to me starring at the piece as if I’m being hypnotized.

It’s Degas talent to make an image that initially seems as if it is being seen through a foggy lens still seem so alive that is truly remarkable.

Degas was known for his collection of beautiful work of ballet dancers. He was also known for his use of unique perspectives and angles in them. The Rehearsal is an example of this, allowing the audience to feel as if they are getting a secret glance at the practice.

The forefront in the painting carries the largest and boldest variety of colors in the color palette with the deeps green shawl, dark black hair, crimson robe and a rich peach tutu.

This contrasts with the more subdued background. The only bold colors are in the small ties around the dancers’ necks and the crimson robe of the small man in the right corner.

At first sight, it’s the appeal of the dancers that draws the viewer in. Yet, it’s the tiny and endless details and impressionistic style that keeps the viewer entranced by the image. Hence, making this my favorite piece.

Caillebotte's Compelling Paris

Gustave Caillebotte, Young Man at his Window, 1876.

You’re probably thinking, “Wow, this is the first seemingly normal painting she’s picked.” And yes, depending on your standards of “normal” art, it seems pretty simple. It’s an impressionistic (but fundamentally realist) portrait of a man looking, perhaps contemplating, out his window. But of course, there’s something about this painting that comes across to me as dark and cold, and I’m engrossed.

My magnetism to moods of darkness in art has probably been amplified with my recent reading of Dante’s “The Divine Comedy.” Seeing as the epic poem is about the demonic layers of purgatory, there’s still something symbolic and relatable to my, much less sinister, life. I love thinking that my dull life could have some deep, ominous second meaning.

This painting speaks to me in the same way as Dante’s work. As the man is gazing out into the stunning streets of Paris there is something unsettling in the cold colors of the buildings and sky that contrasts eerily against the man’s jet black suit.

The unique perspective, that Caillebotte is known for, also lures me even more to the painting. The position of the man in the open balcony acts as an invitation for the viewer to join him out on the balcony, even though his stance is quite astute.

You can’t forget to notice the wall between the man and Paris which could mean countless things. The rail and glass could allegorically be people, the world or a mental barrier that is blocking him from something. And I think we could all relate to that feeling.

All of these aspects contributed to Caillebotte’s lack of appreciation from the people of his century. As with most impressionists, his work was looked at as strange in his lifetime. Yet, his work was finally recognized for its unique perspectives and techniques in the 21st century when these impressionists artists were reviewed with more artistically open eyes, thankfully for us.