Judith Leyster (1609 – 1660)

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive here for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com. 

Despite being highly regarded within her own lifetime, it took more than 230 years after Judith Leyster’s death for her to be rediscovered for a contemporary audience. Up until that point the entirety of her own work was actually considered to be that of acclaimed portraitist Franz Hals, an error eventually corrected by the excellently named critic, Cornelis Hofstede de Groot.

Leyster’s work typically is of people within scenes of entertainment and leisure. The preoccupations of the then growing Dutch middle class.

The Last Drop (1639)

Judith_Leyster,_Dutch_(active_Haarlem_and_Amsterdam)_-_The_Last_Drop_(The_Gay_Cavalier)_-_Google_Art_Project

The signs are clear that the men have indulged too much. The tankard is tipped empty, the long pipe smoking. The drinker at the left is maternally gripped to his jug, cheeks bulging. And as if this wasn’t enough to connote avarice, there are the items that the grimacing skeleton holds too. A flickering candle reaching its end, a running hourglass, and, somewhat more obscurely, his own head. A sight to suggest the loss of reason maybe, or, more likely, something to underscore the uneasiness of the image.

Whilst the moral lesson of The Last Drop is practically spoon-fed (the title a pun on both the end of the bottle and the end of life), what holds interest is the sense of light. From the candle in the middle we have not only the bones themselves illuminated in all their macabre glory: the broken teeth, the wide, searing eyes which are enrapt looking at the oblivious gulper. But the features of the indulged too, the ornately clothed smoker lit up in a delicious execution of skill, the watched man on the left shown on his darker side with the light peeping out, gilding a three dimensional edge to the image.

The light also draws us into the face of the standee whose look is a perfect vision of drunkeness. His mouth toothy and agape above eyes rolled back, looking off over the shoulder of the viewer to some beleaguered sense of reason.

Alongside the skeleton, this element of otherwordlyness is compounded through the blank, grey background. Where actually are we here? A bar or something of that type would make sense but they seem on display as a lesson rather than amidst mere depiction. Everything is good in moderation so they say, even moderation.

Young Flute Player

800px-Judith_Leyster_Young_Flute_Player

Lost in the trills of practice, the small boy (who is much smaller than his large tented clothes let on), looks out into the nothingness that musicians inhabit when they’re amidst practice. Behind him other extraordinarily well realised instruments hang, the sheen of the violin and recorder something really to behold. But he is elsewhere, engaged with his flute; his mouth pursed, his fingers curved into a melody.

Again, much like The Last Drop, Leyster takes us to a blank background to reinforce all the details within. The arch of the chair the boy sits on, the cobra like patterning that creeps up the leg, as well as the delicate, hushed white ruffling of his collar.

There 0f course is no sound in painting, no other sense but sight. Yet Leyster seems to have captured the moment so well in its tranquility and envelopment, that you strain a little to imagine what sound the boy is making.

 

For Dutch genre painting of a similar ilk, read about the earlier explored Jan Steen (1626 – 1679) here.

Click HERE to see a list of all the artist analyses on Kweiseye to date.

To keep up with Kweiseye and all the art I write about, follow me right here on this blog or @tomkweipoet

Advertisements
Standard

Jakub Schikaneder (1855 – 1924)

 

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive here for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com. 

I like painters who leave hints. Painters whose work renounces mere representation and engages their audience with some narrative assembly. Jakub Schikaneder, the Czech Realist, is such a tease.

An artist of delicate, sombre pieces that feel at once both full and empty. His technique is remarkably assured, especially in the treatment of the human body, yet ultimately his work’s intent is obscure and unsteady. Schikaneder’s paintings feel as offerings in a sense, invitations up to the discerning, inquisitive eye.

Evening Street (1906)

Jakub_Schikaneder_-_Evening_Street_-_Google_Art_Project

There is a squinted-eyed dimness to this piece. A sense of solitary chill which permeates the very bones of Evening Street, developing a trace of hazy static as if it were encountered through a light sleet. This is best evident on the worn walls and browning cobbles, their quickly dappled surfaces emanating a bleary frost.

Up top amidst the eaves of the forward facing building, a snow has gathered and grown visible. Above this the night holds impenetrable but for a single defiant star – much akin to the solitary lamplight seen at the far left window – that is fighting against the inevitable tug of a wintry night. Atop the aforementioned pane, another is curiously open to the world, along with yet another which hangs ajar just to the upper left of the unreadable sign. Maybe whoever was there has upped and left; who would want to live in such unenviable cold?

Our only real sense of any powerful light comes through the intriguing passageway at the right. The shine both richly illuminating the pallor of the buildings, as well as pulling us subtly away from the numbed heart of the square to somewhere more inviting. But of course, there is no exit here. Schikaneder is a heckler as we’ve discussed. Rather our eyes become dragged back to the street, wherein it soon becomes clearer on examination that this is an oddly claustrophobic image. One that is walled with no escape at the right, bar the subtle tease, with a solid storefront facing outward defiant towards us. The gloom of the square is less expansive than it may have first appeared it seems.

A feeling compounded by the two departing women who in a sense seem to reflect each other, creating a smaller enclosed division within the open space. Their paths are a near perfect angle of symmetry, along with their similar white covering and haunches both up struggling against the night. With the solitary light and their pale shawls, they can perhaps be seen as ghosts in this wasteland, stalking on the bitter chill of a Prague street.

Murder in the House (1890)

Jakub Schikaneder Murder in the House

A man at the front of a group gestures to a body, the corpse itself seems to point back. This wonderful picture is one to be scoured for its details and mysteries.

Amongst themselves, regardless of the tragedy around them, the crowd are a fantastic collection of characters. Most, such as the maid with her hands clasped or the older man leaning forward, appear pensive and curious rather than horrified. Perhaps what Schikaneder is showing is a moment past the initial hysteria of discovering a murder.

The majority of the 10 (look out for the easy to miss younger girl beside the older man infront of the door) appear to be focusing more on the older couple up front as opposed to the body. Intriguingly, it seems that the small child is the one most fascinated of the rabble, her pose relaxed yet gripped in its gaze. From the exasperation of the man signalling towards the boy to the more diplomatic reserve of the maid behind him, Schikaneder excels in creating character through expression. On the face of it they seem a disparate bunch, but through placing them all in the context of the horror they feel coherent and believable.

Supposedly images of this kind, which look to the fate of women within squalor, was an arc that Schikaneder plumbed regularly for inspiration. Research has identified the place that inspired Murder in the House as the opening of the dead-end Sitalska street which lead in part to the ghetto of the artist’s home city, Prague. The vivid realism here then is no accident, with the incredible detail of the area indebted to Schikaneder’s own experience.  The walls all scrubbed yet dirty, the window frames wooden and uneven. At a close corner by the barrel, a piece of wood festers broken.

There is of course the woman herself too. Despite her clear once-elegance, the artist is unsparing in his depiction of her demise. Her head silently twisted in her own blood puddle, her wrist cast awkwardly backward. Grimly it seems that this position was something she would have stumbled to, with her hand print on the yellowed hallway suggesting she had held herself for a second before collapsing to be found by the crowd.

Enjoy reading that? Click HERE to see a list of all the art analyses on Kweiseye to date.

To keep up with the blog and all the art I write about, follow me right here on this blog or here @tomkweipoet

Standard

David Kakabadze (1889 – 1952)

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive here for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com. 

A polymath of his time, David Kakabadze was not only a visionary avant grade painter, but an art scholar and innovator of cinematography. Within his sparse depictions there comes breathing room for his affecting technique. His imagery a subtle meld of leftist techniques and his native Georgia.

Rioni Power Station (1931)

u2R4N3y

There comes a modern oddness to this painting. It feeling near inconceivable on initial viewing that it has crept from way back within the 1930s. Not only does the anachronistic sense stem from the small, soft concrete of the bridge that feels sharper than it has anything right to be, but via the mountains too, their base, expressionistic patches of surprisingly few shades creating a landscape more affecting than inspiring.

Nothing is given too much definition. The forests darkened deposits rather than detailed leafy canopies. At the top left there stand two solitary trees as guardians, the duo being of only a few trunks visible. Above this all the sky, stark in its realism, only serves to highlight the somewhat Fauvist approach to colours that Kakabadze has adopted. His world a take on the world rather than a fitful representation.

In spite of the blocky discipline though, movement does seem to dribble through here. The sun above falling majestically against the cleft of the world behind the power station, a single ridge, to which another tree watches, lying completely shadowed whilst the rest behind blazes indifferently on.

Sailboats (1921)

sailboats-1921(1)_jpg!Blog

Whenever faced with a Cubist image like this, I always scour the thing for traces or hints to which the title could be alluding to. It’s always best to initially center yourself this way I find, with Sailboats being an easy task for its sharp angles intersecting that resemble as masts. There also occurs small waves on the Sailboats, tiny ripples of water occurring within the white fold shape of the folds. There is little else to engage though.

The boat feels pinned up on the grey to be examined, a specimen. An origami rearrangement whose center folds inward, inverting the colours. This semi transparent shade behind is particularly well realised, the shapes below still visible and submerged beneath. Sailboats a simple puzzle of mental assembly that grows more complex as the subtle patterning of suggested colour are imagined.

Want to explore more paintings? Click HERE to see a list of all the art analyses on Kweiseye to date.

Kweiseye is written by @tomkweipoet

Standard

Evie Hone (1894 – 1955)

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive here for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com. 

Though primarily regarded as one of the most outstanding stain-glassed designers of the 20th century, Evie Hone was also a talented painter. An extremely devout artist who tended more towards the unreal within her brushwork.

Abstract Study (1930)

Hone-Evie_Abstract-Study

There is a sheath, a skin to this work. An overwhelming presence of blue that itself seems unsteady in the frame. The image plays with ideas of images, the outer limits of the canvas painted on as if wood.

Striking first is the many shades and variation of the colour. It is a blue holding formations and currents beneath, their designs piled on as stencils laced. At the center there comes a sense of a torrent, the shapes in the outer reaches seeming to begin to curve whilst those in the middle conforming utterly to a circle. It is as if the aforementioned sheath is pulling backwards to a determined, gritty difference between the two. A pearl in the oyster.

ZpV4dHh

This crystallised centre. Intricately measured and judged as bricks of colour from bold, powerful strokes. As orientation is easier down here, it allows a sharper appreciation of the sense of movement and distance between the two areas of the image. The exterior expanses far more sluggish and broad, the heart so varied.

Canal Bridge

142-37_1

An intelligent balancing act of a painting. In ‘Canal Bridge’ we see all the pieces fitting together smartly: from the disembodied leaves on the top left mirroring as dapples on the water, to the eponymous bridge itself which smiles back in a positive hum. Our view is both teased further and cut off shortly through these catoptric surfaces. There is a sense of being tugged back to the image as you try to spy further into it through its echoes.

It is both modern and engaging, and postcard. There is no depiction bar the very technique that realises the bridge. A theme common throughout Hone’s painting.

The palette overall is far rougher than ‘Abstract Landscape’, with the tempo of the work both urgent yet calming. Everything comes in bold strokes, the water itself seemingly translucent and absent through the build of different responses of the landscape rather than the employment of depth.

Perhaps her fundamentals within stained-glass influenced this crystallised sense of her image. Her goal more to reverent iconic pieces rather than suggestions and prods. Within Hone there is a peculiar silence build from a beguiling, stilling technique.

Want to explore more works? Click HERE to see a list of all the art analyses on Kweiseye to date.

Kweiseye is @tomkweipoet

Standard

Alesander Bogomazov (1880 – 1930)

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive HERE for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com. 

Alexander Bogomazov was another book find for me. And by that I mean an artist to whom I’ve reached randomly whilst flicking pages, not one I’ve long admired or been curious to explore – see Konrad Kryzyanowski or Harriet Backer for other aleatory jaunts.

Counted as Russian in my ‘100 Years of Russian Art, 1889 – 1989’ tome, the now Ukrainian painter seems more remembered today as a theorist than for his pictures. Though exploring his work I have found this ill-fitting, Bogomazov being a painter whose startling inventiveness deeply affects through its often rigid geometry.

‘Expectation’ (1900)

expectation

Whilst the majority of his work seems to call towards the dynamism of the machine age, this painting, with its contradictory pull of deep sentimentality and blatant construction, seeks its celebration within itself.

As ‘Expectation’, in spite of its simple pictorial centre, can appear abstract on first encounter through the sheer force of its method. An impact stemming from Bogomazov’s employment of Pointlist techniques. Pointlism being a process perfected by the French Post-Impressionist Georges Seurat wherein it is the glow around a point of colour that is heralded as key. A feature that can be heightened when that dot is on a white background which reflects rather than absorbs light, giving a distinct fizz and luminosity to images.

Such inspired detail gifts the work a sense of movement. Ideal especially considering the setting of the piece: the sea eternally folding at a distance below, the wind blowing through the harsh grass, the frills of the bowed woman’s dress.

A woman who becomes more absorbed into the scene around her the more you scrutinise. Though her body itself may be a tad basic in execution, a thoughtful eye and mouth acting as visible distinguishers, it is perhaps the dark of her head leaning forward that enraptures most. Its hairline coincident with the shoreline as if a glimpse of night was captured in the thatch – a preview of this world at another time of day.

Bogomazov’s strict style engenders a sense of cohesion throughout the piece. The little chain-link fishes of the water inseperable in their speckled neatness from the sky behind and  the sitter above.

But why is she sitting? The mystery as to who she is and to what purpose this inner meandering is serving is unclear. Neither is the red bag/coat/flower beside her. An odd disjunction that encroaches and distracts from the inner peace of ‘Expectation’.

With such outlandish skill on display already though, perhaps Bogomazov is merely showing that breaking to fundamentals is not necessarily at the sacrifice of beauty.

‘Abstract Landscape’ (1915)

abstract-landscape-1915

There feels a play on words here. ‘Abstract Landscape’ is still a landscape then, still a depiction of hills and gorges and cliffs and distance, just one that is employing abstract imagery to achieve these ends.

Various slopes cut across at intervals as stomachs. These vertical reaches being more noticeable the father away from the painting you get. Up-close the labyrinth lines of various purples and yellows are too rich in complexity to look past; what ultimately intrigues here though is the order rather then chaos, the landscape rather than the abstract.

At either side of the valley we have corresponding cliff faces of gnarled instrument husks with weathered caverns within. The painting just retreats and retreats, until the jazz solo smatterings of the peak we’re cresting beneath us gives way eventually to the bold strokes at the back.

What such distance and difference allows is the sense that you are falling into the canvas. It is both cavernous and inward, a barbaric display of nothingness that still seems to pull at the viewer. It unfolds and unravels from whatever view you take at it, as complex and enthralling from high above or deep in the basin.

Enjoy reading that? Click HERE to see a list of all the art analyses on Kweiseye to date.

Kweiseye is @tomkweipoet

Standard

Gustav Klimt (1862 – 1918)

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive HERE for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com

As a painter of great delicacy and sexual expression, Gustav Klimt’s more subdued works are often unfairly maligned in favour of his glorious, erotic paeans. The Austrian Symbolist came of age during an era of artistic revival within his native Vienna, a time when the word ‘modernism’ first emerged and the decadent was something outwardly conscious rather than inwardly repressed.

Avenue of Trees, Schloss Kammer (1912)

AMACAARQ-P25975

The swirling, hypnotic painting technique of this piece comes with such a vivid smoothness that it seems as if ‘Avenue of Trees, Schloss Kammer’ is still drying 113 years later. Its layering is both remarkable and believable, the hidden sun above gilding the canopy leaves with a triumphant contrast of colours. Whilst Klimt had painted this summer holiday Salzkammergut home many times before, it was here, through an intelligent, thoughtful application of perspective, that the he really achieves something of note.

At the left the trees come away as individuals, all curving in someway to a collective middle above the tempting path before us. Whilst at the right, the trunks are much closer, leering inward and liquid, suggesting perhaps that this is a turning around a corner rather than straight facing view. The feeling here then is slightly secretive, of something unattainable. A thought propelled further by the mere glimpses Klimt affords us through the branches. Not only is there a path leading to hints of a building on the ground – the door itself tantalisingly leading on further – but higher up, in the reaches of the thatched trees, we see signals to somewhere else altogether, the sky. By mirroring these two pathways, Klimt compounds the sense of being afar from this home, of being held back and stationed as observer.

This matters little however, because beneath these gnarled boughs is really were you want to stay staring. Up top the detail is entrancing, the knotted arms of bark not just behaving as one but blending believable to a thick dense thatching of a healthy, interesting green. The wet oils work well too against the background solidity of the house, creating a formidable sense of wonder and intrigue from what is effectively a commonplace occurrence. It is Klimt’s expressionistic leanings so prominent here that charge the image with an indelible magic.

‘Mermaids’ (1899)

Mermaids

Stripped to their pure fundamentals, these nymphs are less Ariel and more Rene Magritte – see here for an earlier analysis of his disturbing fish-woman hybrid piece, ‘Collective Invention’ . The depth of the ocean is as different too, its fathoms feeling more akin to an unfinished plaster on a wall than the usual bubbling backdrop. Its gasped, scratches of paint, along with the odd scorches of white that fire parallel near the top, pushing our eye forward to the odd, unsettling creatures.

They lurk almost as standing rather than floating and seem to hover up formless, coating the picture with unease. These are not long enticing bodies with piscine leanings then, rather these are abstract shapes to which female faces seem to have emerged as if gathering breath. The two profiles should be commended seperate in their detail, the taller one aloof and looking outward off the canvas to some victim perhaps more important than us, the other more lackadaisical, her coiffed fringe near indistinguishable from its spotted shape.

Enjoy reading that? Click HERE to see a list of all the art analyses on Kweiseye to date.

To keep up with the blog and all the art I write about, follow me right here on this blog or here @tomkweipoet

Standard

Edvard Munch (1863 – 1944)

Kweiseye is an art criticism blog written by Tom Kwei. If you enjoy this article, browse the archive HERE for more than 60 other critiques of both artists and exhibitions. Any questions/queries/use: tomkweipoet@gmail.com

As a Naturalist, a Symbolist and often an Impressionist in-between, Edvard Munch’s back catalogue is a fascinatingly disparate patchwork, one united for the most part through its delicate interrogation of mental trauma. Predominantly noted for these evocative images of existential anguish, such as the oft parodied ‘The Scream, Munch’s skill also shone within his more mannered depictions. And whilst the first piece here is indicative of such restraint, the latter stands as testament to the Norwegian who once claimed, ‘Without anxiety and sickness I would have been a rudderless ship’.

‘Rue Lafayette’ – 1891 

street-lafayette-1891

Within this bustling depiction of a French boulevard, Munch plays well with contrasting techniques to convey a sense both of motion and immediacy. Whilst the man and his balcony up top could hardly be said to be of extreme artistic precision, their individualised detail juxtaposes well against the abstract run of life that unfolds below the admirer. Crafting both a sense of height and wonder.

Through the sheer flooding of light within the image, an effect created by a rain of colour consisting of dabs or loosely applied parallel gasps of paint, there is something celebratory and joyous about Munch’s vision of ‘Rue Lafayette’. A feeling that invites the viewer, almost like the watcher himself, to just pause for a minute and take it all in.

Upon closer inspection however, the romanticised clamour below proves to be little more than streaks, with the bottom left section in particular being realised in the briefest of brushes. Everything is perched on just enough detail for it work and evoke a certain passing beauty, from the horses stooped with their carriages to the rooftops that amass further down the diagonal balcony line. The divide of which casts off from the base of the canvas, past a scribbled bouquet and towards the further horizon.

‘The Murderer in the Lane’ – 1919

the-murderer-in-the-lane-1919

Disregarding his earlier Impressionist preoccupations, Munch evokes a subtly disturbing vision here through a distinct frostiness in his bold brushstrokes. The sky is especially evocative, with its crisp icy blues juttering around the lifeless upturned branches. Indeed, with such detail throughout the work, you could be forgiven for missing the two figures that in of themselves blend into the landscape. The eponymous murderer sketchily rendered and synonymous in skin with the lane, whilst in the background lays his victim, who passing more perhaps for a fallen tree trunk than a body, is slumped unnervingly behind.

With the killer’s frame heavily cropped as if he was fleeing the scene, the entire painting is given an uneasy menace suggesting the act was one committed recently. No light is shed as to why or how the victim was murdered,  we are rather presented with the simple hollow dots of a guilty man facing us slightly askew. Or, perhaps this person has nothing to do with the image, but it is merely the title that becomes suggestive of so.

In spite of the death though, everything remains unerringly beautiful and moving, which in a way compounds the distracting effects of the lifeless corpse. In the background a small factory of sorts purrs along besides what I assume is an outcrop of water, one that flows and tangles in a soft ridged way. Life simply goes on in spite of this daytime murder.

Enjoy reading that? Click HERE to see a list of all the art analyses on Kweiseye to date.

To keep up with the blog and all the art I write about, follow me right here on this blog or here @tomkweipoet

Standard