Marc by Susanna Partsch (1991)

Another of Taschen’s coolly laid out, large format, coffee-table-sized but light and handy paperback introductions to key artists and movements, this one devoted to Franz Marc.

Generally described as an Expressionist, Marc (b.1880) is most associated with the ‘Blue Rider’ art movement in Munich 1911 to 1913, before being killed, tragically young, in the Great War, in 1916.

Marc and animals

Marc is best known for his animal paintings. Partsch devotes a chapter to analysing their origins and development. Basically, he preferred animals to humans, who he found repellent. As he wrote to his wife, Maria Franck, during the war:

I think a lot about my own art. My instincts have so far guided me not too badly on the whole, even though my works have been flawed. Above all I mean the instinct which has led me away from people to a feeling of animality, for ‘pure beasts’. The ungodly people around me (particularly the men) did not arouse my true feelings, whereas the undefiled vitality of animals called forth everything good in me… I found people ‘ugly’ very early on; animals seemed to me more beautiful, more pure. (quoted page 39)

He not only theorised about animals, he loved them in real life. He was brought up with dogs and when he did a year’s military service in 1899, he spent it in the cavalry where he acquired a lifelong love of horses. By the time he was settled with a place of his own, in the 1910s, Marc owned a dog, two cats and – his pride and joy – two pet deer which he named Schlick and Hanni!

Note how schematic the animal forms are. And how stylised the background of zoomorphic snow, highlighted by blue and green shadows. From the same period comes a loving portrait of his pet dog, Russi.

The sense of depth and shape is created by shading which is (when you look closely) quite angular, and yet the overall feel is sensuous and lush.

Some thoughts

1. Brilliant draughtsman

Marc was a brilliant draughtsman right from the start, with a tremendous gift for depicting the natural world in oil paint even in his earliest works. Here he is aged 21 demonstrating the academic style he was being taught at Munich art school, delicately painting every leaf onto each of the trees in this landscape.

Just a few years later he was painting in a far more free and expressive manner, but the draughtsmanship is still awesome – note the fluff of feathers at the dead bird’s throat.

Not only is his figuration a joy to see, but the palette of browns contributes to the picture’s unity. In some other artists the early pictures are things you skim over to get to the mature works, but all of the early works shown here are marvellous.

The confidence of his broad brush-strokes is exhilarating, the light and shade on the right-hand woman’s dress, or the decorative squiggles on the left-hand dress – how cool and confident!

2. Marc’s short career allows in-depth analysis

Marc’s friend and mentor Wassily Kandinsky lived to the age of 78 and so the 90-page book I’ve just read about him had to pace itself and skim over various periods.

The exact opposite is true of this account of Marc. Because he really flourished for just four intense years the book can go into much more detail about this period, following the month-by-month changes in his art and ideas, quoting extensively from his letters, diaries and published writings, and from his friends’ and wife’s accounts, in order to drill deep down into these precious years.

For example, there is space to devote several pages to explaining Marc’s use of a prism to ascertain the purity of colour he used in the portrait of his dog in the snow (above), and to relate this to his evolving theories of colour. (Briefly, Marc believed that blue was the colour of masculine dominance and spirituality, yellow was the colour of feminine comfort, gentle and sensuous, red was the colour of brutal earth, and so on.)

Like so many of the rest of the avant-garde right across Europe (from his friend Kandinsky to Matisse) he was thinking and theorising about colour and its role in painting in a completely new way.

For Marc, as for many artists of his generation, the subject of a painting was becoming almost irrelevant – colour itself was to be the subject and most important element in a painting.

That said, and interesting to read though this kind of thing is, you can’t help noticing the number of times he ignored his own ‘theories’ and painted what looked best. Seen in this pragmatic light, it’s possible to think of the writings as more like transient offshoots of whatever look and style he was experimenting with during his brief, intense heyday, rather than cast iron rule.

Thus his schematic colour scheme doesn’t seem to apply at all to:

where the blue mane, red horse, and yellow field are quite obviously painted to achieve a vibrant dynamic affect rather than for any symbolic purpose.

3. The animal paintings

His animal style probably peaked in the depictions of blue horses around 1911, and it’s certainly this period of work which became hugely popular after the Great War and carried on being a bestseller in poster form (a picture of horses in a field fetched £12 million at Sothebys in 1908 – God knows what they’d fetch in today’s over-inflated market).

In her chapter on the animal paintings, Partsch quotes at length Marc’s views on how we need to stop painting animals from the outside, from a strictly instrumental human perspective, but imagine the world from the animal’s point of view.

How does a horse see the world, how does an eagle, a deer or a dog? How impoverished and soulless is our convention of placing animals in a landscape familiar to our own eyes rather than transporting ourselves into the soul of an animal in order to divine its visual world. (quoted page 38)

There’s much more like this. His friend and mentor, Kandinsky, was deeply immersed in the esoteric and spiritualist teachings of his age, becoming a Theosophist and studying Joachim of Fiore but to the modern reader, Marc comes over as by far the deeper and more instinctive visionary – the experience of reading the book right the way through is to experience the almost hallucinatory intensity of his intuition.

The Kandinsky book is interesting and delightful, but this book on Marc is genuinely powerful.

What does the deer have in common with the world we see? Does it make any reasonable or even artistic sense to paint the deer as it appears on our retina, or in the manner of the Cubists because we feel the world should be cubistic? Who says the deer feels the world to be cubistic? It feels as a deer, and thus the landscape must also be deer. (quoted page 39)

Hence:

And we feel the world to be deer with him.

And it wasn’t just deer: the book includes fabulous colour reproductions of paintings of horses, cats, dogs, bulls, cows, donkeys, foxes, monkeys, tigers, birds, mandrills, wild pigs and many more. Animal planet.

4. Prismatic – cubist – futurist

Many fans and buyers stop at Marc’s colourful animal phase in 1911, the poster-popular period.

But the really interesting thing about Marc is that he didn’t stop developing, in fact he sped up. the final chapter shows him developing an increasingly intense cubo-futurist style and actually making the breakthrough into utterly abstract works when — the Great War breaks out.

Thus only a few months after some of the prettiest animal pictures, he is creating paintings which suddenly take on board the full impact of the Futurists’ characteristic diagonal ‘lines of force’.

Not only animals but people are present in these paintings but in a completely new visual style, dominated by the fragmentation of the object.

Many critics then and now claimed this was due to the influence of Cubism, still a stunning new way of seeing in 1912. Maybe so. But as I flicked through these final paintings I couldn’t help remembering his reference to the prism, and I thought of those toys you buy children, circles of clear plastic (or glass, in the expensive version) which have been shaped to have multiple facets across the surface, like big diamonds which have been cut with as many faces as possible. The idea is to hold the prism close to the eye and see the world divided up into a bewildering variety of facets; to rotate it, move it up and down, whatever takes your fancy, in order to see ‘reality’ as a jagged mosaic of ever-changing angular facets.

Suddenly, in 1913, that’s what all Marc’s paintings look like, all shards and fragments:

Compare and contrast with the extreme simplicity and clarity of the dog or deer in the snow from only two years before! We are in a different, and much more complex, visual world, one which is more dynamic, fractured along strong striating lines, intensely scissored and segmented.

My favourite of these last works is Deer in the woods II, in essence an almost child-like portrait of a family of deer, but fractured by strong lines into cubes, squares, circles.

And it is these lines – rather than the actual anatomy of the deer, their ‘real’ appearance – which determines the colour scheme so that colours spill across the bodies of the deer rather than being contained by them.

5. The break through into abstraction

Right at the end of 1913 Marc began painting the first of a series of small compositions which were utterly abstract in form, with no subject.

Over the next eight months he painted more of these small compositions as well as a series titled Happy forms, Playing forms, Fighting forms and Broken forms.

In some of these works animals might just about be discerned, and he continued creating some dense Futurist animal paintings at the same time. But it is absolutely clear that in the other works he had stepped over a line into pure abstraction, just a few years after his friend and mentor Kandinsky.

Marc was working on these abstracts, as well as making plans to edit a second Blue Rider almanac, as well as painting a series of murals and writing more essays about colour and form – when the Great War broke out on 1 August 1914 and he was called up. What would have happened next?

He continued to sketch and sent copious letters to his wife in which he continued to develop his ideas about colour and form, but there was no time to paint in the army. On 4 March 1916 Franz Marc was killed by shellfire while carrying out a reconnaissance mission in a French village.

What a beautiful body of work. What an intense and fascinating trajectory he travelled in those four brief years. What a terrible, terrible waste.


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Paul Klee by Susanna Partsch (1993)

Taschen produce large format art books with high quality colour reproductions. The text is often foreign – I think this one was translated, not always fluently, from German. Who cares. It gives a good brief overview of Klee’s career with lots of full-page colour illustrations.

Early life

Born into a musical family, Klee was a prodigy on the violin who eventually plumped for the visual arts but, in his earlier career, made more from performing in concerts than by selling paintings. (Interestingly he was a conservative in his musical taste, devoted to Bach and Mozart, with no time for Schoenberg and his circle, which is odd considering he became good friends with Kandinsky who knew and had an important correspondence with Schoenberg.)

Paul Klee, photographed in 1911 by Alexander Eliasberg (Wikimedia Commons)

Paul Klee photographed in 1911 by Alexander Eliasberg (Wikimedia Commons)

Die Blaue Reite

Having developed a distinctive early style which combined detailed draughtsmanship of often grotesque and fantastical creatures, Klee was experimenting with a more abstract approach to design and layout of paintings when he was invited to join the Blaue Reite group – including Russians like Wassily Kandinsky and Germans like August Macke and Franz Marc – in 1911. In 1912 he exhibited with them. In those brief years before the War all sorts of influences were exploding across the European art world: in Paris they saw Robert Delaunay experimenting with colour, Picasso and Braque’s cubism ripping up perspective, along with the other post-Impressionist experimenters about to be dubbed the Fauves.

Die Blaue Reite group were interested in the liberation of colour (many of the group produced detailed writings investigating the psychological and aesthetic impact of colours and colour arrangements) and in freedom of inspiration (in art produced by children, primitives, the mentally ill) both of which left traditional Renaissance ideas of figurative representation in a fully-worked out perspective far, far behind.

Epiphany in Tunisia

Klee and Macke along with fellow painter Louis Moilliet visited Tunisia in June 1914 and forever afterwards Klee mythologised this trip as the moment when pure colour took control of his soul, when he realised the power of colour alone in painting.

‘Color possesses me. I don’t have to pursue it. It will possess me always, I know it. That is the meaning of this happy hour: Color and I are one. I am a painter.’

Tunisia, 1914

Tunisia, 1914

The ‘reality’ of the scene is metamorphosing into a matrix of colour possibilities, squares and square-ish blocks of colour, whose sharpish juxtaposition creates a ‘feel’, an affect. In the next few years Klee quickly grasped the opportunities presented by this ‘Move to Abstraction’; henceforth colour and line are to be deployed for their psychological affects, not for any relation they have to an external ‘reality’:

‘Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible.’

Colour, tone, shapes, squares, triangles, lines, columns, circles, cones – all will be deployed as experiments, to see what affects they produce on the viewer. From this date stems Klee’s lifelong interest in analysing all the various components which go toward a painting – line, colour, shape, form and so on.  He constantly tried this, that or the other in order to hone his judgment on how to deploy them.

The book very usefully includes paintings by his colleagues on the trip, Macke and Moilliet, allowing us to see how very similar their thinking about colour and design were during this intense period of debate and experiment.

The Great War

The Blaue Reite published one almanac – containing reproductions of art works and key essays on form and colour and spirit – and organised two exhibitions, before the Great War broke out and was a catastrophe for them. Kandinsky was forced to go home to Russia and Macke and Marc were drafted into the German Army, Macke killed in September 1914, Marc at Verdun in 1916. Klee managed to sit out the war in a series of administrative jobs well away from the Front.

Experimentation

Klee had a lifelong dedication to experimenting with technique. According to Wikipedia Klee “worked in many different media – oil paint, watercolor, ink, pastel, etching, and others. He often combined them into one work. He used canvas, burlap, muslin, linen, gauze, cardboard, metal foils, fabric, wallpaper, and newsprint. Klee employed spray paint, knife application, stamping, glazing, and impasto, and mixed media such as oil with watercolor, water color with pen and India ink, and oil with tempera.”

An early example is the technique of ‘oil transfer’ which he developed, which produced a highly characteristic fragmenting the lines of his fantastic doodles, giving them an eerie remoteness, as if degraded images recovered from a remote past or intermittent signals from a distant universe.

They're biting by Paul Klee

They’re biting by Paul Klee (1920)

The German army and navy mutinied at the end of the 1918, the government collapsed and the Kaiser abdicated. In 1919 a Bolshevik republic was declared in Bavaria and Klee volunteered to be art delegate (rather like Daumier volunteering to serve on the Paris Commune, 1871) but it was quickly repressed by the Army and some 500 comunists were gaoled or executed, Klee escaped.

Breakthrough exhibition

The following year, 1920, came Klee’s breakthrough exhibition, in which he exhibited 362 pieces in a wide range of media including oil paint, oil on glass, prints, drawings, plaster casts, sculptures. It made his reputation and the next 20 years he was acknowledged as a major European painter and pioneer.

Of the exhibition and the power of his fantastical draughtsmanship, his colleague Oskar Schlemmer commented: ‘In a minimum of line he can reveal of his wisdom, this is how Buddha draws’.

The Bauhaus

In 1921 Klee was invited to join the Bauhaus where he was to become one of the most respected teachers, teaching a wide range of course, for the next 10 years. His technical experiments continued apace as did his writings leading up to publication of the Pedagogical Notebook in 1925 with its famous opening about taking a line for a walk. Throughout his life he experimented and recorded his technical experiments so that, at his death, he left some 3,000 manuscript pages on art theory.

Fish Magic, 1925

Fish Magic (1925)

Magic squares

Another exhibition of 1923 showed a series which became known as Klee’s ‘magic squares’, for example Architecture, an uncharacteristic palette of purple and yellow, its juxtaposition of rectangles of vivid colours cemented a certain classical ‘look’ of Klee’s. The squares which represent areas of light and shadow, colour and white light in the Tunisia paintings, have now become almost abstract arrangements of colour and tone.

Static-Dynamic Intensification, 1923 Watercolour and transferred printing ink on laid paper with gray and green gouache and black ink mounted on light cardboard 381 x 261 mm Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Static-Dynamic Intensification (1923)

But Klee never quite becomes completely abstract. In even the most pure paintings you can, maybe, just about, make out reference to an origin in organic shapes or landscapes. And in most of them there is some kind of reference to observed reality. And others of them happily incorporate human or animal shapes.

Combining the use of squares with his lifelong ability to produce fantastical versions of the human figure, Battlescene from the Seafarer is a lovely hymn to the quirkiness and humour and strangeness of the human imagination.

Battle scene from the comic fantastic opera 'The Seafarer'

Battle scene from the comic fantastic opera ‘The Seafarer’

Surrealist?

In the mid-20s the French intellectual world discovered Klee, especially the Surrealists and, like Picasso and de Chirico, he was adopted as a precursor. The Surrealists associated his dreamlike forms with their own attempts to capture the unconscious via automatic writing or painting. Klee didn’t mind but he never became a party member of the Surrealists.

Portrait of an Equilibrist again shows Klee’s cartoonish imagination, his sense of humour, along with his feel for the arrangement of colour and line. It can be read both as a rudimentary cartoon face, and as an actual stick figure holding a balancing pole weighted with two round red weights. At the bottom left is the ladder the equilibrist used to climb up onto his high wire. Possibly.

Portrait of an Equilibrist

Portrait of an Equilibrist

When the Bauhaus moved to the industrial city of Dessau, Klee and his wife moved into the hypermodern Master’s House designed by Walter Gropius. His studio was described as being like a magician’s lair where multiple canvases were on numerous easels at any one time, and the master magician quietly contemplated them, occasionally stepping forward to paint a detail or finetune the patterns.

From the 1920s come hundreds of images using the oil transfer technique such as Comedy which combines characteristic humorous cartoon-like figures, the oil transfer technique which gives them such a wavering, hesitant finish, and a new technique he experimented with, ‘gradation’, dividing the space into bands and giving the first one layer of paint, the second two layers and so on, thus creating a stylised background, which achieves a sense of depth, but completely different from traditional notions of perspective.

Comedy 1921 Watercolour and oil on paper support: 305 x 454 mm on paper, unique Tate. Purchased 1946

Comedy (1921)

Pointillism

In the late 20s and early 30s he experimented with a form of abstract pointillism and with the shapes and shades he saw on a trip to Egypt. The pointillism is just about the only one of Klee’s styles I don’t like. they are too light without any of the quirky inventiveness of everything else he did.

Clarification, 1932

Clarification (1932)

The Nazis

By 1932 Klee found his teaching duties taking up nearly all his time and so he quit the Bauhaus and moved to a job as professor of Art at Düsseldorf. However, early the next year the Nazis came to power, immediately rounding up communists, socialists, liberals, artist and writers and beginning to persecute Jews. The Bauhaus was closed and Klee fled to Switzerland.

Degenerate Art

In 1937 the Nazis held an exhibition of Degenerate Art which featured 17 pieces by Klee. The Wikipedia article says it all.

Later, bigger

In 1935 his supporters organised a big exhibition at Bern, though Klee insisted it only feature work from the past 5 years, but it was to prove a turning point. In the same year he felt increasingly ill and was diagnosed with an incurable disease. For a few years his legendary productiveness dwindled to a handful of paintings. However, from 1937 he got a second wind and became more prolific than ever.

In this final phase, as his body failed him, Klee painted larger and larger abstracts, the scale becoming larger, the gestures bigger and clearer. The tiny etching-like detail of the 1920s seem a long way behind. For example, the wonderful Forest Witches.

Forest witches (1938)

Forest witches (1938)

Or Blue Night. Not only is this a new, more rough and striking type of design, but Klee continued his experiments with surfaces and media, this one painted on burlap or sacking, a rough grainy surface further textured with plaster. Quite apart from the image itself, all Klee’s work repays really close-up scrutiny to enjoy the highly textured surfaces of the pieces, which adds tremendously to their sense of urgency, modernity and wistful fragility.

Blue Night

Last show and death

In 1940 fans and curators organised a last exhibition in Zurich – Twilight Flowers was among his last works, and a has completely new feel. Who knows where these new impulses would have taken him, but Klee died in June 1940. One of his last paintings is the eerie and moving Outbreak of Fear III.

Outbreak of Fear III (1939)

Outbreak of Fear III (1939)

Tribute

Klee invented a way to be hugely varied within a distinctive style. So many images, each so vivid and inventive and imaginative and stimulating. I much prefer his quiet, unshouty, consistently strange and quirky and funny and vibrant work to Picasso’s or Matisse’s. He lived though the worst years of the century producing countless works of wistful grace and haunting beauty.

Angelus Novus, 1920

Angelus Novus (1920)


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