UNDER THE SKIN

GERMAN EXPRESSIONIST GRAPHICS FROM THE BRADFORD COLLECTION
On view at the Portland Museum of Art in Portland, Maine
From August 11 to October 24, 2004

Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves

After a week of watching the Republican National Convention on television, I was in no mood for beauty. Fortunately, at the Portland Museum of Art, there was exactly the right exhibit to match my mood—German Expressionist Graphics from the Bradford Collection. Dark, fierce, and more than a little intimidating, the prints glowered down at me, and I glowered right back. This intense exhibit, comprising eighty-five pieces and the work of sixteen artists, captured the grim tone of the present, even though some of the prints were nearly a hundred years old. It’s perversely reassuring to discover, yet again, that some things remain constant.

As the title of the exhibit suggests, the prints come from the collection of David and Eva Bradford, two psychologists who have a summer home in Maine. In what can only be described as an act of breath-taking generosity, the Bradfords have decided to donate their collection of German Expressionist art to the Portland Museum of Art. According to the Museum handout, “the Bradfords have already donated 50 prints from their collection…The remainder of the collection of more than 150 prints will eventually become one of the most significant gifts that the Museum has ever received.” Yes, indeed, and what a boon for both the Portland Museum and Mainers. These prints are so rich and deep that subsequent viewings are almost a necessity for one to gain a glimmer of insight from them.

German Expressionist art began in the late nineteenth century, a time of great change and discontent. During that period, science and the Industrial Revolution brought the promise of prosperity to Europe and the United States, but it also brought squalor, divisiveness, and uncertainty. People migrated from the countryside to the cities in search of a better life, but with no social services in place, their living conditions were often grim. In addition, science took away as much as it gave. The best example of this is Darwin’s theory of evolution, which swept away the underpinnings of religion and the security that faith brought to society. (However, in truth, science had been chipping away at religion since the days of Copernicus. Darwin just cemented the process.)

Peter Selz, in his excellent essay in the Museum’s exhibition catalogue, writes, “At the inception of German Expressionism…imperial Germany was still a loose federation of kingdoms…with strong regional differences. It was ruled by the arrogant Kaiser Wilhelm…The military was dominant and social classes were rigidly stratified.” Perhaps even more interesting was how Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution “was misapplied to human culture. His model of survival of the fittest was cunningly employed to rationalize prevailing social injustice to the benefit of ‘the fittest.’”

This sounds suspiciously close to the United States and its love of the bootstrap theory. That is, people should get ahead by pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps, and those who can’t or won’t deserve little sympathy and aid from the rest of us. Interestingly enough, modern Germany has jettisoned this theory. Perhaps World War I, the depression that followed, and World War II convinced Germans that this hard approach produced a hard society with disastrous results.

At any rate, German artists in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century had plenty of dark inspiration for their art, which, as the Museum handout puts it, explored “the uneasy confrontation between the self and modern society.” On a wall text in the exhibit, the Bradfords give their take on German Expressionism and how it “attempts to get below the surface of reality, ‘under the skin’ to portray some of the deeper feelings and issues with which people struggle….This isn’t pretty art. But great art rarely is.”

My feelings exactly. This exhibit certainly supports the historian and writer Jacques Barzun’s view that the modern era actually began in the late nineteenth century and that we are still grappling with many of the same issues that concerned Western society during that time, including terrorism, sexual freedom, and human rights. History reminds us of this, but art jolts us into feeling it.

For the most part, the prints in this exhibit are harsh and pessimistic, perhaps even misanthropic. Black and white  predominate, with bold and emphatic lines punctuating many of the prints. Although there are a few terse landscapes, the emphasis is on people—on heads and bodies. Needless to say, the human race does not come off particularly well. At best, there is a resigned sadness and weariness. At worst, the men and women portrayed have a grotesque, predatory look. There is not much warmth or tenderness. Except for the physical act of sex, there is very little connection. In general, people either have their eyes closed or are staring blankly, and everyone does indeed look like an island. This exhibit illustrates how corrupt societies harm not only the victims but also the aggressors.

Nude Girl Next to a Carved Post by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner perfectly captures the tone of this exhibit. It is all lines and sorrow. In the foreground, the titular nude woman leans against something, and her arms are behind her back. With her tipped-down head and stiff body, she looks as though she has been hung there to die. In the background are more nudes, abstract, primitive, and strangely embryonic looking.

The Widow by Käthe Kollwitz is even grimmer. Death not only dominates the title but also the subjects in the print. A woman lies either on the ground or on some kind of slab. Her head is tipped back, her mouth is slightly open, and her feet are stiff. She may be a widow, but she looks dead herself. In her arms lies a limp child, who also looks dead. This print is as chilling as any of the photographs that Brady took during the American Civil War.

In Louis und Vohse by Otto Dix the subject is not death, but the print gave this viewer a chill nonetheless. In the foreground, there is a man with cold eyes and a cigarette in one corner of his mouth. With his black slicked-down hair and his small dark mustache, he could be a dead ringer for Hitler. Interestingly enough, the print’s date is 1923, well before Hitler came to power. In the background, a nude, buxom woman with hairy armpits sprawls in a chair. His face has a deadpan look; hers is grimly self-satisfied. One can easily imagine the details of their relationship, and it is not a pleasant thought.

Even ordinary activities have a slightly menacing feel. In Reading Aloud by Erich Heckel, what should be a pleasant, shared experience instead looks like a vinegar-filled event. A man and a woman sit at a table, and the man, of course, is reading. Dark and desiccated, they could be a depressed Morticia and Gomez from The Addams Family. There is no joy or tenderness. The man and woman might be together, but they are decidedly separate.

I could go on and on, but I’ll stop. This is a large disturbing exhibition that deserves to be viewed many times. There is simply too much to take in on one visit. Luckily, because these prints will become part of the Museum’s permanent collection, Mainers will have the opportunity to view these prints many times.

Finally, I would like to recommend the exhibition catalogue that goes with the exhibit. Because most of the prints are black and white, the quality of the reproductions is excellent. (Not a given with color reproductions, where somehow the tones are always a little off.) Peter Selz and Susan Danly have written very good pieces about German Expressionism and the techniques the artists used to make their prints. However, best of all is the essay written by David and Eva Bradford. Their writing is vivid, insightful, engaging, and leavened with a sense of humor that puts the whole notion of collecting in perspective. I laughed out loud when I read the account of how, due to a breakdown in communication, David Bradford actually bid against himself for one of the prints. Without the slightest hesitation, I can state that this is one of the best essays written by collectors that I have ever read, and it actually made me long to meet the Bradfords so that I could hear them talk about the prints and their adventures in collecting.

 

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