Fist

Found this to be a pointed statement:

"(I) took very little interest in their formal problems or their moral ideas. I contributed no manifestoes, not even a signature. I was not going to submit my hard-won independence to anyone else's control. That is freedom as I understand it."

Oskar Kokoschka on his relationship to Der Sturm, premier Berlin avant-garde periodical (1910, around the same time he almost starved to death.)

"There is no such thing as a German, French, or Anglo-American Expressionism! There are only young people trying to find their bearings in the world."

On expressionism:

"It shapes life into true experience. What marks off true experience from all 'grey theory' is this: that something which lies beyond it--a single moment appearing in the guise of eternity--and that the dull edge of human desires in itself sets off the divine ray of light, just as silence is broke by a cry or as the dullness of habit is broken by the unexpected. Expressionism does not live in an Ivory Tower; it addresses itself to a fellow being, who it awakens. From the stereotype of man as a herd-animal, which lies within everyone of us, only decisive experience can release us, can lead to humanization. With every such experience our humanity is renewed."

"If an artist is capable of looking truth so clearly in the face that, while discerning the transitory, he can yet give it permanent form, can yet render the immortal visible in mortal shape, then he has done more than any words can convey."

I'm going to go ahead and....

The Vienese painter, Oskar Kokoschka, was dependant on the spirit of his subjects. His perception was not that of simple panels of light and dark or varied shapes and countershapes. Unlike his contemporaries, who’s monstrously deified portrayal of their sitters placed them on a higher, unreachable plateau, Kokoshcka, first associated with the subject, and then made the viewer associate with them. The people were there, touchable. The viewer could relate to them, maybe even feel led to speak to them as a fellow human being. His humanitarian approach was mingled with a profound emotional instability. This was charged by his obsession with the human struggle, the sorrow of impoverished society, the introspection foreshadowing death, the frustration of relationships shattered. The conflict was evident in even his most bucolic landscapes and serene portraiture. Perhaps it was this intuition, surrounded by his meticulous and savage technique that empowers his seemingly commonplace interpretations.

Living through Sight

Controversy followed him during his career as a young artist. The rebel-brand that he carried from the beginning, his tumultuous love-life and involvement in World War I led all coalesced to bring the young artist into the understanding he finally achieved. He was a virtuoso with technique, volleying between slashes of thin impressionist pastel, to heavily saturated, Fauvist planes of color. Likewise, his subject matter varied from intimate portraits, to landscapes, to sweeping allegories. The uniqueness of Kokoschka’s work lies in the personality, the emotional impression. His rich body of work stretches across almost the entire 20th century, and to some has been heralded as “a modern Orbis Pictus”, the frantic testament of the current age, from one who had experienced both its hills and valleys in his 94-year lifespan. (Great Modern Masters, 5)

He was born in 1886, in Pochlarn. His family had already established themselves artistically, as his father came from a line of goldsmiths, grounded in Prague. Kokoschka’s father remained in the Vienese area for quite some time. He had the occupation of a jeweler and had relatives that maintained prestige in the art world, doing extensive work for Russian clients. His mother was somewhat of a visionary, keen in her sense of perception, able to draw the most inspiration possible from her tangible surroundings (Books and Writers 1).

It was through his mother, that Kokoschka was given the privilege of attending the Vienna School of Arts and Crafts. It was in the “fin-de-siecle” timeframe of Vienna, that Kokoschka began to establish some notoriety. During this time, he became involved in his first flare of controversy, offering up monumentally frustrating images of biblical and political figures, including one of a graphic pieta that ultimately caused his expulsion.(Books and Writers, 1) Kokoshcka unveiled one of his most ambitious and equally controversially pieces during his work in the Vienna school. A source of inspiration for Kokoschka had been the 17th century woodcut works of Jan Amos Comenius, specifically Orbis Pictus, a children’s instructional manual on everyday life, natural and spiritual phenomenon and sensibilities. This was his model for The Dreaming Youth (Die Träumenden Knaben), a collection of Kokoshcka’s prints and writings documenting troubled adolescence and heightened awareness from age.

Kokoschka began his focused career alongside the Secession, the budding artistic movement of Gustav Klimt, a giant in the then current sweep of Austrian expressionism. Kokoschka eventually instructed at the Vienna school along side Klimt, and soon his work began to exhibit the same “Vienese modernism”. The Secession was created to bring about a sensibility in the cultural climate, specifically language, literature and the visual arts. No doubt some of Kokoschka’s obsession with movement and exaggerated form was drawn from his teacher, along with the ability to conceive the human figure with an alternative brilliance and potential (Great Modern Masters, 1). Adolf Loos, a powerful component in the Secession movement, was one of the first to recognize the merit of Kokoschka’s work.

An accumulation of portraiture during this period, known as the “black paintings”, were done of both his close friends and clientele, a handful of whom we’re suffering from tuberculosis, making most of the representations gaunt and harrowing. They were reserved, focused pieces that showcased a populace that “lived with a sense of security althrough they were terrified.” (Bultmann, 12)

However, Kokoschka’s focus remained not on the form itself, or in its angularity and elegance, seen in many of Klimt’s works. The emphasis was, again, on the inner man, the essence of the person taking rest in the body represented. His portraits capture a glimpse of that reality, of the man being more than the husk of human flesh.

When Loos discovered that Kokoschka had been bracketed to doing simply decorative and poster work for Vienna’s art scene, he stated it as “one of the greatest sins against the Holy Ghost.” (Bultmann, 22) Loos was able to give Kokoschka connections with geniuses of the modern Vienese literary world, one of them being Karl Kraus, a main writer for Der Sturm, the seminal periodical of Austrian Expressionism. He contributed many illustrations to the magazine, using it as a vehicle to spread his identity throughout the art world. (Books and Writers 2)

Kraus makes a remarkable statement concerning Kokoschka’s ability to instill the sense of true humanity into his portraits. In response to an early sketch portrait that Oskar did of him, he saw his true self represented, his features merely being a template to work from:
Kokoschka made a portrait of me. It is quite possible that those who know me won’t recognize me. But I’m quite sure those who don’t know me will recognize me. (Great Modern Masters, 3)

Der Sturm is probably the closest that Kokoschka came to associating with the trend of Expressionism. His artwork, while adhering to some expressionist traits, is far too unique to the artist to be classified as such. His aversion to this classification was evident:

There is no such thing as a German, French, or Anglo-American Expressionism! There are only young people trying to find their bearings in the world. (Fraser, 4)

Kokoschka’s strength in literature was founded solid before his association with Der Sturm. Along with the earlier Dreaming Youth, Kokoschka wrote two powerful and enigmatic stage plays that today are marked as the beginning of “expressionist drama” (Guggenheim Biography) They were, The Sphinx and the Strawman and Murderer, the Women’s Hope, both of which harbored violent and harrowing imagery, portrayed with minimal set designs and blocking.

Living through Blackness

It was in this same period, teaching at the Vienna school that Oskar met Alma Mahler, the mistress with whom he would have a turbulent four year relationship. The affair is significant because one of his most famous works, The Bride of the Wind, was painted in representation of the conflicts and passions that arose from it. (Bultmann, 32) In fact, a handful of other strong works, featuring Alma alone or with Oskar in double portrait were assembled at this time.(Great Modern Masters 20) Before the couple disbanded, Mahler made the decision to kill their unborn child. Kokoschka, who always had a nurturing sentiment toward children, hesitatingly severed the already dissolving friendship. His depressing painting, Knight Errant, was his gut reaction to the devastating event. (Guggenheim Knight Errant)

There are two events in Kokoschka’s life at this juncture that proved to steer his body of work in a new direction. The first being the severance with Mahler and the second being his induction into the cavalry during World War I. This decision to join the Dragoons sent him to the front, from which he returned miraculously alive, having received a bayonet gash to his lung and a bullet wound to the head. During the months that followed his return, he wrestled with a serious bout of depression. Still not fully recovered from his episode with Mahler, Kokoschka hired a local seamstress to construct a life-size doll, complete with Alma’s features and body structure. The doll became a comical life-prop for him, a subject in his paintings and sometimes a public accessory at parties. He spent a large amount of his time in Dada circles, culminating in a show that featured pioneer artists such as Wasily Kandinsky and Paul Klee (Books and Writers 3).

His production and innovation were not halted during this period, though. He worked on another stage play and adopted a brighter technique to painting. His sketchy, aggravated line work had given way to a blocky, intense, Fauvist approach. He continued to paint landscapes and portraiture with this adapted style throughout the majority of the Twenties, especially during his travels to the Middle East and North Africa. The travels were prompted by his involvement in the war, the vow that if he returned intact, he would experience the world as much as physically possible. Disillusionment had given way to a new lust for life. The resulting landscapes were staggering, some painted in two or three panoramic sections, giving them a scope that had rarely been explored until then. His goal through this brilliant technique of perspective was to “produce the conception of the word as confined within a sphere”. (Bultmann, 39) He also had developed a preference for using animals as subjects and began to incorporate them as elements in his allegorical works. (Sheldon, 2)

In the gathering storm of the Nazi agenda in Central Europe, a portion of seized Expressionist artwork was displayed and commercialized as examples of what was called “degenerate art”. This exhibition included some of Kokoschka’s works. He took the attack in stride, painting the daring Portrait of a Degenerate Artist. The portrait was a retaliation, the swelled Kokoschka filling the frame, constructed in his typical style of slashing brushstrokes. (Sheldon, 3) Part of this defiance came from his friendship with Thomas Masaryk, the first president of the Czech Republic (Great Modern Masters, 8). His closeness with Masaryk also prompted Kokoschka to raise a flag of anti-war activism that would continue through the rest of his life. His travels had led him to Prague, where he met his future wife, Olda Palkovská. After the Nazi takeover, Kokoschka vacated his home and studio in Prague and settled in England, where he married Olda (Books and Writers, 4) During his time in England, he created anti-Nazi posters and propagand that was widely distributed in the heavy-populated areas in and around London. One in particular was that of Christ in crucified humiliation, stretching one free hand from His place on the cross to comfort children at His feet. The message on the cross: “In Memory of the Children of Europe who have to Die of Cold and Hunger this Xmas.” His voice did not go unheard. Threats were sent from Berlin stating that Kokoschka would “be hung from the nearest lamppost.” (Bultmann)

Living through Teaching

The post World War career of Kokoschka was spent in more traveling and teaching along with the summation of his work, which consisted of his desperate, Baroque-inspired, allegorical works. During the last years of his life, he traveled to the United States, where he did cityscapes in his acquired panoramic style and continued to do self-portraiture that chronicled his aging. His last self portrait was compared by himself to Rembrandt’s:

I saw it properly for the first time on one of those London winter days when, without the means to survive, I felt myself to be on the outer fringes of human existence. The picture gave me courage to take up my life again. Rembrandt was suffering from dropsy; his eyes ran continually, and his sight was failing. How firmly he studied in the mirror the end of his own life! The artist’s spiritual objectivity, and his ability to draw up a balance-sheet of his own life and give it pictorial form, convey themselves powerfully to the beholder. To look at one’s own physical decay, to see oneself as a living being in the process of changing into a carcass, goes far beyond the revolutionary Goya’s “Plucked Turkey”, a dead bird in a still-life. For there is a difference, after all, between being involved, oneself, and seeing it happen to another. A human spirit is about to be extinguished, and the painter records what he sees. (Fraser,11)

He had become his own subject, to express himself into himself.
He passed away in Switzerland in 1980.
He instilled his students with his love for the personality and essence of a subject, the trait that defines and vitalized his work. This philosophy was seen later in his career when he instructed in Salzburg at the School for the Seeing. Apparently, an older man had volunteered to model for one of the watercolor sessions and, under instruction of Kokoschka, faked a seizure during class. The students unawares were obviously shaken when Kokoshcka entered the room and explained the scenario as a lesson. “The model must be perceived as an alive, vulnerable human being rather than an object to be drawn.” (Sheldon, 3)

Despite his tumultuous life, the legacy of one who never found true Reality, but scratched the surface many times, he had discovered a way to give of himself through the painting vehicle, to relate intimately to his subjects, whether a mountain range, an Austrian child in a field, or a caged ape at the zoo. He loved what he saw. In his own words, he gave of himself to his students, transplanting the same vigor that he had poured into his own work. “Love is the best teacher.” (Sheldon, 4)

Herwarth Walden

His portraits show the ‘inner face’ of his subjects, combining past, present and future in one portrayal; his landscapes open up a vista through the typical, as embodied in the visual reality of the moment, to something eternal that lies beyond it, by this very fact isolating the truly specific element in this momentary reality. (Bultmann, 8)

A fine example of an early portrait is that of Herwarth Walden. Walden had been an acquaintance of Kokoschka through his involvement in Der Sturm. The dominant shapes of the figure are of stark washes of ashy white and pastel, overlaid and isolated with the nervous sketchiness that is a trademark of Kokoschka’s early works. The detailing is somewhat confusing, hard outlines against the jaw bone, forehead and neck that model the face in a harsh manner. The highlights are tapped in with thick strokes of basic white, almost uncontrolled as they are smeared into the background arbitrarily. The flesh tones are represented with highlights of purely saturated red, along the eyebrows, nose, and knuckles and the shadows are either scratched in against the highlights or rubbed in with fingerprints. Compositionally, the portrait is tense. Walden stands further to the left, his posture relaxed enough to create a feeling of awkward movement and spontaneity. His concerned expression lends to “words that fail”, an anxious patience for something to happen, and an inner tooling that wonders if it ever will. (Great Modern Masters, 16)

London, Panorama of the Thames

This landscape was done in 1926 during his travels. The idea is almost reminiscent of Derain’s Turning Road with the sweeping composition of the street. The shapes of the automobiles are created with quick square brushstrokes, atypical of his earlier works. The movement is created by smearing the smudges up and around diagonally, the blue abruptly changing to orange to suggest the depth and lighting. One trademark of Kokoshcka’s is the highlights of vibrant colors, such as the twitchy strokes of green around the bridge pillars and the red in the buildings, cars and sky. The colors overall are more muted than his first works of this period, but the palette is liberal, the water shines with greens, blues, reds, and swatches of pure white. His almost haphazard line-work of the drawing is evident. The piece captures life in motion, the business of life in London as the day comes and goes. (Great Modern Masters, 31)

Saul and David

In this latter work, Kokoschka exhibits is insight into human emotion. The tension of the subject is evident and thought-provoking. David plays the harp for the weary and tortured Saul. Saul sits in the foreground, entertained by the monkey on his shoulder, almost a representative of a torturing demon. David is bizarrely portrayed in the nude, suggestive of Renaissance interpretations. Kokoschka’s paintings by this era have become both full and dynamic. The technique retains the nervousness of early works and the vibrancy of the post World War I era, but it is much more varied and transcendent. Unbelievable color combinations form to create the flesh tones, shadows and textures in a heightened sense of vision. The strength of this piece is in the interpretation of the personalities of the two, David with an obviously serene contentment and Saul with a fleeting pacification, his frustrated grin below his sagging, preoccupied gaze. That is the key to Kokoschka’s work, again, the perfect interpretation of the inner man, and this is no acception. (Great Modern Masters, 55)

Posted by Kammer at April 30, 2004 10:36 PM