Horror Painting: The Scream by Edvard Munch

The Scream by Edvard Munch (Norwegian); 1893; oil, tempura, and pastel on board.
Location: Oslo, Norway; The National Gallery.

        Halloween is right around the corner, so I thought it would be interested to take a look at one of the most recognizable paintings from Art History—The Scream by Edvard Munch (pronounced "monk"). The theme exists in three paintings and one lithograph. Upon first taking this painting in, some people might question its artistic value because it does look like something a child might draw, but that is sort of the beauty of it.

        Allow me to elaborate with some background information you probably didn't know: Edvard Munch, like many now well-known artists, suffered from psychological issues, including anxiety and hallucinations. His paintings usually represent some state of mind or emotion rather than any sort of physically observed reality.

        Munch observed Impressionism (which is a movement in Art History where the subjects of the paintings aren't drawn realistically but they give you the impression of the subject), Post-impressionism (which came after Impressionism and sort of exaggerated its qualities), and symbolism. In addition to using what he saw in these observations, Munch used distortion and color as his forms of expressions—both of which are easily observed in The Scream, his best-known work.

        The painting gives the impression of a figure on a boardwalk, holding its head, with its mouth open—presumably screaming. The figure appears liquid because its spine is curved in an unnatural way, and it is almost skeleton in appearance because its very frail and lacks and hair on its head. In the background of the boardwalk, two more figures appear to be walking away from the main figure.

        Munch has used visible brush strokes, showing directionalities in the lines made, which includes the diagonal of the boardwalk, and the curves of the sky and water—upon which you get the impression of ships. The sky is similar to a sunset in that there are various hues of red, orange, yellow, pink, and blue flowing in horizontal waves, while the water below sort of reflects those colors in the midst of blues, greys, and turquoise colors that swirl and meander.

        Munch described the piece, "I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous, infinite scream of nature." Having read what the artist had to say about the work, do you feel differently about it? What if I told you the piece set a record for the highest price ever fetched in an auction by a work of art at $120 million (it sold in May 2012)?

        One version of The Scream is in the permanent collection of the National Gallery in Oslo, and another version is currently in a temporary Exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

The Art Machine: Andy Warhol's Pop Art

        Andy Warhol's art appears, on the surface, as simple commercial pop art, but when one takes a closer look at the mind behind the art, the viewer is transported into the unconscious. Through screen prints, Warhol was able to act as the machine his work made commentary on, a sort of social industry. His pieces Campbell's Soup Cans and Red Liz (a portrait of Elizabeth Taylor) show iconic images that are deeply embedded in popular culture, seeping their way into fine art.

Campbell's Soup Cans by Andy Warhol (American); 1962; synthetic polymer paint on thirty-two canvases.
Location: New York City, United States; The Museum of Modern Art.

        Warhol takes things commonly seen and without thinking simply reproduces them; he is reproducing the mass produced, every-day object or a person that is often seen in films, on TV, or in photographs. Devoid of personality and emotion, the viewer is left with simply the image.  In a series of canvases, Warhol presents Campbell's Soup cans in a way that takes something every day and ordinary and transforms it into a statement regarding the use of machinery in our lives as consumers.  The easily recognized icon of the soup can in the image series condenses Warhol's message until it is unavoidable.

Red Liz by Andy Warhol (American); 1962; synthetic polymer paint and silkscreen ink on canvas.
Location: San Francisco, United States; San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

        Similarly, Warhol's portraits of Elizabeth Taylor (he did the portrait thirteen times: Silver, Blue, Orange, Yellow, Chartreuse, etc.), titled Red Liz, takes the actress and presents her as a logo, remarking on the idea of people as commercial property—ways to make money.  It is not photo-realistic, but, rather, it presents Taylor in bold, saturated, and semi-garish yet amazingly refined color combinations (turquoise, red, pink, and black). The act of doing this furthers his agenda that even an ugly painting is still valuable not because of the quality of the art, but because the art depicts some one held in high regard. Warhol essentially compares Elizabeth Taylor to commercial property, like the Campbell's Soup can; she was just turned out by the Hollywood machine.

        Both Campbell's Soup Cans and Red Liz demonstrate how two very different subject matters, a can of soup and an actress, realize America's machine.  Through the use of graphic styles and bold colors, Warhol is able to elevate the every day into fine art through his compositions' colors, patterns and subconscious messages.  Perhaps most importantly is that Warhol's personality and appearance distinguished the man from the image.

The Importance of the Nude: Vanity and La Grande Odalisque

The Importance of the Nude:

Hans Memling's Vanity and Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres's La Grande Odalisque

        Female nudes have been ever-present in art history, but Vanity by Hans Memling and La Grande Odalisque by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres are two examples of how a nude is perceived differently by the subject and the viewer. Both images are of women in private moments, in which they do not see themselves as nude because they are alone, however, when the viewer ventures into the private moment, without the woman's knowledge, she is seen as nude.

Vanity by Hans Memling (German); c. 1485; oil on oak panel.
Location: Strasbourg, France; Musée des Beaux-Arts de Strasbourg.

        In Vanity, the naked woman is depicted with a hand mirror. As the title seems to suggest, the painting demonstrates the vanity of the nude woman. The woman isn't naked when she is alone, but merely existing. The viewer sees her as naked and because she is seen holding a mirror, viewing her reflection, she is also being judged for her vanity. The irony is that she is not nude for her own pleasure, but she's nude for the pleasure of the viewer who is assumed to be male.

        This particular painting touches upon the concepts of the idealized female body and voyeurism. Her hair appears long and flowing, she has small, round breasts, and wide hips, creating a pear-shaped body. Furthermore, she is shown without pubic hair, making her genitalia fully visible to the viewer, and despite her full nudity, she is shown wearing shoes as she stands in a field with three dogs. The setting of the painting leads to creating a voyeuristic feeling so the painting's presumably male viewers can be intrigued by the idea of getting caught with this naked woman outside, creating more thrill for him as he gazes upon her.

La Grande Odalisque by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (French); 1814; oil.
Location: Paris, France; Musée du Louvre.

        La Grande Odalisque (meaning The Great Concubine) features a naked woman in a harem who has been exoticized with Turkish-inspired backdrop and accessories. The woman is depicted, similar to Vanity, with small, round breasts, wide hips, and a pear-shaped body. The viewer is immediately drawn in to the fantasy of this exotic beauty, but she remains demure as if she is unaware or does not mind being viewed. Only upon closer examination will one notice her left leg connects in a peculiar way, and that her right breast is not only situated unnaturally close to her arm but would also connect higher on her chest.

        Women are depicted, idealized, and objectified more than men because, traditionally, paintings have always been viewed by males—to please and flatter them. King Charles II of England once commissioned a nude portrait of his mistress Nell Gwyn, which he showed off to other men. The details that men look for in women, these idealizations which have changed over time, have been internalized by women because in earlier times a woman's worth was once based upon her appearance alone. These ideas of the perfect body persist today not just in art, but in media and popular culture. It is not uncommon, in modern times, to see these projections upon women done by women, on themselves and upon other females. The root of this behavior can be seen in piece after piece throughout art history.

Picasso's Cubism and Les Demoiselles d'Avignon

Picasso's Cubism and Les Demoiselles d'Avignon

Les Demoiselles d'Avignon by Pablo Picasso (Spanish); 1907; oil.

Location: New York City, United States; The Museum of Modern Art.

        When contemplating Pablo Picasso's painting Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, it is important to consider intent and reception within the historical context of 1907. While nudes have been painted, famously, throughout art history, it has not always been directly acknowledged where the models for such paintings come from. Earlier in art history, it was considered inappropriate for a man, even a painter, to see a nude woman and so male models would be used, resulting in manly women. Originally called The Brothel of Avignon, the title directly acknowledges that the painting depicts not just any nude women, but prostitutes—something the painting's audience seemed to focus entirely on when it premiered. Picasso's other thought was regarding size and how the art world seems to equate size with importance; Demoiselles is a large painting at 243.9x233.7 cm (roughtly 8x7½ feet).

        At the painting's debut, while most onlookers were fixated on the perceived ridiculousness of the work, some observers received Picasso's message about the title. One such person was art critic Gelett Burgess, who wondered where the women came from; Picasso's witty reply to Burgess's something like "where do you think?" The importance of the nude can be seen through movement after movement in art, albeit in different forms. Picasso's form of choice was his cubist style, something akin to a caricature. With a caricature being considered common and every day, it was ironic for Picasso to create this painting so large.  This irony is further played upon by the painting's title and content. Being received as it was proves Picasso's intention, to point out the oxymorons within the art world—proving its own unique ridiculousness.