August 24th and 26th
Our visit to the Leopold was one of the more interesting museum tours that we took during the program, thanks largely in part to the commentary provided by Dr. O. Her enthusiastic ramblings (and I use this in the kindest sense) about Klimt really transmitted the sort of passion and feeling that his painting were supposed to portray. The fact that we spent about forty minutes sitting in front of his painting entitled “Death and Life” is a testament to the deep level of knowledge and interest that Dr. O has for Klimt, and I felt as though I really learned a lot from her.
“Death and Life” was especially interesting because it dealt exclusively with themes that are common across the entire spectrum of art, and she could bring to life Klimt’s personality and message through revealing how he personally dealt with the subjects. The first copy of the painting portraying death’s face shrouded in his cloak as opposed to the finished product that had his face out In something of a smile was indicative to the sort of transformation that he must have endured during the intervening years. Brian was sharp enough to point out that Klimt came back to the painting after four years in 1918, which is the exact span that the First World War encompassed. Anybody that lived in Europe (or indeed the world) could not have been unaffected by the unspeakable slaughter that took place during this conflict, even if they themselves were not directly involved. The addition of the swirling figures on the outskirts of life seemed to speak to his need to show that people refused to look at death directly, and when they do it is in something of a romantic light as demonstrated by the singular face that is staring directly at death. I have no doubts that Klimt felt as though the populace of Europe was failing to look at the death and destruction of the War in terms of the reality of the loss of human life, and that forgetting or ignoring was easier and yet more destructive as a societal tendency.
Seeing the sketch of Klimt’s original plans for the halls of the Viennese Art Society was also very telling of his personality, and made clear why they were rejected in the first place. The presence of the female form accompanied by men that looked like beasts could not have gone over well with the establishment of the day, all of which were undoubtedly men. But after learning about the Secession that Klimt and others led from the Society, it was an extremely interesting example of the point of schism between the two conflicting ideals. The artists of the Ringstrasse era had reached a diverging point, and Klimt’s sketch seemed to be a physical example of the differences between what art was and where art was going.
Beyond Klimt, the other artist that stood out for me was his contemporary Schiele. Although it seemed as though most were distinctly turned off by Schiele’s style and his clear obsession with his own physical form, I thought he was extremely interesting and talented, even if his paintings weren’t always what I would consider to be pleasing to the eye. It seemed as though as we moved through the exhibit featuring him, his paintings became much more tortured and abstract. I really enjoyed what I considered to be his pure emotional expression of his own tortured conscience, especially because he portrayed it in the most personal way possible; through the exhibition and exploitation of his own body. Although the subject could become tedious to a point, I could think of no more meaningful way for somebody to express their personal feelings about their inadequacies, triumphs, skills, failures, or fears than to repeatedly show these feelings through the raw contortions of one’s own physical form.
The Belvedere had some charms to it, particularly in the location and story behind it, but to my disappointment the only true attraction was the presence of Klimt’s infamous painting The Kiss. Jan did a very good job leading the tour, but for somebody who is an art philistine (such as myself) the majority of the works did not jump out at me as overly impressive. Of course this was after touring some of the most important art museums in the world in the Vienna Art History Museum next to the Hofburg complex and the Leopold Museum, so my views of what is impressive and important are certainly skewed. I suppose that I found the Leopold more interesting because it had all been collected by one person, which seems an absolutely incredible feat considering that Leopold had not been willed any of the works previously. I particularly enjoyed Dr. O’s little fun fact about how he asked for an expensive painting as his present upon completion of his studies rather than an automobile, which of course in retrospect was the absolute correct decision. It seems unbelievable that one person could have such an eye for art that eventually his tastes almost dictate the direction of the art culture, or at least dictate the artists whose works are soon to skyrocket in price.
The Art Nouveau works were quite interesting at the Leopold (in the lower sections of the museum), because they seemed to represent a shift within the art community as a whole. Jose Marie Auchentaller seemed to be a pioneer in terms of not only art style, but also the manner with which it was presented to the public. I found the magazine covers particularly interesting, because they detailed how Auchentaller designed the layout for the magazines and contributions were made by (now) extremely famous artists, including Gustav Klimt. It seemed incredible that in the first issue of their magazine they included a calendar with painting for every month of the year, which seems like quite a precursor to the sort of inserts that we are used to in today’s magazines. I had never really thought about where the form of modern magazine or periodical had first been pioneered, but it seems to me that they have their roots in the Secession of Viennese artists that we learned so much about.
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