split. Some of the members insisted that, as regarded their works,
the custom of a jury should be dispensed with, while others were in
favor of having the entries rigidly judged in order to insure
proper selection. Kandinsky, Kubin, Marc, and Gabriele Münter in
consequence announced their withdrawal from the federation. Thus a
difference of opinion and convictions was openly vented that had
existed in secret for quite a time. The members named, under the
name of “Redaktion des Blauen Reiters,” opened a separate
exhibition and have since continued to work under this banner.
The New Artists’ Federation, since its third exhibition in 1912,
has held a series of exhibits of the works of individual artists in
its rooms at Munich, and its members are represented at nearly all
important exhibitions in Germany and Switzerland.[45]
* * * * *
The key-note of the modern movement in art is _expression of self_; that
is, the expression of one’s _inner self_ as distinguished from the
representation of the outer world.
* * * * *
[Illustration: MATISSE
Woman in Red Madras]
I have before me six of Jawlensky’s heads, painted a year or so apart.
They range from almost conventional portrait studies in strong
impressionistic manner to heads very like Matisse’s “Madras Rouge,”
thence to the head reproduced, which was the last painted.
The series shows an interesting development of the painter’s
_convictions_, his technic remains essentially the same, facile and
competent, only the latest picture places a much greater stress upon his
resources.
It was apparent from things in his studio, canvases ten or twelve years
old, that he could have made a commercial success as a painter of
portraits.
* * * * *
To say that Jawlensky’s latest heads with their strange, expressive,
exaggerated eyes are not wholly new one has only to turn to any work on
Greek painting wherein are reproduced some of the encaustic and tempera
portraits found in the Fayum some twenty-odd years ago.
* * * * *
When asked why he preferred his latest work to the earlier, Jawlensky
said:
“I have put more of myself into them; they are more expressive of what I
feel.”
And he went on to say the development seemed to him natural and logical.
He could not understand why the heads should strike others as queer or
laughable since they were the products of absolute sincerity.
Of his work a friendly critic says:
Jawlensky, formerly an officer in the Russian army, resigned a
captain’s commission and turned to painting. Today he looks back
into an artistic past rich in changes and just as rich in successes
achieved. Gauguin, VanGogh and Cézanne have given much to him; more
recently, oriental and primitive art, Byzantine pictures and
antique German woodcarvings have not been without influence on
him. His color is peculiarly his own, with its limpidity, its
bloom, and bold modulations, the spontaneous, expressive force of
which have a most refreshing effect. In its soft and surprising
beauty one may perhaps discover a distinctly Russian quality. It is
almost an injustice toward this artist’s pictures to reproduce them
colorless. His still-life pictures excel in composition and charm
by their color effects. In his landscapes a peculiar mood finds
expression, always striking, always original, and often with great
simplicity and beauty. His heads and half figures might be termed
snapshots of the soul: a pose, a motion, a glance of the eye,
retained by the briefest and most effective means. Here, too, a
conscious simplifying and exaggeration becomes more and more
evident. For this artist, art itself has the grace of a gesture;
the soul part immediately becomes expression, and thus is shown
everywhere the creative quality of an impulsive nature that owes
its best to the inspiration of the moment, and from it proceeds to
work with a most happy facility.[46]
* * * * *
Marianna von Werefkin, a Russian, uses water color, gouache, and prefers
the mystery of the night to daylight. Her pictures are interesting human
documents. She does not seek startling or novel pictured effects.
* * * * *
There is another and almost unknown artist, P. Klee, who is very highly
esteemed by the most advanced men. There is certainly an exquisite
refinement to his line; it is so alive it scintillates.
Gabriele Münter has a vision of things quite her own, a sense of humor
and of life that penetrates beneath the surface, and that manifests
itself in a technic that is, one might say, almost nonchalant.
A. Bloch is a young American, living in Munich, who has allied himself
with the Blue Knights and made an impression by his very personal
expressions. He was given a one-man exhibition in Berlin in December
last, and his pictures were highly praised in a well-written article in
the Berlin _Borsen-Courier_. Absolute and unswerving fidelity to one’s
ideals is the only sure road to success, and this sort of sincerity is
manifest in the work of Bloch.
Franz Marc is in a class by himself. He is the animal painter of the
Blue Knights, and his pictures have a fairly steady sale notwithstanding
they are extreme in conception and execution. Animal forms and their
phases of composition seem to appeal to him, but he often uses the forms
as arbitrarily as Matisse uses his nudes to secure an effect of life or
grace. His color is always delightful, and there is a flow, a rhythm to
his pictures that is fascinating.
In an article in “Der Blaue Reiter” he says:
It is remarkable how _spiritual_ acquisitions are valued so
differently by men as compared with _material_. If someone conquers
a new colony for his country everybody applauds; if, however,
someone has the _inspiration_ to give to mankind a new and purely
spiritual value, it is rejected with scorn and indignation, the
gift is suspected, and the people try to suppress and crush it. Is
not this a frightful condition?
And speaking of the new movement in art, which he considers a
_spiritual_ offering to the public, he says:
The public is against us, with scorn and abuse it refuses our
pictures; but we may be right. They may not want our gifts, but
perhaps they cannot help accepting them. We have the consciousness
that our world of ideas is no card house with which we play, but it
contains the vital elements of a _movement_ the vibrations of which
are felt today _the world_ over.
In the orthodox sense these men may or may not be religious--I do not
know--but one thing is certain, there is an immense amount of religious
power in their propaganda.
* * * * *
The most extreme man not only of Munich but of the entire modern art
movement is Wassily Kandinsky, also a Russian.
There was one of his Improvisations in the International Exhibition.[47]
It did not hang with the Cubists, not even in the large room with
Matisse and other radical men. Evidently those in charge of the hanging
did not know what to make of it or what to do with it, so they
side-tracked it on a wall that was partly in shadow. Visitors who paused
to look at it dismissed it as meaningless splotches of paint, and passed
on.
There is this to be said for the public, that with no word of
explanation one of Kandinsky’s Improvisations does seem--_at first
glance_--the last word in extravagance; on fourth or fifth glance it
appears to have a charm of color that is fascinating; on _study_ it
begins to _sound_ like color music.
* * * * *
There were three of his canvases in the London Exhibition in Albert Hall
in July, 1913, “Landscape with Two Poplars,” “Improvisation No. 29,” and
“Improvisation No. 30,” the last reproduced herein in color.
Of these three paintings a critic said:[48]
By far the best pictures there seemed to me to be the three works
by Kandinsky. They are of peculiar interest, because one is a
landscape in which the disposition of the forms is clearly prompted
by a thing seen, while the other two are improvisations. In these
the forms and colors have no possible justification, except the
rightness of their relations. This, of course, is really true of
all art, but where representation of natural form comes in, the
senses are apt to be tricked into acquiescence by the intelligence.
In these improvisations, therefore, the form has to stand the test
without any adventitious aids. It seemed to me that they did this,
and established their right to be what they were. In fact, these
seemed to me the most complete pictures in the exhibition, to be
those which had the most definite and coherent expressive power.
Undoubtedly representation, besides the evocative power which it
has through association of ideas,
[Illustration: KANDINSKY
Improvisation No. 29]
has also a value in assisting us to coordinate forms, and, until
Picasso and Kandinsky tried to do without it, this function at
least was always regarded as a necessity. That is why of the three
pictures by Kandinsky, the landscape strikes one most at first.
Even if one does not recognize it as a landscape, it is easier to
find one’s way about in it, because the forms have the same sort of
relations as the forms of nature, whereas in the two others there
is no reminiscence of the general structure of the visible world.
The landscape is easier, but that is all. As one contemplates the
three, one finds that after a time the improvisations become more
definite, more logical and more closely knit in structure, more
surprisingly beautiful in their color oppositions, more exact in
their equilibrium. _They are pure visual music._
People who do not find a _picture_ turn away disappointed and irritated,
but many turn back to look again, attracted by the strength and charm of
the compositions, and in the end not a few reluctantly concede, “Yes,
they have fine color, but--” and then follows the old demand for some
familiar object as anchorage.
* * * * *
Of Kandinsky’s qualifications from the academic point of view let it be
said he is a superb draftsman, though he no longer attaches any
importance to drawing _per se_; and he is a master of color
combinations.
One would say that the two, mastery of drawing and mastery of color,
would make a great painter, and so they _did_ and _do_.
I have at hand some of his earlier work along conventional lines, and I
have seen tempera drawings of Moroccan scenes that would delight a
Whistler, they are so delicate and so filled with subtle charm. Then I
have a series of sketches, extending over a number of years, which show
the development of his later works.
* * * * *
He has explained his theories at length in his book, “Ueber das
Geistege in der Kunst,”[49] and in numerous articles, notably in “Der
Blaue Reiter.”
The keynote of the entire modern movement is found in the first sentence
of his book,
“_Every work of art is the child of its own times._”
A man may so steep himself in history and tradition that all he does is
reminiscent of the past, but such work marks no progress and such men
are negligible factors in the advancement of mankind.
It is the man who yields himself to _his times_, who absorbs all there
is of good in the _life about him_, who sees everything, feels
everything, who mingles with his respect for the achievements of the
past a mighty admiration for the triumphs of the present--such a man is
a leader among his fellows; brilliant thinker, daring adventurer, he
blazes the way for the timid to follow.
If we were Greeks of the fifth century we would carve the marbles they
did. If we were Romans under the Caesars we would build the buildings
they built. If we were Christians of the middle ages we would rear
cathedrals. If we were English, French, German, Chinese, or Japanese, we
would do the things they do, like the things they like. But we are none
of these peoples; we are Americans living in an age of steam and
electricity, of automobiles and aeroplanes, in an age of kaleidoscopic
changes, of marvelous and startling developments.
What _must_ happen in painting, music, sculpture?
Exactly what has happened in architecture.
Painting, music, sculpture that will go with our mighty steel buildings,
with our factories and railroads.
Painting, music, sculpture varied in form, as old and as new as the
brain of man can conceive, but always and essentially _our own_. That
is the secret, it must be characteristic of our age--_our own_.
* * * * *
This is not a placid age.
It is an age of feverish activities, brilliant imaginings, profound
emotions.
Hence our art will not be placid, but will be an art of the imagination
and the emotions.
Venturesome souls will not be content to paint things, or even people,
but they will paint _themselves_, not their _outer_ selves, but their
_inner_; they will put on canvas what they _feel_. That is as near the
final word in art as man can utter--to _paint_ instead of _speak_ his
most subtle emotions.
* * * * *
In a recent article[50] Kandinsky summarises part of his theory as
follows:
A work of art consists of two elements, the _inner_ and the _outer_.
The inner is the emotion in the soul of the artist. This emotion has the
power to arouse a similar feeling in the soul of the observer.
The soul being connected with the body it is affected through the medium
of the senses--feelings; emotions are stirred and aroused by sensations.
Hence our sensations are the bridge, the physical connection between the
_immaterial_, the emotion in the soul of the artist, to the _material_,
resulting in the production of the work of art.
And again the sensations are the bridge from the _material_, the artist,
and his work, to the _immaterial_, emotion in the soul of the observer.
The sequence is, _emotion_ (in
artist)--sensations--_work_--sensations--_emotion_ (in observer).
The two emotions will be like and equal to the extent the _work_ is
successful. In this respect a painting is no different from a song, each
is a message; the successful singer succeeds in arousing in his hearers
the emotions he feels; the successful painter should do no less.
The inner element, emotion, must exist, else the work will be a sham.
The inner element determines the _character_ of the work.
In order that the inner element which at first exists only as an
emotion, may develop into work, the _second_ element--the _outer_ is
used as the embodiment. Therefore emotion is always seeking means of
expression, seeking a material form, a form that can stir the
senses.[51]
The _vital_, the _determining_ element is the _inner_, that controls the
outer form, even as the idea in the mind determines the words we use,
and not the words the idea.
Therefore the selection of the _form_ of a work of art is determined by
the _inner_ irresistible force--this is the only unchangeable _law_ of
art.
A _beautiful_ work is the product of the harmonious cooperation of the
two elements, the inner and outer. A painting, for instance, is an
intellectual organism which, like every material organism, consists of
many parts.
These single parts, if isolated, are as lifeless as a finger severed
from the hand.
The single parts live only through the whole.
The endless number of single parts in a painting is divided into two
groups:
1. The _designed_ form.
2. The _picturesque_ form.
* * * * *
An examination of a work of art, especially a painting,
[Illustration: VAN GOGH
Woman with Frying Pan]
[Illustration: VAN GOGH
Chair with Pipe]
usually discovers the presence of parts and forms drawn from _nature_,
from _objects_.
As the _imitation_ of natural forms forms no part of the definition of
pure art how is it these objective representations creep in?
The origin of painting was the same as that of the other arts, and of
every human action. It was _purely practical_.
If a native hunter chases game for days, he is induced to do so by
_hunger_.
If today a princely hunter chases game, he is induced to do so by the
desire for _enjoyment_. Just as hunger is of _bodily_ value, here the
enjoyment is of _aesthetic_ value.
If a savage requires artificial sounds for his dance, he is induced
thereto by sexual impulse. The artificial sounds, from which through
centuries the music of today developed, moved savages to an expression
of passion in the form of dancing.
If the man of today attends a concert he is not seeking the music for
_practical_ results, but _pleasure_.
Also here the original _practical_ motive changed to the _aesthetic_.
That means that also here the practical want of the body changed to that
of the _soul_.
During this progress toward refinement (or spirituality) of the most
simple practical (or bodily) wants, two consequences are to be noticed
throughout: The _separation_ of the spiritual _from_ the bodily element
and its further _independent development_ through the different arts.
Here the above mentioned laws (of the inner element and the form)
gradually apply with ever increasing force, until finally out of each
art comes a _pure_ art.
This is a steady, logical, natural growth, like the growth of a tree.
The process is to be noticed in painting.
First period, _Origin_: _Practical_ desire to make use of _physical_.
Second Period, _Development_: The gradual separation of this _practical_
purpose, and the gradual ascendancy of the _spiritual_ element.
Third Period, _Aim_: The attainment of a higher stage in _pure art_; in
this the remains of the practical desire are _totally separated_
(abstracted). Pure art speaks from soul to soul, it is not dependent
upon the use of objective and imitative forms.
We can distinguish all of these three stages in various combinations in
paintings of today.
First Period: _Realistic Painting_. The realism here is understood to be
such as developed traditionally into the nineteenth century--the
_practical_ desire to exhibit objective realities--portraits,
landscapes, historical paintings, etc., in the direct sense.
Second Period: _Naturalistic Paintings_ in the form of Impressionism, of
the New Impressionism and Expressionism--to which partly Cubism and
Futurism belongs: The separation of the _practical_ aim and the _general
preponderance_ of the _spiritual element_; from Impressionism through
Neo-Impressionism to Expressionism always increasing separation and
always increasing preponderance of the spiritual.
Apparently in this finer development _nature_ as such is no more taken
into consideration; but this is only “apparently” so, for as a matter of
fact nature is used as a motive, a background, a basis for the pictures,
and if the attempt is made to separate the natural or _objective_ part
of the picture from the purely artistic, the result is the picture falls
for lack of support.
* * * * *
In other words, in most of even the very abstract paintings, such as
even Picasso’s, there is a foundation, a background of objects without
which the pictures would not exist.
Picasso may refine a “Woman with a Mandolin,” to a dozen intersecting
lines that disclose neither woman nor mandolin, but _both_ were present
in his mind’s eye when he created his work, and without them the work
has no reason for existing.
It is here that one begins to understand Kandinsky’s attitude, and how
diametrically he diverges from Picasso. The two have nothing in common
save the desire to produce more abstract art, but Picasso abstractions
are based on the _outer_ world, while Kandinsky’s are based on the
_inner_.
When Picasso has refined nature, that is, things _outside_ him, to the
_last degree_, to the simplest mode of expression in line and mass, he
has reached an _impasse_, further progress is impossible, further
scientific subdivision in unattainable, his art in _that direction_ is
finished.
But Kandinsky has before him an unlimited view. With him the elimination
of nature, of all things _physical_ from his compositions, simply gives
him greater freedom in the painting of compositions representing
things--moods--_spiritual_.
* * * * *
To go on with his own explanation, not in his exact words, but in
substance:
It is thus seen that in both the first and second signs in the
development of art, the objective foundation or background is not of
simply secondary importance, but of _first_; it is essential because
without it the work would not exist.
To create _pure art_ it is necessary to eliminate this background of the
physical, and substitute for it _pure artistic form_, which alone can
give the picture independent life.
This step we find in the _dawning third period_ of
painting--_Compositional painting_.
According to the scheme of the three periods, we have arrived at the
third one--which was designated as the _Aim_.
In the _compositional painting_ which is developing today we see the
signs of the attainment of the higher step of _pure art_, in which the
remains of the _practical_ desire (all evidences of objectivity) can be
perfectly separated, which can speak from soul to soul in purely
artistic language.
The conscious and oftentimes also still unconscious striving, which
strongly (and ever stronger) shows itself today, to replace the
objective (subject paintings) by pure construction (pure composition) is
the first sign of the dawning of that _pure art_ to which the past art
periods inevitably led.
I have been trying to briefly deal with the entire development and
more especially the situation today in broad schematic outlines;
therefore there are many deficiencies (gaps) which necessarily
remain uncovered, and there are passed over many interesting lesser
developments, which are inevitable in progress, like smaller
branches on the tree, which extend outward notwithstanding the
tree’s growth upward.
The further development, which is pending in painting, will still
have to suffer many seeming contradictions and diversions, as was
the case with music, which today we know already as pure art.
The past teaches us that the development of humanity consists in
the increasing _spirituality_ of various factors. Among these
factors art takes the first place.
Among the arts painting is following the road that leads it from
the _practical_-efficiency to the _intellectual_-efficiency. From
the _subject-picture_ to the _pure composition_.
To better understand the foregoing take the “Improvisation No. 30.”[52]
It is a very pure example of _compositional_ painting, but it
[Illustration: KANDINSKY
Improvisation No. 30]
is not _absolutely pure_, in that it contains many more or less obvious
suggestions of familiar forms and objects.
Some workmen who happened to be handling the painting, referred to it as
the “War Picture,” and many casual observers insist it is an impression
of war or of a battle field.
This is because two cannon are quite plain in the lower right-hand
corner, and the two oblong blue masses projecting from the cannons’
mouths would seem to be the smoke of the discharges.
Then, too, the seeming cataclysmic effect, the suggestion of a helmet, a
tottering tower, banners, aerial flashes or fireworks, all accentuate
the impression of conflict and explosions.
If one looks long enough in this mood it is not difficult to read into
the canvas all sorts of interpretations of a warlike character.
Yet the painting was “improvised”--_composed_ with no _direct_ intention
of suggesting war.
In his own personal note book wherein he keeps a record of all his work,
Kandinsky identifies the picture by a hasty pencil sketch and the words,
“Blue Splashes,” or “Masses,” and “Cannons.”
Of the painting he says in a letter:
The designation “Cannons,” selected by me _for my own use_, is not
to be conceived as indicating the “contents” of the picture.
These contents are indeed what the spectator _lives_, or _feels_
while under the effect of the _form and color combinations_ of the
picture. This picture is nearly in the shape of a cross. The
centre--somewhat below the middle--is formed by a large, irregular
blue plane. (The blue color in itself counteracts the impression
caused by the cannons!) Below this centre there is a muddy-gray,
ragged second centre almost equal in importance to the first one.
The four corners extending the oblique cross into the corners of
the picture are heavier than the two centres, especially heavier
than the first, and they vary from each other in characteristics,
in lines, contours, and colors.
Thus the picture becomes lighter, or looser in the centre, and
heavier, or tighter towards the corners.
The scheme of the construction is thus toned down, even made
invisible for many, by the looseness of the forms. Larger or
smaller remains of _objectivity_ (the cannons, for instance)
produce in the spectator that secondary tone which objects call
forth in all who feel.