#artwriter

'Torso in Metal' from 'The Rock Drill', created 1913-15 by Sir Jacob Epstein plays with the philosophical concept of conflict and the merging of man and machine. Although the original structure is huge and imposing, this de-construction lends a totally new narrative and tone. There is a pathos in the downtrodden tilt of its head, and what was once threatening now appears to have become the victim of consequence. Despite having no facial expression its stance is very expressive, and what was once warrior-like is now a feeble slave to the condition that it’s trapped in.

With the original gun base removed, the bronze which once enforced the unnerving presence of the original towering structure now only emphasises the lack of power that remains. The dark aesthetic of the metal emits an eeriness, but also a sadness from the creature. Additionally, the high tensile strength in the extended limb is an echo of the physical greatness that once was. 

Beneath its ribcage it appears to be carrying a child. This could be perceived as threatening as it infers that it’s capable of generating its own army, but in its current state it appears almost nurturing, as if the attacker has now learnt to become a protector. This evolution makes me wonder if the façade is purely armour for something more sentient underneath.

The Guerilla girls formed in New York City in 1985 and are well-known for exposing discrimination and corruption, particularly dealing with issues of gender and racial inequality. The nude featured in this piece is 'La Grande Odalisque' by Jean-Auguste Dominique Ingres as a monochrome cut-out with her head replaced with their trademark gorilla mask. I think that the use of appropriation of renowned historical artworks successfully incites shock and attracts the needed attention to highlight their poignant message.

The yellow background could be viewed as a 'gender-neutral' colour, however, the cloth that the woman reclines on is a stereotypically feminine pink hue. This colour palette works well because it's eye-catching and juxtaposes the traditional painting. I think that the gorilla mask is very effective because it's instantly recognisable as their work and plays with the concept of women having to conform to society's shape of beauty. The typography is simple and clear to read as to not detract from the appalling statistics.

The group's identities are concealed because issues matter more than individual identities, in order to focus on the issues, not on their personalities or their own work.

Using artworks by Surrealist artists René Magritte, Dorothea Tanning and Salvador Dalí, I’m going to broadly look at the movement and compare their approach to tackling subject matter that most artists fear to tread. They have a similar style in the way that some of their work has illusionistic quality to it, and as well as working in the Surrealist movement they also worked with abstraction. 

Surrealism was a revolt against formalist art that started in Paris in 1924 and ended in 1966. Experimenting with pure psychic automation, the surrealists aimed to revolutionise the human experience, rejecting a rational vision of life in favour of one that asserted the value of the unconscious and dreams. Essentially, the word ‘surrealist’ suggests ‘beyond reality’.

Dorothea Tanning's self-portrait 'Birthday' (1942) may appear tame for a surrealist painting, especially in comparison to her wild, nightmarish depictions of sinister sunflowers and twisted fairy-tales. However, I think that despite its more minimalistic façade there is a lot of underlying meaning to interpret, and it becomes more surreal the more that you study it.

Tanning is shown standing with her weight in her toes, tipping forwards as if ready to flee. Unlike most self-portraits, this is strangely unrevealing of her true personality, like she’s a character in her own story, the way that she used to invent make-believe worlds for herself to delve into when she was a child. The paint has a luminescent quality, lending to the dream-like narrative woven evocatively into it.

The turbulent, difficult to decipher perspective of the composition leads the eye to the background, behind and beyond her, into the overlapping multitude of doors, perhaps representing an invitation into the complex state of her psyche. Tanning's gaze is slightly off-centre, like she’s looking at someone or something behind us, and the way that she clutches the doorknob is almost like she's inviting them into the corridor, for her to follow after them into this portal of limitless possibility. This quickly snowballs and leaves the viewer in wonder, yearning to join and discover whatever location that it leads to.

Her idiosyncratic Jacobean-style garments make me wonder whether she has come from the unknown land beyond the doors and returned to bring someone back with her. Fantasy art often draws upon natural materials like plants to clothe their characters, so Tanning could be referencing this in the vine-like tendrils coiling off from the sides of her dress.

Although Tanning rejected being labelled a feminist, it is difficult not to see her work in this light. Sexual motifs of fetishized female body parts recur in Tanning’s work, and clothing makes no attempt to cover her chest in this portrait. Additionally, she was key in challenging preconceptions and defining her individual Surrealist style at a time where the critics commonly perceived women artists to have a passive role.

The fantastical bat-like creature has a peculiar timidity and sits beside her bare feet. Instead of appearing demonic, its small scale and stance make it appear vulnerable and creates a sort of pathos in the viewer. I think that it could be a mythological personification of the dark side of her tumultuous mind, and the fragility that perhaps isn't always visible.

Although it was painted around her birthday, the title’s intention was to suggest rebirth from the real into the surreal.

Unlike Tanning’s paintings, which some suggest frequently carry an erotic undertone, despite the title, René Magritte’s ‘The Lovers II’ (1928) is the opposite. This is a companion piece to ‘The Lovers I’ (also 1928) which depicted a man and woman posing for a photograph with white hoods covering their heads, a shocking juxtaposition of the peaceful backdrop of the countryside. However, the latter piece has a darker tone and is much more intimate, exploring the complex theme of ‘surrealist love’.

Supposedly the same couple are yet again the protagonists of this offbeat narrative, still with opaque hoods over their heads, but this time there is an added intimacy of the fact that they appear to be kissing inside a private space. As a viewer, it seems like we've stumbled into a personal moment that we shouldn’t have, but now that we’ve arrived in this room the piece is so transfixing, we can’t leave.

The application of paint is more romantic than some of his other more flatly painted works. There is a realism in Magritte's use of tone, and the chiaroscuro, murky colour palette and dark ambiance lends to the shrouded mystery of it. The enigma is further deepened by the ambiguity of the abstract background; we are given no clues to their backstory. The idiosyncratic contrast of the muted blue and deep, passionate red painted walls perhaps suggests the complexity of their relationship.

Furthermore, their concealed faces mean that they have no perceivable identity, so Magritte calls into question not only individual experience but a collective, universal human narrative. They are archetypes of people, perhaps representing an emotional barrier between everyone, no matter how intimate the relationship. Potentially it is not that they cannot understand each other, but that an onlooker could never truly comprehend the meaning of the connection between strangers. 

The fact that the pair seem to be oblivious to their veils leads me to further believe that it isn’t physical fabric at all, but a manifestation of their emotional state. Although the stance of the man is more dominant, the fact that the fabric is wrapped around his neck makes it feel like he's being strangled by his situation. Additionally, Magritte's compositional decision to include the ceiling adds a sense of claustrophobia.

This painting has now become an iconic image in the time of coronavirus, and surreal as our everyday life is now, it has spawned many imitations, including a masked kiss on a Vogue cover.

 After an era of irreverent and explicit anti-Catholicism, in 1951 Salvador Dalí painted ‘Christ of Saint John of the Cross’. Some have claimed that it is ‘kitsch, shallow, and obvious’, however, others believe that it is the best painting ever produced.

In a “cosmic dream” on ecstasy, Dalí saw that the “nucleus of the atom” was in fact Christ himself. He found this confirmed by a drawing by St John of the Cross, which inspired this painting. The stark, black backdrop of nothingness further illuminates the figure of Jesus.

I think that in this image Dalí is strongly playing with the concept of life after death. Underneath the cross is a lake with two people and a boat, offset by a strikingly expressive sky. A theory that I have is that it's potentially an allusion to the ferryman taking people to the underworld in classic mythology. This can be backed up by his exceptional use of foreshortening - referencing the way that a priest holds out a crucifix for people to kiss when they're on their deathbed - and Dalí's personal interest in mythology.

The lack of details such as sweat and nails takes the suffering out of the image and emphasises the religious belief that the Son of God sacrificed himself because he wanted to, not because he had to.

 All three of these thought-provoking surrealist paintings lead the observer into an unpredictable narrative, and their use of colour, composition and paint application make the unbelievable contents believable, strongly influencing the viewer’s response to the work. Their compelling nature makes it feel as though these paintings are just the surface of a much wider story, an analysis of human psychology: the intense and ungraspable sense of fear and love, driven by the power of the subconscious. Tanning, Magritte and Dalí have all let strangers into their own dreams and nightmares, giving us the rare insight to be a witness to the manifestations of their own internal universe and lending brief escapism from our own.

In conclusion, through trying to understand themselves through Surrealism, perhaps they have handed humanity the key to unlock our own true nature, and why this movement is so treasured is simply because as humans we love to dream.

  Bibliography

Piper, D (2004). The Illustrated History of Art. 5th ed. London: Bounty Books. p422.

Unknown. (2020). SURREALISM. Available: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/s/surrealism. Last accessed 26th Jan 2021.

Feigel, L. (2019). Dangerous appetites: the weird, wild world of Dorothea Tanning. Available: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/feb/08/dangerous-appetites-the-weird-wild-world-of-artist-dorothea-tanning. Last accessed 26th Jan 2021.

Unknown. (2020). Dorothea Tanning Artworks. Available: https://www.theartstory.org/artist/tanning-dorothea/artworks/. Last accessed 28th Jan 2021.

Gilles, N (2000). Dali. Germany: Taschen. p74-75.

Bazan, C. (2017). The Surrealist Love and Bizarre Romance of Rene Magritte. Available: https://musartboutique.com/surrealist-love-rene-magritte/. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.

Unknown. (2020). The Lovers II, 1928 by Rene Magritte. Available: https://www.renemagritte.org/the-lovers-2.jsp. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.