Total Work of Awe
Who is a man that might be an artist? Is it necessary for us to know one to understand the other? And what do the surroundings of where they’re inspired and work say about them as a whole? Like the transformative book by Lawrence Weschler on Robert Irwin, must one forget the name of the thing one sees to truly understand the work as a whole?
Do any of us remember February of 2020?What we were doing? Where we were? In February of 2020 I was on an international work trip, where around a table of internationally based salespeople, the topic of discussion was a virus that was spreading through China and shutting down borders in close proximity to the Asian nation. Shortly, there afterwards I was in San Francisco, where the air was changing: less people populated the downtown streets and an ominous feeling pulsated throughout, like something monumental was about to happen.
In the February 16, 2020 issue of the New York Times Magazine, Karl Ove Knausgaard wrote a profile on the German artist Anselm Kiefer. I remember reading it and being completely transfixed by the subject. At the same time as I understood Kiefer, I didn’t, so I went hunting,delving deep into the internet to find whatever I could about him. An exercise in futility I must say, because other than his art and the basics of his personal history there is no way of knowing Anselm Kiefer. And I loved him more for it. It is my strong belief that the personal must be kept separate from the professional yet must bleed covertly across the canvas. Kiefer is an elusive man, frustratingly so for Knausgaard, yet refreshingly so to me. In this age where a person’s private life, whether they be celebrated or not, is required viewing for the unknown masses, it’s refreshing to have someone who remains a mystery. Could that be the reason why his work is hypnotic? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Everyone knows Egon Schiele, the instant catnip along with Gustav Klimt for any museum exhibition. With his portrait sas the every day man’s basic art lexicon, his landscapes are a connoisseurs appeal. In his short life, Egon Schiele showed more of himself than I suspect Anselm Kiefer ever will, a point that might speak to his accessibility. Yet both these men--and I’m using that denotation on purpose rather than artist—were raised by the nature that surrounded them. A nature of trees, sunflowers and meadows that prove an extension of their selves. To spend an extended period of time in the Sprachraum is to understand man’s intended relationship with nature. As much as it is around you, it becomes apart of you. From the glorious mountains to the moody lakes to the enchanting forests, Germany, Austria and Switzerland possess some of the most extraordinary examples of God’s creative mastery. Schiele painted landscapes that were nothing more than extensions of his portraits. Within them he incorporated the contortionisms of the human body, windy, bendy and edgy like the Danube; another exploration of man in his truest state. From dust you have come, to dust you shall return. I love being naked more than the normal person, but the German’s take it to the next level, a habit attributed to the naturist movement where nudity and nature are symbiotic.
Schiele both exposed himself as a man and artist through his depiction of people and nature, whereas Kiefer uses nature in much the same way I think he uses people.Born in the mystical Black Forest, Kiefer’s most well-known pieces are those of desolate, bleak landscapes, scarred by barbwire and dying flora. Scholarship argues that Kiefer’s oeuvre’s are commentaries on post WWII Germany, and I’ll agree that during the time of his Occupation actions, that would be true. But ashe’s evolved as an artist his work has focused more and more on large pieces and installations that incorporate natural surroundings. From lead, to sticks,to discarded clothing and paraphernalia, his work takes it all in, in much the same way nature does him.
This week I watched Wim Wender’s film Anselm. It’s beautiful. Almost too beautiful. So much so that you wonder what it’s hiding. The answer comes as the closing credits roll: the artist is missing. Elusive as ever, Anselm Kiefer allows a film to be made about him that gives nary a glimpse of who he really is.After days of letting the images, words and reenactments settle in, I asked myself if I was okay with having watched what amounted to nothing more than a private art show. A resounding ‘yes!’ is the answer I got. I’ve come to the conclusion that what was missing was always there.
Gesamtkunswerk is a term birthed by Richard Wagner. A concept as loaded as it’s creator, that we’ll have to wait for another entry to delve completely into. It means total work of art. The encapsulation of all artistic disciplines to create one magnus opus. Kiefer embodies this term more than anyone living. He lives and works in a vast workshop on the outskirts of Paris, where he literally lives and breathes creating. Prior to Croissy he lived on 200 acres in the south of France where he created the truest living work of art I’ve ever seen (on screen). Built with no architectural or engineering consultation, in Barjac he erected buildings and sculptures that blend seamlessly into the natural surroundings. Yes, I know tree’s don’t grow in the form of dresses, but who are you to tell me that white cast flowing gowns, with roots and branches sprouting out them haven’t been there since the dawn of time.With la Ribaute no longer Kiefer’s main workshop, the intention is for nature to slowly but surely take over the site where he spent countless hours creating his own universe. From ashes we were made, to ashes shall we return.
The pandemic, at least for me, forced me to come to terms with who I am and how I engage with the environment around me. I live in New York City without a car, so access to the woods is limited. I am blessed to live beside Riverside Park, a natural sanctuary that brought me respite during those first months of lockdown. It never ceases to amaze me that in this megalopolis of synapse breaking activity,a pocket of a park exists where the silence of the natural world can be briefly experienced. Even now, when I walk the Mookie monster, I exhale in the presence of changing leaves with gratitude. As much as I hate to admit it I am--or at least was--a part of my surroundings. I am a New Yorker whether I like it or not, and I’ll carry that stench with me no matter where I live on this great earth.This apple has broken me, pulverized my dreams and forced me to reconstruct.You can never truly become part of the New York landscape, it’s a rock and the concrete is too hard to become porous, but you can learn to move with it,ducking and diving at the blows is throws you. Once you understand that this environment can never be conquered, your self begins to form. Then it’s up to you to figure out the next steps; To stay or continue creating. Those two months of lockdown allowed me to create and complete my first original piece. I went around the world and made myself whole, but had to come back to New York to create another piece. Personally, this city is hell for me. Professionally, the constant noise forces me to focus and compose. Soon, I’ll have to decide whether I’ll forgo my self for my craft, and I sadly do not know which path I’ll take.
I am an artist. Never in my wildest dreams didI think I’d ever call myself one, but much like Kiefer, Schiele and countless others, I find inspiration in the inexplicable wonderment that is our natural surroundings. To be in the presence of trees, mountains and lakes that have been there before I existed and will be after my end, is a revelation that brings perspective. It informs me as both a woman and artist; poking and prodding me to think clearer, be kinder, and remain present. You cannot lie with nature,there are no prevarications. What you see is what you get, and you better be prepared for all that it will give you, both the good and the bad. I always suspected it, but never really wanted to admit it, but nature is the total work of art, not us.
Photo credit: Getty Images
