OPA!!!

This Friday the Kemper Art Museum will be opening a new show in the Garen Gallery, a temporary exhibition space. The exhibition is called Frederick Hartt and American Abstraction in the 1950s, and includes artworks purchased for the collection while Hartt was the curator of Washington University's art collection. He acquired artworks by many big name artists, including Jackson Pollack and Willem de Kooning. The purpose of the exhibition is to relate to a modern audience the importance of Hartt's contributions to the university's collections, with a specific focus on how he expanded the museum's holdings in American modernist artworks. This being the case, I was surprised to learn that in this exhibition of American artists they decided to throw a Greek into the mix. And not just any Greek, but The Greek. In 1952 Hartt purchased The Resurrection by Doménikos Theotokópoulos, better known to his Spanish contemporaries and modern art historians as El Greco. Try to say Doménikos Theotokópoulos three times fast and you'll understand why.

The Resurrection is a painting I have been lucky enough to spend some time with. I first saw it as the framed canvas rested on wooden blocks, leaning back against its future position on the wall. In this location I had to squat down to get my eyes to the appropriate viewing level. While standing, my focus was entirely on the figure of Christ and his billowing white banner and red cape. Once closer to the ground, the panicking soldiers strewn about the bottom of the composition dominated my attention. A whole series of men, wearing what appears to be ethereal layers of blue, red, or yellow hues meant to suggest garments, writhe and reach up for the ascending Christ as he transcends the earthly plane. Christ himself is naked, with the exception of a strategically placed fold in the waving banner in order to ensure the painting got a PG-13 rating. The only elements of costume that appear solid are two silver military helmets; one plumed piece of headgear whose wearer appears absorbed in thought (perhaps still asleep) and oblivious to the miraculous action which has struck his compatriots, and another non-plumed helmet that barely catches the eye as a falling flash between the torso and arm of the lower-most, central figure in yellow as he is knocked backwards. All figures depicted have exaggerated and elongated bodies and limbs, a stylistic approach to the human form that El Greco is famous for. The thighs and calves on Christ alone are enough to inspire the envy of the most obsessively dedicated body builder. It's the kind of painting you just keep staring at because all of that uneven, taunt, misshapen, and unrealistic imagery forms a picture that actually makes perfect sense in the space that it occupies and we want to be absorbed into that space because it is just so beautiful.


Once I had resurfaced from my absorption with the painting a certain question hit me right in the face: what is this figurative European painting doing in an exhibition of American abstract artworks? Seemingly, this 16th and 17th century artist has no connection to American vanguard artists of the mid-twentieth century. The only connection between the artworks appeared to be the man who collected them, Frederick Hartt. But a little research cleared up this question right away. El Greco was listed by many prominent 20th century artists as an essential source of inspiration, including Pablao Picasso and Jackson Pollack. So while El Gerco dates from a much earlier and more allegorical period his artworks captivated and closed the gap of centuries between himself and the modern artists featured in the exhibition. I feel the attraction of 20th century artists to this famous Greek was best explained by the English artist and art critic Roger Fry when he stated, "[El Greco is] an old master who is not merely modern, but actually appears a good many steps ahead of us, turning back to show us the way."

It might seem an odd placement at first, but a little more research into modern artists' and art historians' reactions to the cannon of El Greco makes his presence in this exhibition crucial. I will go so far as to say that he has had just as important an impact on modern art and abstraction as Paul Cézanne. I think Frederick Hartt knew this and it is one of the major reasons why he acquired the painting for Washington University.

Whew, what a revelation. It makes me thirsty. Ouzo anyone?

What do you think of El Greco and his impact on modern vanguard artists? Do you have a favorite El Greco that you would like to share and discuss?