Art
Cath Pound
Caspar David Friedrich Wandering on the sea of fog, the year 1817. © SHK / Hamburger Kunsthalle / bpk. Photo by Elke Walford. Courtesy of Hamburger Kunsthalle.
Caspar David Friedrich Chalk Cliffs in Rügen, 1818. © Photo: SIK ISEA, Zurich Philipp Hitz. Courtesy of the Hamburger Kunsthalle
by Caspar David Friedrich The Wanderer Over the Sea of Mist (ca. 1817), his enigmatic figure standing on a rock surveying the misty landscape before him, is an icon of the Romantic art movement. The painting is so well-known that it is perhaps difficult for us to understand how innovative it was when it was produced, as it broke with traditional representational models.
Friedrich’s new forms of landscape painting surprised and intrigued contemporary audiences, and yet, as a new show—”Caspar David Friedrich: Art for a New Age” at Hamburg’s Kunsthalle explores—artists today are still taking notice. are his innovative way of seeing. world. The show is one of several in Germany celebrating the 250th anniversary of Friedrich’s birth this year: Berlin’s Alte Nationalgalerie will show “Caspar David Friedrich: Infinite Landscapes,” a promising extensive retrospective, from April 19-Aug. between 4 It will be followed by “Caspar David Friedrich: Where it All Started” at Dresden’s Albertinum and Kupferstich-Kabinett, from August 24, 2024 to January 5, 2025, which will explore how Dresden and its surroundings inspired him. his work
Caspar David Friedrich Meadows near Greifswald, 1821–22. © Hamburger Kunsthalle / bpk. Photo by Elke Walford. Courtesy of the Hamburger Kunsthalle
Friedrich was born in Greifswald, Swedish Pomerania, now part of Germany, in 1774, and came of age in the Romantic era, which worshiped the beauty of nature and elevated human emotion above reason. His vast, mysterious and deeply atmospheric landscapes and seascapes were a very unique response to the ideals of the time.
After creating detailed sketches of flowers, stones or trees, he inserted them into landscapes drawn from his memories. “The landscapes are not topographically precise, but the singular aspects are very precise. This is something special,” said Johannes Grave, co-curator of the Kunsthalle exhibition.
However, Friedrich’s specific intentions have divided critics. “There is no complete agreement about what Friedrich had in mind. Some people think it’s about religion, others about politics,” explained Grave. However, one thing that seems certain is his desire to evoke emotion in those who saw his painting. In the same Observations made while viewing a collection of paintingsAround 1830, he wrote that “great merit, perhaps the greatest thing an artist can do, is when he touches the spirit and awakens thoughts, feelings and emotions in the viewer, even if they are not his own”.
Caspar David Friedrich The sea of ice, 1823–24. © Hamburger Kunsthalle / bpk Photo by Elke Walford. Courtesy of Hamburger Kunsthalle
Its repeated use Back figures-images that turn their backs on the viewer, so that their expression is hidden – can be seen as a means of encouraging this. “They invite us to think about what it means to see,” Grave said.
Friedrich’s work reached the height of its popularity in the 1810s, but by the 1820s it was no longer neglected. “He was criticized for always doing the same thing and being dark and melancholic,” Grave said. The sea of ice (1823–24), with its monumental slabs of ice rising aggressively from the frozen sea, seems to be of particular concern to the contemporary viewer.
An exhibition in 1906 revived interest in his work, but an unfortunate association with the Nazis—Friedrich was apparently Hitler’s favorite painter—caused a huge backlash in the years after World War II. Its popularity did not recover until the 1970s, when it was rehabilitated by the great exhibitions in Dresden and Hamburg. “From the 1970s onwards it became an important part of German cultural memory,” Grave said.
Swaantje Guntzel, arctic yogurt, 2021. Photo by Jan Philip Scheibe. Courtesy of the artist / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2024.
Today, contemporary artists find inspiration on many levels in Friedrich’s work. His explorations of the individual and his relationship with nature are a starting point for many artists who are dealing with our confused relationship with the natural world in the age of climate change.
Various artists refer to Friedrich Back figures, placing contemporary images away from the viewer in frozen landscapes. But instead of being stunned by what they see before them, these figures casually participate in its destruction. For example, in Swaantje Güntzel’s photo series “Arctic Yogurt” (2021), a woman throws a plastic cup into a sparkling fjord, highlighting how our careless attitude towards the disposal of plastic waste is polluting the hitherto untouched Arctic.
Julian Charrière, Entropic Stories of Blue Fossils III2013. © Julian Charrière / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2023. DITTRICH & SCHLECHT-RIEM, Berlin.
Julian Charrière’s series “The Blue Fossil Entropic Stories” (2013) is even more aggressive in depicting the environment destroyed by human hands. The artist, as a miniature figure, can be seen trying to melt an iceberg with a gas torch, a stark illustration of the disappearance of ice due to human-caused global warming.
For the rest, Olafur Eliasson’s Color experiment no. 86 (2019) distills the evocation of Friedrich’s mood into an abstract form by transforming the color spectrum. The sea of ice into a terrible wheel.
Although Friedrich was unique for his time, he still represents the white canon of male-dominated Western art history, offering artists an opportunity for criticism. “By referring to it you can question this canon and comment on the exclusions that are part of it,” says Grave.
Elina Brotherus, The Wanderer 22004. © Elina Brotherus / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2023. Courtesy of Hamburger Kunsthalle.
Elina Brotherus, for example, places herself and others in photographic interpretations the walker to combat its masculine and heroic connotation and encourage a shared experience of nature with the viewer. In The Wanderer 2 (2004) “The New Painting” series artist photographed himself in a long blue coat and sneakers, more relaxed and contemplative than his original pose.
Kehinde Wiley in his “Prelude” series takes a similar approach to highlight how people of color have been marginalized or excluded from Western art. In Prelude (Babacar Mané) (2021), a young black man is in the same place with the crowns the walkerMeanwhile Prelude (Ibrahima Ndiaye and El Hadji Malick Gueye) (2021), two figures are placed in Friedrich’s landscape Chalk Cliffs in Rügen (about 1818). But while the subjects of the original turned their backs on the viewer, Wiley has turned one of his characters to look the viewer in the eye.
Kehinde Wiley, Prelude (Ibrahima Ndiaye and El Hadji Malick Gueye), 2021. © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of the artist and Stephen Friedman Gallery, London.
David Claerbout, Forest fire (fire meditation), 2019-20. © VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2023. Courtesy of the artist and Kunstmuseum Bonn.
These works fail to evoke “thoughts, feelings and emotions” in the viewer, which Friedrich believed any great work of art should do. After 250 years, his approach is as valid as ever and, given the subject matter of the artists he inspired, perhaps even more vital.