Catherine Rutgers, Untitled, 1976, pages 54-56.
I’m thinking of myself now as blood (life) gently contained, and the concept is so simple yet mystical, invigorating, I tingle and flush. No, it’s not mystical at all, it’s very real, it is what I am, blood under quiet control; this structure is so complex, but the principle (my skin, soft and flexible, as a container for spirit just as readily as corpuscles) it’s an approach to myself, a way of understanding, really an example of how to treat the frightening things. A covering (an ordering) that is structured and flexible, it doesn’t fully hide anything, but makes it possible to relate to anything else, just as the grid in the Gottlieb sets up the basis for the parts of the canvas to relate to the whole.
Any painting of a crucifixion also demonstrates the power of this concept. It is a subject that has held the imagination of artists for centuries, stimulating expression over and over. A most horrifying image: a body bent, bent and broken, pierced, forced to conform to a rigid intersection of right angles, straight lines.
Grünewald’s “Resurrection” (detail) 1512-1516, oil on wood, at the Musée d’Unterlinden, Colmar, France
The bodily suffering is already unbearable, and then to see it stretched … this is the power of bent geometry without temperance; a human body restricted to mathematics, the tension has got to be gruesome. This is the opposite of geometry restructured, altered to accept curves, skin, human dimensions. A skeleton is a fragile, interior rigidity (structure). A cross is exterior: the shape of the body made [unnaturally, viciously] straight.
I consider the Isenheim Altarpiece by Grünewald to be the most beautiful crucifixion-resurrection. (1) The satisfaction comes from the liberation from horror. A man dying, his body covered with sores of disease, becomes a risen, floating lord, full of color, curves, gentle, bright robes; the release from wooden structure, earth, the rational into air and light, the illogical belief. This illustrates the concept of life after death marvelously, a realistic representation using the most basic formal elements of abstraction – taut lines changing into flowing curves, dark tones to bright colors – to create an effect of symbolic significance.
Threnody was painted in 1973 by Cleve Gray, who explains that he used a combination of geometry and motion. Within a structure of panels, he set figures in a mourning dance. This piece is architectural in size and form; the artist conceives of it as a cathedral, calling one wall the apse. (2) The installation creates an atmosphere that few rooms can equal. Gray has achieved all of his intentions. He was concerned with social issues (notably Vietnam); with the technical problems of creating such a large piece that is also movable; with creating an environment; and, implicitly, with ancient ritual (the dance).
Cleve Gray (1918-2004) “Threnody” 1972-73, acrylic on canvas, 28 panels: 240 x 110 inches (6 panels), 240 x 103 inches (22 panels). Friends of the Neuberger Museum of Art, Purchase College, State University of New York, Collection. Gift of the artist with support from Friends of the Museum. Photo by Evelyn Hofer. www.neuberger.org/exhibitions/past/view1/142.html?width=660&height=500
I have spent many hours sitting in this gallery, watching the dancers, feeling their course. After getting in touch with the depths, the primitive, the sorrowful, one can face such feelings, deal with mourning and then rise to build from there.
This is one reason why the study of art can be so important. Paintings like these show a serious problem, illustrate a question, and lead to an answer. Through their power, they change me, move my mind, push my pulse. Through the creation of mood, beauty, or the posing of a question, through seriousness, deepness or the frivolous and ironic, paintings affect me. I look, then I am different. And the most successful paintings combine many sensations and elements – Threnody includes color, movement, shape, emotion – initiating a response and stimulating my own expression.
(1) ibiblio.org is the Grünewald image source. For the fuller picture and much more information, visit the Musée d’Unterlinden website.
(2) The number’s there – 55, clear as day – but there is no endnote in the original thesis. My best guess at this point is the catalog for Threnody, Neuberger Museum, 1975. For a series of photos, and statements by the artist, see www.clevegray.com/threnodyhome.htm
Catching glimpses of Mr. Gray at work on Threnody was an unbelievably lucky experience. When it was complete, I was often the only person in the gallery. Marvelous.
Original art and text by Catherine Rutgers © 2012
Grünewald’s Resurrection and Gray’s Threnody presented for educational purposes only. The image directly above is a handwritten section of my thesis in 1976. “Enviggorating” inexplicable, but yes! There is no spell check in a pen. Perhaps that’s part of the beauty.
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The power take me deep, the motion: watch me dance / let me crawl / let me rise / let me hide.
And other ephemera range through my life, you far-reaching creatures, you ravishing individuals, and all-ways shifting beauties. Snagged on the crag, when least expected.
Dear Dada,
It began late last August: the campaign to make compost. First, there was a neglected pile of garden stuff, left in a heap all summer long. Greenish and soggy and hard to pull apart, but I did. And it was fun in the most satisfying way. As the season got colorful, I walked through the neighborhood and found one lawn covered in yellow, one in red. I took large canvas bags and filled them, carried them home. I picked up seed pods on the avenue, and neighbors brought their kitchen scraps.
