Anselm Kiefer unveils new monumental paintings that resurrect ancient mythology Review of the exhibition in Pantin
By Guy Boyer
At over 80 years old, the German artist has chosen a surprising theme: nymphs, those creatures of Antiquity, half-human, half-divine, living in the heart of nature. Here, in a new series, he offers his vision of ancient nymphaea, those verdant places that conceal nymphs and other mythological figures. Interestingly, he adds contemporary buildings with gilded windows or textured mountains reminiscent of Gustave Courbet. The Nymphäum exhibition comprises 20 paintings, including two immense folding screens [...]
The entire ensemble is monumental, of great power, exciting in its nods to an academic art history (William Bouguereau) which one would not necessarily expect from the painter.
In Antiquity and the Renaissance, a nymphaeum was a secluded place, the imaginary abode of nymphs. With its rockeries, grotto-like vegetation, and water features, it combines nature and architecture. Anselm Kiefer takes up this motif and adapts it to the contemporary era. A tangle of vines, flowering bushes, and trees covers the surface of his immense canvases, from which faces emerge. Sometimes, it is modern buildings that pierce the vegetation. [...]
Whether Iphigenia is head-up or Clytie is head-down, the female figure emerging from the modern facades fascinates with her poise. From the network of branches that crisscross the canvas and the background of sun-reflecting glass, she gazes fixedly at us, like an apparition. It is interesting to note that these contemporary buildings have replaced the ruins of postwar Germany that occupied a large part of Kiefer's work in the 1990s. The nymphs and the modern buildings also serve as a way of questioning the survival of our civilization and the power of memory.
Looking at Anselm Kiefer’s large canvases, several references to art history emerge. In front of the large formats populated by nymphs, one thinks of Arnold Böcklin (The Isle of the Dead). Facing the gold backgrounds, Gustav Klimt comes to mind. Reading Corinna Thierolf's text in the catalogue, one finds these same cultivated allusions, to which she adds the orthogonal lines of Piet Mondrian, the oxidized paintings of Andy Warhol, and Edvard Munch’s The Scream in connection with the painting Smilax.
In a captivating array of blues punctuated by dark patches and golden glints, a lake of vast depths takes shape. On the water's surface appears a white form, initially mistaken for a frog. This creature metamorphoses into a female figure, like a reclining fairy striking the pose of the 'hysterics' of the Salpêtrière. The paint, applied with brushes, splashes, or scrapes, captivates with its thickness and the traces left by the artist's dynamic gestures.
[Translated from French]
