3 Paintings That Changed the Way I Look At Art
October 28, 2024
Sometimes, visual art has the power to leave a lasting mark on one’s memory.
Here are three paintings that stand out for me, profoundly shaping my perspective on art in the process.
Each of the works has its own special potency, but perhaps a common thread is the directness of their communication. None of them procrastinate on the edges of expression, but instead step forward with a powerful immediacy.
Crucifixion Diptych by Rogier van der Weyden
This striking pair of paintings was made by the Netherlandish painter Rogier van der Weyden in the 15th century. They are unusual for this time for being so pared-down in their composition and so graphically lucid.
Typically in a crucifixion painting we’d expect to see a landscape representing the hill of Golgotha, with Christ on the cross flanked by the two thieves executed on either side of him. Crowds of mourners would normally be stationed at the foot of the cross.
This image is radically changed. The artist has replaced the landscape with an austere stone wall. The sky above is black. The hill of Golgotha is a simple undulation of green mossy grass layered over rocks.
Most of all, it is the red banners that elevate the image. Their scarlet brilliance hints at the violence of the moment, but also turn the whole event into something elegant and contemplative.
On the right, barefooted Saint John the Evangelist holds the Virgin Mary as she collapses in distress at her son’s ordeal. Their pale robes, with all their crisp folds and tucks, emerge with an almost pearlescent quality against the bright red.
One detail I particularly like is how the red banners bear the creases of having once been folded and then unravelled over the lip of the walls. The subtle grid left behind only adds to the geometric simplicity of the whole painting.
It’s not known how the two images were originally intended to be arranged, whether they were meant as the outside wings of an altarpiece or perhaps as part of a larger scheme of multiple paintings.
Nonetheless, the two panels emphasise much less on the dramatic narrative of the Crucifixion and much more a contemplative response to the “idea” of sacrifice.
In this respect, the painting has much in common with the monastic fresco paintings of Fra Angelico at San Marco in Florence. Indeed, it is thought that Van der Weyden’s diptych may have been intended as a devotional work, possibly for a local Carthusian monastery.
Manet’s portrait of Berthe Morisot
Very few paintings I know of possess the clarity of expression that this painting achieves.
What makes it especially interesting is that the image seems to hover there, perpetually emerging out of the loosely paint marks, always in a state of becoming or materialising.
The image is a portrait of the artist Berthe Morisot wearing black — possibly in mourning dress — holding a small bouquet of violets in front of her chest.
Manet and Morisot were close friends and he painted her numerous times (and Morisot would later marry one of Manet’s brothers). This version is one of his most successful portraits of Morisot — in fact, it is perhaps one of the best paintings that Manet ever made.
The energy in a her face seems possessed of a confident inquisitiveness that is neither overtly bold nor too timid.
Her eyes are large — and one senses that thoughts are turning behind them.
One of the reasons the painting works, I think, is because of the background, which judging from the visible texture of the brushmarks was added after the initial portrait was painted (you can see how the whitish backdrop has been “filled in” around Morisot’s head).
This off-white backdrop seems to suggest light from a window or an open door, or even a mirror, and always gives me a sense of the streets of a city beyond — the slightest suggestion of a life in full flow in a modern Paris.
Self-Portrait With Model by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner
If the Manet portrait succeeds because of its economical colour scheme, then this painting achieves for the opposite reason.
Painted by the German Expressionist Ernst Ludwig Kirchner in 1910, it is a vivacious, even vainglory portrayal of the artist with his model.
What I enjoy about the painting is how Kirchner declares his artistic credence with various audacious motifs: not only a paintbrush in one hand and a palette in the other, but also a pipe dangling from his mouth, huge dark eyes and a pair of provocative pink lips.
Most of all, it’s his unflinching orange-and-blue robe (beneath which he appears to be naked) that seems to announce his presence to the viewer.
Behind Kirchner, his model perches on the corner of a bed. She looks in his direction, wearing a pale blue undergarment with pantaloons adorned with pink ribbons that echo the same pink tone as his lips.
I think it’s clear that Kirchner is consciously performing his role as an artist, boldly asserting his liberty to paint models who may also be his lovers and to present the fact in undiluted terms.
It is a painting that refuses to linger on the peripheries of expression. This dauntless quality somehow confirms wild optimism along with a degree of confrontation, boldly engaging the viewer and conveying its intended message with forthright vibrancy.
If you liked this, you may also be interested in my book Great Paintings Explained, an examination of some of the most beautiful objects in art history.
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