When Modernism First Moved

Modernism first moved on May 29, 1913. That’s century-old hyperbole, of course, but if any date achieves day of infamy status for modern art in the 20^th century, it’s the day that Russian composer Igor Stravinsky teamed up with Russian ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his Ballets Russes company to stage Le Sacre du printemps, or, in English, The Rite of Spring. Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, 1909–1929: When Art Danced with Music, now at the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, returns to that cataclysmic moment when modernism became an unavoidable reality for the mainstream public, which had done its level best to ignore it previously. Multimedia in its combination of music, dance, and artistic design, The Rite of Spring and other productions by the Ballet Russes helped modernism move beyond the fringe to the center of Western culture ever since. Please come over to Picture This at Big Think to read more of "When Modernism First Moved." 

[Many thanks to the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, for the image above and other press materials related to Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, 1909–1929: When Art Danced with Music, which runs through September 2, 2013.]

Calling All Angels

The idea of war as a thrilling, almost religious force is often associated with men, but it was a woman, Russian avant-garde artist Natalia Goncharova, who created one of the first visionary works of art celebrating World War I. Born June 16, 1881, Goncharova has been dubbed by some as one of the "Amazons of the avant-garde" and, like her mythical namesake, didn’t hesitate to join the fray when nationalist heat reached fever pitch in 1914. Goncharova’s print A Christ Loving Host (above, from 1914) belongs to a suite of fourteen prints she titled Mystical Images of War. Russia and many other countries in the Great War saw it as an opportunity to wage holy war in the name of their faith (with God, of course, “on their side”). Led by the Russian Minister of Religion, the Russian Orthodox church worked with the Russian military to persecute Jews, Muslims, and Catholics in Russia and neighboring areas such as Poland and the Ukraine. Whether Goncharova was aware of this persecution is unclear, but there’s nothing unclear about her faith in the justness and even holiness of the Russian cause in the war as she places angels literally on the shoulders of soldiers marching into war. The simplicity of these prints illustrates their public nature as they were meant to advertise to the public why they needed to support the war if they wanted to be part of the “Christ-loving host,” too.

The Order of the White Eagle is a Polish medal of honor, but the Russian Tsars adopted the white eagle as a symbol for themselves as well. In another of her Mystical Images of War, Goncharova depicts The White Eagle (above, from 1914) swooping down and defeating a darker, more sinister bird in metaphorical combat. Adopting a totem animal such as the white eagle is part of Goncharova’s plan to use the myth and folklore of Russia itself to add symbolic weight to her modernist techniques. The slashing lines of her birds’ wings and talons convey a sense of the violence and speed of the fight. There’s a great sense of energy in this print, which is meant to thrill the viewer and incite participation in the war. The beginning of World War I in Russia saw a renaissance of the popular print broadside form known as the “lubki.” Although Goncharova works in the rarified air of the fine arts, her Mystical Images of War simultaneously get down in the streets with the people, whipping them into a frenzy to become avenging birds of prey as well.

Goncharova was well aware of the art movements prevailing in Europe at the advent of the war. In 1912, she exhibited with Der Blaue Reiter in Germany and corresponded with Kandinsky. She painted many works similar to those of the Italian Futurists that resembling the work of Umberto Boccioni and Giacomo Balla. Goncharova’s Angels and Aeroplanes (above, from 1914) may be the most Italian Futurist of the Mystical suite, pairing the heavenly with the hellish instruments of war. She called her brand of Futurism Rayonism for the stylized rays radiating out in the images as well as radiating out a message to the masses of war and technology as a hope for the future. The angels’ wings spread out in Angels and Aeroplanes both in a protective fashion and to echo the wings of the planes, as if the planes were God’s instruments on Earth. Aside from being a fascinating document of the Russian avant-garde, Goncharova’s Mystical Images of War is a rare work of fine art celebrating war done by a top-notch artist rather than a propagandist hack. For someone as intelligent and sensitive as Goncharova to be swept up in the apocalyptic war mania, the impulse to call all angels into the service of her country’s cause must have been irresistable.

Tempted by an Apple

When Natalia Goncharova’s painting Picking Apples (above, from 1909) sold for £4,948,000 (or $9,801,988 USD) at Christie’s London in 2007, setting a record for a female artist, the New York Sun, along with a lot of other people, asked “Who Was Natalia Goncharova?” Born June 16, 1881, Goncharova mixed with some of the greatest figures of the avant-garde of early twentieth century Russia and Paris not only in painting and sculpture but also in visual arts and ballet set design. Unfortunately, as some of those names lived on in popular memory, such as Pablo Picasso and Sergei Diaghilev, Goncharova’s name faded, slipping into the shadows as just another Cubist or just another Futurist not worth top-tier status by talent (or, perhaps, by gender). For once, the fact that money talks does some good, giving Goncharova a voice once again to be heard. The beautiful blues, violets, and greens of Picking Apples along with the primal, Cubist modeling of the women announce Goncharova as a unique visionary of that vibrant period.

Like so many others, Goncharova lapped up the new Cubist ways of seeing reality. Her decorative bent, however, kept her from the dour browns of Cubism ala Picasso and Georges Braque. That love of color and energy led her to Cubism’s child—Futurism. The Cyclist (above, from 1913) holds up nicely with the best work of the Italian Futurists such as Umberto Boccioni . Goncharova and the Russian Futurists shared a fascination with the new world of mechanized speed that, sadly, led the Italian Futurists into the gaping maw of World War I, which literally killed off the movement in Italy. Along with her husband Mikhail Larionov, Goncharova organized the 1912 Donkey's Tail exhibition that brought modern European art to Russian and returned the favor by exhibiting with countryman Wassily Kandinsky and the Der Blaue Reiter in Germany that same year. Such internationalism makes Goncharova a pivotal figure of the period.

Between the wars, Goncharova and Larionov continued to pursue their unique brand of abstraction, which they called Rayonism. In Composition with Trees (above, from the early 1920s), Goncharova straddles the worlds of Cubism and pure abstraction, not yet ready to let go of reality entirely. While in Paris, Goncharova’s talents helped set the stage for Diaghilev's Ballets Russes, providing visuals to accompany the ground-breaking ballet repertoire. Americans Gerald Murphy and Sara Murphy sought out Goncharova and asked to assist her in painting sets, which soon became the springboard from which Gerald developed his own take on Synthetic Cubism (see more about him here). In the long, overly masculine history of modern European art, it’s nice to see some space finally given to Natalia Goncharova and her work. Now that some tastemakers have noticed her (and put their money where their mouth is), it’ll be interesting to see if they can’t resist more than one bite from the apple.