Camille Claudel at Art Institute of Chicago

 A review of Camille Claudel at the Art Institute of Chicago.

Camille Claudel, The Implorer, 1898

When has an art museum ever mounted a show about a single artist and included so many references to his or her  mentor?  Camille  Claudel (1864-1943) worked in the studio of Rodin from 1883 through the early 1890's and a crouching figure by Rodin is shown next to one by Claudel so we may compare them.   Gallery signage tells us that Rodin's is "openly sexualized" while Claudel’s shows "the lived reality of a woman’s body apart from the fantasies of the male gaze". 

Rodin, Crouching Woman, 1882

Openly sexualized? Well , this person is definitely female- but with the pained expression and protective gesture, it’s more like modern dance than male fantasy.  

Camille Claudel, Crouching Woman, 1884-5

Presumably this is less like a male fantasy because the knees are tightly together. But it’s also less like sculpture and more like the record of a model posing.  It does not seize and dynamically organize space  (and by the way, the Rodin piece is poorly lit in this exhibition. The image I’ve shown is from the museum that owns the piece)

For further comparison, you might walk up to the second floor to see two of Rodin’s major  achievements made while  Claudel was in his studio:

Rodin, Jean D'Aire (1889)

 If you don't see how the intensity of this sculpture stands apart from Claudel this review will probably not change your mind.  Every fleshy detail, as well as the piece as a whole, erupts into space with a jolt - as does the profundity of the human experience it dramatically presents.  You are pulled deep beneath the turbulent but organized surface into the inner spirit that generated it.  But to experience that spirit, the viewer must seek it out -   and not just query the character of the person being represented.

Like the French Academy dating all the way back to Charles Le Brun, Claudel is an illustrator of ideas.  Her job was done when you got that idea, could admire the mimesis, and are pleased by the overall design.  Her masterpiece, "The Age of Maturity", depicting herself rejected by Rodin and his lifelong companion, Rose,  is a  "me too" story of sexual exploitation that resonates much more  now than then.  The three life size figures are notably awkward in space - though an upward flying swirl of drapery that might have united the composition was not available to travel to this exhibition.

Camille Claudell, Age of Maturity, 1894-1900

This pastiche is so heavy, sad, awkward, and lugubrious, the missing piece may not have made much difference, but I’ve circled it anyway.  It’s in the Musee Rodin, but it belongs in a Temple of Despair.  

Camille Claudel, Giganti or Head of a Brigand, 1885

Whether or not you want to call Rodin "the father of modern sculpture", he did seem to be at the center of a rising demand for visual art to connect emotion to form rather than just  narrative.     Claudel may have captured the turbulent fluidity of Rodin’s  surface, but beneath it, her work feels shallow, dull and lifeless.  She was still old school - which is not to say that she could not produce  elegant things - especially portraits.  A hundred years later, what was old school in 1890 is new school in 2023 with a renewed emphasis on a politically correct narrative.  (see the review quoted below)

Bourdelle, Despieu, Maillol and the others who led sculpture into the twentieth century may have to wait another hundred years to again be understood and appreciated.

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Professor Frank Geiger, writing in New City, tells us that:

"Claudel’s story strongly resonates with an audience increasingly frustrated by museums celebrating the same tired cohort of white male artists whose canon status prevents their problematic and abusive actions from tarnishing their reputation with the general public"…….  So perhaps it’s finally time to cancel Rodin and throw his works into the dustbin of history —- to be replaced by a woman who "was the finest sculptor of her time, bar none."

Bassim Al Shaker at Rhona Hoffman

 

Bassim Al Shaker, Eruption, 48 x 48

This conflation of fractal geometry with a Rococo garden might well depict atmospheric storms on a planet other than earth. Behold the eruption of beautiful  but deadly shards and  swirls of toxic gases.  It also might illustrate the cover of a science fiction novel —— except there are no human figures.  This is that desolate, inhumane environment  that most of the universe has always been .  It also reflects the middle Eastern war zone in which the Iraqi artist grew up.  As the artist has noted, if you can contemplate  an explosion it means you have survived it, which is a cause for celebration. These pieces do echo the buoyant elation of Fragonard,  of whom Al Shaker is fond.

But still — it depicts a world in which human life has no future.  And so Bassim Al Shaker ( B. 1986, Baghdad ) is an ex-patriot, based currently in Chicago.

Nihilism is a common theme in contemporary art - as well as art based on experiences of war. Al Shaker has been quite meticulous in the rendering of every flying shard and whisp of  colored smoke.  The details approach infinite recession - so a magnifying glass would probably reveal even more.  These paintings  are not momentary expressions of dismay.  They are definitive depictions of humanity’s self inflicted destruction.

"Absolution and Absolution’ is one among a variety of titles suggesting the pieces are going in various directions — but they’re all basically just stuff blowing up.  As the artist tells it, he had to leave Iraq because a gang of religious fanatics discovered his sketches of the Venus de Milo.  Assuming they were good - perhaps he could include some human figures in his next series of visions.  I’d like to see at least a glimmer of hope that humanity has a future - and that being human is important.

Brian Maguire (b. Ireland, 1951)Aleppo, 2023 , 18 x 24

Concurrently, the gallery was also showing this scene of devastation as rendered by an artist who travels the world to view and paint them.  I certainly would not want to live there, but at least someone is trying to make a life amid all the devastation.

No Martins at Mariane Ibrahim

No Martins, "Por Onde Chegamos" and “Day Off’, 2023

A beautiful show of what appears to be wall size poster art for travel agencies — i.e. images of the ideal vacation at the beach. The color is exciting, the design is appealing. There’s a sense of fun and anticipation.  Nothing ominous is lurking beneath the surface.  Life is good. Afro-Brazilian life is good - much like the positive vibe of mid- twentieth century African American artists like Romare Bearden and Jacob Lawrence.

And yet —- the show is titled "Encontros Politicos Part 2".  So what gives?  Is showing dark skinned people enjoying themselves  at a sunny beach some kind of political encounter ?  It certainly is according to text posted on the gallery website:

"By affirming Black Brazilians’ right to pleasure and rest, Martins disturbs the notion of racial democracy, and affirms that a country who believes in order as key to progress, and in the name of order and progress, suppresses liberation, can not and will not support and uplift Black Brazilian humanity. Only by inverting the promise of the nation state - and making freedom the desired outcome (rather than progress) - will Black Brazilians have the possibility to claim, occupy, and negotiate their humanity."

One may also note that not a single White Brazilian can be seen, so apparently these paintings also assert the right of Black Brazilians to have their own segregated beaches all to themselves.  Or maybe not. That’s no less far fetched than associating these paintings with a political philosophy, articulated above, that privileges freedom over order and progress.  Isn’t that the current ideology of America’s ultra-right wing?

Searching online for photos of Brazil’s public beaches,  it was hard to find dark skinned bodies on them.  I’m guessing that the target audience for commercial photography wants young, attractive, white women in bikinis.  But photojournalism, like the above image taken from a Covid news story, is probably closer to a typical scene at a crowded popular beach and unlike Martins’ views, a variety of skin tones is represented.

Renoir, Children on the Beach at Guernsey, 1883, 36" x 26"

Martins, ‘Em Familia, 90 x 78

Kerry Marshall, Past Times, 1997,  114 x 156

Martins (b 1978, Sao Paolo) is much closer to Marshall than to Renoir when it comes to this subject matter. The beach goers almost disappear in  Renoir’s ecstatic vision.  Renoir is all about the viewer’s aesthetic experience, while the other two present figurative narratives.  Marshall’s piece is rather complex.  It has the flat pictorial space and standard recreational activities of a promotional brochure for a resort. But there may be some tension in the family.  Mom and children stare blankly back at the viewer, while dad, if not absent, is tooling around in a speedboat not far from a sleek, athletic, scantily clad young woman on water skis. A banner of puzzling text stretches across the sky, while empty text boxes float in the air.

Martin’s piece is a straightforward depiction of a healthy, happy family playing and relating to each other in an idyllic setting.  The only anxiety here is presented by the title.  Back in America’s WPA era, it would have been commissioned as pro-family public art in a recreational facility.

All of Martin’s paintings present the good life - but a few do point in other directions as well.  A red danger flag is planted in the beach in "Vendedores" , separating a group of young male snack vendors from the ample bottoms of  young women walking into the surf. And a copy of the ghetto diary of Carolina Maria de Jesus  (1914-1977) shares a beach umbrella with three young, vibrant conversationalists in "Talking about Carolina". Just as with this entire exhibit, social justice is their topic - but mostly they’re just having fun.

Martins, Talk about Carolina

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New City has published has published its typical echo-chamber review of social grievance art. It articulates and applauds the complaint allegedly being made and ignores painterly qualities and effects.  No comparisons are made to any art past or present - even regarding ideology.  Helpfully, however, it does point out that the motto on the flag in "Continuidade" differs from that on the flag of Brazil - making that point about freedom that I discussed above. 

It’s a stretch to conclude that "Martins’ work boldly confronts the entrenched racism and classism permeating society".  It’s the associated text that boldly confronts these issues - not the paintings.