Egon Schiele: Eros and
Passion,
by Klaus Albrecht Schröder*
This book is about the infamous Austrian
artist, Egon Schiele, a friend and
student of Klimt, who wrestled with the precepts of pre-war Bourgeois
morality and the desolation of the ensuing war. The book itself begins
rather prosaically with biographical notes about the artist who was born
in
1890 in the sprawling mulitnational state of the Austro-Hungarian empire.
Yet somewhat strangely for a book about an artist that throughout his
life
was interested in the connection between eros, passion, death and the
sacred, and at one stage painted pregnant and diseased women, as well
as the
dismembered or truncated nude self-portraits of his later years, it makes
no
mention of the fact that his father died of syphillis, which was passed
on
to Schiele's mother and caused the death of a number of his siblings at
an
early age. Maybe this omission is because Schröder attempts to wrest
his
study away from the obvious psycho-analytical treatments that it has been
subject to in the past, and develop an appreciation of the man and his
work,
very much through the art itself. In so doing the author has written an
argument that is as complex and challenging as the graphic, at times
disturbing, but always evocative, works themselves.
Schiele himself was captivated by
the figure of the sick artist, something
that appears in the mangled, dislocated and in some cases putrifying bodies
of the artist's self-portraiture. These paintings are a move away from
the
artist's illustrations of women where the study is of what we might now
see
as a more conventional erotic sexual subject, but in fact was original
and
challenging for the Vienna of the time. They involve less the sense of
decay
and death, obviously greatly influenced by the First World War, that
permeates his later work, depicting as it does, shadows of death behind
moribund emaciated figures. Indeed Schröder goes a long way towards
explaining the uniqueness of these themed paintings. In both cases Schiele
is concerned with voicing something of the repressed, hidden and
unrepresentable elements of human life. Hence the graphic sexual poses
of
the nudes and semi-nudes through which, by forcing eye contact between
them
and the viewer, Schiele manages to convey his own complicity with the
subject. The artist fragments his subject, but does so knowingly and with
desire. This fragmentation is clearer in the contorted expressive art
of his
self-portraits, where ugliness is used to cloud the established unity
between beauty and moral perfection. The moral bankrupcy of these images
reflect the soulless and hollow pretensions of art abstracted from the
truths of human suffering, disease and pain, and a society contorted by
its
own embarressed and repressed desire.
Eros and Passion contains a plethora
of images of Schiele's work, spanning
the active years of his short life. The written parts are not really more
than essay length, which is a pity as although Schröder is not the
most
accessible writer, he treats the subject matter in a sensible manner,
aware
perhaps that the shame and hypocrisy in relation to sex that abounded
in
Schiele's time has not been fully eradicated from our own.
Patterns of Childhood: Samplers from
Glasgow Museums, by Rebecca Quinton,
ISBN 0-13646-8, published in softback by Herbert Press an imprimt of A&C
Black Publishers, London, 2005, 15cm x 21cm, 96pp, priced £9.99.
This book was written to accompany Glasgow Museums' Patterns of Childhood
exhibition. It covers a number of the broad range of samplers held in
the
museum collections, and serves well as an introduction to the subject,
as
well as a good store of information for reference. Over 50 samplers are
presented in the book with explanatory text detailing their historical
background and the style of stitching and sewing that their maker¹s
used.
One of the earliest pieces dating from c1625-1630 is known as a Œspot
motif¹s sampler, these show random designs such as geometric shapes,
flowers
and royal ciphers. Another, also from the 17th century, is a band sampler
of
a long narrow shape cut from the end width of a role of linen. This type
of
sampler was used as a reference tool, featuring a number of different
types
of embroidery that would have been copied for decorative borders on bed
and
table linen.
As time moved on, the designs became
more intricate and diversified. Some
feature designs like multiplication tables or maps, others have religious
verses, another was stitched by a woman prisoner in exile, and some girls
even produced miniature clothing. What is fascinating is that each of
these
samplers is in some way unique, the majority done by young girls who had
few
reading skills and in the majority of cases learnt to stitch letters before
they could write them. Each sampler teaches us something about the social
history of these women in their early years, and often something of the
political and social events of the time. One example, a sampler by Margaret
Sheddon dated 1812, is of partciular interest. Sheddon¹s father was
the
butler at the Broxfield house of Robert Owen, the utopian socialist and
manager of the New Lanark cotton mills. Believing that a person¹s
character
was the product of their environment, Owen established a progressive school
for young children and opposed their employment before the age of 12.
Initiatives like this began the long process of social reform that was
to
gradually change the lives of young women. This is a small book, but little
is known about this subject, and the books packs in a good array of images
and concise but comprehensive text.
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