Ladies and gentleman, Max Beckmann is at the MOMA in a big way. This retrospective of the 20th century German artist's career is the work of the Pompdou Centre, Tate Modern and the Museum of Modern Art. It is the first "comprehensive exhibition" of his work in New York since 1964. Don't go on your lunch break, so to speak. Go with a whole afternoon to spare.
The retrospective, which is spread out over more than a few rooms and is accompanied by an audio tour if you so desire, spans Beckmann's entire career and includes oils, lithographs and bronze sculptures; triptychs, self-portraits and a still life — in short. But, perhaps, what is most interesting about the assembly is its mix of horror and near-hilarity.
The horror component is evident at the outset. "The Sinking of the Titanic," an approximately 104 by 129 inch — or in other words, BIG — canvas hangs in the first room. The oil painting depicts passengers of the thought-to-be-unsinkable ship. Some huddle in lifeboats. Some straddle a hull. Some reach out desperately to be pulled into or onto a boat with the rest. But all — or almost all — cast their faces down. It is an unsettling painting and its mood is only reinforced by the deep greens, turquoises and blues that are its predominant hues. On the wall adjacent to it hangs a painting titled "Small Death Scene."
And then there is the wall of prints with such titles as "The Grenade," "The Large Operation" and "Morgue." The last mentioned of these, a woodcut, is macabre. The subject, as the title suggests, is death, and the execution of the print lends it a grotesque quality. The dead bodies are disproportionate — some legs are too skinny and long for the rest of the body, some arms and hands are abnormally large. The lithograph titled "Fallen Soldiers" hangs nearby and brings to mind certain prints from Fransisco Goya's series, "The Disasters of War." It reminds the viewer that Beckmann was a medical orderly in WWI and probably saw such horrors firsthand.
But peppered among such disheartening subjects are pieces like "Lido" — this is about walking on the beach and swimming in the waves. The purple and white-striped suit of one beach-goer; the pink and white-striped cap of a swimmer; the woman's cape cut at the bottom like the top of a traditional king's crown and accented in red; and the man whose legs stick straight up out of the water and head and arms emerge through a wave perpendicular to them make the oil painting lighthearted, a touch theatrical, even carnivalesque. Again, the bodies in this painting are not proportionate, but here it is comical instead of grotesque. This is a piece that a mother with the means to do so might put in her child's bedroom or playroom. "Figure Skating" and "Portrait of the Russian Actor, Zeretelli" evoke much the same response.
Horror and near-hilarity are themes that leave a strong impression, but not the only ones to be found in the retrospective. Beckmann apparently had quite a penchant for self-portraits — "Self-Portrait with Sailor Hat," "Self-Portrait in Blue Jacket," "Self-Portrait with a Cigarette" and simply "Self Portrait" (1937) are just some of Beckmann's depictions of himself included in the exhibit. And they run the gamut from serious to playful. "Self-Portrait in Tuxedo" is a sort of high-society Beckmann — he is dressed in black and white, rests one hand on his hip while the other holds a cigarette and stares out confidently. "Self-Portrait in front of Red Curtain" is quite different, as if he has placed himself in one of his theatrical and carnivalesque paintings. The colors are brighter, he dons a top hat and orange polka-dotted scarf, the purple and white stripes of "Lido" make an appearance.
One last thing for which to look: Beckmann had, as the exhibition catalogue puts it, an "engagement with modernism," but classical and orientalist influences come through in his work, too. "Young Men by the Sea" is, well, just that. Their bodies appear to be modeled after the classical Greek tradition — muscular and posed to be admired — even if they are slightly elongated and not quite so perfect. "Reclining Nude" is a woman's body stretched out, arms overhead, as if on display. Her breasts are large and her body voluptuous. Certain women depicted by Ingres come to mind.
The Beckmann retrospective is at the MOMA through September 29th and student tickets are $8.50 with student i.d. card. It is expansive. It is entertaining. It is, without a doubt, worth the walk from Penn Station to Times Square and subway ride out to the museum's temporary home at 33rd Street and Queens Boulevard.