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拍品专文
Natura morta is a rare, fascinating example of Giorgio Morandi’s radical experimentation in the early 1930s. Painted in 1931, this still life portrays a group of bottles and objects placed upon the unmistakable round table which would continue to appear in the artist’s work throughout the decades. Two funnel-shaped bottles frame a small glass like a pair of guarding presences, while a clutter of other objects embrace this central group on both sides. Although one can sense the physical presence of the objects, the precise mass of each of the elements remains elusive. One has the impression that a thick, fluid haze has blurred the image: objects have fused into a colour mass, indistinct, yet eerily present, like the intangible mirage of a mysteriously familiar world.
Natura morta depicts the bottles and boxes Morandi had already been painting for over a decade. If, in previous works, the artist had mastered their volumes, their silhouettes, the visual resonances between their shapes and colours, here Morandi appears to be aiming at their pure, pictorial existence. Natura morta appears as an exercise of internalisation: the blind rendition of an inner image, acquired through years of patient contemplation. In the picture, the forms are deconstructed into a subtle modulation of hues, existing more like an abstract idea, rather than an observed reality. They have lost their tangible presence, acquiring their consistency out of dense, creamy brushstrokes. In this regard, Natura morta resonates with other memorable works of the period, such as the extensively exhibited Natura morta of 1931 (Vitali, 164) or the 1935 Paesaggio, now part of the collection of the Museo del Novecento in Milan (Vitali, 195).
Writing on Morandi’s work of the early 1930s, the art critic Cesare Brandi spoke of a ‘dissolving attack onto the object’ (quoted in F. Solmi, ‘La pittura di Morandi: un luogo dell’infinito’, pp. 7-18, in Morandi, exh. cat., Massa Carrara, 1988, p. 16). In an image that could well have described the present Natura morta, Brandi mused: ‘It is as if the object had become its own shadow, and the shadow had swapped its luminous values with those of the object’ (quoted Ibid., p. 16). Brandi’s observations point to the fact that in works such as Natura morta the still life has ceased to be a representation of reality to become its own abstraction. Central to the work lies the artist’s radical confrontation with the act of painting. In this regard, works such as Natura morta reveals Morandi’s great affinity to the work of Paul Cézanne. Cézanne’s great ‘doubt’, how to represent the third dimension with pure colour, rather than represent it through mathematical perspective, is somehow paralleled by Morandi’s own ‘doubt’ – how to paint in pure colour, the perception of a group of objects rather than their artificial representation. In the progression of Morandi’s work at the time, Natura morta stands out as a daring, experimental work, pushing Morandi’s vision to the very limit of abstraction.
Together with this sense of eroding abstraction, Morandi’s 1930s still lives acquired an emotional dimension which had been until then absent from the artist’s work. Discussing Morandi's work around that time, the artist’s friend and student Janet Abramowicz wrote: ‘Departing form the reality of their shapes, as is evident when comparing his still lives with photographs of these objects, [Morandi] filled those objects with personalities and emotions’ (J. Abramowicz, Giorgio Morandi: The Art of Silence, New Haven, 2004, p. 135). In Natura morta, one can perceive a touch of humour in how the artist arranged the composition: there is a sense of benevolent mockery in the way Morandi placed a short, timid glass in between two rather hefty copper containers, while a crowd of meddling clutter has gather around. Again, reality appears as an abstracted entity. ‘A painter of deep emotions’, Abramowicz continues, ‘he created still lives from his mind. For Morandi, light and form were tools that allowed him to express the feelings evoked in him by those objects’ (Ibid., p. 136).
The early 1930s were a period of important official exhibitions in Italy. In 1930, just a year before Natura morta was painted, the XVII Venice Biennale took place. Morandi sent a 1924 flower painting (Vitali, 92), two still life compositions (Vitali, 141 and 146) and a large self-portrait (V, 159), the last of his works to include a human figure. On that occasion, Morandi may have discovered the work of foreign artists. In particular, it has been suggested that the artist may have looked at the work of German Expressionists such as Max Beckmann, Ernst Heckel and Karl Schmitt-Rotluff. The Expressionists’ rich and dense brushwork may have informed some of Morandi’s subsequent work, which, as shown in Natura morta, in 1931 acquired a thick texture, displaying at times some deliberately and evocatively distorted forms (Ibid., p. 140).
Though perhaps partially inspired by the emotionally charged work of the German Expressionists, Natura morta remains rooted into an artistic vision that is unique to Morandi. Indeed, in the following years, Morandi’s art would be taken as the proof that modernity could be championed in line with tradition and, more specifically, Italian tradition. In 1935, the illustrious art historian Roberto Longhi was appointed chair of history of art at the University of Bologna; in a momentous inaugural lecture, Longhi proclaimed Morandi as the heir to numerous illustrious Bolognese artists, presenting the painter as the bearer of Italian tradition. Works such as Natura morta, however, embody the radically modern dimension of Morandi’s work, affirming his relevance and significance not only in the scope of Italian modern art, but also, more broadly, within the panorama of European modern art.
Natura morta depicts the bottles and boxes Morandi had already been painting for over a decade. If, in previous works, the artist had mastered their volumes, their silhouettes, the visual resonances between their shapes and colours, here Morandi appears to be aiming at their pure, pictorial existence. Natura morta appears as an exercise of internalisation: the blind rendition of an inner image, acquired through years of patient contemplation. In the picture, the forms are deconstructed into a subtle modulation of hues, existing more like an abstract idea, rather than an observed reality. They have lost their tangible presence, acquiring their consistency out of dense, creamy brushstrokes. In this regard, Natura morta resonates with other memorable works of the period, such as the extensively exhibited Natura morta of 1931 (Vitali, 164) or the 1935 Paesaggio, now part of the collection of the Museo del Novecento in Milan (Vitali, 195).
Writing on Morandi’s work of the early 1930s, the art critic Cesare Brandi spoke of a ‘dissolving attack onto the object’ (quoted in F. Solmi, ‘La pittura di Morandi: un luogo dell’infinito’, pp. 7-18, in Morandi, exh. cat., Massa Carrara, 1988, p. 16). In an image that could well have described the present Natura morta, Brandi mused: ‘It is as if the object had become its own shadow, and the shadow had swapped its luminous values with those of the object’ (quoted Ibid., p. 16). Brandi’s observations point to the fact that in works such as Natura morta the still life has ceased to be a representation of reality to become its own abstraction. Central to the work lies the artist’s radical confrontation with the act of painting. In this regard, works such as Natura morta reveals Morandi’s great affinity to the work of Paul Cézanne. Cézanne’s great ‘doubt’, how to represent the third dimension with pure colour, rather than represent it through mathematical perspective, is somehow paralleled by Morandi’s own ‘doubt’ – how to paint in pure colour, the perception of a group of objects rather than their artificial representation. In the progression of Morandi’s work at the time, Natura morta stands out as a daring, experimental work, pushing Morandi’s vision to the very limit of abstraction.
Together with this sense of eroding abstraction, Morandi’s 1930s still lives acquired an emotional dimension which had been until then absent from the artist’s work. Discussing Morandi's work around that time, the artist’s friend and student Janet Abramowicz wrote: ‘Departing form the reality of their shapes, as is evident when comparing his still lives with photographs of these objects, [Morandi] filled those objects with personalities and emotions’ (J. Abramowicz, Giorgio Morandi: The Art of Silence, New Haven, 2004, p. 135). In Natura morta, one can perceive a touch of humour in how the artist arranged the composition: there is a sense of benevolent mockery in the way Morandi placed a short, timid glass in between two rather hefty copper containers, while a crowd of meddling clutter has gather around. Again, reality appears as an abstracted entity. ‘A painter of deep emotions’, Abramowicz continues, ‘he created still lives from his mind. For Morandi, light and form were tools that allowed him to express the feelings evoked in him by those objects’ (Ibid., p. 136).
The early 1930s were a period of important official exhibitions in Italy. In 1930, just a year before Natura morta was painted, the XVII Venice Biennale took place. Morandi sent a 1924 flower painting (Vitali, 92), two still life compositions (Vitali, 141 and 146) and a large self-portrait (V, 159), the last of his works to include a human figure. On that occasion, Morandi may have discovered the work of foreign artists. In particular, it has been suggested that the artist may have looked at the work of German Expressionists such as Max Beckmann, Ernst Heckel and Karl Schmitt-Rotluff. The Expressionists’ rich and dense brushwork may have informed some of Morandi’s subsequent work, which, as shown in Natura morta, in 1931 acquired a thick texture, displaying at times some deliberately and evocatively distorted forms (Ibid., p. 140).
Though perhaps partially inspired by the emotionally charged work of the German Expressionists, Natura morta remains rooted into an artistic vision that is unique to Morandi. Indeed, in the following years, Morandi’s art would be taken as the proof that modernity could be championed in line with tradition and, more specifically, Italian tradition. In 1935, the illustrious art historian Roberto Longhi was appointed chair of history of art at the University of Bologna; in a momentous inaugural lecture, Longhi proclaimed Morandi as the heir to numerous illustrious Bolognese artists, presenting the painter as the bearer of Italian tradition. Works such as Natura morta, however, embody the radically modern dimension of Morandi’s work, affirming his relevance and significance not only in the scope of Italian modern art, but also, more broadly, within the panorama of European modern art.