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       By 
          RAYMOND J. STEINER 
 ORGANIZED 
          BY THE Neue Galerie’s director, Renée Price, this exhibition* brings 
          together some 150 paintings and drawings gleaned from the extensive 
          collections of Ronald S. Lauder and Serge Sabarsky of the works of what 
          many have hailed as one of Austria’s “greatest artists of the 20th-Century”, 
          Egon Schiele. Ranging from his earliest academic work (see, e.g., Cat. 
          Nos. D1 thru D19) to his “mature” style (he only lived until the age 
          of 28) of figurative work in the expressionist mode, the exhibit is 
          spread over a number of spacious and well-lit galleries on two separate 
          floors of the Neue Galerie. Influenced by such forerunners as Vincent 
          van Gogh, Edvard Munch, Gustave Klimt, et al. who were responsible for 
          “liberating” art from what was perceived as the strait-jacket of academicism, 
          Schiele’s forte was depicting psychological portraits (self- and other-) 
          that in their impact on the viewer seem (as did those of many of the 
          so-called ‘expressionists”) anything but liberating. Lauded for revealing the ‘truth’ that lay 
          behind illusion, this was a truth that many found not only offensive, 
          but also as patently false as the saccharine-sweet “prettiness” of the 
          academics — at any rate, a truth that few would be willing to 
          own as their own. Whatever one may come away with after viewing a full 
          dose of Schiele’s distinctly individual vision of the human figure, 
          there can be no doubt that he was a masterful draftsman, able to forcefully 
          depict the most common objects (“A Plow”, Cat. No. D22), delineate a 
          delicate blossom (“Flower Studies (Bindweed, Poppies, and Daisies” Cat. 
          No. D168), or sensitively capture a meditative moment (“The Father-in-Law 
          Harms”, Cat. No. D134). In several of his drawings (Cat. Nos. D163 thru 
          D167), he seems hardly to lift his pencil, the figure drawings performed 
          almost through the use of a single, continuous line. Schiele, however, 
          had other ideas than to use his art as a simple means of reporting what 
          he saw — no matter how well he might be able to do just that. 
          His was a vision that had grown out of a personal confrontation with 
          a world that was quickly changing before his eyes. Indeed, had he lived 
          to witness it, he would have experienced his own celebrity transform 
          from one of acceptance to one of rejection, his work lumped together 
          with most of the expressionists by the Nazis under the all-condemning 
          “Entarte Art” — i.e., “degenerate” art. That he had obtained such 
          a powerful means of moving his viewers at such a relatively young age 
          leads one to wonder what he might have attained in the fullness of his 
          years. This is a powerful exhibition and, for better or worse, there 
          will be few who will be able to come away from it unmoved. 
 INTERESTING, 
          IN LIGHT of the previous look at the drawings of Schiele, is to view 
          those of Vincent van Gogh, one of the early artists that many of the 
          expressionists claimed as an influence on their own development (i.e. liberation). Some 113 works drawn from both private 
          and public collections around the world, the exhibit “Vincent van Gogh: 
          The Drawings”** presently set up in a special viewing area on the second 
          floor of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, offer a career-long overview 
          of the artist’s work. Here, as in the Schiele exhibit, we can easily 
          follow the move from straight “reporting” (“Windmills near Dordrecht 
          (Weeskinderendijk)” (Cat. No. 2), through interpretation (“Head of a 
          Woman” (Cat. No. 27); “the Zouave” (Cat. Nos. 77, 78, 79)) to a final 
          (mature) personal vision (“Cypresses” Cat. No. 108). Though there are 
          a few landscapes sprinkled throughout the Schiele exhibit, the Austrian 
          was by far more interested in the exploring the human figure and it 
          was in depicting them that he found his most powerful voice. Vincent 
          van Gogh, on the other hand, appears to have found his personal liberation 
          not so much in exploring what lies beneath the human façade, but rather 
          in seeking the mysterious underpinnings of an ever-changing natural 
          landscape. Where Schiele appears to uncover individual torment, van 
          Gogh appears to uncover the seething movement of energy that lies behind 
          ‘solid’ matter. Again, it is obvious that both artists were capable 
          of rendering phenomena in the traditional academic way; equally obvious 
          is that both were intent on seeing the world in the light of their own 
          individual psyches. It is, in the end, irrelevant if one chooses the 
          vision of one over the other — what matters is if the viewer is 
          convinced that what one is seeing is forceful enough to speak the ‘truth’ 
          of the creator as he, as artist, has seen and understood it. What each 
          individual viewer comes away with ultimately depends on what that viewer 
          believes is the purpose of art — or, in other words, his or her 
          own concept of what ‘truth’ 
          is and how art ought to serve it. If not as “loudly” stated as Schiele’s 
          work, van Gogh (who doesn’t seem to exude as much of a whiff of the 
          psychoanalyst’s office for me), in his own quiet and plodding way, is 
          equally forceful in his message. Vincent van Gogh, of course, (as is 
          true of any great artist) deserves to be evaluated on the basis of his 
          own work and not in relation to that of another. Spending a few hours 
          or so browsing and allowing him to communicate with you is not a bad 
          way to while away an afternoon. Taking in both of these shows on the 
          same day can offer some interesting insights. 
 ALTHOUGH 
          ONLY A floor away in the Robert Lehman Wing at The Metropolitan Museum 
          of Art in, because of its difference in impact you might want to put 
          off visiting the Fra Angelico exhibit*** for another day. (In fact, 
          I rarely view more than a single exhibit on any given day, since I am 
          prone to becoming visually overloaded pretty quickly and am unable to 
          form clear conceptions if I overstep my limitations.) The first retrospective 
          of his work in America, “Fra Angelico” comprises some seventy-five of 
          his drawings, mss. illuminations, and paintings, and also includes forty-five 
          additional works by his assistants and followers — it is, therefore, 
          not only different in kind from the van Gogh show upstairs, but also 
          a lot to take in as well. To begin with, there is the subject matter. 
          Fra Angelico, as his name implies, was a Dominican monk (his ‘real’ 
          name was Guido di Pietro, the “angelic friar” a nickname given him by 
          his contemporaries and followers), and his life’s work was given over 
          to imparting the teachings of Catholicism through the skill of his art. 
          Thus, instead of simple landscapes and figures, his subject-matter is 
          confined to heavenly figures and such earth-bound personages as popes, 
          saints, martyrs, and apostles. Unless one is devoted to the Dominican 
          friar’s pictorial history and dogma of the Roman church and is intent 
          on identifying his cast of characters, the uninitiated (or uninterested) 
          can focus on the work — gathered together from over fifty public 
          institutions and private collections in Europe and America — of 
          this extraordinary painter. Born in Florence, Fra Angelico’s skill with 
          the brush quickly brought him to attention both in and outside of the 
          church, and he was called upon to fulfill commissions for churches over 
          most of Italy. Though his reputation was largely made on the strength 
          of his frescos, the present exhibit offers a wide range of his smaller 
          works — almost all of which (and in spite of the repetition of 
          subject-matter) are little gems of perfection. If one is drawn to admiring 
          the skill displayed in painting so many multi-figured compositions in 
          miniature, it is (at least for this viewer) the color that is particularly 
          arresting. So vivid are the reds, blues, and golds that most seem to 
          have been painted yesterday. Technical skill, of course, was a hallmark 
          of the Italian Renaissance, and Fra Angelico was one of its leading 
          stars. How fortunate that we have so many examples from which we can 
          determine just how far they had grown in perfecting the art of painting 
          three-dimensional subjects on a two-dimensional surface. In today’s 
          artworld, such technical expertise is often given short shrift — 
          and the idea that one ought to be first a craftsman before one can claim 
          to be an artist, somewhat of an old-fashioned concept. Still, for all 
          their apparent “sameness” to the uninitiated eye, each one of these 
          painters — Lorenzo Monaco, Battista di Biagio Sanguigni, Zanobi 
          Strozzi (don’t miss his series of exquisite miniatures done in brush 
          and brown ink with white gouache and orange wash on pink-purple prepared 
          parchment) — Pesellino, Benozzo Gozzoli, as well as Fra Angelico 
          — is a master craftsman who has certainly done his homework. If 
          we really want to know what a “painter” is, visiting this exhibit will 
          more than inform you and enlighten you — it will delight your 
          sense of just what “fine” art is. 
 WHICH 
          BRINGS US to the exhibit, “The Legacy of Homer.” The French Academicians 
          not only inherited the tradition of fine art painting from the Italian 
          Renaissance, but also expanded and built upon the principles of craftsmanship 
          by applying it to both their and, as this exhibition shows, ancient 
          civilizations. On loan to the Dahesh Museum of Art and the Princeton 
          Museum of Art from the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, this beautiful exhibit 
          of paintings, sculptures, etchings, and oil studies show what urging 
          a little bit of learning on the part of its artists might attain. Several 
          oil studies included in the show, in fact, are student competition pieces 
          meant for an exhibition designed to exemplify a particular theme found 
          in Greek literature, thus forcing the art student to look beyond his 
          own discipline (and time). The present show, incidentally, is itself 
          thematically organized by Greek subject matter: “”Historical Background”, 
          “The Gods”, “Achilles”, “The Fall of Troy”, etc. For me, visiting the 
          Dahesh Museum of Art is always a pleasant experience — as I am 
          sure it is for most appreciators of fine art. Dedicated as it is to 
          what they call a “radical reappraisal of 19th-Century art”, 
          the Dahesh has outdone itself with this outstanding representation of 
          the genre of representational art. On view for the first time in the 
          United States, for example, is Jaques-Louis David’s monumental (275 
          x 203cm) oil “La Douleur d’Andromaque sur le corps d’Hector” (Andromache 
          Mourning Hector), along with a host of France’s outstanding artists 
          (Paul Jourdy, Alexandre-Adolphe-Gustave Levasseur, Jean-Louis Brian, 
          Jean-Charles-Joseph Rémond, Henri Regnault, Jean-Baptiste Marty, Jean-Baptiste 
          Carpeaux, Alfred Edouard Lepère, Pierre-Jules Cavelier, Henri-Lucien 
          Doucet, Jules-Joseph Lefebvre, Charles-Louis Bazin, André Giroux, Hippolyte 
          Flandrin, Gustave Boulanger, among others) of the period. “The Legacy 
          of Homer” is a show in the grand style of the official French Salon, 
          painterly skill and erudition combined in a manner to impress and exalt 
          the human spirit. Whether we will or no, viewing these paintings takes 
          us far from the world we have since come to know — a world of 
          petty greed, quick fixes, and ignoble goals. In this world, Homer’s 
          world and the 19th- *“Egon 
          Schiele: The Ronald S. Lauder and Serge Sabarsky Collections” (thru 
          Feb 20, ’06): Neue Galerie: Museum for German and Austrian Art, 1048 
          Fifth Ave., NYC (212) 628-6200.  **“Vincent 
          van Gogh: The Drawings” (thru Dec 31): The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 
          1000 Fifth Ave., NYC (212) 570-3951. ***“Fra 
          Angelico” (thru Jan 29): The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1000 Fifth 
          Ave., NYC (212) 570-3951. ****“The 
          Legacy of Homer: Four Centuries of Art from The Ecole Nationale Supérieure 
          des Beaux-Arts, “Paris” (thru Jan 22): The Dahesh Museum of Art, Madison 
          Ave., NYC. A concurrent exhibit of the same name (thru Jan 15) is currently 
          at the Princeton University of Art Museum, Princeton, NJ.  |