| MAM Permanent Collection: German Expressionist Prints Milwaukee Art Museum 700 N. Art Museum Drive Milwaukee. 414-224-3200 |
One of the great things about living close to a
large museum with a deep permanent collection
is the ability to visit repeatedly and become
familiar with the work. You can discover favorites,
and appreciate the regular re-hanging of the
galleries which can often put a favorite away into
the vault or place it somewhere new, thus
offering a different perspective on it.
large museum with a deep permanent collection
is the ability to visit repeatedly and become
familiar with the work. You can discover favorites,
and appreciate the regular re-hanging of the
galleries which can often put a favorite away into
the vault or place it somewhere new, thus
offering a different perspective on it.
| Gallery 13 at the Milwaukee Art Museum showing German Expressionist Prints from the Marcia and Granville Specks Collection. |
Indeed, the location of these prints between the Ashcan School and the more colorful Expressionists
collectively present three galleries of works by artists who shunned artistic conventions in both style and
subject matter, preferring to dig deeper psychologically and more explicitly than before. Not for nothing was
the term “ashcan” used to label the American painters’ work, and the term “degenerate” used by the Nazis for
the Expressionists’ work. Go against the flow, challenge preexisting assumptions and the status quo, or
reveal the truth when that truth is unpalatable, and one is often verbally assailed or persecuted; this, more
often than not, is a constant state of affairs.
The current rotation of prints in this gallery focuses on Max Pechstein (1881-1955) and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner
(1880-1938). Pechstein, a genuine product of the working class, was aggressive and determined. Despite
his humble roots (his father was a textile worker), the young Pechstein followed the less than pragmatic trade
of artist, studying at the Dresden Academy, but undertaking commercial painting to make ends meet. During
his travels to Italy and Paris, he encountered early Italian primitive painters and tribal art in the Trocadero
respectively. In 1908 he moved to Berlin where he worked with Kirchner, Erich Heckel and Karl Schmitt-
Rottluff. Pechstein and Kirchner would jointly found the Institut Moderner Unterricht in Malerei (The Institute of
Modern Instruction in Painting). It closed within the year. In 1914 Pechstein traveled to the German colony of
Palau until the Japanese occupation of the island forced a move back to Germany and enlistment in the army
until 1917. In the 30s, the Nazis banned him from exhibiting or even painting, and he was obligated to serve
in Pomerania, and was held as a prisoner of war by the Russians.
The current installation at MAM features the twelve
prints that comprise The Lord’s Prayer (1921) by
Pechstein. Each contains one line from the recital, and
Pechstein selected the Lutheran translation of The
Lord's Prayer rather than the more traditional Latin. This
choice was intended to emphasize the German
language and popular devotion. Pechstein further
called attention to contemporary religious life by using
local fishermen from the village of Niddern as his
models.
Other works in the gallery reveal an artist as fascinated
by the everyday environment around him as much as
the visual rendition of a common prayer. Pechstein said
“Art will no longer be considered, as it has been in the
past, an interesting and genteel occupation for the
sons of wealthy loafers. On the contrary, the sons of
common people must be given the opportunity, through
the crafts, to become artists. Art is no game, but a duty
to the people! It is a matter of public concern." Small
Steamers (1911), Bridge Over the Wannsee Train Line
(1914), Dialog (1920) and Head of a Fisherman all
capture, with economy of line and tone, the artist’s
everyday encounters. His Dancer in the Mirror shows a
dancer in one of Berlin’s many nightclubs – a scene
replayed in any contemporary “gentleman’s” club.
Unlike Pechstein, with his working class roots, Kirchner
was from an artistic family (his father taught paper
chemistry at the Technical and Vocational Academy)
and at the age of twenty-one became a student of
architecture at the Dresden Technical College where
he met Fritz Bleyl. Both agreed that a new art form,
based on emotional reaction to contemporary events
was essential. Together with Karl Schmidt-Rottluff and
Erich Heckel they formed Die Brücke (the Bridge) in
1905. Their first show in 1906 (with additional
members Emil Nolde and Pechstein) revealed a group
of young men concerned with an immediate and
visceral reaction to their situation and surroundings, be
it politics, the urban and rural landscape, the circus,
music halls or the nude. Kirchner, in particular, was
drawn to a more “natural” state with a primitive style
being the most appropriate. Always wanting to be the
first amongst equals with his colleagues, Kirchner
abandoned Die Brücke in 1913. His work, which was
increasingly psychological, became more so after a
spell as a soldier during WWI. He collapsed mentally
and physically. Drug addiction occasioned a
subsequent move to a Swiss sanatorium and his
chosen spartan life robbed his work of its former
power. He was denounced by the Nazis and purged
from museum collections, prompting his suicide in
1938.
Kirchner’s work mirrors Pechstein’s in his sharp
observance of the commonplace: Dodo playing with her
Fingers (1909) is almost Matisse-like in its elegant
simplicity (Dodo, or Doris, was a financial supporter of
Die Brucke and Kirchner’s model and mistress); Nudes
Reclining Near the Sea (1913) reminds one of the
popularity of naturism in early twentieth century
Germany and its focus on healthy and physical beauty,
traits that would become sinister goals in the Nazis’
“strength through joy” programs and eugenic policies.
Woman Eating Bread (1916) shows Kirchner using a
gouging technique to capture the gaunt features of his
subject, which make it a perfect companion piece to
Old Bearded Man in a Black Hat (1919), whose incised
and craggy weathered face reveals imperfections
through the uneven transference of ink during the
printing process. Both prints could be interpreted to
reveal the physical and mental toll the war took on
Germany’s civilian population – a war that was
supposed to be won by Germany by the end of 1914,
not end in bitter and humiliating defeat in late 1918.
Indeed, the prints in this gallery straddle World War I –
the “war to end all wars” – a phrase cynically used
towards the end of that shockingly wasteful conflict to
justify its continuance under the pretext that this would
be it – no more war and a subsequent era of
everlasting peace. Of course, this was a lie and it can
be plausibly argued that the end of WWI simply begat
conditions that made WWII inevitable. The prints of the
expressionists as a whole delineate the social and
prints that comprise The Lord’s Prayer (1921) by
Pechstein. Each contains one line from the recital, and
Pechstein selected the Lutheran translation of The
Lord's Prayer rather than the more traditional Latin. This
choice was intended to emphasize the German
language and popular devotion. Pechstein further
called attention to contemporary religious life by using
local fishermen from the village of Niddern as his
models.
Other works in the gallery reveal an artist as fascinated
by the everyday environment around him as much as
the visual rendition of a common prayer. Pechstein said
“Art will no longer be considered, as it has been in the
past, an interesting and genteel occupation for the
sons of wealthy loafers. On the contrary, the sons of
common people must be given the opportunity, through
the crafts, to become artists. Art is no game, but a duty
to the people! It is a matter of public concern." Small
Steamers (1911), Bridge Over the Wannsee Train Line
(1914), Dialog (1920) and Head of a Fisherman all
capture, with economy of line and tone, the artist’s
everyday encounters. His Dancer in the Mirror shows a
dancer in one of Berlin’s many nightclubs – a scene
replayed in any contemporary “gentleman’s” club.
Unlike Pechstein, with his working class roots, Kirchner
was from an artistic family (his father taught paper
chemistry at the Technical and Vocational Academy)
and at the age of twenty-one became a student of
architecture at the Dresden Technical College where
he met Fritz Bleyl. Both agreed that a new art form,
based on emotional reaction to contemporary events
was essential. Together with Karl Schmidt-Rottluff and
Erich Heckel they formed Die Brücke (the Bridge) in
1905. Their first show in 1906 (with additional
members Emil Nolde and Pechstein) revealed a group
of young men concerned with an immediate and
visceral reaction to their situation and surroundings, be
it politics, the urban and rural landscape, the circus,
music halls or the nude. Kirchner, in particular, was
drawn to a more “natural” state with a primitive style
being the most appropriate. Always wanting to be the
first amongst equals with his colleagues, Kirchner
abandoned Die Brücke in 1913. His work, which was
increasingly psychological, became more so after a
spell as a soldier during WWI. He collapsed mentally
and physically. Drug addiction occasioned a
subsequent move to a Swiss sanatorium and his
chosen spartan life robbed his work of its former
power. He was denounced by the Nazis and purged
from museum collections, prompting his suicide in
1938.
Kirchner’s work mirrors Pechstein’s in his sharp
observance of the commonplace: Dodo playing with her
Fingers (1909) is almost Matisse-like in its elegant
simplicity (Dodo, or Doris, was a financial supporter of
Die Brucke and Kirchner’s model and mistress); Nudes
Reclining Near the Sea (1913) reminds one of the
popularity of naturism in early twentieth century
Germany and its focus on healthy and physical beauty,
traits that would become sinister goals in the Nazis’
“strength through joy” programs and eugenic policies.
Woman Eating Bread (1916) shows Kirchner using a
gouging technique to capture the gaunt features of his
subject, which make it a perfect companion piece to
Old Bearded Man in a Black Hat (1919), whose incised
and craggy weathered face reveals imperfections
through the uneven transference of ink during the
printing process. Both prints could be interpreted to
reveal the physical and mental toll the war took on
Germany’s civilian population – a war that was
supposed to be won by Germany by the end of 1914,
not end in bitter and humiliating defeat in late 1918.
Indeed, the prints in this gallery straddle World War I –
the “war to end all wars” – a phrase cynically used
towards the end of that shockingly wasteful conflict to
justify its continuance under the pretext that this would
be it – no more war and a subsequent era of
everlasting peace. Of course, this was a lie and it can
be plausibly argued that the end of WWI simply begat
conditions that made WWII inevitable. The prints of the
expressionists as a whole delineate the social and
| Max Pechstein, Our Father who art in Heaven, 1921. Woodcut. |
| Max Pechstein, Dancer in the Mirror, 1923. Woodcut. |
| Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Dodo playing with her Fingers, 1909. Lithograph. |
| Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Nudes Reclining Near the Sea, 1913. Lithograph with turpentine etching. |
| Copyright Art History Chicks, 2006. Contact Us |
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political mores of the day in a disarmingly deceptive but revealing manner; these were sensitive artists
responding personally and graphically to their environs. While it allows us to appreciate their state of their
mind and attitudes, it also permits us to draw parallels to our own times (how many troops returning from
modern wars suffer mental as well as physical afflictions? How popular is it to criticize Administration
policies?), even suggesting that the ordinary citizen is often powerless to enact change when larger, more
powerful and entrenched entities choose a particular course of action.
If you are not a regular visitor to MAM, I have two suggestions: first, become a regular visitor. Secondly, rather
than wandering aimlessly through the galleries sampling works like a vast smorgasbord, find a few favorite
galleries, get to know the works and monitor their changing appearance. The familiarity will greatly heighten
your appreciation of the works, the institution’s collections, and the job of the curator. It’s like visiting old
friends that always have something new to say.
-Graeme Reid
Graeme Reid is Assistant Director of the West Bend Art Museum.
Comments? Email the writer at comments@susceptibletoimages.com
responding personally and graphically to their environs. While it allows us to appreciate their state of their
mind and attitudes, it also permits us to draw parallels to our own times (how many troops returning from
modern wars suffer mental as well as physical afflictions? How popular is it to criticize Administration
policies?), even suggesting that the ordinary citizen is often powerless to enact change when larger, more
powerful and entrenched entities choose a particular course of action.
If you are not a regular visitor to MAM, I have two suggestions: first, become a regular visitor. Secondly, rather
than wandering aimlessly through the galleries sampling works like a vast smorgasbord, find a few favorite
galleries, get to know the works and monitor their changing appearance. The familiarity will greatly heighten
your appreciation of the works, the institution’s collections, and the job of the curator. It’s like visiting old
friends that always have something new to say.
-Graeme Reid
Graeme Reid is Assistant Director of the West Bend Art Museum.
Comments? Email the writer at comments@susceptibletoimages.com
Such is the case with me and the Milwaukee Art Museum. My regular trips through the pristine, futuristic
Santiago Calatrava hallways to the bowels of the old Saarinen building mean that I look forward to seeing
some familiar pieces, but also savor the anticipation of finding fresh, new works. One of my “must see”
galleries is often and unjustly overlooked. It is not a dazzler, it is not on a main traffic route, and is usually dimly
lit and almost colorless. Yet, it showcases one of the MAM’s greatest single-focus collections: the German
Expressionist prints in the Marcia and Granville Specks gallery. It’s a small corner gallery, likely one of the
smallest in the museum, wedged between one gallery of more colorful paintings by Expressionist-era artists
such Gabrielle Munter, Max Beckmann, Max Pechstein, August Macke and Lovis Corinth and another featuring
works by Americans Robert Henri, John Sloan, George Bellows, Everett Shinn, George Luks, Arthur B. Davies
of the Ashcan School (or The Eight to give them their more formal title).
Sitting in the gallery recently I watched visitor after visitor ignore the space, enticed by the more appealing color
works rather than the primitive-looking black-and-white prints by Max Pechstein and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner. A
sad mistake to make as these two artists brilliantly captured the events and sentiments of a time that more
often than not, has tremendous relevance today.
Santiago Calatrava hallways to the bowels of the old Saarinen building mean that I look forward to seeing
some familiar pieces, but also savor the anticipation of finding fresh, new works. One of my “must see”
galleries is often and unjustly overlooked. It is not a dazzler, it is not on a main traffic route, and is usually dimly
lit and almost colorless. Yet, it showcases one of the MAM’s greatest single-focus collections: the German
Expressionist prints in the Marcia and Granville Specks gallery. It’s a small corner gallery, likely one of the
smallest in the museum, wedged between one gallery of more colorful paintings by Expressionist-era artists
such Gabrielle Munter, Max Beckmann, Max Pechstein, August Macke and Lovis Corinth and another featuring
works by Americans Robert Henri, John Sloan, George Bellows, Everett Shinn, George Luks, Arthur B. Davies
of the Ashcan School (or The Eight to give them their more formal title).
Sitting in the gallery recently I watched visitor after visitor ignore the space, enticed by the more appealing color
works rather than the primitive-looking black-and-white prints by Max Pechstein and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner. A
sad mistake to make as these two artists brilliantly captured the events and sentiments of a time that more
often than not, has tremendous relevance today.