Anselm Kiefer

Ulla and Heiner Pietzsch, Berlin (acquired directly from the artist in 1991)
Sothebys, New York, November 14, 2001, Lot 32
Acquired by the present owner from the above

Berlin, Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen Preussischer Kulturbesitz,
Anselm Kiefer, March - May 1991
Residenzschloss Dresden, Dalí/Miró/Picasso..., Sammlung Ulla und Heiner Pietzsch, June - August 2000

Athanor is a wonderful example of Anselm Kiefer’s continued exploration into Germany’s past, and the vicissitudes of history and memory. This monumental work must be seen as one of the artist’s most ambitious paintings, and in its power of presentation, its depth of meaning and its accomplished technique, Athanor remains one of Kiefer’s most charged and concise commentaries on the meaning of matter and the matter of meaning.

Anselm Kiefer’s powerfully charged art confronts the viewer on many levels. In his depiction of loaded sites and spaces, whether buildings associated with Nazi Germany or ephemeral landscapes connected to Nordic mythology, what impresses the viewer at once is the sheer scale, of both object and gesture made by the artist. Kiefer’s work is firmly rooted to a German tradition of art making: he has, like his German predecessors Dürer and Kirchner (for example) made a number of woodcuts as well as books. Kiefer’s art is, however, one that tackles not only the Teutonic form of expression, here amplified on a grand scale, but also engages with, and fuses together, various strands of memory and meaning that create the tapestry of German heritage. This heritage is seen through Kiefer’s bold and honest glass, and thus he openly makes commentary about Germany in the 1930s, and the sociopolitical climate of that time. At the same time, he weaves together these political issues with myths and stories from Nordic tradition, finding parallels and mutual metaphors in terms of battles, wars, struggle and freedom.

Kiefer has made a number of works entitled Athanor and their iconography vary according to the emphasis Kiefer wishes to make with his subject. Considering an earlier version, in juxtaposition, serves to illuminate the dynamics operating within the structure of the present work. The 1983-84 version differs from the present work in that the ‘stage’ Kiefer paints is the outdoor courtyard Albert Speer had designed for the Berlin Chancellery. It is the same setting as that used for Kiefer’s To the Unknown Painter, also from the early 1980s. In the ‘Unknown Painter’ work a palette stands where ceremonial sculptures may have stood. The building appears newer, less dilapidated than in the Athanor structure. It is as if the artist has charred the surface, deliberately deteriorating the building.

The reason for the charring is explained by the painting’s title. Athanor was a large furnace used by alchemists who transmuted lead (amongst other material) into gold. For the alchemist to be able to execute this transmutation, he must first master the powers of the four elements: earth, wind, air and fire. While the alchemical transformation is a physical shift, from matter to gold, there is, by extension, a spiritual connotation. The transformation is a change in spirit, from one plane to another. The fire which the alchemist tames is thus not one of destruction but of purification. When exploring the Athanor vocabulary, one can now see why Kiefer has charred the surface: he has purified the courtyard of its association with Nazi Germany, his own fire cleansed the environment of its own history.

The present Athanor was executed in 1991, and now we see the building has changed. Speer’s courtyard has been replaced with the Reichstag itself. Again the surface appears charred, and, in this particular painting, Kiefer seems to make the same associations between fire and purification, but the narrative is more localized. At the beginning of the 1930s, the Reichtsag was burned down by Nazi supporters who associated it with the Communists. Kiefer certainly alludes to that moment in the present work. The building appears shell-like, as if we witness the last burning embers of the fire. Its emptiness, as well as the ravaged ground and pregnant sky, add a curious serenity to the scene. It also adds a grandeur, as Kiefer here creates a building reminiscent of the Ancient temples of Greece and Rome. Kiefer’s Athanor has now become a Parthenon for the Twentieth Century, and he himself a Delphic Oracle for Germany’s past. One is presented with a building that encapsulates such a rich lexicon of memories and histories: its fragility suggesting the weaknesses of the past, yet the fact it still remains barely intact evokes a certain hope for the future.