格哈德·里希特 | 《黃-綠》
- 各：260.5 x 200.5公分，102 1/2 x 79英寸
- 共：260.5 x 401公分，102 1/2 x 157 7/8英寸
During the late 1970s Richter had spent a number of years grappling with his practice. The start of a new decade, however, brought with it a resounding sense of ideological clarity. As illuminated by Richter’s supporting statement for documenta 7 in 1982: “In abstract painting we have found a better way of gaining access to the unvisuablisable, the incomprehensible; because abstract painting deploys the utmost visual immediacy… the unknown simultaneously alarms us and fills us with hope, and so we accept the pictures as a possible way to make the inexplicable more explicable, or at all events more accessible” (Gerhard Richter, text for catalogue of documenta 7, Kassel, 1982, in: Dietmar Elger and Hans Ulrich Obrist, Eds., Gerhard Richter - Text: Writings, Interviews and Letters 1961-2007, London 2009, p. 121). To understand the new impetus behind Richter's work of the early 1980s, it is worth tracing a course through his practice up to this point.
Since the outset of his career during the early 1960s, Richter has called into question the conceptual relevance of painting within a visual age governed by photography and mechanical reproduction. Navigating a systematic trajectory of incredibly disparate yet thematically related painterly approaches, Richter has ceaselessly pursued the paradoxical aim to paint ‘like a camera’. In the early 1960s Richter began his professional career by producing impersonal black and white photorealistic paintings unified by a sweeping blur, later moving on to a series of colour charts and monochrome grey paintings in order to detach authorial gesture and subjective expression from the painterly act. By the mid-1970s, however, Richter had reached a dead-end: “My paintings became more and more impersonal and general until nothing was left but monochrome grey or colours next to each other, unmodulated colour. Then I was totally outside my paintings. But I didn’t feel well either. You can’t live like that and therefore I decided to paint the exact opposite” (Gerhard Richter cited in: Camille Morineau, ‘The Blow-Up, Primary Colours and Duplications’ in: Exh. Cat., London, Tate Modern (and travelling), Gerhard Richter: Panorama, 2011-12, p. 123). The years between the last colour charts, or Farben, and the creation of the present painting mark a period of experimental ground-work through which Richter discovered, via the squeegee, the legitimacy of free abstraction without the requisite of a photographic source.
Some years prior to the execution of the present work, Richter made a series of paintings based on photographs of thickly applied oil paint and close-up details of brushstrokes. Monumentally blown up yet painted with photorealist veracity, these images of zoomed-in paint echoed the appearance of strange landscapes or sfumato abstractions. Art historian Camille Morineau cogently illuminates this period of Richter’s career as informed and propelled by the ‘Blow-Up’: the stylistic means through which “the figurative can become abstract and the abstract figurative through being enlarged or reduced” (Camille Morineau, ‘The Blow-Up, Primary Colours and Duplications’ in: Ibid., pp. 126-27). To this end, one of Richter’s largest works, Stroke (on Red) (1980), created for a school in Soest, took on revelatory importance in the artist’s pursuit of photo-realistic abstraction. Using a one-metre wide piece of cardboard painted with a single yellow brushstroke, Richter took, enlarged, and projected a photograph of this small sketch onto two monumental canvases – copying in paint the original brushstroke at an enlargement spanning twenty metres. Seen from a distance the image falls into perfect figurative sense, yet viewed up close, the yellow line dissipates into a shroud of droplets that partially reveal and conceal the card’s underlying ground.
At this point, the squeegee was a totally new and unfamiliar device for Richter. After experimenting with its effect on small canvases, the artist realised its visual and conceptual importance. Unpredictable and semi-automated, the effect of the squeegee's scrape and accretion of paint across the canvas’ surface imparted veils of disintegrating occlusions and exposures that, for Richter, directly correlated with the appearance of the enlarged brushstroke at Soest. As explained by Morineau: “Richer would have noticed that the squeegee produced an image that looked like the blown-up stroke: a veil of colour that partially hides, partially reveals what is underneath. That is to say, Richter’s very modestly sized first squeegee painting, CR: 456-1, a mere 80cm wide, resembles the massive yellow Stroke. It was made without any source image, but it looked similar to paintings made by inflating such an image. In other words, the first squeegee painting mimics the appearance of a ‘blown-up’ stroke even though it was made completely differently. From this point onwards, Richter would have understood this lesson: an abstract painting could be made without any starting image…” (Ibid., p. 127). Using the squeegee as a means to achieve photographic verisimilitude without a source image, the ensuing years witnessed an extraordinary progression towards Richter’s primary intent to paint ‘like a camera’.
As redolent in Gelbgrün, not only do the thick tracts of paint imparted by the squeegee echo the appearance of blown-up paint details, but their application would increasingly begin to mimic a kind of representation tied to forms found in the natural world. The comingling of colours and often unpredictable compositional configurations would hereafter implore the same cognitive viewing experience as his photo works, in which a blurred, half-seen or remembered image is evoked within a field of ceaseless chromatic and textural permutations. Herein, the present work signals the artist’s achievement of true semblance through totally free and subject-less painting; indeed, 1982 marks the year in which Richter truly realised an approach to art-making reflective of the post-modern televisual age.
The notion of reflection is an apposite one when considering the present work and the conceptual framework that brought it into being. Composed of two identically sized canvases that strike a compositional balance across two halves, Gelbgrün imparts a sense of doubling or mirroring; an effect that conceptually echoes photographic – or even cinematic – replication. This is a character trait that links this painting with two contemporaneous yet aesthetically disparate bodies of work: the Speigel (Mirrors) and the photorealistic Eisberge (Icebergs), Kerze (Candles) and Schädel (Skulls). With their soft focus old-master style and larger than life proportions, the Candle and Skull paintings imitate a seventeenth-century vanitas tradition, and at the same time proffer an analogy for photographic replication and enlargement. The latter can also be said for the Eisberge, which, as painted enlargements of photographs Richter took of icebergs and their reflections in glacial water, double-up on the theme of duplication. To this end, however, it is the mirror works that emerge as essential to an overall understanding of Richter’s oeuvre post-1980. Having made their debut in 1981, these pieces replicate the environment that surrounds us in real time. They reproduce the ever-fluctuating, spontaneous, and unknowable conditions that govern reality as contained within the cropped proportions of a cinema screen. On the other hand, however, and akin to the photoreaslitic works, the Mirrors perpetuate and mimic the illusion of phenomenological appearance. This is a condition, however, that the abstract paintings – while entrenched within a post-modern photographic/cinematic condition – nonetheless bypass.
In 1981 Richter began carefully constructing his abstract paintings from a litany of floating forms. Although seeming to extol a random confluence of gestural painterly marks, the early 1980s abstracts were in fact established through a complex process, to quote Morineau, “of development and juxtaposition” (Ibid., p. 131). As is present in Gelbgrün, many of these works were set against a “three-dimensional” blue space that “evoked the sky and created a primary depth” (Ibid., p. 128). For Richter, this established an elemental pictorial space and naturalistic environment against which a catalogue of brushstrokes in individual colours – predominantly red, yellow, blue and green – could be placed. In the present work, architectural blocks of dense yellow are set against a blue ombre background that begins to turn into sunset orange. The subsequent vertical stuttering of green pigment mediates a set of openwork layers that are sparingly punctuated by both fine and wide brushstrokes in red and white. It is almost as if the picture unfolds through pictorial space, and by implication, like the Mirrors, reflects and imitates the passing of time. With Gelbgrün, however, it is the graze of the squeegee‘s pseudo-mechanical tract-like layers of thick green paint that not only unifies the composition across both panels, but significantly pictures something familiar and knowable about the utterly abstract and unknown. In this sense, the present work is one of the very first glimpses of the extraordinary imagistic reality of the Abstrakte Bilder: like a camera, Richter catches a snap-shot of a visual realm or sensual experience that is utterly beyond known appearance. Having opened a window onto an entirely new universe of imagistic potential in paint, Gelbgrün is a glorious affirmation of Richter’s supporting statement for documenta 7 in 1982: “[T]he unknown simultaneously alarms us and fills us with hope, and so we accept the pictures as a possible way to make the inexplicable more explicable… Art is the highest form of hope” (Gerhard Richter, text for catalogue of documenta 7, Kassel, 1982, op. cit.).