So I just fell in love with Edvard Munch. Well, I say that like I had just discovered him, and I guess in a way I have. I've always known about The Scream, who hasn't? But it was always a piece I thought was personally overrated. Not saying it isn't a good piece, but just didn't really speak to me. That was that for me, just another overrated artwork from an artist I hadn't even explored.
You think I'd know better by now than to just disregard an artist.
I just spent the last couple of hours looking through his works. I am blown away. I love these moments, almost revelations, where your whole perspective on something will shift in such a short time frame. I'd based my entire idea about Munch on a single artwork, his most famous piece. I didn't even consider his other works, even though some of my favourite pieces from artists are their lesser known ones. How naive of me.
I know I'll write on Munch in the future, because even now I'm still trying to decide about which artwork to talk about, so many of them are beautiful.
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| Edvard Munch, Love and Pain (1893-4) Oil on canvas 91cm x 109cm |
Vampire, originally called Love and Pain. It's beautiful. Just take a moment to look at it... don't worry, I'll do the same.
The red. The orange. The clashing colours. That's what first stands out to me, the intense contrast of the woman's trailing hair to the dark colours of the work, it's so stark. That's when the scene starts to sink in and for me it's an intimate oscillation between tender and sinister.
It was sinister on first impression, but I think the title of Vampire really sold that more than the actual painting itself. But there is this ominous undertone, the man with an almost deathly pale complexion next to the fiery woman. She's emerging from the darkness while he clamours into her arms, desperately resting onto her bosom. The incorrect Vampire title really gives that idea of bloodsucking, life-stealing, harlot. So I think there is that seed that is planted.
However there's also this tenderness. He's desperately clinging to her, her arms slowly enveloping him, hair trailing. There's a sort of anguish to the man, like she's the last solid thing on earth, his anchor to the world. There's this sort of protective bubble around the two of them, but I can't for the life of me figure out if it's a bubble to keep harm away, or to make sure no help can reach the man.
I think that's why there's this switching between that tenderness to sinister, when he gives himself to fully and willingly, can we trust her? Is this complete faith in her by the man given in right mind, or is there something else at work? Some sinister allure that traps him while she slowly sucks the life out of him? In a way, the truth is in the title, Love and Pain. There is love and tenderness, this trust that the viewer probably finds hard to understand. But under that, a whisper of danger, a flicker of pain.
I think it's very telling of reality, not knowing the dynamics about two people. Maybe even the man and woman don't know how they fit, but it's interesting trying to dissect what's happening. It's a very tender scene, but dangerous or comforting? Is he a willing participant no matter what the situation? For me it's this resonance between the two, one moment I want to fall into her arms too, the next I want to distangle and run away screaming.
I'll be looking at Munch for sure more in the future, this work is living proof of how naive I can be in making quick judgements. There's something so intimate in his works, so raw, it's going to be hard to ignore.
