I recently picked up a book purely for the title: Goethe on Art. Who better, I thought, to guide me through the intriguing world of German Romantic art than he? Goethe was an author (among many other things) who was an early figure in the Romantic movement as it came to fruition in Germany. This book, as I was soon to learn from the inside flap, was the first English edition of Goethe's writings on art since 1845. Gold. The volume is a collection of letters, essays, reviews, and articles by Goethe on the subject of art; edited and translated by John Gage, lecturer of art history at the University of Cambridge.Goethe was always interested in art, famously saying: "I have lived among painters and learned, like them, to look at objects with the eye of an artist...The eye was the organ par excellence, through which I apprehended the world." He founded two art periodicals, ran a series of painting competitions. He drew often himself, and we have many of sketches still today.
John Gage primarily chose writings that dealt specifically with art criticism. It was for this reason that I was especially interested: I thought I could gain some insight into a brilliant yet non-philosopher's mind on questions such as "what is art" or "what is beauty." He does not address these questions directly, but he does offer some insight into what he thinks is important in a work of art. For example, here is what he had to say in his rather stark comparison of Rembrandt and Raphael:
"When Rembrandt presents his Madonna and Child as a Dutch farmer's wife, any little critic can see that this goes quite contrary to history, which relates how Christ was born in Bethlehem, in the land of the Jews. 'The Italians have done it far better,' says he. But how? Did Raphael paint anything more, or other, than a loving mother with her first and only child? And was there anything else to be extracted from the subject? And has not motherly love in all its nuances been a rich source of material for poets and painters in all periods? But all the simplicity and truth has been taken out of the Bible stories by the attempt to ennoble them and adapt them to the rigid decorum of the church; they no longer hold the sympathy of the heart, but dazzle the blunted sense. Mary now sits between the curlicues of a tabernacle, as if she was exhibiting her child to the shepherds for money, or perhaps she has been using the enforced idleness of childbed to make herself beautiful for the honour of this visit. That fits; that is appropriate; that does not conflict with history! How does Rembrandt deal with this objection? He takes us into a dark stable which want has forced the mother, with her child at her breast, to share with the cattle. They are both buried up to the neck in straw and clothing, everything is dark except a lamp which lights up the father, sitting with a little book from which he seems to be reading some prayers to Mary. At that moment, the shepherds come in. The first, carrying a lantern, peers into the straw as he takes off his hat: could the question 'Is this the new-born King of the Jews?' ever be more clearly expressed?"Goethe is impressed with how Rembrandt illuminates the "truth and simplicity" of the historical and religious event without giving too much priority to religion or history. Truth seems to be what is important to Goethe, or at least his version of it. Not only does he speak of retaining the simple truth of Jesus' birth, but also in other scenes such as landscapes. One painter he particularly thought skilled at this was (no surprise, perhaps) Caspar David Friedrich. In speaking of some sepia drawings by Herr Friedrich:
"[Friedrich] is an artist who holds fast to nature with earnestness and truth, who unfolds his inner self in his works, and strives towards significance, who, in a word, unites the particularity of the general idea with a characteristic rendering of the individual parts, this artist can never lack the support of the public, for he brings new things to light, and, at the same time, has the quiet reward of being right. But even those who are accustomed to making higher demands must praise him, for the endeavour to strike out an individual path itself demands no ordinary courage and talent, and since already in the simple, characteristic, true imitation of Nature an appreciable level of art is attained, there is no reason why the old and tried rules should not be strictly observed."Goethe doesn't stop there though, he goes on to speak of a truth that is beyond the physical world. A 'true ideal' in which an artist could idealize a landscape in order to achieve a higher truth. In speaking of a collection of Claude's landscapes:
"Here for once you see a complete man, who thought and felt beauty, and in whose mind there was a world such as you will not find outside of it. The pictures are true, yet have no trace of actuality. Claude Lorrain knew the real world by heart, down to the minutest details, but he used it only as the means of expressing the world of his beautiful soul. That is the true ideal, which can so use real means of expression that the truth which emerges gives the illusion of actuality."I thought a key phrase here was, "the truth which emerges gives the illusion of actuality." He is essentially saying that Claude is able to find beauty and then present it to those who look upon his work in a way that we can understand.This falls in line more with the Romantic notion of genius and inspiration.
The written works of this volume are primarily Goethe's thoughts on different works of art from a technical perspective. Sprinkled throughout, however, are little nuggets that help one to see more clearly what Goethe thought was important in art. He thought it was truth. Though I'm not sure what that meant exactly to him from these particular writings, I can't say that's a bad starting place.
