ANITA
RÉE : RETROSPECTIVE
Edited by Karen Schick
Prestel Publishing. 245 pages. £45. ISBN 978-3-7913-5711-9
Reviewed by Jim Burns
The striking self-portrait on the cover of this large catalogue for
an exhibition of Anita Rée’s work at the Hamburger Kunsthalle is
surely enough to arouse interest in an artist who is probably
little-known in Britain. Born in
1885, she died in 1933. The latter date is particularly significant
for reasons that will soon become obvious, if they aren’t already.
Rée’s father was German-Jewish, but her mother, who came from
Venezuela, is assumed to have been
Catholic, though possibly with some Jewish blood in her background.
However, Rée and her sister were baptised and brought up as
Protestants. She showed some aptitude for drawing and was encouraged
by her father. Between 1904 and 1909 she studied with Arthur
Siebelist, a Hamburg
artist influenced by Impressionism. Among her fellow-students were
Franz Nölken, and Friedrich Ahlers-Westerman. Rée later shared a
studio with Nölken, but the association seems to have foundered
because she wanted a deeper personal relationship than he was
prepared to offer.
Early works by Rée show her to be a competent artist working within
well-established formats. A 1904 painting of a farmer with a cow
doesn’t suggest any great originality, but as she was only nineteen
or so, and probably still guided in some ways by Siebelist, she may
not have been confident enough to express herself with any
noticeable originality. A self-portrait from the same year, while
again fairly conventional in composition, does attract attention
because of the firmness of the colouring, and the determined
expression on Rée’s face. It’s as if she’s striking a pose that says
she’s going to follow her own aims and interests, come what may.
What is obvious in these early canvases and sketches is that she
was, in Carl Georg Heise’s words (as quoted by Sophia Colditz), “a
brilliant draughtswoman”. She may later have deviated from direct
representations of human faces and figures, but she could clearly
function within a framework of portraiture that related to a
familiar tradition whenever she chose to. This was, of course,
useful when fulfilling commissions from patrons who expected a
straightforward representation of the subject.
Rée was in Paris around 1912/13, though it’s difficult to pin down
with any accuracy just how long she spent in the French capital,
which was, at that time, the main centre for experiments and
innovations in art. She was familiar with Cezanne’s work, which she
admired, and had been in touch with Renoir by mail. But there are
inconsistencies in references to the Paris sojourn, with one of her associates claiming that she
was there for six months and studied with Fernand Léger, whereas
another source referred to Rée being largely “self-taught” and
making “study trips” to Paris. Rée herself doesn’t
appear to have given any detailed accounts to others of what she did
and who she met in Paris.
Karin Schick says that “Rée did not keep a diary and none of her
sketchbooks or letters from her
Paris
days have survived”.
But she did tell Richard Hertz in a 1916 letter that the art
historian Carl Einstein, who travelled with her to the city, had
helped to shape her tastes and interests: “Back then he wanted to
give me, first and foremost, a good foundation – Chardin, Corot,
etc. - before allowing
me to approach such things as Matisse’s pictures”. It is fairly
certain, too, that Rée, a conservative in some ways, probably didn’t
find her way into bohemian circles and cafés in
Paris
where she might have encountered many avant-garde painters and
sculptors.
She had also discovered and admired the work of Paula
Modersohn-Becker, who was located at the Worpswede artists’ colony
in Germany. Rée had
not visited Worpswede, nor had she met Modersohn-Becker before she
died in 1907, but she was influenced by her paintings, and felt that
Modersohn-Becker had absorbed lessons from Cezanne, Van Gogh, and
Gauguin, but had not copied these artists and had succesfully
created her own “monumental forms and vibrant colours”. Rée was not
as impressed by other painters of the period, doubting Emil Nolde’s
output and saying that Wassily Kandinsky’s paintings were “when all
is said and done, the work of an interior designer”. She also
dismissed the Futurists’ “literary-like posturing, the
psychologising of the Futurists”. These reactions, if nothing else,
demonstrated that Rée was alert to what was happening generally in
the art world. She was always keen to visit galleries and view
private collections.
She never was moved by purely abstract art, and she was suspicious
of Pablo Picasso’s general line of development as he moved away from
his early paintings in
Paris. But she must have been influenced, if
only to a minor degree, by his Cubist work. There is a
Study of a Head, said to
have been painted sometime after 1913, which has a definite Cubist
touch to it. It’s worth noting at this point a somewhat barbed
comment on her work by Friedrich Ahlers-Hestermann, who remarked
that Rée had always painted “like someone or other”, a reference to
the fact that she did seem to pick up ideas from a variety of
sources. Sophia Colditz, in an interview in the catalogue,
challenges this view, and states that Rée was simply doing what many
artists do, distilling her viewing experiences and forging her own
distinctive style.
In 1919, Rée joined the Hamburg Secession, a group dedicated to
promoting the arts in the city, and with a wide and varied programme
of exhibitions, talks, poetry readings, and other activities.
Because of her family background, Rée nearly always had access to
some of the leading figures in
Hamburg’s artistic and intellectual society.
She frequented the famous library established by Aby Warburg, and
attended events at the home of the poet, Richard Dehmel, and his
wife, the feminist Ida Dehmel.
She was active with the Secession and her paintings were
shown at most of their annual exhibitions. The 1920s were a fruitful
period for her, and as well as her work being seen in Hamburg it was
also included in exhibitions in other German cities, such as
Dresden, Berlin, Dusseldorf, Nuremberg, and outside Germany, in
Helsinki and Stockholm.
Also in the 1920s, Rée spent three years in Italy, living in the small town of Positano, south of
Naples. It had become something of a haven
for artists and writers, attracting such people as Brecht, Walter
Benjamin, Picasso, Fortunato Depero, and many others. Rée later
spoke of her time there as among the happiest periods of her life,
and she certainly seems have been inspired to work while in
Positano. One of her best-known (and best?) paintings,
White Nut Trees, was
created in the town, and achieves a blend of the modern with aspects
of the work of the Old Masters whose paintings she had studied as
closely as those of any contemporary artists. But, in Anna Heinz’s
words, “what was important to her was not to copy or imitate them,
but to make the involvement with them creatively fruitful for her
own painting”.
With regard to White Nut
Trees, Heinz says that it is “concerned not with a topographical
accurate veduta but with
a construct in which all kinds of contemporary styles of painting
are combined in the context of her reception of Early Renaissance
art”. And she suggests that the artist’s “formal concern for the
arrangement of of the squares, rectangles and triangles is worth
noting”. The painting, and a similar one entitled,
Bridge in Positano, have
a “spooky, stage-set-like effect” that is almost surreal. Rée, at
that stage in her career, would not have encountered any paintings
likely to have been described as surreal, so there is no link to the
surrealists of the 1920s and 1930s. And I suspect she might not have
been in favour of them even if she did have an opportunity to
encounter their work.
There are some interesting comments about Rée and her links to the
theme of melancholia in art. She would have been aware of an
Albrecht Dürer painting (1514) with the title,
Melancholia I, and
Gabriele Himmelmann notes that Erwin Panofsky and Fritz Sax,
expanding on Aristotle’s theory about the link between melancholy
and creativity, had claimed that “Melancholia, which in no way
represents a mere evil, but rather means the disposition that, under
favourable conditions, enables the human mind to accomplish its
greatest achievements. Those men who were of the greatest importance
as artists, philosophers, and politicians were all meloncholiacs”.
Himmelmann remarks that “In Anita Rée’s work, melancholic
contemplation is ever-present, especially in her best-known
painting, a self-portrait from 1930”. (This is the self-portrait I
referred to earlier as on the cover of the catalogue). Himmelmann
then adds that Rée appears to have “staged herself within a
sophisticated theoretical frame of reference as a genius and
melancholic artist in the Aristotelian sense”.
It is true that Rée could be temperamental at times, perhaps even
perverse in her reactions to offers to help her. Gustav Pauli,
writing to a Berlin
gallery-owner who had enquired about including something by Rée in
an exhibition, said: “There is only one problem with Anita Rée and
that lies in her temperament. She is difficult beyond measure and
paralysed by countless inhibitions”.
And she had little luck in her relationships with men, if her
earlier difficulties with Franz Nölken, and a later liaison with a
businessman man in Hamburg, are anything to go by. Were there
other relationships in between that never came to anything? The lack
of accurate biographical information about her makes it difficult to
know. By 1930 or so she
was also suffering from health problems, and she is said to have
complained about feeling lonely and neglected, and being financially
impoverished.
She was also being attacked in a pro-Nazi newspaper in Hamburg because of her
alleged Jewish ancestry. In 1933 the twelfth exhibition by the
Hamburg Secession was closed by the police acting under orders from
the Reich Ministry of Propaganda. A little later, Gustav Pauli and
Carl Georg Heise, both supporters of Rée’s work, were dismissed from
their posts as museum directors in Hamburg
and Lubeck. The writing was clearly on the wall,
and she talked of moving to
Switzerland
or Spain.
But in December, 1933, perhaps in a fit of depression brought on by
a combination of her personal problems and the developing political
situation, she committed suicide.
Rée’s reputation faded after her death. Sophia Colditz speculates
that this may have been because of the feeling that to identify too
closely with her, and her work, might be viewed with suspicion by
the authorities: “People perhaps feared that her Jewish ancestry
could lead to their own undoing”. Some of the murals she had painted
were covered over, and individual examples of her work were hidden.
A groundskeeper at the Hamburg Kunsthalle
stored some of her paintings in his apartment so that they wouldn’t
be destroyed by the Nazis.
Anita Rée: Retrospective
is a splendid catalogue, and a great amount of effort has clearly
gone into tracking down examples of her work, and details of her
life. This was not always easy as many documents and other materials
were discarded by her older sister following Rée’s death.
I would particularly draw attention to one of the essays, “An
Art-Technological View of Anita Rée,” which looks closely at her
“choice of working materials and techniques”. But all the essays are
worth reading, and when combined with the extensive illustrations,
provide the first English-language survey of Rées work. Formal
portraits, landscapes, some experimental paintings. She had a varied
approach to the creation of works of art, and from that point of
view it’s easy to understand why some critics and fellow-artists
thought that she had failed to establish a distinctive style of her
own. Her sojourn in Italy
does seem to have acted as a catalyst towards more-individual
painting, and her work was given greater attention when she returned
to Hamburg in 1925.
The catalogue has been published in connection with the exhibition,
Anita Rée: Retrospective,
at the Hamburger Kunsthalle, 6th October, 2017 to 4th February,
2018.
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