Rauch, Borremans, and The Iconic Turn
Cameron BennettWritten May, 2010
Curiously, even though America is rife with very strong representational figurative painters, it appears that Germany is where eyes continue to be turned for what could be considered artistically relevant painting. German painters like Gerhard Richter, Sigmar Polke, George Baselitz, and Frank Auerbach all have made names for themselves here in America, and have done much to make the return of representatonal painting to serious art criticism possible. More than just for painting, however, Germany is also a current focal point for culturally-defining discussions about the role of image in Western society, like those held at Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich regarding the “Iconic Turn.”
If an iconic turn is actually occurring, this might mean greater opportunities for iconic (traditionally representational, not traditionally abstract) painters in the art world. The question of artistic standards then becomes an issue: if the demand for representational painting does grow on a much wider scale, will this ultimately produce merely skillful painters unaware of their context in the history of painting, or will standards for relevancy remain high, producing self-aware painters in abundance, even in the face of a great influx of realistic painters? How well then does the work of realist/surrealist painters Neo Rauch, who is German, and Michael Borremans, who is Belgian, stand up in light of this question?
Clearly, Rauch creates paintings which are about painting itself. His images are full of the trappings of painting. We see easels, paint cans, blobs of paint, brushes, canvases, all depicted in surreal settings, in imaginary, dream-like environments. What he is saying in his images is another subject, but it is a safe bet he is not trying to give the impression of the natural world, solely through skillful recording of its visible qualities. Instead, the artificial worlds he paints, replete with obviously symbolic elements, acknowledge his self-awareness of his role as a painter, as a creator of artifice, not reality.
It is questionable whether Borremans himself consciously partakes of this same discussion in his work. When asked in an interview if he feels that it is possible today to make paintings that are not about painting, his answer seemed unsure, as though it were not something he is concerned with. Clearly, he does make paintings that are self-aware of their makeup and their possibilities, but are they actively addressing the question of self-referentiality? It would appear not. Borremans is definitely conscious of his role as a creator of artifice, though perhaps not as clearly as Rauch. One senses that Borremans strives to evoke an unsettling mood in his images, but the device of evoking mood itself, however, is something which even amateur painters attempt to do. His appropriation of photographs from the early decades of the twentieth century also seems to lack the kind of intentional purpose that one finds in the photo-paintings of Richter, for example, and seem to be chosen based on nostalgia more than anything else. His work has been compared to past masters Goya, Manet, and Zurbaran, but nods to past painters, however intentional, are not indicators of an understanding of the full history of painting. They are, rather, more an indication of the retrospective gaze which is common among representational painters, but not of the kind of vision necessary for contemporary relevance.
Nevertheless, Borremans’ recent work appears to partake more consciously in self-aware painterly commentary. He poses his models in self-consciously theatrical environments, using backdrops which remain backdrops, thus communicating an awareness of the artifice of his medium. He also draws attention to painting, ironically, through his films. His films are just that: film, not video. He uses grainy stock, and frames the surfaces on which he screens the films with wooden picture frames. These devices are meant to evoke what he calls “a language of beauty,” something which he feels painting and film have, but photography and video lack. Painting has presence, he claims, photography causes one to focus on the image, and not the medium.
I like very much the idea of making paintings about painting. I have recently filled pages in a notebook with ideas for pictures based on painting itself: visual allegories about simulation, emulation, representation, and of the creation of space on a flat surface.
My current work attempts to address both semiotic and iconographic approaches to looking at images, particularly as they deal with the idea of sign. My worry, though, is that these ideas will always come across as too imitative of Mark Tansey’s work. Also, it is important to me that the work be enjoyable to an audience wider than just painters and critics. I confess at this stage that I am not convinced that painting need be only about painting, and have the conviction that valid painting can address many avenues. I can not believe that intellectual content in art ought to be reserved solely for discussions of itself. Perhaps Borremans would agree with me.
Another way in which the painter makes a painting about painting is in his or her use of color. For Borremans, Nerdrum, Desiderio, Tansey, who uses monochrome, and many other semi-realist painters, less color seems to be the order of the day. One wonders if this is because definite concepts for the lack of color exist, or if contemporary painters simply do not understand how to use color. Borremans states: “…Overpowering colors create a language that’s not useful to me.” He wants colors to be present, but only if they “serve the painting.”
Rauch may be seen as breaking from the tradition of subdued color in painting, which stretches back hundreds of years, in that he is fully polychromatic. With his use of color
(and other devices, notably the speech bubble) he aligns himself with the comics-focussed aspect of Pop Art. His colors are often so jarring, so oddly juxtaposed that we are forced to acknowledge the surreal aspect of what he paints. Color is a symbol for Rauch, he uses it to full potential, unlike Borremans, for whom color seems to be an afterthought.
Exactly what these two artists mean to say with their paintings is another, perhaps unimportant, question. A more important question might be: should a painter, especially one who works realistically, create work which communicates a clear message, and do Borremans and Rauch do this? In spite of the use of recurring symbols in each painters work (Rauch uses blobs, 19th century archetypal characters, the speech bubble; Borremans uses glum young men, half figures set on flat surfaces, among others) it has been written about each that he produces unreadable images. It might appear that Rauch’s and Borremans’ work, and much contemporary art in general, may be merely a reiteration of the pictograms of Rauschenberg, the point of which was that they cannot be understood. If this is true, one might guess that, especially for representational painters who work realistically as Rauch, Borremans, Desiderio, and Tansey do, the challenge is to steer clear of being too explicitly illustrative and to avoid being considered kitsch. Rauch, in Pop-Art fashion, embraces kitsch and makes it central to his work. We see far fewer such pop-references in Borremans’ work, however. If the challenge of steering clear of kitsch without making it a central concept of one’s work is, in fact, a looming reality for the contemporary realist painter, then it can be seen that Borremans, in walking a more traditional line, is up against a greater challenge than Rauch.
In my own recent work, the question of how subtle to make the message, how much to shout out at the viewer and how much to withhold, has been foremost in my mind. In one painting I have depicted two figures, each in the gesture of a shouting person, intended to balance each other in a ying/yang, positive/negative fashion, where one has an open mouth, and the other has no mouth at all. I am attempting to reach a point where I am painting visually arresting allegories like Rauch’s (but with more naturalism, as in Borremans’ work), but I do not want them to be incomprehensible. On this very subject, my most recent paintings have been focused on signs, which we generally consider as making meaning clear, and I am painting on actual traffic-sign-shaped supports. In this way, I share something with Rauch, who uses signs as symbols of signs in his own work.
In general, however, my own artistic sensitivities are perhaps more akin to Borremans’ than to Rauch’s. His naturalistic draftsmanship appeals to me more than Rauch’s cartoonish manner of painting. I am also attracted to the variety of mediums which exists in Borremans’ work. He etches, draws in pencil, paints in watercolor and oils, and now makes films. I personally enjoy working in many mediums, and often find it difficult to settle on one. If I had to depart from Borremans, it would be in that I would like to return to a fuller palette at some point, and that it continues to be a goal of mine to work realistically, but without the use of photographs. Lastly (and perhaps this is indicative of the kind of painters the Iconic Turn may produce), although I am interested in making paintings about painting, I do not feel compelled to make this the sole focus of my work, as Borremans also appears not to do.
Bibliography
Coggins, David. “Michael Borremans at David Zwirner.” Art in America 94 (no. 6, June/July 2006): 194-5
Coggins, David. “Michael Borremans.” Art in America 97 (no. 3, March 2009):88-95
Marcelis, Bernard. “Michael Borremans.” Art Press (no. 311, April 2005): 72
Marcelis, Bernard. “ Michael Borremans.” Art Press (no. 326, 2006): 81-2
Kunstmuseum Wolfsburg. Neo Rauch, Neue Rollen. Paintings 1993-2006. Ed. Holger Broeker. DuMont Literatur und Kunst Verlag, Cologne, 2006
Wittcox, Eva. “Michael Borremans.” Flash Art (November/December 2004): 111
Yield, oil on wood, 30"x30"
Appropriation: Homage to Sherrie Levine, oil on wood, 24"x24"
Untitled, oil, 24"x18"
