Skip to main content

Jasper Johns, 'Diver', 1962-3

 



My eye is drawn to an overall sense of darkness. The monochrome palette made up of charcoal and pastel sucks the viewer in, plunging them into the canvas and echoing the title of the piece. This is foregrounded by Johns' stencilling of the word Diver on the bottom left hand corner of the piece, barely visible against the murky colours. The capitalisation of the word seems like a warning - do not be pulled under. Diver has been interpreted to be Johns paying homage to the suicide of Hart Crane, an American poet who jumped overboard a ship in the 1930s, his body never being recovered. With this interpretation in mind, both the dark colour palette and warning label below the anchor shape depicted are even more emotionally effective. 

If Johns is referencing Crane's suicide, he takes the human element of the painting further. Johns said that he wanted to convey the idea of a 'swan dive' through this depiction. Despite an overall darkness, there are graceful movements to the brushwork. As one swan dives towards the water, their arms sweep out, just as Johns has swept his brush across the mounted canvas to create the head of the anchor shape. The body is a vertical line during the dive, Johns using the line of connection between the two panels in the centre of the piece to portray this. The title is not 'dive' or 'diving', but the 'er' again amplifies the sense of humanity behind the piece, giving its sense of purpose. In addition, Johns has dotted handprints about the painting, adding depth to an otherwise flat, monochrome picture plane. The work therefore does not just have vertical depth, but also three dimensional depth, the hands standing out to the viewer and interacting with their eye. The handprints at the base of the anchor in particular hark back to the idea of the swan dive, the hands pulling apart to the create the arc that forms the head of the anchor. 

Johns' inclusion of the anchor shape, however, adds weight to the piece. Not only does the strong, vertical and the approximate symmetry of the anchor imply depth and downward movement, but even the eye itself seems to be dragged downward. The painting itself is large, and would be especially evocative on the white walls of the modern galley space. Often critics compare a dark colour palette to the artist's apparent state of mind - Mark Rothko used dark tones throughout the 1970s to perhaps signal a man spiralling further into depression. With Crane's suicide in mind, there is definitely a darker reading to the painting, with seemingly no light breaking through and no hope of reaching the surface once again. The viewer is instead anchored to the painting, not able to look away, dragged down towards the seabed and the abyss. The colours envelope the real world, and it becomes our very own handprints on the canvas that claw at the darkness, desperately trying to find the light.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

John Everett Millais, 'Peace Concluded', 1856

  My eye is drawn to the copy of The Times clutched in the hands of the officer. The white of the figurine on the man's knee and the white of his wife's sleeves all serve to make the white paper stand out even more on the canvas. As the title of the painting suggests, this is about the end of the Crimean War, seemingly depicting a soldier who has just returned home, surrounded by his family, but the mood is perhaps less euphoric than you might expect. The soldier seems somber and weary, and his wife has a look of concern. Although on the surface it seems to be quite a harmonious composition representing a close knit and traditional family, the positioning of the man is odd. It is his wife who takes her place at the apex of the triangular composition, the soldier is reduced to an emasculated role, perhaps an invalid, as suggested by the blanket over his legs. Her face is passive, but not exactly positive. With her arms draped around her husband, she looks posed, dutiful but not...

Ernst Barlach, 'The Avenger', 1914

  On the advent of both the First World War and the artistic movement known as Futurism, Ersnt Barlach cast this work in bronze. The eye picks out an angular, horizontal form, a sense of hurried pace and strong facial features to this work by the German Expressionist artist. This piece is highly interesting when discussed in terms of the artist's oeuvre - Barlach entered the First World War with a clear attitude of patriotism. The sculpture reflects that, as the figure seemingly thrusts forward wielding a sizeable weapon above his head, leading the charge head on. Describing the sculpture as his 'raging Barbarian' it is clear that Barlach wanted to present an emotionally charged figure. Perhaps it is even a self portrait, with Barlach picturing himself as the hero. The artist did in fact serve briefly as an infantry officer. However realisation soon dawned and patriotism quickly dwindled. All of Barlach's sculptures from this point onward are influenced by the horror an...

Tondino di Guerrino, 'Crucifix', 1325-30

  The monumental crucifixes of Cimabue, Giotto and their followers, and their transition from Byzantine forms towards increased dynamism and naturalism, have been well studied. Equally, smaller works by French Gothic practitioners in ivory are now beginning to permeate scholarship, mainly through the detailed exploration by Sarah Guerin. The goldsmiths of Siena do not command as much attention. Yet, they hold the key to artistic synthesis in the early fourteenth century. This is proved by the small processional crucifix currently at the National Gallery's iteration of Siena: The Rise of Painting 1300-50, attributed to Tondino di Guerrino.  Tondino combines enamel with an intricate gold sculptural presentation of the crucified Christ in this small, portable work. Instantly, the eye is drawn to the central element - the thin, skeletal body hanging from two stretched, emaciated arms. Christ's torso is drawn inwards, his ribs exposed, mimicking a sharp intake of breath. The downwa...