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

Cellini, 'Perseus with the Head of Medusa', 1545-1554

  My eye is immediately drawn to the head of Medusa. At first glance it looks gruesome, as though Cellini has captured the moment just after the head has been decapitated, and it oozes blood and bodily matter. However the viewer then notices the similarity between that and Medusa's hair. Maybe it is just her hair after all. Cellini has cleverly enticed the viewer in here, to take a closer look and therefore involved them in the sculpture as a whole. Once they do come closer, they begin to notice other things such as the similarity between Perseus' hair and Medusa's snakes. Hero and monster are not so separate. Even the features of their faces are very similar. Perhaps Cellini wants to suggest that evil can often wear the mask of good. Or he could even be implying that everyone has some evil within them, even the hero Perseus.  One of the good things about sculpture is that the viewer is able to walk around it, and fully immerse themselves in the piece. Cellini has used this...

Artemisia Gentileschi, 'Jael and Sisera', c.1620

  My eye firstly notices the hand wielding the hammer above the unsuspecting man's head. Gentileschi is depicting a new and particularly horrible kind of weapon here instead of the huge sword she gave Judith to slice Holofernes' head off in 1620. The tent peg seems all the more violent, especially as the viewer is looking at the split second before the deed has been committed. Moreover, the gaze of the women (Jael) is focused and calm, making the piece seem unnerving. This is not a moment of hesitation but a snapshot of action - the woman has made up her mind and will commit to this murder. The viewer can only imagine how Gentileschi would have depicted the bloody aftermath, in her usual violent and tenebristic way. The fact that the artist has signed her name in the tomb-like stone above the man is significant - she is signing his life away in this painting, sending him swiftly to the grave.  The body of the man (Sisera) is also interestingly depicted. He lies in a rather eff...

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...