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Marianne von Werekin, 'Sunrise', 1920

 

An endless line of men that tug the rope of a small boat soon disappear into murky, burning red waters beyond. Colour is fantastical, mystical and otherworldly, producing an atmosphere far from reality. This is the Symbolist work of Marianne von Werefkin, part of the German Expressionists that worked in Munich from the 1910s. A movement so often dominated by the male names of the time – Kandinsky especially – Werefkin was a vital participant, expanding the range of art produced and displayed, complementing her work with art theory and written sources, as well as creating her own Salon upon her arrival in Munich.

It is easy to get lost in biography with a piece such as this. Wasted, human potential seems to be at the heart of this work, signalled by the endless line of men pushing forward towards the edge of the picture plane. There is a sense of struggle and a universality to the suffering through the portrayal of faceless men in similar blue tones. Looking at the date produced of 1920, one might relate it to postwar anxiety. Certainly, the landscape gives off the potential of a no man’s land. Additionally, Werefkin seems to be looking further back in time for her sources perhaps through her connections to male practitioners, against losing her true individuality to contextual details. This includes her studies in Russia with Illarion Pryanishnikov, member of the Russian ‘Wanderers’ (Peredvizhniki), or with famous realist Repin who has even been adopted into the Western canon of art. Both Werefkin’s preoccupation with the working man and her grouping together of figures in a linear fashion can be linked to both of these artists, particularly Repin’s Barge Haulers. Yet with more earthy, bleached out colour tones, elongated perspective and most importantly a study of the individual, human figure, Repin does not aim for the universality that Werefkin achieved some half a century later.

Widely travelled and well educated, Werefkin had seen and synthesised much art. She spent a period of time in Lithuania and records suggest she even attempted to buy some of the work of artist-composer Ciurlionis there. Equally in Munich, she was able to look to, collaborate and engage with contemporaries – this work particularly evokes the landscapes of Edvard Munch whose natural forms bend, blend and melt together in a similar fashion. Most interestingly, Werefkin has not lost a certain tendency to academicism, albeit in a manipulated format. The line of leaning men creates a sightline further into the canvas, backed up by the leaning trees that frame the piece. All eyes lead back to the burning centre of the work in reds, oranges and yellows whirling and blurring together. Is it a sunrise? Or a sunset? Or some mystical, transcendent, spiritualising force that us as mere humans cannot grasp? Spiritualism and theosophy were powerfully felt in Russia and Munich at the time Werefkin was working and the orange globe that gives centrality to the piece perhaps suggests a divine, otherworldly entity. It could be threatening, but it could also be hopeful. It is important not to read Werefkin’s works as purely isolated, negative, lonely pieces of human suffering. The bright colours in the sky disperse outwards and reflected on the water, they suggest that soon the whole sky will be filled with light and perhaps hope.

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