What Was Whistler Thinking?
“Portrait of Whistler”
THAT’S THE QUESTION I kept asking myself as I gazed into the intimate world of James McNeill Whistler’s etchings at the Gibbes (until May 16, 2010).
When you look at oil paintings you are generally aware of standing in front of them looking at them. But with etchings, especially good ones, you somehow step inside and go on a journey.
Etchings are typically smaller than paintings and they are monotone. Without the aid of vivid, contrasting colors, the artist has to accomplish his tasks of composition, perspective, and expressiveness in mere lines against a neutral background. He has to cull beauty, charm, and interest with the deft penmanship of a pure draftsman.
And two challenges always await: how to render rich details in so tight a space; and how to conjure emotional impact from the strict economy that drawing demands.
The first thing that struck me about Whistler’s etchings is how much he managed to pack into them. He consistently fills to the brim his foreground, middle ground, and background with minute, astonishingly clear details (which he seems to manage, in part, by making his foregrounds much lighter than the backgrounds). His line can seem scratchy and overworked, but on close examination something else becomes evident—that he was less concerned with realism, and more concerned with the question of how we see.
“Billingsgate”
This seems no accident considering that Whistler was a contemporary of the early impressionists among whom he lived in France and England.
But, whereas impressionism is regarded by many as light used to render forms, for Whistler it was more than that. It was about how the eye contrives a world out of what is presented to it as an endless combination of shapes and angles at different distances—the full patchwork of images that the eye instantaneously sorts into comprehensible “things.”
“Thames Police”
Even though Whistler usually included small human figures in his etchings, he was more interested in the composition of shapes. And what brings his etchings alive is the subtle geometry he achieves with all of his diagonal, vertical, and horizontal lines.
One example is the etching “Billingsgate” (above) which shows a dock crowded with boats tied together hull-to-hull. With this effect alone, Whistler “threw” his composition all the way across the scene. The barge in front and the bare masts do the same thing vertically: they throw our eye upward. Yet, despite the strong contrast of movement there is a solemnity about the composition. The visual forces balance out and leave your eye at rest. Meanwhile, the people in the scene are secondary. What Whistler was really thinking was how fascinatingly complex the construction of this image is to the human eye.
“Old Putney Bridge”
The same can be said about “Thames Police” (above) where, again, the foreground, middle ground, and background are jammed with lines, shapes, and tones—another jumble of images that manage to reflect a natural scene in the human world—where, again, the artist’s interest seems to be the eye’s ability to interpret a mass of images in which people happen to be part of the equation.
“Old Putney Bridge” may seem otherwise, yet it, too, is a study of vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines and shapes. This is more than the depiction of a dilapidated bridge. It is a careful examination of perspective. It also demonstrates how Whistler appreciated architecture not for its own sake but for what it provides in terms of texture, visual depth, and the interplay of light.
“Street at Saverne”
A vivid example of this is his wonderful “Street at Saverne” which shows a stretch of buildings along a narrow cobblestone street at night. This work is unusual in several ways. One is that you don’t see many etchings of night scenes, probably because it requires etching away nearly all of the surface to create the dark tones, while leaving just enough untouched area to indicate light ones—a treacherous balance for the etcher to maintain throughout an entire piece.
But perhaps most interesting is that this simple street, with its expertly foreshortened perspective and lone dark figure, is really a row of house portraits. They—their shapes and shadows—are the real people in this picture, and each of them exhibits its own expression as it glances at the street and passerby below. The whole group is beautifully lit by a soft spread of light that in itself is a technical delight.
Accomplished as all of these etchings are, however, there is a key ingredient missing from most of them, which is the depth of emotional insight and impact that characterizes and is so recognizable in the etchings (and drawings) of Rembrandt, the undisputed master of etching. Fortunately, though, there are five lithographs in this exhibit where Whistler almost equals the Dutch master. Part of the reason is that, whereas Whistler’s etchings can appear dense and overworked, his lithographs leave ample white space, rely on a thrifty execution of line, and are wonderfully evocative.
“The Laundress” in particular (which I could not find a good image of) has a haunting quality that lures you in. It is nothing more than a simple storefront in the distance with three women inside. One is turned aside attending to her work; the other two peer out at you. The magic, however, is in how Whistler, with minimal detail, arouses our compassion for these people and this scene. His mastery puts this piece into the special category of art that merits less talking about and more looking at—again and again and again.
“The Long Gallery, Louvre”
Another superb lithograph is “The Long Gallery, Louvre.” Instead of focusing on objects in space—as his etchings do—here Whistler utilizes space itself. A large, empty foreground, a high arched ceiling, and a distant view into the adjoining gallery literally throw this composition wide open, in the midst of which are scattered a handful of museum goers. The combined effect perfectly captures the essence of an art gallery and that curious blend of anonymity and isolation you feel as you wander through one.
If you’re as lucky as I was on a Friday morning, you’ll have the entire exhibit to yourself, with complete freedom to gaze into—not just at—Whistler’s unique world and wonder what he must have been thinking as he captured that world in such eloquent works. •
Note: although I have included images of most of the mentioned works, please know that they in no way compare to the richness and vitality of seeing the originals.
Credits
Special thanks to Marla Loftus, Director of Communications, Gibbes Museum of Art.
Portrait of Whistler, 1859 (not part of the Gibbes exhibit). Etching and drypoint. Online image from University of Glasgow.
Billingsgate, 1859 by James McNeill Whistler (American, 1834–1903). Etching on paper. Gift of Dr. and Mrs. (Caroline) Anton Vreede. Courtesy Gibbes Museum of Art.
Thames Police, 1859 by James McNeill Whistler (American, 1834–1903).Etching on paper. Gift of Dr. and Mrs. (Caroline) Anton Vreede. Courtesy Gibbes Museum of Art.
Old Putney Bridge, 1879 by James McNeill Whistler (American, 1834–1903). Etching on paper. Gift of Dr. and Mrs. (Caroline) Anton Vreede. Courtesy Gibbes Museum of Art.
Street at Saverne, 1858 by James McNeill Whistler (American, 1834–1903). Etching on paper. Online image from Reproductions-de-tableaux.
The Long Gallery, Louvre, 1884 by James McNeill Whistler (American, 1834–1903). Lithograph on paper. Online image from Spaightwood Galleries.
