German Expressionism would become
famous for bellicose intensity in depicting bleak and often violent subject
matter. Alongside Germany's entrance
into the First World War, this heightened emotionalism permeates geopolitical meaning,
but the style of art continually draws back onto the artist, who is personally
expressing him or herself through art.
Käthe Kollwitz painted,
illustrated, and sculpted works of art that conveyed profound human
emotion. These works expressed the feelings
of much of the population during wartime, but they also communicated subjects
which were very personal to the artist. She
lost her son to the war and fell into a deep depression. Death and the Mother is today considered one
of her most famous lithographs conveying her personal sense of loss.
Again very primal, like Munch's The
Scream, Death and the Mother is a simple etching of a crude woman, unclothed,
holding a baby to her chest. She is
gripping her child tightly and covering its mouth to protect it from an
encroaching form coming up from behind her.
A skeleton, ghost, demon, or simply skinny human being—whatever it is
coming up behind her (the artist has labeled it Death), Death creeps up with
its face pressed against the mother's in ravenous assail, and the mother widens
her eyes and gasps in fear. She is about
to be separated from her child, and her muscles flex and tighten around her
precious infant; but nothing can stop Death from approaching. The tone in this Expressionist work conveys overwhelming
emotion, but it accomplishes potency and profundity through simplicity. This is just a simple drawing but no less
full of powerful emotion, like the simple telegram which can change a mother's
life forever during wartime.
Inasmuch as Death and the Mother
was an expression of Kollwitz's own grief over the loss of her son, this was
the sentiment of a generation of suffering poor who lost more than their
financial stability from the war. World
War I left the entire Western world in devastation. Chemical warfare, trench warfare, mechanized
warfare—this had been a war like none other before in the history of the
world. It had introduced new technology,
like the armored tank, submachine gun, and the flamethrower (just to name a
few), which promised to make war more humane but delivered quite a different
result. If the artists of the late
Victorian Era had found life in the Modern world demoralizing and bleak, then
this experience of Modern war did nothing if not solidify their doubts. International in scale, brutal in execution,
and everlasting in aftermath, the First World War was a phenomenon that stayed
with its generation long after it was over.
The effects of mustard gas and the diseases contracted as a result of
trench conditions led to continuing massacre and decimation. The influenza pandemic of 1918 alone wiped
out approximately 20 to 40 million people (this statistic comes from Stanford
University's virology website). Untold
masses of other veterans who were fortunate enough to survive the war without
illness nonetheless suffered from severe post-traumatic stress and depression
after their time on the battlefield. The
result was total devastation, not just literal or physical but psychological
and emotional.
These events had a profound—incalculably
profound—effect on artists of this generation.
It's difficult to approach the topic in one or two paragraphs; libraries
could be filled with this type of analysis.
Suffice it to say, the war changed everything. As we saw from late Victorian industrialism,
this gloomy outlook on Modern life was already developing prominently among the
literary and artistic circles in Europe and America; the "Great War"
cemented this growing hopelessness. An entire
group of artists (mostly within the literary world) even gave up, effectively
denouncing the world as unsalvageable, and fled to Paris to isolate
themselves. These "Lost
Generation" writers (as they later became known) included F. Scott
Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and T. S. Eliot.
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