Sunday, December 19, 2021

Twentieth-Century German Paintings (Landscapes)

Emil Nolde
Summer Afternoon
1903
oil on canvas
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Christian Rohlfs
Garden at Soest
ca. 1905
oil on cardboard
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Karl Schmidt-Rottluff
Autumn Landscape in Oldenburg
1907
oil on canvas
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Gabriele Münter
View of Münter's Brother's House in Bonn
1908
oil on cardboard
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Max Pechstein
House on the Kuhrische Nehrung
1909
oil on canvas
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Curt Herrmann
Belvedere Palace, Vienna
1912
oil on canvas
Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin

Erich Heckel
Bathers on the Beach
1913
watercolor
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid


Max Pechstein
Summer in Nidden
ca. 1919-20
oil on canvas
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner
Kummeralp Mountain and Two Sheds
1920
oil and encaustic on canvas
Art Institute of Chicago

Gabriele Münter
School House, Murnau
1908
oil on cardboard
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Emil Nolde
Autumn Evening
1924
oil on canvas
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Emil Nolde
Red Clouds
ca. 1930-40
watercolor
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Karl Schmidt-Rottluff
Reflecting Clouds
1936
watercolor
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Max Ernst
Solitary and Conjugal Trees
1940
oil on canvas
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid

Paul Feiler
The Quarry, Cornwall
1949
oil on canvas
Bristol Museum and Art Gallery

Sand-Quarry

Father and I drove to the sand-quarry across the ruined marshlands,
miles of black grass, burned for next summer's green.
I reached my hand to his beneath the lap-robe
as we looked at the stripe of fire, the blasted scene.
"It's all right," he said, "they can control the flames,
on one side men are standing, and on the other the sea."
But I was terrified of stubble and waste of black,
and his ugly villages he built and was showing me. 

The countryside turned right and left about the car,
straight through October we drove to the pit's heart.
Sand, and its yellow canyon and standing pools
and the wealth of the split country set us farther apart.
"Look," he said, "this quarry means rows of little houses,
stucco and a new bracelet for you are buried there."
But I remembered the ruined patches, and saw the land ruined,
exploded, burned away, and the fiery marshes bare.

"We'll own the countryside, you'll see how soon I will;
you'll have acres to play in."  I saw the written name
painted on stone in the face of the steep hill.
"That's your name, Father!"  "And yours!" he shouted, laughing.
"No, Father, no!"  He caught my hand as I cried,
and smiling, entered the pit, ran laughing down its side. 

– Muriel Rukeyser (1935)