The power of Strindberg: the overcoming of Naturalism

DEPARTMENT OF HUMANITIES – LANGUAGES, LANGUAGE LIAISON, HISTORY, ARTS, PHILOSOPHY UNDERGRADUATE DEGREE IN Western and Eastern Languages and Cultures L-11 DEGREE THESIS IN HISTORY OF CONTEMPORARY ART title THE POWER OF STRINDBERG: THE OVERCOMING OF NATURALISM Supervisor Prof. Roberto Cresti Degree candidate Besfort Nedjbi ACADEMIC YEAR 2016/2017 "I’m a devilish fellow who can do many tricks" August Strindberg Index Introduction 1 1. The potential phase 2 1.1 Life 2 1.2 Naturalism 6 1.3 The dramatist of modern life 11 1.4 Psychology of nerves: an art to decompose 14 2. The combustible phase 20 2.1 But is it art? 20 2.2 A cosmopolitan artist 23 2.3 The new art 30 2.4 The new theatre 33 3. The phase of ashes 36 3.1 Expressionistic theatre 36 3.2 Towards expressionism 39 3.2 Expressionism 41 3.3 The legacy of the subconscious 50 Conclusion 53 Bibliography 55 Sitography 56 Images 58 Introduction “To have a power [potenza], to have a faculty means to have a privation. That is why the sensation does not sense itself, as the combustible does not burn itself”1. With this sentence taken from a conference by Agamben, the Italian philosopher wishes to state an apparently contradictory concept: to be powerful means to have a deprivation, ergo, not to have something. How could someone be powerful in his powerlessness? By analysing the figure of Strindberg and by relating it to what has just been said, it will be easier to understand Agamben’s thought. Strindberg started to paint in 1872 when, alongside his academic crisis – he abandoned university without giving a single exam and instigated by the negative relationship with his teachers – he painted the copy of a Scottish castle he had come across in a newspaper. What he felt by seeing something creatively realised with his hands was a feeling similar to having consumed hashish2. From then on he retired for many summers in the island of Kymmendö, in the Stockholm archipelago, where he produced several paintings illustrating nature. As the critics often stated and as he himself did3, the principal reason why he committed to painting was to fill the void during his crisis times. Indeed, it is during arid and difficult moments such as the desertion of university, his matrimonial crisis, the Inferno (a period of his life which will be defined later), or simply when he was not successful in writing, that Strindberg committed, more or less “dispassionately”, to pictorial art. Where does his “powerlessness” or “impotence” lie then? By analysing his artistic production, particularly his dramas and his paintings, I will try to demonstrate that Strindberg, even though in a state of across-the-board oppression, had succeeded in using his imbalance as a means towards success, actually overcoming the imbalance and his artistic, practical and social limits. 1 GIORGIO AGAMBEN, The Power of Thought in Critical Inquiry, Vol. 40, No. 2, The University of Chicago Press, 2010, p.482 2 Cfr. FRANCESCO CARLO CRISPOLTI, Immagini dal pianeta Strindberg in Immagini dal pianeta Strindberg. Images from the Strindberg Planet, Venezia, La Biennale di Venezia, 1981, p.6 3 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, Strindberg as a pictorial artist in Strindberg: painter and photographer, New Haven, London, Yale University Press, 2001, p.13; Cfr. MICHAEL ROBINSON, ‘New Arts, New Worlds!’: Strindberg and Painting in Studies in Strindberg, London, Ubiquity Press, 2013, p.121 1 1. The potential phase 1.1 Life Before continuing it behoves me to provide the reader with an overview of his life, for his biographical incidents are often bound to his oeuvre. As for his plays – but even for many of his paintings – we could even state that they are really autobiographical, or vice versa they have informed his existence. Johan August Strindberg came into the world on 22 January 1849 in Stockholm in a rather wealthy family: his father was a spices merchant and his mother, 12 years younger than him, was a waitress at inns and private estates when she had met him. The third of seven children, August lived a well-off life, despite what he declared with so much ardour in The son of the servant (1886). He passed his childhood between the city and the country – and he was scarred by this until adulthood, as we will see particularly in his paintings – and, the only one in the family, he attended a classical high school. During the scholarly period, he did not make himself noticeable, except for his shyness and surliness. In the meantime he had different extracurricular interests: botany, novels, drama – especially Shakespeare; moreover, he began his first scientific experiments4. In 1862 his mother died precociously, afflicted with tuberculosis. The following year, after his father’s new marriage, Strindberg, destroyed by his mother’s death and by the bad rapport with his father, decided to go away from home. He embraced pietism and, after getting his diploma, he enrolled in the faculty of Letters at Uppsala University, in 1867. Unfortunately, his academic career did not last long, since he gave up his studies after only a semester. In the meanwhile, he taught some lessons at a primary school and got prepared to enter Medicine school. During this period of “failure” (at least academically talking), he wrote his first plays, among these In Rome, rotating around the Danish sculptor Thorvaldsen, then performed at the Royal Theatre5. In 1872 he re-enrolled in the faculty of Letters, which he would abandon two years later. It is just in this period that Strindberg approached painting, producing his first painting which would scar him intensely. In the summer of the same year, he wrote Master Olof, the first example of modern theatre in Sweden (it was then performed only in 1881, in a weaker and less unscrupulous edition, in order to avoid censorship)6. In 1873 4 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, edited by, AUGUST STRINDBERG, Romanzi e racconti. Vol.1: Il ciclo autobiografico, Milano, Mondadori, 1991, pp.XXXV-XXXVI 5 Ivi, p.XXXVI 6 Ivi, p.XXXVI-XXXVII 2 he began a professional partnership with Dagens Nyheter newspaper7, and after a year he became assistant librarian at the National Library of Sweden (a position that he held until 1882)8. In 1875 he met the baroness Siri von Essen with whom, despite their troubled relationship, he later had two daughters and a son9. In the meanwhile, the relationship with his father was gradually fading to the extent that in 1876, after a quarrel, their lives permanently took different paths10. In the autumn of the same year, he took a trip to France, where he got acquainted with the Impressionists; he later wrote about them in the Dagens and, referring to Monet, he wondered: “[…]is it possible to paint a movement?”11. In 1879, supported by the publisher Albert Bonnier, he published The Red Room, a satirical novel about bohemian life, where he attacks Swedish institutions and authorities12. In 1883, after the scandal caused by publishing the critical pamphlet The New Kingdom, our dramatist was forced to leave Sweden and to exile himself13: in 1883 he was in Paris, where he frequented the Grez-sur-Loing artists’ colony; in 1884, inspired by a Rousseauian contact with Switzerland’s nature he met many families and he accurately observed 1. Portrait of August Strindberg at the age of 30, 1879, Strindbergsmuseet, photo: C & I du Jardin them. What he drew from this experience was decisive: men’s and women’s unhappiness is caused by marriage. Thus, he wrote and published Getting Married, a collection of short stories which glowingly criticise the institution of marriage. But the spirit of the critiques was far too blunt, to the extent that Strindberg, after the publication, was charged with blasphemy14. Nevertheless, 7 Ibidem Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, Strindberg as a pictorial artist cit., p.19 9 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XXXVII 10 Cfr. THE SWEDISH INSTITUTE, August Strindberg, 2013, https://sweden.se/culture-traditions/auguststrindberg/ 11 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, Strindberg as a pictorial artist cit., p.19 12 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XXXVII 13 Ivi, p.XXXVIII 14 Cfr. FRANCESCO CARLO CRISPOLTI, Immagini dal pianeta Strindberg cit., p.5 8 3 fortunately enough the trial concluded with his discharge. He did not come out of this unhurt, obviously: the trial significantly damaged his literary reputation and the experience psychologically marked him15. Perhaps here lies the triggering cause of his misogyny16, fuelled by his persecution complex, by the resulting matrimonial crisis and, “icing on the cake”, by the rise of the women’s movement. Isolated even more form his homeland, Strindberg continued to wander and, while in France and Switzerland, he took two short trips to Italy, in March 1884 and February 1885, whose outcome was quite negative17, except for Venice, which tremendously fascinated him. Although he was close to the new artistic movements, Strindberg kept a utilitarian approach towards art, so that in 1886 he took a photographic reportage-trip to the French countryside, for the lofty purpose of narrating farmers’ living conditions18. In 1887 he began a correspondence with Nietzsche, who probably influences his point of view on politics, which became more and more pessimistic, but also the point of view on himself. Strindberg, without abandoning the common cause, began to look more introspectively inwards, developing a kind of aristocratic individualism19. In the same year, he wrote The People of Hemsö, to soothe and fight homesickness. It is in this period that we could locate an increase of his literary production: he published the so-called “Naturalistic plays”, Creditors, The father and in 1888 Miss Julie, all of them having great success, not without a certain traumatic effect20. In 1889 he came back to Stockholm, alone (Siri abandoned him, going back to Finland with her children). During this solitary period, he continued his studies in botany, sciences and occult. After divorcing, in 1892 he passed spring and summer on the island of Dalarö, southeast of Stockholm, where he carried out some of his most famous paintings, all permeated by the archetypical motifs of the open sea and the archipelago. These paintings were exhibited later that year, raising positive reactions 21. In autumn he 15 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XXXVIII Cfr. THE SWEDISH INSTITUTE, August Strindberg, 2013, https://sweden.se/culture-traditions/auguststrindberg/ 17 Cfr. BIRGITTA OTTOSSON PINNA, Strindberg e l’Italia in Strindberg nella cultura moderna. Colloquio italiano, Roma, Bulzoni editore, 1983, p.21 18 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, Strindberg as a pictorial artist cit., p.20 19 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XXXVIII 20 Ivi, p.XXXIX 21 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, Strindberg as a pictorial artist cit., p.32 16 4 moved to Berlin, where he regularly frequented a cultural club, which he later nicknamed Zum Schwarzen22. The following year, in 1893, he met and married Frida Uhl, an Austrian journalist. After having a daughter with her, the two split up23. In the autumn of 1894, he moved to Paris, supported by the Danish artist Willy Grétor. It is during this stay that Strindberg refined and improved his technique, probably after taking inspiration from the other artists but also in order to make his very paintings more saleable24. The latter took a different style: they reflected, to some extent, his interest in the occult and the monism: the chaos dominate the scene, all the elements interpenetrate, have a common origin, and there is no distinction between heaven, earth and sea. The interest in the occult grew more and more – along with alchemy – so as to persuade him to believe that even the folds of the pillow had a precise meaning and foretold something. All of that did nothing but increase his manias, to the point that he reached mental instability: he began to have frequent hallucinations, and he believed to be chased by enemies, both imaginary and real ones. In short, he really experienced a living hell, an inferno. That is why he called the years ’95 to ’97 as Inferno (a name he also gave to a literary work and to a painting)25. In 1899 he finally came back to Stockholm, where he dwelt permanently and where he found some deserved peace26. In 1900 he wrote The Dance of Death, a drama with an Expressionistic nuance which gradually drifts apart from the naturalistic one of the other plays. In this period he met the actress Harriet Bosse, with whom he had a daughter, before separating in 190227. In 1903 he wrote Alone, an autobiographical novella that comes up as a study on perception and on invention refined by solitude. He continued to paint until 1905, and in 1907 he founded the “Intimate Theatre”, with only 130 seats, for which he wrote the socalled “Chamber plays”28. Cfr. GÖRAN SÖDERSTRÖM, Strindberg in the Artists’ Community in Paris in Strindberg: painter and photographer, op. cit., p.134 23 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XL 24 Cfr. GÖRAN SÖDERSTRÖM, Strindberg in the Artists’ Community in Paris cit., pp.137-138 25 Passim, DOUGLAS FEUK, Dreaming Materialized e GÖRAN SÖDERSTRÖM, Strindberg in the Artists’ Community in Paris in Strindberg: photographer and painter cit., pp.117-176 26 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XLI 27 Cfr. THE SWEDISH INSTITUTE, August Strindberg, 2013, https://sweden.se/culture-traditions/auguststrindberg/ 28 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.XLII 22 5 From 1908 he lived in an apartment, called by himself “The Blue Tower”, in Drottninggatan 85 (now Strindberg’s Museum) along with his last flame, the young actress Fanny Falkner29. In 1910 the “Strindberg Feud” developed, a cultural and political debate rotating around his figure and against the literary Establishment, so that on 22 January 1912, his birthday, a copious group of students organised a torchlight procession to celebrate him, as a consolation prize for not having won the Nobel Prize30. He died on 14 May 1912 for a stomach cancer, becoming by them a representative icon for the Swedish culture. At least 60.000 people joined his funeral procession31. 1.2 Naturalism Ever since his debut, there had always been in Strindberg an inclination for social issues, which materialised in the topics covered by his oeuvre and above all in the language he used, a simple and modern language, close to the working-class32, for instance in the play Maestro Olof. The play had a great success and received several positive reviews from the critics who appreciated, in addition to the use of a modern language and the break with theatrical conventions – e.g. the writing in verse –, the psychological realism33 with which the typecasting of the characters was realised, therefore not anymore depicted in an idealised way. In the same way, the semi-autobiographical novel The Red Room was composed. The novel, which has a satirical style, rotates around the figure of Arvid Falk, a young civil servant who, having lost his job for having exposed slanderous information about his department, wishes to become an intellectual committed to society; therefore, he gathers periodically at a café, The Red Room, with a group of bohemian friend: Sellen and Lundell, painters, Rehnhjelm, who passionately wishes to establish himself as an actor, Olle Montanus and Ygberg, who philosophise all day long. All of them have in common their commitment – they strongly believe in their own art – as well as their poverty, so that they are continuously forced to pawn their stuff and clothes in order to 29 Ivi, p.XLII-XLIII Ibidem 31 Cfr. THE SWEDISH INSTITUTE, August Strindberg, 2013, https://sweden.se/culture-traditions/auguststrindberg/ 32 Ibidem 33 Ibidem 30 6 pay their dinners. Arvid, after abandoning a new job, finds a post at a newspaper, where he has the responsibility to report the Parliament facts. Progressively, the other bohemians too find and employment: Sellen succeeds in exhibiting a painting at an exhibition of the Academy, and Rehnhjelm joins a theatre company, where he meets and falls in love with Agnes, a young 16-year-old lady. Yet, he later discovers that Agnes has been Falander’s lover for a long time, the latter being an old actor of the company. The fact disturbs him so much as to lead him to think about committing suicide, without actually doing it. In the end, he returns to Stockholm to his wealthy family. In the meantime, Arvid looks for other newspapers where he could work honestly, disgusted by the journalistic obsession with scandal, but the situation leads him to a breakdown and ends up by seeking partnerships with worthless newspapers. Finally, he comes back to Stockholm where he becomes professor in a school34, now far from the first idealism and bohemian spirit. The Red Room is a satirical novel that satirises Swedish institutions, society but also, more specifically, it satirises man striving to find his identity. Strindberg, just like Arvid, spends his life trying to find his Self – by means of journalism, public offices, such as the National Library, through painting, literature, theatre and even sculpture35 – not without difficulties, on the contrary, most times with many complications: be it the oppressive Swedish environment, the trials or the various crisis, matrimonial and psychic, Strindberg’s misery has accompanied him through almost all of his life, leaving permanent marks in his conception of reality, so much that, at a certain point of his existence, he deliberately decided to isolate himself from the world and to live completely alone36, as a sort of detoxifying cure. However, the search for the Self is not personal only. Instead, it can be extended to the whole society, undertaking a universal and heterogeneous significance which places the novel close to a Balzacian comédie humaine. Indeed, as stated by the literary critic John Macy, The Red Room is: “[…]a satire on life in Stockholm, on life everywhere. The pathetic struggle of the artistic and literary career, its follies and pretences, the fatuity of politics, the dishonesty of journalism, the disillusion that awaits the aspiring actor[…]”37 34 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, La stanza rossa, Roma, Newton Compton editori, 1993 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, Strindberg as a pictorial artist cit., p.24 36 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Solo in LUDOVICA KOCH, Romanzi e racconti. Vol.1 cit, pp.954-956 37 JOHN MACY, The Critical Game, 2012, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38487/38487-h/38487-h.htm#9 p.125 35 7 Moreover, many characters of the novel are taken from real life: for instance, Sellen is none other than Per Ekström, a Swedish landscape painter and Strindberg’s friend, so that he was considered by the latter as a mentor and inspiration source38. The first paintings of our playwright reflect manifestly the utilitarian-naturalistic approach towards nature and reality in general. Bearing in my mind Strindberg’s journalistic career, it is clear that this way of doing and thinking about art originates in the purpose of showing reality as it was, in the raw and without a filter, exactly in a “journalistic” way. Nevertheless, it is mistaken to think about a purely realist Strindberg, inasmuch realism was limited to the retinal reproduction of reality and nature, without giving any interpretations of these which are, consequently, without an image, a soul39; in his first artistic phase – roughly between the 1870s and 1880-90s – there is indeed a strict one-toone relationship in his oeuvre which cannot be defined as realist. As for theatre and literature, there is a naturalistic approach in his oeuvre, yet it is carried out directly inspecting concrete and specifically confined problems as if they were his “favourite”. Both in Master Olof and in The Red Room, specific and individual realities are being described, even in a deeply psychological and at times autobiographical way; analogously, as for pictorial art, Strindberg focuses his production on naturalistic motifs – nature, seascapes – which demonstrate, besides the will to represent what surrounds him, also a romantic longing towards places dear to him. It behoves me to remind the reader that our artist, ever since he was a child, had continuously “bounced” between the city and the countryside40, which scarred him deeply to the extent of making the archipelago and the particular nature of Stockholm core themes and almost archetypes. Consequently, if we are to define him as “naturalist”, we should appeal to the more moderate and expressive branch of the movement, French Naturalism: according to Hermann Bahr, the main difference between French and German Naturalism, lies in the fact that the latter obliterates the artist whose mediation becomes phantom, and just want nothing other than reality; as for the former, it is reality the one to be used by the artist, subjugated and dominated in order to show his flair, his power, his personality41. 38 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., pp.14-15; Cfr. infra § 2.3 Cfr. ROBERTO CRESTI, Saggio sul fondamento storico dell’arte contemporanea, Filottrano, Le Ossa. Anatomie dell’ingegno, 2015, pp.108-109 40 Cfr. supra § 1.1 41 Cfr. HERMANN BAHR, Il superamento del naturalismo, Milano, SE, 1994, pp.31-32 39 8 Maybe it is the very relationship with the French environment to influence him to this extent. Our Swedish journalist, as already stated42, took his first trip to France in the autumn of 1876 and the second one in 1883, always in autumn. It is likely that during these stays he got acquainted not only with Impressionism but also with his pioneers, for instance, the painter Eugène Boudin from Honfleur, of whom Monet said: “Si je suis devenu peintre, c'est à Boudin que je le dois" because he had taught him "à voir et à comprendre.”43 What confirms this hypothesis is the chromatic and compositional analogy between some of Strindberg’s paintings and some others of Boudin’s, such as the following: 2. Eugène Boudin, Portrieux Coast, 1874, Oil on canvas, 85x148 cm, Private collection 42 Cfr. supra § 1.1 ANNE-MARIE BERGERET-GOURBIN, EUGÈNE BOUDIN, Eugène Boudin, 1824-1898, Honfleur, Musée Eugène Boudin, 1992, p.30 43 9 3. August Strindberg, Purple Loosestrife, 1892, Oil on canvas, 35x56 cm Private collection 4. August Strindberg, Little Water, Dalarö, 1892, Oil on cardboard, 22x33 cm, Nationalmuseum The thematic-compositional affinity is remarkable – the shore, the coasts, the sea, the coastal vegetation, etc. – likewise the chromatic one, which configures itself in a basically two-toned scheme: green and blue, the terrestrial and the heavenly, respectively. The rendering of the flower in Strindberg’s first displayed painting – which is precisely a loosestrife – is really detailed and naturalistic, showing his pictorial ability despite his apparent outsider non-professionalism. The loosestrife, very well visible at the bottom left, is in clear opposition to the rest of the tableau, both for its sharpness and for 10 the chosen position: thus, the whole becomes not only well organised and harmonious from the compositional point of view, if not a “scenographic” point of view, but pervades the atmosphere with symbolic nuances, so as to make us believe that flowers which were represented this way by Strindberg – detailed, naturalistic, detached from the rest – could be to some extent self-portraits of his condition of isolation44. 1.3 The dramatist of modern life Between the end of the 1880s and the beginning of the 1890s, among the writers and the readers – but also among artists in broader terms – an inclination for the inner world, for the frames of mind45 developed. There was not anymore a desire to represent the state of things, their surface, a desire faithful to realism; indeed, according to Bahr, there was now a focus on the états d’âme46 and on a naturalistic representation of them. The one who followed ahead of time Bahr’s guidelines, stated in his 1891 essay entitled The overcoming of naturalism, is exactly Strindberg, who published in 1887 his first naturalistic play: The Father. In this play, the protagonists are captain Adolf, a misogynous and rather psychologically unstable officer of the cavalry, and his wife Laura who subjugates his husband and does anything to take control of her daughter, Bertha. Laura’s plan is wicked: she wants to make the captain believe that his daughter is not really his, driving him mad and, consequently, be able to command him and control the whole family. To do so, she uses sadistic mental tricks, red rags and allusions which cause lacerating doubts in Adolf. Thus she disturbs his mental health and, besides this, she fuels his misogyny, so that he goes as far as to talk about his wife and about marriage in commercial terms: the two, discussing their daughter’s education, talk in these terms: “CAPTAIN: The law declares that children are to be brought up in their father’s faith. LAURA: And CAPTAIN: the mother is to have no voice in the matter? None whatever. She has sold her birthright by a legal transaction, and surrendered her rights in return for the man’s undertaking to care for her and her children.”47 44 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., p.34 Cfr. HERMANN BAHR, op. cit., p.33 46 Ivi, pp.34-35 47 AUGUST STRINDBERG, The Father: (A Tragedy), Harvard University, Duckworth, 1899, p.19 45 11 The rancour about womankind becomes harsher and harsher in Adolf’s spirit who, talking to his doctor, lets himself go with generalisations: “On trust when there is a woman in the case? That is risky.”48 And perhaps Laura’s aim is really this, that is to trigger a conflict between sexes in order to destabilise and decompose her husband’s identity, the latter fighting, until death, in an attempt to attack himself, to fight against his feminine side49, so as to expel it and to attest his manliness. This is clear, as a contrast, by his behaviour, which becomes more and more childish and “feminine”. He eventually becomes vulnerable and surrenders to his wife’s sadism with inconsistent and pathetic conversations: “CAPTAIN: Don’t you see that I am as helpless as a child[…], won’t you forget that I am a man, that I am a soldier who with a word can tame men and beasts; I simply implore pity […]. LAURA: You are crying, man! CAPTAIN: Yes, I am crying although I am a man. But has not a man eyes? Is he not fed with the same food […], warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter as a woman is? […]Why should not a man complain, a soldier cry? Because it is unmanly? Why is it unmanly?”50 Such conversations may also call into question the very concept of identity. By showing us a man who is “mysteriously” double, that is inhabited to some extent by other personalities, the play poses us a question: what is a man since he himself is innerly different and diverse? And what is a woman? In other words, sexual difference is, using Julia Kristeva’s words, a condition which does not really focus on the difference between sexes but it rather implies an inner who make us be “strangers to ourselves”51. The Father is, therefore, a psychological drama which shows the gradual development of a man’s états d’âme, a man who turns from a state of sanity to madness, all this in a virtually imperceptible manner, without having a very enemy to fight against – indeed, Laura’s brother talks about a “little innocent murder that cannot be reached by the law.”52 48 Ivi, p.58 Cfr. GIANLUCA FRAZZONI, Il padre: la follia nel teatro di August Strindberg, 2013, http://www.stateofmind.it/2013/02/il-padre-august-strindberg/ 50 AUGUST STRINDBERG, The Father: (A Tragedy) cit., pp.68-69 51 Cfr. KRISTEVA cited in ANDREW BENNETT, NICHOLAS ROYLE, Introduction to Literature, Criticism and Theory, Harlow, Pearson Education Limited, 2004, p.158 52 AUGUST STRINDBERG, The Father: (A Tragedy) cit., p.79 49 12 What we can see, or better, perceive, are only the états d’âme, which are shown not in a superficial and treatise-like manner, i.e. by describing them in an aseptic, aloof and rational way; but rather they are displayed as if they were nerves, thus exhibiting the pure and immediate feelings and sentiments in the moment of their birth, not after they have been rationally synthesised. Using Bahr’s words, we talk in this case about a new psychology, a psychology which analyses the feelings not as superficial entities that are independent of each other but rather as complex entities which need to be decomposed53, retrieving their embryonic, pure and unconscious phase. This psychology implies the deployment of a new method of sentiments that must use decomposition and also be deterministic and dialectic. Accordingly, we move to a psychology of nerves which shows all the variables and all that contributes to the triggering of specific sensations. Implicitly, Adolf himself is a bearer of this new poetics by stating, after having been considered insane, what follows: “CAPTAIN: Yes, I know that well enough. But if I only had the management of your crowned brains awhile, I should soon have you shut up, too! I am mad, but how did I become so?”54 hinting this way at the fact that his current mental condition is the resultant of many little actions and their respective personal emotional reactions which, summing up, have reduced him to that condition. It is exactly because of this that the new art, for Bahr, has to be impersonal and has to refuse the first person, who lacks impartiality and illustrates things in a reasoned manner, the way they have entered conscience, in retrospect55. On the contrary, through impersonality, by means of the “vaporisation du Moi”56, the artist can seize and imprint immediately the perturbation caused by something he saw – therefore he will not wait for the rational synthesis of reason, irrevocable damage caused by the first person and by the lack of empathy, a faculty which can be acquired especially by means of depersonalisation and, therefore, by the identification in other people’s lives57. Hence, the focalisation moves from the intellect – which, by re-elaborating 53 Cfr. HERMANN BAHR, op. cit., pp.46-48 AUGUST STRINDBERG, The Father: (A Tragedy) cit., p.87 (Emphasis added) 55 Cfr. HERMANN BAHR, op. cit., pp.50-56 56 CHARLES BAUDELAIRE, Journaux intimes. Fusées. Mon coeur mis à nu, 1920, http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k206339d/f52.item p.45 57 Cfr. infra §§ 3.1-3.2 54 13 information, falsifies reality, resulting in falsehood – to the nerves: pure sentiments are shown, not their conscious synthetic product. 1.4 Psychology of nerves: an art to decompose After having talked about the états d’âme and about a psychological approach to feelings, it goes without saying that what Strindberg had put into practice in his naturalistic plays had also been transposed analogously in his pictorial production. To better understand his paintings, we will assume they are psychological products of the nerves and that their exegesis implies a decomposition work. By observing his Dalarö paintings, the first ones that resume the oil technique after a good twenty years, at first glance they could look almost monothematic and not really different from the ones of his earlier work. On the contrary, by analysing them cautiously, we will notice that the composition is more agitated and decisive – compared to the earlier work – and there is a penchant for conflicting themes: the calmness and the storm. In Flower by the Shore, we come across a rather quiet and common scenery: the calm view of a beach stretch. Yet, to better understand the painting we must employ a more critical focus with an emphasis on decomposition. First of all, by observing the painted surfaces, we will notice a clear contrast between the lower part of the painting and the upper one. In the former, there is fundamentally only the flower at the bottom left, which prevails over the vegetation. Everything is represented in detail, in a naturalistic manner and with a fine technique; on the contrary, the latter has a rather approximate painted surface – one could even notice the marks of the knife used to paint – at the expense of his accuracy. Now, abiding by Bahr’s ideal method58, we will infer that the two aforementioned parts confront each other in a dialogue; moreover, proceeding in a deterministic way, we will reach the very likely conclusion that the painting is basically a product of the artist’s own life experience, therefore resulting autobiographical. Moving on to his life, we get to know that in 1889 our artist came back to Stockholm, all alone, since Siri had abandoned him returning to her homeland, Finland. Strindberg found himself virtually isolated, without his very children, despite being in the acme of his career. Thus, the solitary flower on that shore cannot be but him: an apparently well-defined and “accomplished” flower yet surrounded by weed which does not live up to him, not being 58 Cfr. supra § 1.3 14 at his height; hence, it is a lonely flower, unappreciated and without a fellow creature, overlooked by a rough sky made of an irregular tumult of elements – perhaps his career, his friends, the surrounding Swedish reality – who fight and bump into each other keeping a clear distance from him. Instead, the sea represents the “terrestrial” hope that all these elements could approach and somehow touch him. But the (blast) wave that they generate seems to be too high and may end up engulfing him, or maybe it has already engulfed the other flowers that, like him, were within a stone’s throw of the shoreline, leaving him, again, lonely. An outwardly “innocuous” and calm painting proves to be a rather reliable snapshot of a solitary man’s sorrow who is, as it emerges, unappreciated and misunderstood. 5. August Strindberg, Flower by the Shore, 1892, Oil on zinc board, 24.7x43.5 cm Malmö Konstmuseum Moving to the other theme, the storm, we ought to talk about The White Mare II, where, this time, agitation and movement dominate the scenery. The approximate painted surface is now more appropriate, or better more naturalistic, forasmuch as it exemplifies realistically the features of a stormy sky. In the centre, we have a seamark, called The White Mare – which is also present in Strindberg’s novel By the Open sea59 – surrounded by diorite rock and, maybe, engulfed by the inanimate ferocity of a terrible sea. Indeed, 59 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., p.40 15 it is difficult to tell where the Mare actually lies or if what lies under it is only a raising of the waves. Strindberg, as already mentioned60, embraces monism (besides alchemy); consequently, such ambiguity in his paintings must not surprise us. Indeed, it could be considered as a philosophical declaration. The theme of the coast and the stormy sea is, plausibly, a legacy of his stay in Denmark, which took place in 188861. Presumptively, there he got to know the Skagen Painters – an artistic group held by painters who were close to Impressionism, such as P. S. Krøyer62–, and, probably, he drew inspiration and some sort of teaching. Among them, a likely inspiration source could be Holger Drachmann who, like Strindberg, was painter and dramatist and, by proceeding theoretically, it is not unlikely that their very resemblance had attracted Strindberg. Resuming By the Open Sea, the feelings provoked by the sight of that human artefact, built where no vegetation could reach it and abandoned to nature’s violence, are fear, malaise and distress63. The unsettling contrast between a human artefact and primitive nature, here very well visible thanks to the centrality of the object, could be found even in other Strindberg’s works, given his desire to discover the true meaning of progress in everyday life (one only need to think of the survey conducted by him about the farmers’ condition). The distress felt in front of such a subject is rather similar to the feeling one would sense in front of the gallows seen by Gwynplaine, one of the protagonists of The Man Who Laughs, who meets them during his arduous solitary path along a promontory. The gallows “[were] a sign. Having unappeasable winds above him, he was implacable. Perpetual shuddering made him terrible. Fearful to say, he seemed to be a centre in space, with something immense leaning on him.[…] He was in himself a disquieting substance, since we tremble before the substance which is the ruined habitation of the soul.”64 Such a description, had not it been written by Victor Hugo twenty years before circa, would seem deliberately written for Strindberg’s tableau. 60 Cfr. supra § 1.1 Cfr. STRINDBERGSMUSEET, http://www.strindbergsmuseet.se/english/life.html 62 Cfr. SKAGENS MUSEUM, https://skagenskunstmuseer.dk/en/museums/skagens-museum/ 63 Cfr. STRINDBERG, By the Open Sea, cited in PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., p.40 64 VICTOR HUGO, The Man Who Laughs, New York, Mondial, 2005, p.55 61 16 Thus, the malaise of the seamark, as Hugo’s gallows, is given by the co-presence of apparently contradictory elements – wild nature versus a human artefact, sign of civilisation – which, jointly, are carriers of an unlimited truth. Yet, precisely because of its vastness and its omnipresence, it limits the divinations about what could hide behind 6. August Strindberg, The White Mare II, 1892, Oil on cardboard, 60x47 cm Nationalmuseum 17 all of that; therefore, being omniscient before a cruel reality we are forced to see, we become, as a consequence, unable to flee from it. Another painting equally imbued with expressiveness and seemingly “decomposable” is Mysingen. Here the chromatic palette becomes deeper and brighter, and the contrast between warm and cool colours brings about an almost hallucinated collision. The representation of the waves is exceptional, recalling, Little Water, which in turn could be a legacy from his stay in Denmark where, this time, the “responsible” artist is Carl Locher, a skilful seascape painter65. The hue of the iridescent sky is also very peculiar – maybe at nightfall or during a morning twilight? – and lofty, yet quite unnatural. 7. Carl Locher, Quiet evening in the North Sea with the frigate “Jylland” surrounded by ships, 1876, Olio su tela, 75x125 cm, Bruun Rasmussen Mysingen’s waves, in the foreground, are the principal subject and they emerge overwhelmingly occupying a significant part of the painting, as if they were trying to hide something deliberately. Their silhouette resembles that of a majestic mountain or that of an “ermo colle” which hides the distances, an unkind nature which prevents Strindberg, and the observer, from reaching with the gaze the horizon, where the warmth of the sun emerges to warm up and to revive the soul. Yet, the sun cannot be seen; we can only see his glare in the distant sky. The background with the yellow-hued sky is detached from 65 Cfr. SKAGENS MUSEUM, https://skagenskunstmuseer.dk/en/artists/carl-locher/ 18 the rest of the painting, to emphasise the sense of depth and estrangement from the observer. 8. August Strindberg, Mysingen, 1892, Oil on cardboard, 45x36.5 cm, Bonniers Porträttsamling, foto: Strindbergsmuseet Therefore, the observer is before an almost idyllic scenery – the sky which releases warmth, energy, life – but he finds himself slowly powerless to fully relish it, being 19 detached by a dramatic curtain which rises from the bottom, and by a sense of depth and of a relentless alienation from life. 2. The combustible phase 2.1 But is it art? At this point of the story, it’s inevitable and natural that some innocent questions may arise, referring to the painting showed so far: is all this art? I have decided to raise the issue only now, after having shown some of Strindberg’s pictorial works, in order to avoid, as far as possible, that type of placebo effect which could occur if we raised such issues at the beginning, well before allowing the reader see first-hand the subject in question. As already mentioned at the beginning66 Strindberg approached painting in an unbiased way, not having received any artistic teaching; in other words, he is basically an amateur when he realised his first paintings representing nature. Nevertheless, the lack of technique does not prevent him from pursuing his artistic path and from asserting himself in the art world. Actually, it is indeed his very non-professionalism to be his trump card. According to Jean Dubuffet, theorist of the Art Brut, it is the very professionalisation and institutionalisation of art that is detrimental, and that wipes out the intoxication and the creativity typical of an aspiring artist – so much that, as we have already seen, such intoxication had been similar to having consumed hashish for Strindberg67. The latter, therefore, despite or thanks to his being a débutant, succeeded in exhibiting his works several times68: in 1892 in Stockholm, at Bigar Jarls Bazar, where he exhibited his painting from Dalarö; in 1893 in Berlin, at Salon des refusés along with his friend Munch; in 1894 in Paris, helped by the art dealer Willy Grétor. And it is really Parigi to be seen by Strindberg as Mecca of art, where an artist could really feel fulfilled, having concluded his “religious” path. In 1894, in a letter to a friend, he claimed: “Am now a painter in Paris”69. Thus, given his claim, to the aforementioned question we should sans doute answer positively: “Yes, of course!” Before jumping to such conclusions, it behoves me to try to use the definitions of art which have been produced over time, particularly in the last century. According to George 66 Cfr. supra Introduction Ibidem 68 Cfr. MICHAEL ROBINSON, ‘New Arts, New Worlds!’: Strindberg and Painting cit., p.121 69 Ibidem 67 20 Dickie, an artwork is an artefact and has the status of candidate for appreciation by individuals belonging to the art world70. Later, Dickie refines his definition adding that “un artista è una persona che partecipa consapevolmente alla produzione di un’opera d’arte”71. Now, even though the second definition contains more discriminating information, it is even more ambiguous and murky than the first one. What do we mean by the artist’s “conscious involvement”? In the case of Strindberg the matter gets more complicated since, as he himself had declared several times72, his art is led by chance, by his subconscious, without the participation of his conscious and rational part. All he does is just externalising, by means of his conscious part, what the unconscious one has already planned. This way, Strindberg is only a bystander who lets himself to be led by the artist Strindberg in order to create, as if he was commanded, something that he will understand only after its realisation, not before73. Thus, the artistic act begins by pure chance, without a particular aim and this very unbiased approach allows the unconscious instincts to break loose. Therefore, by applying Dickie’s definition, we would infer that the one produced by Strindberg, is not art, since the subject in question produces such works in an unconscious, not involved state. Strictly connected with the mental creation of the artwork is the definition given by Benedetto Croce, in Estetica (1902), where he stated that “l’opera è compiuta nella mente dell’artista, e la sua ‘traduzione’ in suoni, colori, forme, è solamente una estrinsecazione materiale che serve a scopi comunicativi.”74 Strindberg, as already stated, was led by chance, which in turn unveils his subconscious that, according to Robinson75, had beforehand created the artwork. The matter is rather intricate but, if we were to abide by Croce's definition solely, we could also extend it to the unconscious side of the artist, since it is not specified which part of the mind is actually involved in the creation of art. A less ambiguous definition of art and more suitable for the oeuvre of our “painter” is that given by Paul Klee, stated in Creative Confession. The German artist declared that “L’opera d’arte è in primo luogo genesi, mai se ne può avere l’esperienza soltanto come Cfr. DICKIE, 1974 cited in PAOLO D’ANGELO, Estetica, Roma, Bari, GLF editori Laterza, 2011, p.51 Ibidem, p.52 “an artist is a person who is consciously involved in the creation of an artwork” (Emphasis added) [my translation] 72 Cfr. infra § 2.3 73 Cfr. MICHAEL ROBINSON, op. cit., p.121 74 BENEDETTO CROCE cited in PAOLO D’ANGELO, Estetica cit., p.147 “the work is finished in the artist’s mind, and its ‘translation’ into sounds, colours, forms, is solely a material externalisation with communication aims.” [my translation] 75 Cfr. MICHAEL ROBINSON, op. cit., p.121 70 71 21 un prodotto”76. This way, we adopt an approach which does not focus anymore on the art world or on its enjoyment, but rather we focus on the history of the production of the artwork, the latter taking a dynamic role. It is not seen as a merely material “product” or “accomplishment”, superficial and ready to be used in an aseptic and immediate way. On the contrary, this way we do not consider that much the viewer’s experience – who takes a back seat to some extent –, but rather that of the very artist, as a human being having a wealth of experience, emotions, sensations surrounded by similar human beings in a welldefined place and in a specific historical/artistic background. This is how it becomes pivotal to question oneself on the genesis of the artwork, on the reason why it has been made, in which conditions and to try to understand and investigate in an almost psychological way the various clues, more or less explicit, of the work – colours, themes, composition, materials, subjects, place of production, context, creative method (conscious and unconscious), etc. – to “track down” more or less plausible nexuses between the artist, the very artwork and the background in broader terms. In other words, we should, to some extent, take advantage of Hermann Bahr’s guidelines, in particular his “method of feelings” about which we have already talked77. To confirm the thesis that Strindberg is actually an artist, and that what Dickie theorised is not that precise and representative of the whole art, it is useful to make use not only of contributions given by critics and theorists but also, as we have already done with Klee, of contributions made by who actually made some art. To demolish Dickie’s theory – but also that of Croce – is directly an artist, at least 40 years before: Pablo Picasso. Talking about his working methods, he stated: “I don’t know in advance what I am going to put on the canvas any more than I decide in advance what colours to use”78. Then again, the Irish painter Francis Bacon, who talks about “intentions” and “surprise” in the creative act79; still, the Brazilian sculptress Ana Maria Pacheco, according to whom the artist deals with the unknown80. This way, art becomes not so much a creative process – at least not only that – but also a process which allows the artist to exteriorise and clarify an initially blurry and undefined sentiment. PAUL KLEE cited in PAOLO D’ANGELO, Estetica cit., p.166 “The artwork is, in the first place, genesis, we could never experience it solely as a product” [my translation] 77 Cfr. supra § 1.3 78 PICASSO cited in NIGEL WARBURTON, The Art Question, London, Routledge, 2003, p.41 79 Ivi, p.48 80 Ibidem 76 22 In conclusion, if we wanted to answer the question but is it art? that gives the name to this paragraph, we should focus on the individual works and should try to reply in an autonomous and circumscribed way, in order to understand the reason why, for us, a specific Strindberg’s is or is not art. “Ultimately we must turn hack to the works themselves”81. 2.2 A cosmopolitan artist As it could have been guessed by Strindberg’s biographic incidents, his existence has not been that tranquil; on the contrary, his life has been, to some extent, the projection of the drama that he himself described in his dramatic plays. Besides drama, another unavoidable keyword of his life is the word exile. Be it a deliberate choice or one driven by necessity, the dramatist’s life was marked by several journeys abroad, far from the homeland, in the research of a fertile ground where he could express his own thoughts without being censored. That is how Strindberg, as already said, took his first short trip to Paris in 1876, where he got to know the Impressionists. His second trip to Paris, and his most significant, is the one he took in 1883 when, alongside the wife, Siri von Essen, and their three children, he moved to the artists’ community in Grez-sur-loing, south of Paris. During his stay, he aimed to emulate what other Scandinavian writers he esteemed had done, such as Ibsen: that is to say, to settle up in a European country permanently and to write and produce art for an audience which is, precisely, European82. Notwithstanding this ambitious plan, Strindberg’s sojourn resembled that of an exiled Swedish author who, despite having been abandoned by his birthplace, writes and longs for it83, instead of resembling that of an actual European author. It is likely that during his stay in Grez-sur-loing Strindberg became aware of the Skagen Painters who, along with other Scandinavian artists, attended the community84. As we have already seen85 such hypothesis is not implausible. Indeed it is supported by his very 81 Ivi, p. 133 Cfr. GÖRAN SÖDERSTRÖM, Strindberg in the Artists’ Community in Paris cit., p.133 83 Ivi, p. 134 84 Cfr. LA FONDATION GREZ-SUR-LOING, Les Scandinaves à Grez, http://www.grez-stiftelsen.se/index.php/bakgrunden-fr-fr/les-scandinaves/; Cfr. L’ASSOCIATION ARTISTES DU BOUT DU MONDE, Les colonies artistiques de Grez-sur-loing, http://artistes-grezsurloing.fr/venez-a-grez/ 85 Cfr. supra § 1.4 82 23 artistic oeuvre, which has themes and compositions similar to those produced by the Danish community. Another major landmark during Strindberg’s “pilgrimage” is the city of Berlin, where he settled up in the autumn of 1892. Here he used to attend a tavern which was named by himself Zum Schwarzen Ferkel (The Black Piglet), and it is at this very stage of his life that he finally succeeded in breaking loose from the weight of the Swedish cultural scenery, embracing a culture of a much broader scope, more European, which could allow him to acquire a preparation with an international appeal, being now able to be permeated and directly influenced. Here he met the Polish writer Przybyszewski, with whom he established a good relationship, also from an intellectual point of view. In fact, it is Przybyszewski86 who put Strindberg in contact with occultism, very much in vogue among the Symbolists in Paris. That is the reason why Strindberg, during this period, grew considerably wiser from the pictorial/artistic point of view, reaching an increasingly symbolist, “occult” and expressive art. It is in Berlin that he also met Edvard Munch, and with him too he established a good friendship, to the extent that they both exhibited their own works together at the Salon des refusés87. It is not unlikely that there has been a mutual influence between the two, as already demonstrated by Robert Rosenblum by comparing Munch’s Jealousy to Strindberg’s Night of Jealousy88. Now, in possession of this information, it would not be absurd anymore to trace Strindberg’s influences in other Munch’s paintings, even in The Scream. By comparing Munch’s The Scream to Strindberg’s Sunset, such assertion appears now more plausible and verifiable, solely if we continue having a critical and “intoxicated” eye, without any biases whatsoever. The resemblance is rather noticeable in the style of the composition, which is wavy, unnatural and terrifically expressive. In both instances, nature is seen as cruel and unkind89, and that is well represented by the warm and bright colours which aggressively collide with the cool ones. If all of this is represented in a more naturalistic and placid way by Strindberg, in Munch there is more expressive awareness more and a brazen twisting of nature, the latter assuming, in an exacerbated way, the contours of the inner turmoil. 86 Cfr. GÖRAN SÖDERSTRÖM, op.cit., pp.135-136 Cfr. supra § 2.1 88 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., p.44 89 Cfr. supra § 1.4; Cfr. PETER ASPDEN, So, what does the scream mean?, https://www.ft.com/content/42414792-8968-11e1-85af-00144feab49a 87 24 9. August Strindberg, Sunset, 1892, Oil on cardboard, 23.5x32 cm, Nationalmuseum 10. Edvard Munch, The Scream, 1893, Oil, tempera, pastel and crayon on cardboard, 91x73.5 cm, National Gallery Oslo, foto: Villy Fink Isaksen 25 Nonetheless, Strindberg’s tour was not limited to central Europe: in March 1884 and in February 1885 he took two journeys to Italy which, together, lasted less than two months90. Despite all that had been said about Italy at that time – particularly romanticising it and making it a cult – Strindberg left with the assumption that he would refuse all that, almost disgusted and tired of the romantic account given about Italy. The only thing that intrigued him was the chance to discover an Italy which could be unknown, new and less banal than the mainstream one. During his first journey, he had a stopover in Turin, Savona, Genoa and Pegli; yet, the impressions he had of these cities were rather negative; indeed, in a letter to Carl Larsson he showily exclaimed: “Dio, quanto sono deluso!”91. The sole burst of nature he found was by climbing Monte Pennello; yet, he was soon disappointed by the hunters’ shoots he heard, which unveiled the persistent human presence that ruins nature92. Despite this, he managed to learn much about Italian culture, by reading the local newspapers and by showing particular interest in the rural life93. During his second trip to Italy, Strindberg was, this time, determined to visit Rome; yet, not so much for an honest willing to visit the city, but rather in order to have the chance to tell people that he had actually visited it, as if it was the piece of a worthless puzzle. In fact, he just made an eccentric and “ignorant” visit, in the sense that he passes through the various monuments nicely ignoring them. He even wrote an ironic article about his journey, entitling it Rom på en dag (Rome in a day)94. However, before Rome, he had a stopover in Venice, the only Italian city that actually struck him, so that it also left a positive memory to him, “una impressione gioiosa”95. And it is exactly Venice that elicited his artistic side: in an article about his sojourn in the city, he described in an almost poetic way colours, fragrances, forms he glimpsed through the windows of a barbershop overlooking Piazza San Marco; the description is highly artistic – he used terms and colours as a painter would have done – and really sensitive, sot that he described small and great things thoroughly and meticulously, without any hierarchies96. Cfr. BIRGITTA OTTOSSON PINNA, Strindberg e l’Italia cit., p.21 Ivi, p.24 “God, how disappointed I feel!” [My translation] 92 Ivi, p.25 93 Ibidem 94 Ivi, p.27 95 Ibidem “a joyful impression” [My translation] 96 Ivi, p.28 90 91 26 Perhaps it is because of his high consideration for Venice that, on the occasion of the 1980 Biennale, the organisation dedicated a catalogue to him, Images from the Strindberg Planet, which I have cited on many occasions so far. But the connection with Venice does not limit itself solely to a trip: as already mentioned, during his first sojourn in Italy, Strindberg learnt and saw many things, despite his very short stay. Therefore, it is likely that he did the same in Venice, by exploring and soaking up as much as he could. Consequently, this leads us to believe that, conceivably, there has been an “element” – be it a work, a building, etc. – that could have struck him in a particular way and, perhaps, had influenced him in the creation of a work of his. Among these elements, there is the Paleovenetian statuette The Panpipes Player (5th century B.C.) discovered in S. Pieretto di Torcello in 188097, exactly five years before Strindberg’s visit. Now, it behoves me to remember the reader that this is solely a hypothesis, but if we observed the statuette and compared it to Strindberg’s The Weeping Boy, we would probably agree that the resemblance is convincing and rather impressive. Giving the proximity of Torcello to Venice, it is possible that Strindberg went there and saw the statuette, even for a while. In his essay Du hasard dans la production artistique, Strindberg described the genesis of the statuette, stating that, initially, his aim was to mould a boy at prayer but, later, chance intervened, and the statuette took the shape of a weeping boy98. Now, reminding what Robinson has stated about Strindberg’s creative process99, the intervention of chance allows the unconscious instincts to break loose along with distant memories vaguely stored, unconsciously, in the artist’s mind. Another memory from Venice impressed in his oeuvre could be traced in The City, where, in the distance, we may see the skyline of a city. This one, probably Stockholm, vaguely reminds of Venice, overlooked by threatening clouds; and, perhaps, now it is more clear why he reserved so much admiration for this Italian city in particular: as stated before, Strindberg spent much of his life in a state of “exile”, far from his dearly beloved and hated country and, as reminded by his friend Nordström, despite his eagerness to be as much European as possible, Strindberg wrote and thought about an audience which was mainly Swedish100. Thus, it is probable that, at the sight of Venice, the homesick 97 Cfr. ADOLFO CALLEGARI, Il Museo Provinciale di Torcello, Venezia, Stamperia Zanetti, 1930, p.23 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Du hasard dans la production artistique, Parigi, L’Échoppe, 1990, p.23 99 Cfr. supra § 2.1 100 Cfr. GÖRAN SÖDERSTRÖM, op.cit., p.134 98 27 Strindberg may have “transferred” to it the features of and the love for Stockholm, following the psychological phenomenon of the transfert101. 11. The Panpipes Player, V century. B.C., Paleovenetian patinated bronze statuette, 10.1 cm Museo di Torcello, Venice 101 12. August Strindberg, The Weeping Boy, 1891, Patinated plaster, 18.5 cm Private collection Cfr. TRECCANI, Transfert, http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/transfert/ 28 13. August Strindberg, The City, 1903, Oil on canvas, 94.5x53 cm, Nationalmuseum 29 2.3 The new art Ever since in his Dalarö paintings, we have seen how Strindberg matures from a technical and stylistic point of view, the latter becoming more expressive and symbolic. Moreover, we have seen how tradition, life experiences and the very technique are crucial in his artistic production, especially in the interpretation process which, as we have demonstrated, is more efficient if we consider such elements, that is by using the method expressed by the Austrian theorist, Bahr. Obviously, Strindberg himself, at this stage of his life, was aware of being in a “phase”, an artistic evolution. In fact, in 1892 he wrote a letter to the friend Richard Bergh – famous, inter alia, is Strindberg’s portrait made by him – telling him that he had invented a new type of art, the skogssnufvismen, that is to say, the “wood-nymphism”, that he would later explain in detail in his essay Du hasard dans la production artistique, which might be considered as the manifesto of his way of doing art, about which we are going to focus now. In this essay, published for the first time on 5 November 1894 in La Revue des revues (Paris), Strindberg pragmatically explained how he created his works, articulating the theory of the “automatic art”. The first example he presented refers to the Weeping Boy that, as we have seen, was created with the aim of representing a boy at prayer which was later twisted by chance: “[…] Une métamorphose qu’Ovide n’eût pas rêvée venait de s’accomplir.[…]”102 declared Strindberg describing, as if he was more spectator than us, what had literally happened before his eyes, thus beyond his very control. Going back to the “wood-nymphism”, Strindberg explained in his essay what he meant by this new art: he exemplified it using a short story. A prince walks through the woods and, at a certain point, meets the Lady of the woods – the skogsrået, a seductive character of the Swedish folklore, a sort of a spirit of the forest – so he approaches her but the latter, turning her back, turns into a log103. The sense of this story, related to art, lies in the urge to demonstrate how imagination and reverie can lead the artist to see things that go beyond the factual reality, “betraying” him and, thus, disappointing him when he approaches it. Consequently, what the artist ought to do is letting himself knowingly be deceived, without having to investigate what hides behind such a deception. Hence, only this way can we appreciate, according to Strindberg, the works of modern art104, that is to say by dispassionately beholding them, then by focusing on a particular point in order to 102 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Du hasard dans la production artistique cit., p.23 Ivi, p.24 104 Ibidem 103 30 try to make speculations, hypothesis about its meaning and genesis, in as many ways as possible, as many are the possible experiences we could have with that particular artwork. Ultimately, Strindberg’s method, even though had different purposes, is also a theory of aesthetics which educates, in a way, on how to look at art. Finally, the essay ends with the description of the genesis of one of his most representative and famous work: Wonderland. The genesis of the work is rather peculiar: Strindberg’s first intention was to create a shaded underbrush from which we could glimpse a bit of the sea, at sunset. So he started to paint the various elements following the initial plan but, once he distanced himself from the painted to observe it better, he noticed with surprise that it had taken a turn: he could not see the sea anymore, it now looked more like a puddle of water above which some fairy creatures fluctuate while the woods had turned into a cavern. Thus, given chance’s decision to not follow the initial plan, all the painter had to do was acquiesce to its requests and complete the painting letting himself be led by chance. In other words, the theory of the automatic art consists in letting chance take the lead – that, as I have stated on several occasions, frees our unconscious instincts – in spite of the preconditions of the initial plan, and in imitating nature in the true sense of the word: that is, imitating nature’s way of creating, thus by pure “chance” but with exceptional results. Wonderland, as we have mentioned, is one of Strindberg’s most representative works, but also one of the less figurative. In effect, there are not any identifiable objects, except a vaguely defined vegetation surrounding the central glare. This one, thanks to its position and light, is the first element we come across and that, as the Italian academic Stefania Caliandro has noticed, looks like a spatial and temporal epiphany105: the glare peremptorily and suddenly shows itself, dazzling us and not letting us see the rest of the painting but in a gradual way, even though a vague profile still remains. 105 Cfr. STEFANIA CALIANDRO, La théorie du hasard en peinture, http://mucri.univ-paris1.fr/la-theorie-duhasard-en-peinture/ 31 14. August Strindberg, Wonderland, 1894, Oil on cardboard, 72.5x52 cm, Nationalmuseum 32 On the whole, there is not a real spatial conception: we cannot tell if the central nebula (be it a pond or the sea in the distance) is put on a horizontal level or on a vertical one. Or, rather, if we were to observe its contours better, we would see that the upper part almost looks like it is protruding, recalling us a pond whose waters have been agitated by something; however, the lower part seems more covered and shows more hues, just like the waters of the sea in the distance. What complicates things more is the chiaroscuro in the lower part which creates a “dégradé plastique”106, a plastic hue which suggests the presence of coves, slopes, depths. Thus, are they two perspectives of the same object to be represented in the painting? Or, maybe, they are two subjects being represented simultaneously on the same surface, as if it was a sort of abstract? All this only serves to undermine and subvert the spatial and representational levels. It is now clear that Strindberg’s aim is not that of representing reality – a beautiful landscape, nature, the sea – but rather something more unintelligible and profound: his aim is to catch the uncontrolled manifestation of his own subconscious, freed by the “hand” of chance, to unveil frames of mind otherwise considered ephemeral. 2.4 The new theatre During his stay in Denmark in 1888, as we have seen, Strindberg matured from a pictorial point of view by acquiring themes and techniques similar to those of the Skagen Painters. Yet, Denmark makes its mark also in the other fields of his artistic oeuvre, for instance in drama: in fact, in 1888 he published Miss Julie, along with a meaningful preface that, to some extent, stands in as a manifesto of his theatrical poetic. In his preface, Strindberg criticised the excessive do-gooder behaviour of the critics who wanted his dramas to be, paradoxically, less “dramatic”. Strindberg’s idea, as we have seen in The Father but also in his paintings (The Mare, The Loosestrife, etc.), is not by no means that of “embellishing” the existence by means of virtuosities which are end in themselves, only suitable for the satisfaction of a public that already know what it wants; nor it is that of being an Impressionist, that is to say seizing the most cheerful and carefree moments of human life and impressing them as they showed to his nerves, following, for instance, Renoir’s way. On the contrary, Strindberg may be considered as the negative of Impressionism, the anti-Impressionist par excellence who draws “[…] la gioia di vivere 106 Ibidem 33 dalle lotte dure e aspre della vita” and that takes pleasure in “nel riuscire a sapere qualcosa, nell’imparare qualcosa”107. In fact, he later wrote in his Occult Diary: “Voglio scrivere bello e luminoso, ma non m’è lecito, non ce la faccio; m’impegno a dire la verità, la vita è indicibilmente brutta”108. Thus, that of Strindberg is a declaration of utmost faith to reality. Nevertheless, this should not lead us to believe that he changed his position towards art, therefore implying an approach to an extreme realism; in fact, we ought to remember that his biographical incidents had deeply scarred him and his artistic production. Moreover, Strindberg took an always more monistic and occult position during his lifetime, besides the fact that he gradually isolated himself from the majority of his acquaintances. This implies that the unspeakably bad life is Strindberg’s, nothing more than his; the result is an ego-centrical point of view that can be extremely abstract and expressive and at the same time terrifically realist, in the sense that it reproduces his very reality. Later in his manifesto109, he even confirmed the hypothesis which I previously proved, that is that the best way to observe a work of his is by assuming a decompositional eye, following Bahr’s method. In fact, the dramatist stated that “Un fatto di vita […] nasce di solito da una intera serie di motivi più o meno nascosti, ma in genere lo spettatore sceglie quello più accessibile alla sua mente[…]110. This clarifies, for instance, Adolf’s development into madness, protagonist in The Father, as well as the very Miss Julie who, in a devious and skilful manner, is led to commit suicide by her own servant. A careless reader would treat both cases superficially, condemning and accusing the two characters of their unfortunate fate, without considering all the variables that have triggered such acts. He continued his preface by accusing the Naturalist of behaving like the abovementioned reader, that is by obliterating all the little joint causes of the various actions in order to show only their epidermic product111. Strindberg avoided this by means of a faithful representation of reality: for instance, as for the dialogues, he avoided 107 AUGUST STRINDBERG, Prefazione a «Signorina Julie» in Teatro naturalistico II, Milano, Adelphi edizioni, 2002, p.144 “[…] the joy of living from the harsh and tough fights of life” “in being able to know something, to learn something” [My translation] 108 AUGUST STRINDBERG, Teatro da camera, Milano, Adelphi edizioni, 2012, p.276, note 82 “I want to write in a beautiful bright way, but I’m not allowed, I can’t do it; I’m committed to telling the truth, life is unspeakably bad” (Emphasis added) [My translation] 109 Si intende la Prefazione a «Signorina Julie» 110 AUGUST STRINDBERG, Prefazione a «Signorina Julie» cit., p.144 “An event of life […] usually arises from a whole variety of more or less hidden reasons, but the spectator generally chosen the one that is more accessible to his mind […]” [My translation] 111 Ivi, p.148 34 creating them in a mathematical way, as if they were a “tit for tat”; on the contrary, what his dramatis personae say does not satisfactorily reply to the previous line, thus resulting in disjointed phrases112 which are, at the same time, extraordinarily real. In fact, in real life, it just takes a word, a different voice intonation or even a noise to divert, during a conversation, the reply in a completely unpredictable way. Another pivotal aspect of his manifesto concerns the division into acts that, according to Strindberg, breaks the illusion built by the theatre. Thus, he opted for the elimination of this custom, in order not to ruin the illusion and not to allow reason to synthesise what has been seen. This, ça va sans dire, is terribly faithful and incredibly similar to what Bahr would later say, about which we have so much discussed by now113. Hence, illusion is the leitmotiv on which the new Swedish theatre is based, according to the dramatist, and the new dramatic art ought to comply with it. Consequently, it will be necessary to raise the parterre (which has to go pitch dark), hide the orchestra, remove the proscenium boxes and reduce the overall dimensions of the theatre, which will have to be appropriate to the grandeur of the scenes114. The aim is to bring the public closer to the scene, so as to allow it to observe with surgical precision the états d’âme of the actors, thanks to the slightest gestures and facial expressions. Ultimately, the new dramatic art, the new theatre, will have to be a magnifying glass which permits us to notice the slightest movements and frames of mind; but Strindberg strongly wanted to point out that such a project would only be available to entertain the happy few, the most cultured people115. That is how he eventually founded in 1910 in Stockholm the Intimate Theatre (Intima Teater) for which he specifically wrote the socalled Chamber Plays, custom-made for his little 130-seat. 112 Ivi, p.152 Cfr. supra § 1.4 114 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Prefazione a «Signorina Julie» cit., pp.158-159 115 Ivi, p.160 113 35 3. The phase of ashes 3.1 Expressionistic theatre We have already seen how in Miss Julie (and in its preface) Strindberg prefigures the birth of a new kind of theatre, a psychological and intimate theatre, reserved to the happy few Übermensch able to catch the slightest effects of the états d’âme. The full accomplishment of this new kind of theatre happened later, with the advent of the new century. Thus, the first Chamber Plays were written and staged, specifically produced for the brand-new Intimate Theatre. Strindberg, as already mentioned in the paragraph dedicated to his biography, after his mother’s death approached pietism and the scientific developments of the newly industrialised society: he took an interest in medicine, in botany and in natural science. During the first phase of his artistic production (both pictorial and theatrical) he defined himself as Naturalist, believing he used a scientific method in his art. As stated by Dahlström, his Naturalism is by no means scientific116; indeed, it is very subjective. Returning to Strindberg’s biography and milieu, Dahlström noticed that there is, in his personality, an everlasting insolvable contradiction, between religion and science, confirmed by what he himself declared in Alone, discussing about religion: “A volte una voce dentro di me mi chiede: ma ci credi? Immediatamente zittisco quella voce perché so che la fede è solo uno stato dell’anima e non un atto razionale, e so che questo stato mi fa bene e mi educa.”117 Such a contradiction basically results from the cultural conditions where Strindberg found himself living: he found himself living at the turn of the 19th century, in an increasingly industrialised and automatized society. Religion had lost much of its importance, and it was not fundamental to people’s lives, the latter being at that point devoted to industry and to the “Almighty Steam”. Consequently, there was a slow dehumanisation of society, which slowly lost its values, such as religion, becoming de facto worthless and meaningless. Cfr. CARL E. W. L. DAHLSTRÖM, Origins of Strindberg’s Expressionism in Scandinavian Studies, vol. 34, n. 1, University of Illinois Press, 1962, p.43 117 AUGUST STRINDBERG, Solo in Romanzi e racconti. Vol. 1: Il ciclo autobiografico, Milano, Mondadori, 1991, p.985 “Sometimes a voice inside of me asks me: do you really believe in it? I immediately hush that voice because I know that faith is a state of the soul, not a rational act, and I know that such state does me good and educates me.” [My translation] 116 36 Before this scenario, according to Dahlström, Strindberg succeeded in surviving and not falling into nihilism creating a literature that could contain the two contrasting forces (religion and science), an oxymoronic literature which makes use of the Ausstrahlungen des Ichs118, similar to the états d’âme about which we have already discussed. This literature sublimates in the abovementioned Chamber Plays, in particular in works as The Ghost Sonata and The Isle of the Dead. In The Ghost Sonata, besides the presence of elements which are not dissimilar to those of the other works – for instance, the psychological insights of the characters, of the états d’âme, the irony, etc. – there is the evident appearance of supernatural and mysterious elements. The drama begins with a student who observes an apartment and fancies about the life that could be carried on inside of it. From the very beginning, some fantastic elements appear: the Student, in the company of Hummel (the Old Man in a wheelchair who inexplicably approaches him), is able to see things the others cannot see119 and, once found his way in the house that he so much admired from the outside, he finds, in the inside, the strangest and the most disturbing things. The landlady, the Mummy, is locked in a closet, protected from light, and mimics the call of the parrot; the Colonel, the landlord, is not a real colonel; the Young Lady, alleged colonel’s daughter, is actually the Old Man’s daughter. Later, Hummel bursts into the house in order to unmask and expose everybody during a phantasmagorical and iconic “ghost supper”120; yet, he himself in turn proves to be a malefactor and a murderer, and the Mummy leads him to the closet where, covered by a screen – the “death screen”121 – he commits suicide. The same screen appears at the end, when it’s the end also for the Young Lady. According to Dahlström’s guidelines122, The Ghost Sonata places itself in the field of the expressionistic drama. Returning to the strained relationship between Strindberg and the surrounding milieu, between religion and science-reason, it is easy to read the play from an allegorical and biographical point of view. If we were to analyse the play on the basis of what we now know, Hummel, the Old Man, would immediately become one of Strindberg’s contrasting elements, in his case, he would become the Reason. In fact, Hummel established himself as an authoritarian and tyrannical figure able to resolve Cfr. CARL E. W. L. DAHLSTRÖM, Origins of Strindberg’s Expressionism cit., p.44 Cfr. STRINDBERG AUGUST, Sonata di fantasmi in Teatro da camera, Milano, Adelphi edizioni, 2012, p.113 120 Ivi, p.123 “cena di fantasmi” in Italian in the original. 121 Ivi, p.125 “paravento della morte” in Italian in the original. 122 Cfr. CARL E. W. L. DAHLSTRÖM, Strindberg’s “Fadren” as an Expressionistic Drama in Scandinavian Studies and Notes vol. 16 n. 3, University of Illinois Press, 1940, pp.83-87 118 119 37 issues with an intelligent and reasonable way. The residents of the apartment that are in contrast to him (the Colonel, the Mummy, etc.) represent Religion, thus the fantastic and irrational illusion. Lastly, there is the conflict: Reason bursts into Religion’s house, trying to unmasks and demolish it, and initially, it almost succeeds. But there is a turn of events: now it is Religion that accuses Reason, exposing its false infallibility and even leading it to commit suicide. As a result, The Ghost Sonata fully represents the objectification of Strindberg’s character, his very Einfühlung123, since it is the fruit of his complex psyche struggling between the science and religion dualism, between reality and illusion, between naturalism and expressionism. To do this, deliberately contradictory elements are used: the very dramatis personae are contradictory, so that for Strindberg there are no “personalities” in people: each person is characterised by several small actions, by various Ausstrahlungen des Ichs and états d’âme that can well be contradictory, inconsistent and attack each other (as religion and science do), without necessarily undermine their respective legitimacy. Freud himself remarked this ability in Strindberg’s writings, by declaring: “Di tutti i poeti che occasionalmente si sono serviti di piccole azioni sintomatiche o di lapsus, nessuno ha riconosciuto con maggior chiarezza la loro natura occulta e nessuno ha saputo rappresentare questo stato di cose con vivezza così paurosa come Strindberg”124 Analogously, even The Isle of the Dead could be considered an expressionistic work. The play is about death and “life” after death. The protagonist, the Dead, is carried to the Isle of the Dead where is greeted by the Master. Between the two some discussions arise, about several topics, such as the significance of dreams. According to the Master, dreams can be as true as the very reality, since they are often instructive or at least they influence our “real” choices. Accordingly, the Master’s ideology could be symbolist, since Bahr declared that nature, when it has to talk to men directly, symbolistically makes use of dreams125. The Master also wonders about the concept of personality and character, and makes a list of all the possible personalities that could be conferred on the Dead, 123 Cfr. infra § 3.2 Cfr. STRINDBERG AUGUST, Teatro da camera, Milano, Adelphi edizioni, 2012, p.277, nota 85 “Among all the poets that have made use of small symptomatic actions or lapses, nobody has recognised with more clearness their occult nature and nobody has been able to represent this state of things with such a terrific vivacity than Strindberg” 125 Cfr. HERMANN BAHR, Il superamento del naturalismo cit., p.109 124 38 eventually exclaiming ironically and provocatively: “Che carattere gli si potrebbe attribuire? A, B, C o D?”126, remembering that, as we have mentioned, Strindberg did not believe in personalities, since it is not possible to contain one’s personality inside only one of them. 3.2 Towards expressionism We have already pointed out127 that with Wonderland, in particular, Strindberg abandoned the figurative and turned to the expression of the most intimate feelings of his inner reality, of his subconscious. At the beginning of his “career” as a painter his paintings look like those of his en plein air “mentors”; now, his paintings, take a turn which is definitely en plein intérieur, introspectively turning inwards, towards his own Self, in a manner which is always more superhuman – in a Nietzschean way – and eccentric, to the point that he considered the contacts with the outside world unproductive and useless, so that he substituted them with his own fancies and divinations. This is revealed, particularly, in his short autobiographical novel Alone, published in 1903. Here we can see the essence of his new poetic which, from now on, I will call en plein intérieur painting (please note that by painting I do not intend solely the pictorial art, but also the ability to “paint” stories, characters and dramas). The en plein air painting consisted in painting reality and, in particular, nature outdoors; on the contrary, what characterises this new kind of painting is the ability to paint reality from the inside, not according to what we see outside but what we see internally. In fact, according to Marzynski, expressionistic art is all about the Einfühlung, that is the projection of the self into an outer form128. In other words, the artist paints his psyche by “translating” it in outer signs, objectificating and obliterating the observed object – a landscape, etc. – that is, this way, inevitably distorted and deformed. This way, everything focuses on a combinatorial game where, as underlined by Ludovica Koch, “[…] si mescolano a casaccio letture, storie sentite, fatti ricordati, esperienze presenti”129, making Strindberg the ideal embodiment of Baudelaire’s modern painter: by mingling with the crowd – but always keeping a distance with it – our Swedish 126 STRINDBERG AUGUST, L’isola dei morti in Teatro da camera cit., p.206 “What personality could we confer upon him? A, B, C or D?” [My translation] 127 Cfr. supra § 2.3 128 Cfr. CARL E. W. L. DAHLSTRÖM, Strindberg’s dramatic expressionism, Ann Arbor, University of Michigan, 1930, pp.12-19 129 LUDOVICA KOCH, op. cit., p.943 “[…] readings, heard stories, recalled events and present experiences randomly mingle” [My translation] 39 painter, sensitised by solitude, became repulsed by things and people. Accordingly, he bridged the gap with human touch (which disgusted him and gave him no pleasure, since it was deemed as banal) by means of a sublime work on perception and on memory: the slightest things and memories were deformed, broadened, recombined and reconcentrated into new stories, characters, past lives and actions that Strindberg deliberately attributed to what he saw from a distance. To make sure that this work on subverting the experience had a successful outcome, it was pivotal to maintain a certain distance from the concerned subject. Strindberg had already talked about this in his essay Du hasard, with reference to the best way to look at art in order to have an aesthetic experience130. In the novel, referring to the landlady of the apartment where he lived, he stated: “Volevo che i nostri rapporti fossero impersonali e trovavo più confacente al mio umore collocare il suo passato in una piacevole penombra. Se avessi conosciuto la sua storia, i mobili avrebbero assunto un carattere diverso da quello che io avevo deciso dovessero avere, e a quel punto la mia trama si sarebbe spezzata […]”131 This way, the lack of knowledge, the privation or better, the powerlessness132 become together a strong point, a pretext, for fantasising and producing art, so as to make the extérieure reality more bearable and more conforming to the intérieure one. All this is almost idyllic and balanced: the fact of not having anything for certain and not having a solid basis, the fact of not having any centres of gravity allows our dramatist to be he himself his very centre around which the outer reality rotates. As confirmed by Koch “All’ostinata ricerca dell’identità si è sostituita l’accettazione della negative capability”133, as a condition not of resignation, but rather as a strong autonomous stance. The fact of not having a centre of gravity, not having the power to grasp a bigger solid body, makes Strindberg paradoxically even more powerful, thus able to be he himself the big gravitational body. Therefore, in this novel he narrates his condition of self-induced solitude, as if it were almost one of his experiments, in order to intensify his poetic sensibility; he narrates 130 Cfr. supra § 2.3 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Solo in LUDOVICA KOCH, Romanzi e racconti. Vol.1 cit, p.958 “I wanted our relationship to be impersonal and I found more suitable for my state of mind to put her past in a pleasant dimness. Had I known her story, the furniture would have taken a different nature from the one I had chosen them to have, and at that point my plot would have broken […]” [My translation] 132 Cfr. supra Introduction 133 Cfr. LUDOVICA KOCH, Romanzi e racconti. Vol.1 cit, p.944 “The obstinate search for identity has been replaced by the acceptance of the negative capability” [My translation] 131 40 how, once come back home after having been immersed in the crowd, he feels full of energy, he feels alive, but above all, he feels capable of becoming everyone: a little girl, a woman, an old man, and to transport himself to every epoch134. This is because, once again, solitude helps him to depersonalise, to evaporate and to get into a telepathic contact “con tutti gli amici, i parenti e i nemici lontani”135. At a certain point, he is even led to hear, thanks to the fantasy and the en plein intérieur poetic divination, Beethoven’s Al chiaro di luna from his neighbours’ room, even though they are not at home. This way, “ce qui est créé par l’esprit est plus vivant que la matière”136, i.e. it is a pleasant and healthy hallucination way more real and appropriate than the reality itself. This is because solitude carried to the extreme makes him desperately yearning for rising against the very solitude, and this is made by listening to the Allegro that, according to him, represents the most the expression of the human desire for freedom137. Consequently, solitude becomes both evil and benign, both “impotence” and power, creator of freedom and detriment of freedom. 3.2 Expressionism We have seen how Strindberg abandoned the figurative in the pictorial art for the (re)discovery of the frames of mind, which were neglected up to then, and how, in the same way, he prefigured, in the theatre, the birth of the expressionistic drama, by focusing on actions and by an almost hallucinated care of the symbolic and occult aspects. That is why some academics have defined Strindberg’s art as a precursor of abstract art138, others have defined it as symbolist139, for the presence of symbolic elements, or better, for the complete absence of human figures, which has made it a highly expressive, metaphoric and, thus, very symbolic art. During his lifetime, the presence of the human figure slowly decreased even in real life, not only in his paintings; perhaps, it is this very conformity between his life and his artistic production to be the pivotal keystone of his oeuvre. Whether his art that influenced 134 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Solo in LUDOVICA KOCH, Romanzi e racconti. Vol.1 cit, p.981 Ibidem “with all the friends, the relatives and the distant enemies” [My translation] 136 Cfr. CHARLES BAUDELAIRE, Journaux intimes. Fusées. Mon coeur mis à nu, 1920, http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k206339d/f52.item p.3 137 Cfr. AUGUST STRINDBERG, Solo in LUDOVICA KOCH, Romanzi e racconti. Vol.1 cit, p.1012 138 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., p.10 139 Ivi, p.44 135 41 his existence or vice versa, it is undeniable that the two go terrifically hand in hand. Our Scandinavian artist, after his long wandering in “exile”, he permanently came back to Stockholm in 1899; on his return, he had only a few years left to live. And it was as he himself felt the imminent and relentless approach of death and we, as omniscient but powerless spectators, could see and observe in a macabre way his turmoil and his fear of death, well imprinted in his art, and on his canvases140. The foreboding of death was confirmed by Strindberg himself, in 1907: “[…] non riesco più a interessarmi della vita, della quale comincio a presentire la fine”141. During the last years of his artistic production, in fact, the canvases synthesised the archetypes observed, for instance, in his Dalarö paintings – the archipelago, the nature, etc. – but from a way more resigned and nostalgic viewpoint, as if Strindberg had realised that he was close to death and, thus, not able anymore to taste given places or moments of his life. Whereas in Wonderland there was a light that could be a gap towards unexplored horizons, towards something vital, all this now turns into something infernal and terrible in Inferno, a 1901 painting, where the placid but revitalising light of Wonderland is now an incessant violent rain, represented by means of a streaked scratchy motif. The vegetation, if before was at least vaguely identifiable, now loses itself in a mixture of liquid and solid, assuming a more synthetic style and a motif which is definitely agitated, dizzying and sombre. Similarly sombre and distressing is the Waves series that imposes itself as a violent yet static clash between the terrestrial and the heavenly, between life and the foreboding of a dreadful imminent fate. 15. August Strindberg, Inferno, 1901, Oil on canvas, 100x70 cm Private collection We are using here the term “canvases” par excellence, since, besides canvas, Strindberg used cardboard, wood, zinc plates, etc. 141 AUGUST STRINDBERG, Teatro da camera cit., p.277, note 82 140 42 16. August Strindberg, The Wave VIII, 1901/1902, Oil on canvas, 100x70 cm, Nordiska Museet 43 There is no shortage of symbolic paintings, similar to the Loosestrife, such as The Beech Tree, a symbol of the connection between earth and heaven, a symbol of springtime but also of death142, the latter being seen, at this point, as a rebirth. The transition between life and death seems to be very present in both his life and his artistic production (for the theatre, see The Dance of Death), as if it was a metamorphosis, an alchemic transformation that turns the amorphous body into gold. The alchemic science is not only a science from which he took pleasure by doing experiments; it is indeed a real lifestyle to him. Would not it be ironic and curious to consider his transformation from playwright to painter as a concrete and successful alchemic experiment? Yet, Strindberg is aware of the fallibility of his “philosopher’s stone”: what awaits him after the transformation may not be gold; hence, after death, there is the unknown. This is for him a source of great anguish and Hamletic fear. The pictorial adaptation of his approaching the unknown shows through The Avenue, where the strong contrasts between the threatening heaven, the autumn trees and the canal where they lay – canal and land make a whole – transform, en plein intérieur, a simple avenue into his own personal path towards death. In fact, in a letter written to Carl Larsson in 1905, he wrote about the “yellow avenue with the great unknown in the background”143 referring to the avenue between Djurgårdsbrunn canal and Rosendal gardens. But anguish and the fear of death are not the only sentiments: such feelings come along with, as we have already seen in The Beech Tree, a vague sentiment of hope, a glimmer of the last sunray hardly caught, at the last minute. This emerges from Sunset, where finally, after many years, the sun appears again; yet, it is now a feeble sun, that shyly hides behind an incredibly blue sea. It is a sun that capitulates at its sunset, dragged, without resistance, towards the darkness of the unknown, where it does not know whether and for whom it will shine again. Particularly in his last works, the expressionism shows itself through a spatial deformation that is the “legacy” of the dégradé plastique of Wonderland. 142 Cfr. FERDINANDO ALAIMO, Erboristeria planetaria. Proprietà curative e simbologia delle piante, Roma, Hermes, 2007, p.96 143 Cfr. PER HEDSTRÖM, op. cit., p.82 44 17. August Strindberg, The Beech Tree, 1902, Oil on wood, 33x23 cm, Bukowskis Stockholm 18. August Strindberg, The Avenue, 1903, Oil on canvas, 94x53 cm, Thielska Galleriet 19. August Strindberg, Sunset, 1902, Oil on canvas, 12.5x20.5 cm, Private collection 45 For instance, in The Sun sets over the Sea and The Coast II, the inconsistency and the contradictory nature which are typical of Strindberg pour themselves on an equally contradictory canvas: the lower part is three-dimensional and naturalistic – deep and shaded – while the upper part, which appears to be two-dimensional and unnatural, is rather flat and plain. Thus, the sea and the sky appear to be far and detached from the verdant land. It almost seems as if there is a desire to strongly demarcate the three elements (earth, sea and sky); if before such demarcation could be simply created by the mark of the knife our painter used to work with, now it seems as if there is the necessity of a distance which is not only on the abstract level, but also on the spatial one. Therefore, in this paintings we can find an almost cynical and resigned representation of the impossible reconciliation between Strindberg and the heavenly world, the latter appearing here even further. Now, bearing in mind the inconsistent and contradictory nature that marks the “bipolar” soul of our Scandinavian artist, it is more convenient to accept paintings that contradict and insult each other, denying, asserting, demolishing and continuously reshuffling what they had previously stated. It is easy to understand that this is the result of a constant and thorough work on the états d’âme, a work that does not allow room for the synthesis of the feelings, but rather shows them in their embryonic phase, then in the unripe one, the ripe one e finally in the rotten one. It is clear that all these phases, although “belonging” to the same sentiment, during their existence mutate and strike each other. As a result, we have several paintings, or better several “snapshots” of the same sentiment, fighting each other. What contradicts and “insults” The Coast II is Alpine Landscape II, 1905. In this painting, created in the last year of his pictorial production, we can see concentrated and brought to a higher level the archetypes present in his whole oeuvre: sea, land, trees, mountains and heaven. Here the elements are condensed and piled in an alchemic Pangea where all hierarchies lose their importance. As in some other paintings, the ground is fluid: in fact, the land where the trees lay looks like an agitated sea, whose waves, in turn, are more similar to a mountain chain. Thus, the “earth” is water: there is no fundament for the trees and the vegetation, a solid basis where they could lean on. 46 20. August Strindberg, The Coast II, 1903, Oil on canvas, 46x55 cm, Nationalmuseum 47 21. August Strindberg, Alpine Landscape II, 1905, Oil on canvas, 60x40 cm, Thielska Galleriet, photo: Gösta Knochenhauer 48 Everything moves and is in constant transformation. The central part, where the second row of darker trees lays, looks like a tsunami freak wave, the exacerbation of the small wave in Flower by the Shore144. Above it, the entire composition is overlooked by the majestic peaks of a mountain chain that, on the left, magically melts with the solemn dull grey sky. The painting, on the level of its structure, almost looks like an ascensional stairway that leads towards heaven, thanks to the elements that slowly melt together but also for the progressive and stepped structure. There is in Strindberg a desire to approach heaven – or to place heaven near him – so as to separate himself from the earthly life that, as it could well be seen by its fluid form, provides him with no support or foothold. It is a desperate call for help, which is way far from the resigned cynicism found in The Coast II. The call for help made to heaven and the creation of a stairway that could lead him to it is a leitmotiv that has accompanied other artists besides him, such as Monet who, in order to realise this heavenearth route, literally dragged the ethereal down, placing it under his beloved waterlilies. On the whole, the interpenetration and symbiosis between the various subjects and frames of mind in Alpine Landscape II is represented in such an exceptional way that it contains the essence of all the works he had done up to then, placing itself as magnus opus and glorification of his inconsistent and contradictory poetic and, at the same time, as a snapshot of the complex mind of a much-troubled man. 22. Claude Monet, Ninfee, 1917-1919, Oil on canvas, 99.7x201 cm, Honolulu Museum of Art, photo: Honolulu Academy of Arts Note the resemblance to Wonderland, fortuitous but not insignificant 144 Cfr. supra § 1.4 49 3.3 The legacy of the subconscious The attempt to nervously catch the frames of mind was not limited to painting: Strindberg, as we have already mentioned145, also made some photographic works. In 1886 the self-portraits and those of his family; in 1894 the famous Celestographs, created with the aim of photographing the firmament without the misleading role of the lens and of his own hand. For this purpose, he directly exposed the photographic plate to the starry sky. Probably the result is not exactly the firmament – perhaps they are just dust residue – but it is undeniable that all this represents and expresses man, in particular his desire to bring the heavenly to the earthly146. In 1906 he made the so-called “psychological portraits”, whose aim was to catch the personality and the soul of people by means of a “simple” portrait; finally, between 1907 and 1908, the series Cloud Formations, believing he could catch some sort of form repetition in the clouds147. During the “narration” we have insisted on the significance of the états d’âme, seen as the slightest decomposable parts of the feelings, the most intimate and unconscious part, not visible to the naked eye. In Strindberg’s oeuvre – both his pictorial and his theatrical one – the états d’âme are, indeed, unveiled, narrated and imprinted on the canvas, without the fear of appearing contradictory and inconsistent. Thus, the subconscious is being exposed and turned “real”, (re)created on the canvas through a sort of manipulation of reality. In his paintings, in his plays and in his photographs fears, anguish and the subconscious are being brought, en plein intérieur, to the extérieur, on the outside, on the “visible” reality. The affinity of Monet, about whom we have recently discussed, with all of this, could be explained through what T. S. Eliot expressed in his 1922 essay Tradition and the Individual Talent. Eliot formulated the concept of artistic emotion, according to which the artist’s task is to manifest the same archetypical feelings, perhaps already approached over the course of tradition, but in different ways, so as to inspire new sensations148. Now, by analysing the contemporary artistic scenario, in particular the Italian one, it is even more clear what Eliot stated. I will specifically reflect on Nicola Nannini, a Bolognese artist of tradition and talent. 145 Cfr. supra Introduction Cfr. DOUGLAS FEUK, Dreaming Materialized in Strindberg: painter and photographer cit., pp.117-129 147 Cfr. DOUGLAS FEUK, The Celestographs of August Strindberg, http://www.cabinetmagazine.org/issues/3/celesographs.php 148 T. S. ELIOT, Tradition and the Individual Talent in The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism, http://www.engramma.it/eOS/index.php?id_articolo=444 146 50 By observing some of his paintings of the Notturni (Nocturnal) series – particularly A Normal Night – I have noticed, or better, I have perceived the same sentiment as Strindberg’s, the same desire to show one’s own infinitesimal subconscious through the canvas, through an innocent manipulation of reality that, on the very canvas, becomes expressive and naturalistic at the same time. I have sensed, by observing Nannini’s paintings, the same sentiment but with different sensations: personally, I have felt a strong melancholy, similar to the homesickness one would feel by passing through the lanes and the hamlets that lead to the hometown, to one’s own home, after a long trip taken elsewhere (abroad or at least away from home). All this through the very atmosphere which, in my view, is concrete and impregnated with metaphysics: in-visible subconscious. Nannini himself, referring this time to the paintings of the Asiago Plateau, stated that “[…] se è vero che nelle cose scopriamo noi stessi, allora ogni visione innevata è ancora e sempre un autoritratto”149. 23. August Strindberg, Cloud Formations, 1907-8, Fotografia, 12x16.5 cm, Kungliga Biblioteket, Stockholm NICOLA NANNINI, Introduzione a “La calligrafia della neve”, http://www.nicolanannini.info/opere/lacalligrafia-della-neve.html “[...] if it is true that in the things we find out ourselves, then every snowy vision is still and always a self-portrait” [My translation] 149 51 24. Nicola Nannini, A Normal Night, 2014, Oil on board, 35x45 cm 25. Nicola Nannini, Night with Coat and Cigarette, 2014, Oil on board, 35x45 cm 52 Conclusion I have started my research work with a rather inconsistent and absurd request: that is, to demonstrate how August Strindberg, as a Swedish playwright, had succeeded thanks to his very “impotencies” to be powerful and, specifically, to overcome the naturalistic borders of art and to prefigure a new type of art which is not bound to the mere naturalistic representation of life. First and foremost, in order to do so, I have divided my thesis – but also Strindberg’s life – into three phases: a potential phase, a combustible one and a phase of ashes. As it may be easily guessed, for this subdivision I have taken inspiration from Agamben’s metaphor, which opens my introduction: thus I have conceived Strindberg and his artistic production as they were a combustible. The first phase, the potential one, represents the combustible at rest: there are all the elements to ensure that it actually combusts, but it still remains confined into a static condition. Strindberg was in an ambiguous and oppressing cultural background, and all he could do was a bold social work, denouncing reality and describing it naturalistically. Thus he began his first exposé works, such as Master Olof and The Red Room and, afterwards, he wrote his first naturalistic plays, where the common thread is the battle of the genders è and the search for identity. Even his paintings followed this approach, or at least this is what he believed. In fact, he did not practice a pure naturalism, on the contrary, this one was highly influenced by his complex and ambiguous personality. There is, indeed, a very thorough approach to psychology, with the aim of showing the depth of things, the états d’âme, decomposing everything in order to get to its “skeleton”. Thus, there is in his canvases the conveyance of his own Self, resulting in naturalistic yet very introspective paintings. Ultimately, the potential phase puts itself forwards as a container, a bomb ready to explode but that still tries to remain, somehow, attached to reality. The second phase, the combustible phase, has some developments instead: the paintings continue to be always more expressive, at the expense of their naturalistic representation, and the new leitmotiv is now chance, along with the subconscious. In the first phase the artist struggled between religion and reality (we refer, for religion, to what is irrational, emotional, fantastic); now the artist finds an outer agency, a deus ex machina able to resolve the contradictory dualism and to burden itself with the responsibility of the evident distortions of reality: the new deus ex machina is chance, which frees the artist from reality by letting his unconscious instincts flow and by imprinting them on the canvas. This way, Strindberg takes advantage of his technical privation and of his neurosis 53 in order to debut into a different reality, led not anymore by his hand – which does not have to worry about being professional or being faithful to reality – but rather by chance; yet, the latter does not follow anyone but the subconscious. In other words, our Swedish artist moved from being an amateur painter to, thanks to chance, being an actual painter; but on a different level: an expressionistic level. The last phase, the ashes, is the phase immediately following that of the vaporisation of the combustible. Once found a way to “light” himself, the artist has vaporised, empathetically expanding and projecting his own, finding himself acquiring several different personalities. The contradiction that haunts him – science vs religion – is now “resolved” by an equally contradictory art, which allows the coexistence of several contrasting états d’âme, without their unity being undermined by it. That is how the new expressionistic plays were created, focusing on dream, on the supernatural and on mystery, all coexisting more or less harmoniously with the intellect and the reason. Accordingly, his paintings abide by this poetic of contradiction, placing themselves in a dialogical and conflicting rapport to each other, showing different phases of the same états d’âme. In this sense, the powerlessness is about the lack of knowledge of the outer reality – be it a deliberate or neurotic lack – whose gap is bridged by an introspective painting, en plein intérieur. So, the loop closes here, with the result of the combustion of the potential, which has in turn produced ashes. Thus, for Strindberg, it is indeed true the biblical proverb “you are dust, and to dust you shall return”! 54 Bibliography ALAIMO FERDINANDO, Erboristeria planetaria. 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