Painting Mother Nature’s power

His contemporaries often mocked French painter Gustave Courbet
as an uncouth country bumpkin. Courbet’s exaggerated
provincial accent, physical robustness and unwillingness to conform
to the Parisian art scene set him apart as an outspoken outsider.
And indeed Courbet projected these qualities onto his art. Though
best known for his mid-19th century figural paintings, the Getty
Center showcases the first major exhibition of his landscapes,
“Courbet and the Modern Landscape,” on display through
May 14. In a quotation depicted on the gallery walls, Courbet
describes his aim in painting: “To make living art. That is
my goal.” His works succeed in conveying a sense of
immediacy, as if they are about to jump off the canvas. The success
lies in his modern, unconventional approach to painting.
Courbet’s landscapes are full of textures, each arising from
the use of different tools, from brushes to palette knives, or even
his own fingers in works such as “The Gust of Wind.” (A
room in the exhibit offers an interesting video clip that conveys
his signature style of painting.) The variety in artistic
construction creates a number of different visual planes for
viewers, and deftly balances tension between the flat surface of
the canvas and Courbet’s artistic illusion of space and
volume. But what is even more striking than his unusual technique
is Courbet’s ability to capture the sublime power of the
landscape. These works embody a rugged, primal energy, discarding
detail for raw force. Perhaps this is most evident in works like
“La Rouche Pourrie,” a painting of a massive rock
quarry. The stones’ sharp edges command viewers’
attentions; only upon closer inspection do they realize that an
inconspicuous geologist lies in the foreground of the landscape.
Clearly, Courbet means for nature to appear more significant and
important to the scene than the individual, a curious approach for
an artist known for his human depictions. And Courbet extends
nature’s dominance beyond humans. The occasional animals in
his landscapes appear far feebler than their surroundings, and feel
out of place altogether. Courbet’s “The Forest in
Winter” masterfully renders a scene of early snowfall,
drawing a rich contrast between warm autumnal leaves and icy flakes
that cling to tree branches. But the deer in the scene lacks the
same immediacy and technique, becoming almost cartoon-like amid the
rest of the realist landscape. Further into the exhibit, it becomes
apparent that Courbet is at his best when depicting a physical
scene whose grandeur lies in its strength and force, which likely
appealed most to his personal sensibilities. His “Puits
Noir” series ““ a number of paintings of a forest grotto
and called the “black well””“ offers a fascinating
study on the mysterious nature of light and dark, gradually
becoming more and more abstract. But his seascapes, although
lovely, don’t hold the same urgency, with the exceptions not
surprisingly being paintings of tempestuous waves (“The
Wave”) or approaching storms (“Channel Coast at
Trouville, the Black Rocks”). Even in his serene “Beach
Scene,” the rocks in the foreground stand out more than the
horizon or the sea itself. As Courbet once said, “Painting is
a completely physical language.” And his exhibit at the Getty
Center reveals that such physicality best suits subjects of
comparable raw force.

“”mdash; Natalie Tate