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Courtesy of MOCRA
"Miserere et Guerre," at the Museum of Contemporary Religious Art
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Courtesy of MOCRA
Georges Rouault, "De Profundis."
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Courtesy of MOCRA
Georges Rouault, "It is You."
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Courtesy of MOCRA
Georges Rouault, "Bella."
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Courtesy of MOCRA
Georges Rouault, "Sometimes the Blind."
I do not feel as if I belong to this modern life . . .my real life is back in the age of the cathedrals.—Georges Rouault
It’s hard to believe that World War I was raging across Europe 100 years ago this year. From 1914 to 1918, the modern world was being created on the battlefields of France and Belgium; the devastation and huge casualties forced Western Civilization to reevaluate long-held preconceptions and beliefs. Was the inexorable advance of technology always going to make the world a better place? Or had the industrial revolution opened a Pandora’s Box that would eventually destroy humanity? Perhaps America’s later entry into the war in 1917, coupled with the sheer destruction of World War II, obscures the revolutionary cultural trends World War I unleashed and inspired.
Georges Rouault would certainly fall into the category of an artist inspired by the violence and death occurring across the battlefields of Europe. Raised in poverty in Paris, Rouault apprenticed in a stained glass workshop; his later emphasis on heavy black outlines perhaps came out of his early work with the leading between glass in that medieval art form. Influenced by the great fauvist artist Henri Matisse, Rouault’s work in turn would evolve with German Expressionism.
Rouault was working at a time when the definition of fine art was rapidly changing. Pablo Picasso had already painted his groundbreaking Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner was creating work reflecting on his own mortality while serving in a German artillery regiment. Art was increasingly personal and introspective, and no longer necessarily commissioned by the wealthy and powerful. Miserere et Guerre became Rouault’s monumental expression of the horror he felt at the destruction of World War I.
The Museum of Contemporary Religious Art counts a complete set of the entire series of etchings in its collection, and displays it approximately every five years. Originally intended to be published as a book, the series of prints ended up being the end product of the endeavor. Rouault revolutionizes the intaglio technique of etching; if that art form traditionally focuses on linear, minute detail, the prints of Miserere et Guerre instead focus on broad, painterly strokes of a paintbrush, utilizing the “lift ground etching” technique. The effects are expressionistic, bold and emotive.
From a content standpoint, Rouault almost seems to confront Western Civilization with its own contradictions. Quoting from Biblical as well as classical Greek and Roman sources, the artist asks the viewer how the same culture that creates so many great works of literature and philosophy could be the same one that destroys so much in war. In fact, Rouault’s careful choice of literary references clearly seeks to show the hypocrisy of the combatants, who simultaneously celebrate compassion and faith while engaging in the exact opposite. The figures in the compositions are decidedly anti-classical, looking back to a more primitive, devout period in Christianity where religious art was not infected with the naturalism of the Greek and Roman worlds. Even the great Michelangelo, the lover of classical antiquity, felt his own pangs of guilt late in his own career.
Thematically, the prints borrow from archetypes of Rouault’s Christian faith, combined with literary references. The most striking, Bella Matribus Detestata (War, hated by mothers), shows a Madonna and Child, Mary looking into the eyes of her son, knowing what will eventually be his fate, while the title references the Roman poet Horace’s Odes. One is reminded of Käthe Kollwitz’s Pietà from the Neue Wache in Berlin: the pain of a mother holding her dead son is universal.
Wandering around Grand Center on a recent First Friday, the discovery of this exhibition of Rouault’s came completely by accident. Having just viewed the pedestrian and solipsistic vapidness on display at nearby institutions, seeing art imbued with such a great concern for the artist’s fellow humanity proved a revelatory experience in the quiet, darkened confines of the former chapel on SLU’s campus. Yes, art can still seek to create a greater good through thoughtful expression. After viewing the amateurs, get over to MOCRA and see how a real master gets it done.
Georges Rouault: Miserere et Guerre is on view through May 8. The Museum of Contemporary Religious Art is located at 221 N. Grand, on the campus of Saint Louis University. Hours are Tuesday through Sunday, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Admission is free. For more information, call 314- 977-7170 or visit slu.edu/mocra.
