Paul Nash: An Appraisal (2016)
Yesterday I went to see the enormous Paul Nash survey show at Tate Britain. I have liked some of Nash's work when I've seen it occasionally over the years. But seeing all of his work together in such abundance did little to assure me of his major status. His artistic shortcomings were all suddenly revealed - such as his over-reliance on certain colours, and colour systems, across his entire career, or his preference for outlining shapes in black - which obviously stemmed from his earlier training as an illustrator (some of his student illustrations were on display, and they reveal him to have been of average talent in this area).
His experiences during the war clearly gave him the subject which defines his work in British memory, and here there are plenty of crashed German fighter planes; soldiers caught in the horrible trenches of No Man's Land; and shell-blasted hell-scapes of shattered trees, and bomb craters, to satisfy the most sentimental nationalist. My major problem with these war paintings is their artificiality. Everything has been schematised and arranged in stage-flat 'backdrops', in typical Nash style, as if for a production at the Old Vic Theatre. This severely minimises Nash's desired effect, and reduces all the action to a kind of dinky toy-land. This is especially so with the very large canvases, which fill the viewer's field of vision, thereby making the stage analogy more apposite. One half-expects dear old Ralph Richardson to trundle on, stage right, to deliver a monologue on the horrors of war.
In 1936 the International Surrealist Exhibition was held at London's New Burlington Galleries. It caused a sensation. Nash was an enthusiastic convert. Surrealism enabled him to imbue forms and objects with threat or dread. But all too often the results are enervated and flimsy - a kind of Dorset Surrealism, which skirts around the edges of psychological investment rather than plunging in full pelt.
One very successful painting is a brooding seascape - seen from the shoreline, 'metallic' waves roll onto the beach, folding like sheets of lead under a glowering sky. It is at once desperately lonely and terrifying, and one of the few really affecting works in the exhibition.
As I walked through the many rooms of Nash's work I began to feel overcome by a sense of claustrophobia at the airless and artificial inventions that he habitually relied upon. I hurried to the exit for some breathing space.
Comments
Post a Comment