Anselm Kiefer

Helen van der Meij, London
Fredrik Roos, Zug
Sale: Christie's, New York, Contemporary Art, 21 November 1996, Lot 233
Acquired directly from the above by the present owner

 

Colour: The colours in the catalogue illustration are fairly accurate, although the illustration fails to convey the thickness of the ink impasto in the original. There is also a 5cm border of canvas which surrounds the print in the original, which is not visible in the illustration. Condition: This work is in very good and original condition. There is a light undulation to the paper throughout. There are three short repaired tears to the bottom centre of the left edge and one to the bottom centre of the right edge.
"In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective, qualified opinion. Prospective buyers should also refer to any Important Notices regarding this sale, which are printed in the Sale Catalogue.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF BUSINESS PRINTED IN THE SALE CATALOGUE."

Anselm Kiefer's imposing woodcut, Untitled (Monument on River), is steeped in an archaeological wealth of cultural and mythological allusion. Executed in 1982, the series to which the present work belongs plays a crucial role within Kiefer's early production. At once, the utilisation of the woodcut technique strikes a dialogue with the great tradition of German prints, particularly those of Albrecht Dürer, whilst Kiefer's evocation of the river Rhine, the most profound icon of German cultural identity, forms a contemplative dialogue that simultaneously traverses mythology and combines it with the troubling legacy of Germany's Nazi past.

Kiefer here draws our attention to two views across the river Rhine: the lower half shows a dense and impenetrable forest while the upper section is dominated by an imposing man-made structure. These river banks offer two disparate yet formally correlative views; natural pillar-like trees mirror rigid rows of columns. An austere and weighty distortion of classical architecture, this monument alludes to William Kreis' 1939 design for The Hall of Soldiers. Never realised, Kreis' colossal commemorative building destined for Berlin was intended as a memorial to Germany's war efforts. Though already an architect of repute, under Adolf Hitler's Chief Architect Albert Speer Kreis garnered a reputation for his architectural contributions to the Third Reich. By juxtaposing Kreis' severe National Socialist construction with perhaps the most potent and patriotic expression of German culture, Kiefer is "conflating the most profound symbol of his country, the river Rhine, with an architectural manifestation of its lowest point in history and the memory, as well, of its lost artistic genius" (Mark Rosenthal, Exhibition Catalogue, Chicago, The Art Institute, Anselm Kiefer, 1987, p. 106). However, typically in-keeping with the artist's production, Kiefer's architectural appropriation and conflation with the river Rhine here takes on meaning that surpasses mere allusion to the Second World War.

Dating back to early history the Rhineland has always been a source of severe territorial and political conflict. Representing the borderline between or crossing through, not only Germany, but also Austria, Liechtenstein, the Netherlands and France, the Rhine embodies the very backbone of continental Europe. Crossed by Julius Caesar circa 50 BC, the Rhine later became the central axis of the Holy Roman Empire from c. 900 until 1650 when the Empire began to disband and the borders of Europe's countries as we know them today were essentially formed. These political frontiers have since witnessed perpetual change, particularly between France and Germany. During the Franco-Prussian war, Germany seized Alsace and with it the far bank of the Rhine frontier. After World War I France took this back, however World War II affected tumultuous devastation and flooding when the territorial fight ensued. In the present work Kiefer, with typical affront, situates Kreis' Hall of Soldiers on the far bank of the river - the French side. Though evoking provocation of an age-old enmity and the controversies of Germany's recent past, Kiefer also alludes to an overcoming of such cultural trauma. Echoing the political and economic union of European countries in the late Twentieth Century, Kiefer's woodcut represents a reflective monument to the history and formation of German culture via its most potent signifier: the Rhine. Exhibiting the densely metaphorical and loaded symbolism that would proliferate in Kiefer's later career, this work bridges the gap between recent German history and ancient mythology.

The largest river in Germany, the Rhine occupies a unique cultural position, fixed as the locus at which German history and mythology coexist and intertwine. The river has provided a wellspring of creative inspiration for centuries; extending back to medieval Norse folklore and endlessly evoked as 'Father Rhine' in the German Romantic tradition, the mythological Rhine perhaps finds its definitive paradigm in Richard Wagner's four-part operatic cycle and masterwork, Der Ring des Nibelungen. Comprising and anchoring the thematic crux of the first opera, Das Rheingold, the river institutes the narrative arc of the entire operatic opus of The Ring Cycle, heralding both the beginning and end; charting the theft of the Rheingold, the forging of the magical ring and its eventual destructive return to the river of its origin. Announcing the very inauguration of the operatic saga, the four-minute baritone drone of Wagner's prelude, an evocation of the motion of the Rhine itself, calls forth a parallel with Kiefer's imposing image. Epic, enveloping, sustained, and monophonic, Wagner's proto-minimal sonorous phrasing finds an equivalent artifice in the sober magnificence of Kiefer's stark woodcut.

The connection between a sense of nationalistic German identity and Wagner during the late twentieth century is a particularly prescient and somewhat contentious issue; indeed, Hitler famously said: "Whoever wants to understand National Socialist Germany must know Wagner". Anslem Kiefer's work in the 1980s endlessly evokes both the Rhine and Wagner in his archetypally barren and stark landscape painting. In exploring German identity through its worst transgressions, Kiefer confronts the excessive misappropriation of Wagner as well as German mythology by Hitler's Third Reich. In Kiefer's epic yet stark visual fusion of history and myth, both Wagner and the Rhine form a kind of symbolic absolution and nationalistic exorcism through a bleak aesthetic of melancholy. Belonging to the first generation of artists born in the bleak aftermath of post-war Germany, Kiefer's direct dialogue with such strong and troubling signifiers of German identity is instilled with a solemn and marked sense of cultural melancholy. In wielding such Wagnerian allusions and the architecture of the Third Reich, Kiefer knowingly skirts the peripheries of taboo, driving provocative subject matter forth as a means to acknowledge historical trauma.