Conventional thought can mistake progress in art as linear. It can be confused with the scientific process, where advancements are made by drawing upon the knowledge of past studies. Masterpieces have always been distinguished by their expansion upon the influences of past works to create their own pure and original form of expression. Such breakthroughs, however, do not build upon the artistic mastery of the past so much as they recall it.
This notion regards art history as a cyclical process, a theory that has been expounded upon by Dr. Gregory Hedberg, Director of European Sculpture and Painting at the Hirschl and Adler Gallery in New York. OMNP recently had the chance to delve into some of Dr. Hedberg’s writing on the subject and its fascinating implications.
Art collecting, for one, has never been an exact science—collectors are told to “buy what they like” first, and consider the investment potential of a work second. Nevertheless, if shifts in creativity can be better understood, collectors stand a better chance of understanding what factors will determine a work’s value in the future.
In Dr. Hedberg’s view, these shifts are characterized by a movement between two polarized ideologies regarding the creative process. This is an opposition of the “visionary” concept of creativity (which looks up, with an imaginative, otherworldly eye) versus the “naturalistic” (looking down, with a more earthbound, controlled, and realistic perspective). Hedberg’s intriguing “New Model for Art History” (click here for image), shows how this oscillation has defined art history’s major movements.
A sine curve (click here for article excerpt) shows how this gravitation between both sides has taken place over the past seven centuries-from the abstract spiritual art of the Late Gothic (visionary), to the humanist and mathematical spirit of the Renaissance (naturalistic), back to the imaginative, embellished imagery of Mannerism (visionary), and so forth. The turn of each century brings an end to each cycle, whereupon a short moment of balance between both schools of thought is reached. Artists such as Michelangelo and Raphael in the 16th century, or Rubens in the 17th century constitute what Hedberg refers to as a “Classical Balance.” Perhaps this is why these particular artists are so revered.
The birth of a new movement that is radically different from the status quo follows shortly thereafter. The famous bodies of work laid in their wake show how drastic the nature of such changes can be. OMNP immediately thought of some forgotten icons of the late 19th century that have been listed on our site, such as the passing fancy for Edwin Landseer and William Holman Hunt, and the fate of Jean Ernest Louis Meissonier, a former French national treasure whose work fell off the charts after his death.
Hedberg mentions much more notable names. The work of Realist iconoclast Gustave Courbet suffered dearly during the art world’s shift to abstraction. Courbet canvases, once valued between $15,000-20,000 in 1890 could be bought for $2,000-3,000 in the 1920’s, a drop of nearly 80 percent.
Market vagaries were present in earlier centuries as well. The changing fashion to the Rococo of the early 18th century brought firesale prices for essential pieces like Velazquez’s “Portrait of Pope Innocent X” while the bizarre stylings of of El Greco, the great Spanish Mannerist, were long driven out of fashion by the Baroque and Neoclassical ages. Things began to turn around for the latter, however, with the advent of Impressionism and Symbolism:
“Before 1870, an important El Greco could be bought for less than $500. Then in the late 19th century, when contemporary art again became otherworldly and Cézanne, Munch and Hodler distorted the human figure, our eyes were again drawn to the artistic value of the distortions found in El Greco’s paintings—and his prices began to rise.
Interestingly, a collector of Old Masters like Henry Clay Frick would not have thought of buying an early Picasso with flattened space and elongated figures. But in 1905 Frick bought three El Grecos, which showed similar otherworldly elements. In doing so, Frick, like any truly great Old Master collector, reflected contemporary taste.” (From Dr. Hedberg’s article, “Short Chagall, Go Long Parrish,” Forbes Global, June 2000, p. 107.)
How will this pattern play out in the coming decades? It seems entirely possible that Naturalism will continue to emerge in response to the apex of abstraction during the 1950’s. Some of the leading mid career artists today, like John Currin, Kehinde Wiley, Lisa Yuskavage, and Eve Sussman have all employed a more formal approach towards painting, recalling the portraiture of the Baroque and the Early Renaissance.
Will such a response benefit the market for Old Master paintings-now increasingly valued as the archetypes for such inspiration? Unfortunately it is not that simple an equation. The market’s lack of quality works would obviously limit such an appreciation. Nevertheless s, these connections with the contemporary certainly cannot hurt.
Skeptics might chalk Hedberg’s theory up to a long-winded explanation of fashion. What’s old is new, and what’s new is old. Furthermore, we live in a pluralized art world, now without a dominating school or movement. The vanguard has been splintered off into many different directions.
Even if the acclaimed art of the following decades constitutes a shift to a more traditional, earthbound aesthetic, it’s hard to imagine the abstraction of Modern Masters going completely out of fashion. In OMNP’s humble opinion, it seems feasible that guys like Picasso, Pollock, Rothko, Chagall, or Matisse will see prices for their work drop, however its hard to envision them falling completely out fashion. These men created bodies of work that are industries within themselves. The sheer amount of money that is invested into them, not only through purchasing their work, but through their museum exhibitions, publications, and merchandising runs into the billions. It’s hard to imagine that completely disappearing.
Hedberg might counter by paralleling the post Modernist period today with the aftermath of the late Renaissance, both of which followed an intense period of artistic experimentation, and development. The 16th century gave way to the Baroque, a period that favored a more controlled approach to painting, taking its time digest all the vast progress that had been made over the preceding century.
No one knows for sure where art is headed, however Hedberg’s blueprint provides some rough, yet fortified guidelines of what to look for in today’s emerging artists. It was after all, Contemporary godfather Andy Warhol, who tellingly proclaimed: “The course of art history would be changed if one thousand students could be taught the techniques of the Old Masters.”
Thank you for this helpful introduction to Hedberg’s work. Two quite recent experiences have helped clarify my understanding of some prominent current art-historical attitudes, which have their exact parallels in current literary criticism. The first was a recent viewing of the Modigliani film with its attractive and highly imaginative presentation of the artist as tormented genius, self-destructive transgressor, and fatal attractor. The power of the romantic biography for artistic reputation has never been more telling. The second was a most enjoyable visit to the MOMA with my wife, just yesterday. The late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century rooms clearly demonstrate the triumph of concept over technique, yet the paintings around which the crowds cluster are those displaying exquisite painterly technique, such as Rousseau’s “Sleeping Gypsy”.
Thank you for this splendid review.
I found the same oscillation in history, during my PhD studies focusing on the “Eastern Question” – Russia’s ambition to gain access to the seas, specifically the Mediterranean. In my charts, the oscillations peaked between wars and periods of peace.
Occasionally these magnificent theories tend to founder – per chance the exceptions to the rule – when you have artists like [say] Turner and Moran who combine over their long careers the profoundly earthly and the inspired spiritual.
Think of Turner’s “Slaveship” [earthly?] and his twin responses to Geothe’s Theory of Color [spiritual?] or Moran’s panoramic Yellowstone and Grand Canyon works [earthly?] and his “Mount of the Holy Cross” [spiritual?]
Is it not true that among the greatest, both oscillations create that inspired balance the author refers to?
Is it true that hallmark of the truly great is that divine balance?