I Scream, You Scream - Esther

 It had been One of Those Weeks, we mused. & it was only Wednesday.

We both agreed though. The pressures of work & life were finally catching up with us & we were done. Lockdown presented no solutions in the way of distractions & all anyone had to look forward to was their second jab. As my co-worker & friend of some thirty years & I pondered this grim state of affairs at the bus stop on the way home, we wondered when it would ever end. The scene was all a bit Beckett but with a bus shelter. 

We laughed without mirth to think we’d both had a Meltdown Monday. 

“That’s so unlike you!” 

“It’s not like you either!”

She, an art teacher, began talking about Munch’s The Scream. How we laughed, albeit somewhat hysterically…

…however it did get me thinking about how frequently strong emotions make their way into art. Specifically screaming. The more I delved into what the World of Art had to offer, the more reasons I found to scream. As usual, the World of Art refused to let me down.

Rembrandt van Rijn, The Screaming Boy, 1635

Where there is humanity, where there are feelings, there is Rembrandt. They tell us we begin our lives with a scream, a cry. Being brought into the cold & the stark light at birth indicates we’re alive but also heralds the start of a lifelong wish to yell. The title of this etching varies; sometimes it’s called A Naughty Boy. Well whatever the reason for this scream, whether it’s a smacked backside or just the sheer misery of living, he’s well on his way to a lifetime’s bawling. 

Otto Dix, Wounded Man, 1916

& wherever there’s 20th Century European art, there’s war. If Dix was ever moralising, he did it through cold hard facts. He shows us what’s there & we have to make up our own minds. Nevertheless, whether it’s leering Nazis in a nightclub or soldiers dying horribly in a field, we’re in little doubt as to which side of the fence he’s on. 

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait Screaming, 1910

As ever, Egon holds himself up as the mirror of the world, his Expressionism ever-manifested in the medium of himself. His must surely be a scream of defiance: holding our gaze with typical disdain, mouth open & lips curling back to bare his gums at us (were his teeth really like that…?) in a snarl. What this painting does though is highlight his well-practised ability to sum up a tricky pose quickly & effectively. Try sitting, pulling & maintaining this expression for any length of time. His deft but disciplined brushstrokes use minimum effort for maximum effect.

Caravaggio, Judith Beheading Holofernes, c. 1598-9 or 1602

The scream of Holofernes seems fair enough in the circumstances. It’s shock blended with not unnatural protest. His left hand clutches the bed sheets & he braces himself with his right in objection. Cast in Caravaggio’s typical sharp contrast of light & shade the scene possesses a suitably dramatic air. Judith’s disgust is perfectly depicted, but so is her curiosity. It’s not an activity most people have to perform in their lifetimes & the horror-film effect of the spurting blood is suitably unpleasant. Who knew that would happen?

Joos van Craesbeek, The Temptation of St Anthony, c. 1650

One of the things I like most about writing this blog is finding works I’ve never seen before. Van Craesbeek’s Temptation is one of those works. Part Swift, part Bosch, part body-shock, I’m glad I found it. St Anthony is a favoured subject among artists. The supernatural character of his temptations may have been metaphorical but many artists like to give the saint’s apparent misery a truly Surrealist edge. You could go absolutely wild, the painting could appear to make little or no sense but stick the words “St Anthony” & “Temptation” into the title & everyone gets it. Sorted.

Romy van Rijckevorsel, Portrait (?), 2019

This work shows a fractured, broken figure; the only clear part of them is the screaming mouth. It’s as if everything round about has split & has little meaning but the scream is all. I’m unclear as to whether this is a finished piece. Van Rijckevorsel uses a mixture of influences & media in her art & sometimes depicts figures with open mouths. Here she creates this very contemporary scream: a character keeping it together, functioning but struggling inside. 

Goya, The Pilgrimage to San Isidro, 1820-3

Of course they’re meant to be singing, but it doesn’t look like any of them could hold a tune in a bucket. Besides, it’s Goya – it’s hardly going to be joyous. He’s putting the “grim” into “pilgrim.” His is the singing of faith & duty, a scream of frustration that their god would put them through such a journey. The pilgrims look cold, tired, as if they’ve come a long way & have a long way yet to go. Nor do they look hopeful that things will be better when they get there & appear understandably drunk.

Balthasar Permoser, Marsyas, c. 1680

Another malcontent with a reasonable axe to grind. In Greek mythology, Marsyas was flayed alive following an unsuccessful music-battle with Appollo. The message of this myth – as with pretty much all the ancient myths – was clear: it’s pointless to mess with the gods, puny mortals. Oh & don’t show off. Even if you are a satyr.

Francis Bacon, Screaming Pope, 1950

All art screams after a certain date are rendered post-Munch but Bacon’s back in all his visceral glory. Emphasising the scream with the vertical lines & his ever-present creepy teeth. So many of our sins are dealt with via the mouth, that it almost becomes the organ of sin itself. Well if that’s the case, Francis is the art-master of depravity, not least with his screaming popes. (As an aside, of all the pandemic masks I wanted to see for sale but never did, I’ve looked for a Francis-Bacon-teeth mask the most…)

Julie Mehretu, Haka (& Riot), 2019

This painting derived from photographs taken in the US of children who had been incarcerated in detention centres. If there was ever any reason to scream, the arresting of innocents is surely the most worthwhile.

(For AR & anyone else in need of a wee scream in these trying times...)