Nagy Ildikó szerk.: A Magyar Nemzeti Galéria Évkönyve 1980-1988 (MNG Budapest, 1989)

Perneczky, Géza: PICASSO AFTER PICASSO

WORLD THEATRE AS SELF-REFLECTION It is difficult to orient ourselves as the Post-Modern dispute has been going on on two planes, of which only the philosophical one can be considered consistent. The PostModern literature on fine arts has not aimed at clarifying its principles, it has confined itself to deliver ideology as justification for the existing pieces of art. And how defective even this has been! So far only works dealing with architecture have described such a turn (namely the fall of the idea of the 'machine for living' intented to emancipate and the failure of the 'international style' meant to satisfy intellectual demands) which can be regarded also as a turn in a world view.

8 Critics, however, who stand for ecleticism, have remained at the level of stylistic questions in the case of painting and sculpture.

9 In my view only the formula given by Lyotard can lead us out of the blind alley, but not in the form described by him in the case of natural sciences. The 'great story' of the artist is only rarely an enlightened myth. In fact most artists experience the myth of emancipation, or of knowledge in so close a relation to artistic work that such a myth can be simply called faith in art (thus ultimately a very modern, secularized world view). This faith is known to everyone who has ever had anything to do with art. If we try to find even the special form of 'modernity', or of the 'avant-garde' within this faith, then only one solid point remains, namely to call the artistic faith of an Utopian nature, the avant-garde mentality. 'Utopia', however, can be defined somewhat more precisely. If it is at issue in the fine arts, then the definition should not be primarily made from the point of content; experience shows that every idea may produce an avant-garde programme, and the opposite of everything is also suitable for some kind of programme. The special function of the Utopian faith is much more charasteristic of modern artists. In fact the Utopias demand a reflective faith of the artists, a behaviour which looks for the motivations and ultimate justification of creation outside the work of art; in techniques, in social tasks or in the 'future' in general (in this respect religious art was also reflective and Utopian, because its motivations were not rooted in, but outside art). Reflective art is always linked to a movement which supplies its object of faith. This linkage can be very indirect, as it is with most modern artists, but one thing is sure: the artist puts his work into the service of an object outside himself (and this is true even if the completed work of art is an independent object). It is in fact the modern age which has offered many examples that only the piece of art is the alpha and omega of creative work. But the reflective character asserts itself even here, as the artist has no doubts about the significance of the work (in the general sense of the term). Reflective art is prejudiced. This reflection directed towards the work of art should not be confused with the artistic mentality I would call self-reflection

. Because this is not directed towards the work of art as might be presumed (and naturally not simply towards the personality of the artist either), but it makes the function of reflection the object of reflection. 'Why do I think that I think . . .' could be the basic question of self-reflection for which there can be a number of variants, in relation to a number of details. One may feel that self-reflection is not the favourite occupation of a narcissistic artist, as this kind of self-reflection happens to come from the opposite shore: from the side of skepsis and resignation. Until it reaches this side, the castles of Utopias and the battleships of prejudices sink behind it. Sometimes entire ages are overtaken by nostalgia to possess an art built upon self-reflection. But as this mentality cannot do without renunciation and one can only truly renounce what has already been accomplished, it can be easily understood that only great artists can offer the best and most authentic examples of selfreflection and they themselves usually do this at an advanced age. In this sense, the self-reflection of old age can be found even among the great exponants of religious art — let us recall only Rembrandt and Michelangelo. The question 'why do I think that I think . . .' can find response only in the domains of metaphysics, irony, or humour. It is commonly recognized that these are the human virtues that require most faith, even though a skeletal and ascetic one. without the object of faith. Do we recognise Picasso's Hie Painter and His Model? The issues of social emancipation do not appear even indirectly in the series, and prejudice, advocating the intellectual rank of artistic creation comes to an ignominious end. The whole world is coming and going in the studio, 'a possession of a free pass' to the circus and even to the dressing-room of the revue theatre. The satirical game, however, diverts all the new arrivals of their dignity, and it shows that every professional faith is stuffed with straw (hence its so imposing appearence). The stage of art betrays a shocking lack of talent and the artists are incorrigible; though real life is always present and it always overwhelms them, it does not even dawn upon them that the employment of these beautiful women asmodels is at least questionable. It is all as if Picasso lodged his appeal with nature while filling in the emptied artistic horizon with the ill-matched couple known to Renaissance and baroque painting, the relationship of the young woman and old man recurrent in the sheets of the series. As we look, we can see the wax figures of the artist's types as it evolved in Paris since the belle époque. There is indirect reference to the 'militant avant-garde' only in a few sheets, in the circus scenes where a muscleman lifts a graciously languishing nude like a fruit bowl. The production is being watched by clowns very attentively. They are much less repulsive than the connoisseurs but there is a line of pain on their face, their mouth are turned down in the manner of the classical clowns' mask. This grimace clearly also includes the artist who has been disappointed in his private life. But it is also clear that a resigned break with the myths of the studio (and of the avantgarde) goes much further than would be justified by such a bitter moment. The burning curiosity of the earlier years, the creative restlessness that risks achievements in the interest of new opportunity, are missing from these sheets. Hie Painter and His Model is almost progressing along the path of the commonplace bourgeois morality and what interests Picasso is not the work of art, not even the Utopian content symbolically realized in it, but simply the question of what the artist can do without them. Naturally he continues painting, but without investigating the work of art and the immanent world behind it. Instead he X-rays himself through every new drawing. One may call this therapy as well, but the result is more than that. The 180 sheets through which Picasso had flogged himself offered not only a personal catharsis but also a new recipe, this series has made the experience and dissolution of solitude