Lesson from the Masters: Ursula
/No, not that Ursula.
This Ursula:
From the retrospective exhibit at Museum Ludwig in Cologne:
Ursula Schultze-Bluhm, who is known simply as Ursula, was one of the most important German artists of the second half of the twentieth century. She was born in Mittenwalde, Germany, in 1921 and died in Cologne in 1999. Museum Ludwig’s exhibition Ursula—That’s Me. So What?, which is the first comprehensive museum show on the artist in over thirty years, offers a fresh look at her oeuvre. The show contains 236 works, of which 44 are from the collection of the Museum Ludwig.
This exhibit filled the entire ground floor of Museum Ludwig, and it was a challenge. My fellow travelers either fled the scene or didn’t brave the experience, but I found her work exhilarating. My description of it is that she was “obsessively exuberant”: all those dots and strokes and indeterminate shapes — it’s as if Seurat decided to become a Fauve and then parody Marc Chagall or Maxim Gorky.
I can see why others might find her work unsettling.
It’s relentless, isn’t it?
She gives the appearance of being an outsider artist in the vein of Howard Finster or St. Eom, but although she was not formally trained like her husband (alongside whom she worked in the same studio), she was nonetheless a professional artist. And although her work gives off serious “automatic drawing” vibes, she famously stated that her work was completely thought out and designed before she began, which her husband verified.
So Ursula is not (was not) to everyone’s taste. I imagine the primitivism is off-putting to many, the messiness of the technique, the busy-ness of the surface, the psychological (and often political) aggression. And yet she has this enormous exhibit in Cologne’s premiere museum: Her stuff is ART.
So I have questions.
If Ursula’s sloppy, impassioned stuff is ART, then what about…
…which is a perfectly cromulent postmodern piece that you might find in the National Gallery of Contemporary Art in Athens.
Except it’s not:
Another:
Do I think the graffiti that peppers the modern landscape is the same as similar barbaric yawps in trendy galleries/museums?
I do, in fact. They differ not in kind but in AUDIENCE. The stuff in galleries and museums has been curated, gate-kept, filtered, presumably for an audience with “sophisticated” tastes, but the graffiti has the same energies, the same bravura, as the “real” artists exhibiting in Soho.
(Apologies to those who thought I was going to trash Ursula’s art for being no more than a vandal’s waste of paint. That’s not what I got from either art form.)
I mean, we’ve been desecrating walls ever since we’ve been human, right?
So the lesson today is not to let any possible rejection by some imaginary future AUDIENCE deter you from smearing paint on a surface (or writing a poem about your cat, or a song about your one true love who done left you). Not everyone is or will be (or even can be) your AUDIENCE. You are not creating for them.
STOP WORRYING ABOUT WHETHER PEOPLE ARE GOING TO HATE YOUR ART. You make your art and then make some more art. That’s all that matters.