Beech Grove No.1 (1902) The Kiss (1907-1908)
On the right, you see the Klimt you’ve always known; on the left, you see the Klimt that I really like. Der Kuss (The Kiss; 1907-1908) has been drowning too many eyes in its glittering glim of gold. While some critical eyes note that the kneeling lady by the cliff may forebode the insidious danger of love and some skeptical eyes highlight that the kissing couple seem to contour an erectile gesture of lust, I suggest we swipe it straight off the screen, so that we can concentrate on the Klimt that fewer know, the Klimt that heals.
In Buchenhain #1 (Beech Grove No.1; 1902), each beech tree stands alone but not apart, reminding of our modern condition of “alone together.” Each is unique, as featured by the four in front–some charred on one side, some stout with gnarls, some humbly thin and ready to blend in, and still some showing a completely different shade of color from its kind.
I’m not a big fan of the Impressionist dotting and impasto (though I’m a sucker for Seurat’s pointillism), but a similar touch is applied here which stabilizes the grove by providing it with a leavy footing (as shown in front) and merges the two by reducing the farther part of the grove to the background (as shown at the back). When the already-too-thin beech trees reach out to the sky, they’ve formed a beaded curtain that combs the view and calms the mind. The arbor multitude comes into one unified being, without trypophobic density, but with a soothing efficacy that promises every lonely existence a place to stand, in its most protective camouflage.
Alvin Dahn
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