Chagall: "Whimsical and fantastic": folk art and folktales [ Edited ]

[Rahel]

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JonathanWilson wrote:

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Bookworm90 wrote:
I love the fact that he uses folk art images to express his ideas. I find a lot of his subject matter unpretentious, even though it's often whimsical and fantastic.

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Hi Bookworm, Thanks for your post. The whimisical and fantastic in Chagall's work is fascinating isn't it? Partly it derives from the Hasidic folktales that he must have heard as a child and partly from his "literalising" of Yiddish expressions eg "luftmensch" - which is used to mean someone who spends too much time with his head in the books, but is literally "man of the air".

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This conversation brings up one of Jonathan's insights that I appreciated while reading the book -- Chagall's playfulness with language in his paintings and in their titles. It reminds me of the great Hebrew poet Yehudah Amichai, who would use the literal understanding of an an idiomatic expression -- or even a mathematical axiom -- as the basis for a poem. It's particularly interesting given that Chagall wasn't himself a great linguist -- although he certainly was an expressive writer in Yiddish. It shows a kind of comfort with and joy in language that makes me wonder what he would have produced if he had chosen words rather than images as his primary means of expression. I know that he was particularly likely to play with Yiddish folk expressions -- does he use sayings from other languages, as well?

Message Edited by Rahel on 10-02-2007 03:54 PM

[JonathanWilson]

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Bookworm90 wrote:
I love the fact that he uses folk art images to express his ideas. I find a lot of his subject matter unpretenscious, even though it's often whimsical and fantastic. The book gave me a picture of Chagall as an undeniably human character, with strengths and flaws in his relationships and his art.

I hope we have an excellent discussion!!

Read on,
bookworm

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Hi Bookworm, Thanks for your post. The whimisical and fantastic in Chagall's work is fascinating isn't it? Partly it derives from the Hasidic folktales that he must have heard as a child and partly from his "literalising" of Yiddish expressions eg "luftmensch" - which is used to mean someone who spends too much time with his head in the books, but is literally "man of the air". Then too, it is love that frequently elevates Chagall's figures, they go airborne on love. Perhaps that's why he retains his appeal through generations-- like Robert Doisneau's famous phtograph of kissing lovers in Paris.

The "strength and flaws" in Chagall's relationships and in his art are what drew me to him so powerfully in the first place. Virginia Haggard, the mother of his son David, wrote that "Chagall painted love but he didn't practise it." She was bitter at the time so it's hard to know how much truth there is in this, but it does point up a fascinating conflict generally in evidence between the artist's work and his life.

[Bookworm90]

Very interesting Jonathan!

I was thinking about Virginia's quote which addresses that disconnect between Chagall's life and his work. I don't want to ruin any of the story for those readers who have not finished, but there are certain points in Chagall's life where he seems jaded and bitter, and less than friendly towards those who had put themselves on the line for him. In some ways, I feel that Chagall's relationships suffered, because he placed so much of himself in his work.

I think he preserved HIS culture in his work, and his paintings were a view of the world through his own lens. In his world, strong Jewish culture and classically Christian iconography were just good ideas that could coexist and elaborate upon the same ideals. I think, in Chagall's mind, there was truth behind his art, and so any imagery that expressed that truth was good imagery. My thinking on this isn't quite perfect; hopefully, the discussion will help me put my ideas in order.

-Bookworm

[Bookworm90]

Interesting point Rahel!

I thought the fact that Chagall's autobiography had apocryphal sections was very indicative of the playfullness of the artist (and his talent for remembering situations in his favor). I have never read a poem by Yehuda Amichai, could you point me in the direction of one of your favorites?

Thanks,
Bookworm

[Rahel]

Hi, Bookworm.
Amichai's playfullness with language may be best on display (although on a rather serious topic) in the poem "God Full of Mercy," which begins "God full of mercy / If not for God being full of mercy, there would be mercy in the world / Not just in him." (translation mine). It's particularly good in Hebrew, because "God Full of Mercy" in Hebrew is "El Malei Rahamim," and "If not" is "Eelmalei," so there's a great pun there. Amichai here inverts the traditionally positive idea of a merciful God to suggest that the infinite nature of God results in God's absorbing all the mercy from the world, and leaving none for the people who need it. I haven't really done it justice here, but I hope that gives you a sense of it. If you're interested in reading further, there are several excellent translations of Amichai's work available: I would recommend Yehuda Amichai: A Life of Poetry
or The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai

As you can tell, I'm a big fan of Amichai's work, and I'm particularly excited about it at the moment, because I'm hoping to attend the Poetics and Politics in Yehuda Amichai's World conference at Yale in a couple of weeks.

[Bookworm90]

So interesting! I think you've created a new Yehuda Amichai fan. I see how you can parallel Chagall's artistic playfulness with Amichai's. Like a poet, Chagall found artistic "phrases" that he recycled in his work, and also placed seemingly innocuous and unimportant items in his pieces that turn out to twist around the meaning of the whole piece.

I hope you have fun at your conference!

-Grace

[Bookworm90]

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Bookworm90 wrote:
So interesting! I think you've created a new Yehuda Amichai fan. I see how you can parallel Chagall's artistic playfulness with Amichai's. Like a poet, Chagall found artistic "phrases" that he recycled in his work, and also placed seemingly innocuous and unimportant items in his pieces that turn out to twist around the meaning of the whole piece.

I hope you have fun at your conference!

-Grace

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Just to let you know, my friend Grace is using my account so we'll both be posting.

-Bookworm

[JonathanWilson]

Hi Bookworm,

Yes, ART was Chagall's religion, and his studio was his temple. You are right that Jewish and Christian culture offered him a pot-pourri of images to choose from in order to express his own unique vision. He harnesses the Hasidic past to the revolutionary artistic present in much the same way that Picasso took the Spanish bull by its horns and dragged it into the world of Cubism. It's the clash of disparate forms and ideas, i think, that makes for such exciting work.

[JonathanWilson]

Hi Grace,

I love Amichai, especially his love poems. "Amen" is one of favorite books. He is a metaphor machine- and as I argued in Chagall there is no one better at straddling the fine line between sentimentality and deep authentic feeling. Like Chagall Amichai was profoundly secular in outlook (see his wonderful poem on making up an excuse to explain to his father why he wasn't in temple on Yom Kippur) but deeply engagaed with matters of the spirit.

[Rahel]

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Bookworm90 wrote:
Very interesting Jonathan!

I was thinking about Virginia's quote which addresses that disconnect between Chagall's life and his work. I don't want to ruin any of the story for those readers who have not finished, but there are certain points in Chagall's life where he seems jaded and bitter, and less than friendly towards those who had put themselves on the line for him. In some ways, I feel that Chagall's relationships suffered, because he placed so much of himself in his work

-Bookworm

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Bookworm --
This is a great point. Chagall's disconnect, as you put it, is often shocking. His treatment of Virginia Haggard, of Haggard's daughter Jean, his refusal to help Varian Fry -- all of these point to a sense of entitlement, perhaps, an expectation that those around him would serve him but that he didn't need to give anything back to those around him. Especially in the Virginia period he seems to be woefully confused and lost as to what he wants and needs in his life -- clearly in shock from the loss of Bella, he is at times a bit of a pathetic figure, when you think of this great artist struggling in a country and language he doesn't truly speak, playing around with cultural and political forces (I'm thinking now of his antifascist activity) that might have gotten him into a lot of trouble. There is a bitterness, but I also see a naievete and helplessness that is -- by the 1950s, having seen World War II -- really difficult to comprehend.
Rahel

[JonathanWilson]

Hi Bookworm and Rahel,

I think the bitterness also has something to do with an accumulation of losses and a suspicion, carried over from his early years as a painter, that people were out to do him in. Chagall became, of course, supremely successful, but along the way he lost, quite literally, hundreds of paintings to theft and unscrupulous dealers. He also grew up in a country where, when he visited its cities, St.Petersburg and Moscow, had to live in clandesitine fashion because he was a Jew. In France he was sometimes attacked by conservative critics who felt that it was inappropriate for a Jew, and a foreign Jew at that, to, say, illlustrate the fables of La Fontaine. In his life and his work Chagall tried always to cross real or imagined borders (think of the figure reaching out from the painting in his last work to offer flowers to the artist)when those borders, religious, national, physical, psychical or otherwise, hemmed him in he reacted bitterly. In his art he could always send a figure flying into the air- in life it wasn't so easy.

[Bookworm90]

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Rahel wrote:

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Bookworm90 wrote:
Very interesting Jonathan!

I was thinking about Virginia's quote which addresses that disconnect between Chagall's life and his work. I don't want to ruin any of the story for those readers who have not finished, but there are certain points in Chagall's life where he seems jaded and bitter, and less than friendly towards those who had put themselves on the line for him. In some ways, I feel that Chagall's relationships suffered, because he placed so much of himself in his work

-Bookworm

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Bookworm --
This is a great point. Chagall's disconnect, as you put it, is often shocking. His treatment of Virginia Haggard, of Haggard's daughter Jean, his refusal to help Varian Fry -- all of these point to a sense of entitlement, perhaps, an expectation that those around him would serve him but that he didn't need to give anything back to those around him. Especially in the Virginia period he seems to be woefully confused and lost as to what he wants and needs in his life -- clearly in shock from the loss of Bella, he is at times a bit of a pathetic figure, when you think of this great artist struggling in a country and language he doesn't truly speak, playing around with cultural and political forces (I'm thinking now of his antifascist activity) that might have gotten him into a lot of trouble. There is a bitterness, but I also see a naievete and helplessness that is -- by the 1950s, having seen World War II -- really difficult to comprehend.
Rahel

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Interesting point! I apologize for dropping out of the discussion, but I've been very busy for the last week or so.

In the Virginia period Chagall did seem at a loss and confused, as you wrote. He was probably emotionally fragile because of the recent death of Bella and guilty about his relationship with Virginia, and I'm sure his personal movement and the shifting and dangerous climate of the world were affecting his moods. Naivete and helplessness do seem likely, although I still feel that he did things that were unpardonable to people around him.

-Bookworm