Edvard Munch, The Scream, 1893, oil on canvas, approx. 35" x 28".National Gallery, Oslo.
Perhaps Munch's painting is familiar to you because of the many pop culture parodies and merchandise it has inspired? Here are just a few that popped up with a quick Google Image search:
This post deals with the intersection of the fine arts and pop culture: how does the latter affect the original intent/meaning of the former?
From The Scream, Norwegian painter Edvard Munch (1863-1944) is perceived by viewers as a tortured soul. We know he had addiction issues, mental health issues, and was agoraphobic. His family life was fractured - his father was strict and religious, and his mother and sister both died of tuberculosis. (A recent exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago tackles the notion of the mentally-ill and tragic artist.) About The Scream, he wrote,
Munch denied that his work referenced Nietzsche's own theory about the scream. Research about the geography of Oslo shows that in this particular area of Oslo included a slaughterhouse and the mental institution where Munch's sister, Laura, was housed. Sue Prideaux reports in her biography of Munch that "the screams of animals being slaughtered in combination with the screams of the insane were reported to be a terrible thing to hear." The Scream takes on a new dimension of psychological, biographical, and visual intensity when we consider this fact.
The Scream's appearance lends itself to pop culture imagery because of its efficiency: the elongated and wavy lines, the gesture and expression of the man, and the dizzying diagonal of the bridge - all these elements instantly conjure a moment of a terror. And late 20th century pop culture imagery, based on the modes of mass marketing, demands an image where the physical appearance instantly conveys a message. Constant reproductions and parodies like the ones posted above are the equivalent of an art history shortcut - no need to know the original, we get enough from the parodies.
How do processes like reproduction and parody affect our understanding of the original? I'm guessing that most audiences don't know Munch, his writings, or his biography. I wonder if audiences would feel like they need to know any of that information when the image, as noted earlier, is compact in its presentation of emotion. Or to viewers out there who were only familiar with The Scream's pop culture references: does The Scream take on a new, significant dimension when learning a bit about the history of the art and artist? Or does The Scream have, to quote Mia Fineman, a "correspondingly fall in gravitas" when looking at the parodies/reproductions? Is a keychain of The Scream somehow disrespectful to the original work of art or Munch?
For me, I'm unresolved. I'm mostly interested in the broader themes raised by this discussion: the distinctions drawn between fine art and pop culture, the role of the media/marketing in creating a mass consciousness of an image, and the distance between the original work of art and future viewers. In many ways, the durability of a work hinges on its ability to be relevant to future, anonymous generations. And in this regard, The Scream has become relevant via the reproductive mechanisms of mass media and capitalist consumerism. The Scream has produced endless amounts of scholarly writing, research, and history so that anyone who wants to learn more will be able to do so. Does Munch deserve better? Probably, but we can't control who steals your image - for a necktie, or an actual art heist. At the very least, those who care about art and write the history will try to be objective and fair to the artist and his work.
This post deals with the intersection of the fine arts and pop culture: how does the latter affect the original intent/meaning of the former?
From The Scream, Norwegian painter Edvard Munch (1863-1944) is perceived by viewers as a tortured soul. We know he had addiction issues, mental health issues, and was agoraphobic. His family life was fractured - his father was strict and religious, and his mother and sister both died of tuberculosis. (A recent exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago tackles the notion of the mentally-ill and tragic artist.) About The Scream, he wrote,
"I was walking along a path with two friends - the sun was setting- suddenly the sky turned blood red- I paused, feeling exhausted and leaned on the fence - there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city - my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety- and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature."Munch's Scream exists in several paintings and prints. Each piece shows a man clutching the sides of his face in the foreground while standing on a bridge, and two figures in the background. The triangular shape and composition of the bridge dislocates the viewer: there is plenty of space for the man in the foreground, but the bridge looks "fast" - the diagonal of the bridge races to the back left corner. The bridge's ground pushes toward the picture plane. Munch's wavy lines of the man are echoed in the lines/shapes of the colors in the sky as the scream (heard inside the man's head?) fills the his psyche and the external environment. The viewer is left with the impression that the man is psychologically and physically compressed.
Munch denied that his work referenced Nietzsche's own theory about the scream. Research about the geography of Oslo shows that in this particular area of Oslo included a slaughterhouse and the mental institution where Munch's sister, Laura, was housed. Sue Prideaux reports in her biography of Munch that "the screams of animals being slaughtered in combination with the screams of the insane were reported to be a terrible thing to hear." The Scream takes on a new dimension of psychological, biographical, and visual intensity when we consider this fact.
The Scream's appearance lends itself to pop culture imagery because of its efficiency: the elongated and wavy lines, the gesture and expression of the man, and the dizzying diagonal of the bridge - all these elements instantly conjure a moment of a terror. And late 20th century pop culture imagery, based on the modes of mass marketing, demands an image where the physical appearance instantly conveys a message. Constant reproductions and parodies like the ones posted above are the equivalent of an art history shortcut - no need to know the original, we get enough from the parodies.
How do processes like reproduction and parody affect our understanding of the original? I'm guessing that most audiences don't know Munch, his writings, or his biography. I wonder if audiences would feel like they need to know any of that information when the image, as noted earlier, is compact in its presentation of emotion. Or to viewers out there who were only familiar with The Scream's pop culture references: does The Scream take on a new, significant dimension when learning a bit about the history of the art and artist? Or does The Scream have, to quote Mia Fineman, a "correspondingly fall in gravitas" when looking at the parodies/reproductions? Is a keychain of The Scream somehow disrespectful to the original work of art or Munch?
For me, I'm unresolved. I'm mostly interested in the broader themes raised by this discussion: the distinctions drawn between fine art and pop culture, the role of the media/marketing in creating a mass consciousness of an image, and the distance between the original work of art and future viewers. In many ways, the durability of a work hinges on its ability to be relevant to future, anonymous generations. And in this regard, The Scream has become relevant via the reproductive mechanisms of mass media and capitalist consumerism. The Scream has produced endless amounts of scholarly writing, research, and history so that anyone who wants to learn more will be able to do so. Does Munch deserve better? Probably, but we can't control who steals your image - for a necktie, or an actual art heist. At the very least, those who care about art and write the history will try to be objective and fair to the artist and his work.
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