The hermit of Bologna?

The Estorick Gallery is running a Giorgio Morandi show.   Morandi has becoming one of the gallery’s “anchor” artists; on my count this is the fourth show it’s done in the 15-odd years of its existence which has been based on his works.   Perhaps the most intriguing was one staged a few years back in which contemporary British artists revealed their interest in the Italian master’s work and showed how he had influenced them.   Apart from providing a Members’ Opening reception which was a name-dropper’s gift (David Hockey in one corner, Paula Rego in another….), it did bring home just how important and well regarded this apparently obscure and marginal Italian was amongst practicing artists.

It’s hard to wring much excitement out of Morandi’s life.   He was born in Bologna in 1890 and died there in 1964.  He lived most of his life at the same address in Via Fondazza with his three sisters and rarely travelled further beyond Bologna than the village of Grizzana (now known as Grizzana-Morandi- they obviously appreciate him there) in the mountains to the south of the city.   He didn’t serve in the First World War (discharged unfit due to a nervous breakdown) and his entire working life was spent in Bologna, first as a drawing teacher in the school system and then, after 1930, as professor of engraving in the local art college.   Though on the fringes of most of the movements in Italian art in the first half of the 20^th century (Futurism, Metaphysical, Strapaese, Novecento) he was never really a fully paid up member of any.  Perhaps the one he was closest to was the Metaphysical art of men like de Chirico and de Pisis (closest geographically as well as spiritually; the key Metaphysical figures had more or less close associations with Emilia-Romagna).

This rather placid and humdrum life, coupled with the narrow range of subjects which Morandi addressed (still lives with a particular fondness for vases and jars, landscapes of Grizzana and parts of the Bolognese suburbs- often places which could be seen from the upper windows of the Morandi home), has given rise to an image of Morandi as a kind of hermit obsessively seeking spiritual depths in the commonplace- one reviewer of the current show talks of his “Zen monk” reputation.   This is, perhaps inadvertently, reinforced by the way in which his art is currently shown in Bologna, where there’s a dedicated Morandi gallery as a self-standing unit within the main city art gallery complex.  Centrepiece of the presentation is a full scale reconstruction of Morandi’s workshop, complete with jars and vases familiar from his art all the way back to the 1920’s; a fascinating but slightly claustrophobic place with a hint of agoraphobia about it.   The atelier was gifted by his sisters; it’s very tempting to think that there may have been a slight sigh of relief at finally being able to get rid of all the junk Giorgio had accumulated over the years….

Though Morandi himself appears to have played up to the monkish image, it’s a somewhat misleading one.   For one thing, he can’t possibly have been a total hermit while holding down full time teaching jobs- by all accounts he was an unconventional but inspiring teacher in the art school.   He may not have travelled very far but people clearly came to see him and he apparently revelled in the attention; though he never married he was evidently a man of great personal charm and by no means inclined to shun company.   A position on the fringes of key artistic movements turned out to be a very good place from which to navigate the turbulent waters of 20^th century Italy.   Morandi managed to avoid committing himself too much to any position (no doubt the Zen hermit image was very useful here).    He exhibited alongside Fascist true believers and sounded pro-regime in the 1920’s (Mussolini owned a couple of his works) but had anti-Fascist connections by the 1940’s and was even briefly arrested in 1943.  Post war his art was prized by celebrity collectors like Sophia Loren- and Morandi was prepared to be very directive over what pieces he would sell to specific collectors.   Whether he’d have sought to dictate which pieces President Obama could have (the White House apparently acquired a couple of Morandis recently) is unclear, but he clearly was nothing like as unworldly and detached from the grim realities of the world as is often thought.

Obviously he had no problems in selling a significant number of drawings and engravings to Eric Estorick when he came calling in the 1940’s.   These items from the gallery’s permanent collection are teamed up with material from Bologna to create the present show.   The decision to focus almost entirely on graphic art no doubt fits with the view of Morandi as above all a master etcher and engraver (entirely self- taught in those genres too).   Once can hardly complain at the quality of the work on show, but it’s worth noting that this does give a slightly distorted view of the man and his art.   Having been introduced to Morandi by the Estorick’s holdings, it came as a genuine surprise to encounter the Bologna museum and discover gallery after gallery of water colours and oils.   In fact over 90% Morandi’s graphic work was created in a period of just over twenty years about 1912 to 1933; after the later date he only produced a tiny handful of plates (one wonders if his art college appointment paradoxically led him to turn away from engraving when expressing his own artistic personality).   The current exhibition makes a nod in the direction of his painted output; the Estorick permanent collection contains a late oil (more of his beloved jars and vases) and the Bolognese material includes four small watercolours but it’s all a bit token.  This is a pity as the watercolours which are included show how different his painted style could be from his later etchings; much freer and more impressionistic, with interesting reminiscences of the Futurist echoes in some of his earliest engravings (it may be rather hard to get an impression of intense dynamism and action out of a depiction of jars and vases on a shelf but Morandi managed….).

Still, one can hardly complain about the quality of what is in the exhibition.   Given Morandi’s narrow range of subjects, it is amazing just how much variety there is in the show.   The colour and tonality varies hugely, from very dark and close hatchings to something much lighter and more schematic.   Sometimes the approach is almost photographic, with intense detailed observation of even the tiniest objects like sea-shells or eggs.  In the still lives the objects appear to take on an autonomous life of their own.   The vases and jars sometimes hunch together for mutual support, like footballers lining up to defend a free kick, sometimes shuffle apart in mutual suspicion.   A bottle seeps to be eavesdropping on the jugs.  Occasionally the objects disappear altogether, left as dazzling white silhouettes against a deep dark wall.   The results are never predictable and strangely hypnotic.    Who would have imagined that images of domestic bric-a-brac could be so compelling?

The landscapes are at first sight a little more conventional.   I’ve never been to Grizzana so I’ve no idea what the place looks like now, but I’ve a very real sense of how it lived in Morandi’s eyes- a scatter of quite large, blocky, farmsteads spread out along a stream, shaded by high trees.   Roads wind off into the deeper countryside, heading for an unknown destination.    Mostly there’s a sense of calm and peace, though some of the “darker” handlings suggest bad weather in the offing and the calm shades into something more oppressive, even claustrophobic.   His Bologna is a marginal one, excluding the city’s trademark pair of medieval towers leaning towards each other for company or the grand square with the cathedral and palaces and baroque fountains.   It’s resolutely suburban (chimneys of industrial installations define the skyline) and intimate (gardens glimpsed from an upstairs window, a tennis court), reflecting the immediate surroundings of the Via Fondazza.   The striking aspect of both city and countryside is how empty of human life they are.   Nobody walks the country roads or plays tennis on the tennis courts.   Perhaps Morandi simply wasn’t very good at people (there are a couple of small portraits in the show but it’s fair to say they’re not his most compelling pieces).   Perhaps the random movement of human beings would have distracted from the eternal geometry underlying the scenes he depicted.   Whatever the reasons, the cumulative effect is slightly unsettling.   The world seen through Morandi’s eyes combines deep familiarity with a certain strangeness and alienation.   He may not exactly have been the hermit of myth, but can’t have been entirely comfortable company.