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James
Ensor: Skeletons in the Studio
by Gert Schiff
Pages 1 | 2
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In our painting he is
not at home, and the spectres have taken advantage of his absence. A
tall skeleton clad in a magnificent crimson robe and boots squats in
the bottom left corner, his bony hand clasping his left knee. A
herring dangles from his clenched teeth; another herring drops
between his feet as if "excreted." His female companion,
in a richly embroidered kimono and white shoes, rests on her elbows,
likewise with a herring between her teeth. Three onions also seem
part of their meal. Opposite the couple, a shape that could be a
hybrid between bird - and fish-skull, or else a human skull beaten to
a pulp, peeps out from underneath the cushion; his fingertips and
the point of a knife indicate that he, too, is endowed with a
"body." The same can be said about the skull behind the
green portfolio; it belongs to a female, for part of her pleated
pink skirt sticks out. The others seem to possess no more than the
above-mentioned rudimentary appendages. A spectre with a blue-and-white striped scarf gazes spitefully into the face of the figure
in the kimono. A skull with a bedsheet as an appendage has put
himself to rest behind the portfolio with the tom cover. The viewer
could easily overlook a skull which, to the extreme left above the
crimson-clad protagonist, materializes out of the wall. Nor would
he, at first glimpse, detect another one which, high on top of the
suitcase, bites into the tail of a white cat. "Insatiable
hunger is a peculiarity of Ensor's skeletons and adds a sense of the
pathetic and the futile to their cruelties." (7) Obviously, these
spectres have exhausted themselves in a ferocious battle from which
the red one and his spouse have emerged victorious. They are all
blood-stained, and so is the knife by the side of the victress. She
has a gaping wound in her forehead. The defeated ones look around
with bug-eyed malevolence. The bone of contention was, of course,
the herrings.
Anyone familiar with Ensor's private symbolism will know immediately
what this means. On the grounds of the assonance between "hareng-saur"
and "art Ensor", the painter, in one of his more playful
moods, made the herring the private symbol of his art. In a painting
of 1892, The Consoling Virgin, (8) a herring lies on the floor
among Ensor's brushes while he pays homage to an apparition of the
Virgin whose icon he has just painted. In Dangerous Cooks (1896),
(9)
a satire on his critics, the artist depicts, among others, Octave
Maus, the founder of the artists' association "Les XX",
whose jury repeatedly refused Ensor's works. He carries on a plate a
herring whose head has been replaced by Ensor's own. Of direct
bearing in our painting is Skeletons Fighting for a Smoked
Herring, (1891; fig. 7). Here, the two skeletons represent two
critics who, fighting over Ensor's art, literally tear it apart, as
each wants to be the one who has done him in. (10)
Their "dispute" has been re-enacted by the skeletons in
our painting. The inscription "Mort aux Conformes" further
corroborates their identity with those critics who are unable to
accept a non-conformist art such as Ensor's. This malediction
expresses the artist's hatred of his critics' ignorance and
meanness. The picture includes more evidence of Ensor's
vulnerability. As I have pointed out elswhere, (11) the Pierrot mask
represents Ensor's alter ego, as the artist himself would
dress up frequently as a Pierrot in comedies improvised together
with Ernest Rousseau. In most of his paintings, the Pierrot is an
amused and sometimes mischievous, but always detached observer of
the life around him. Here, however, a few splotches of red have
transformed his ironic face into a mask of sorrow, spitting blood
and shedding bloody tears. Thus, the mask bears witness to the
lasting wound Ensor received at the hands of his critics.
But our painting was painted in 1900, and all biographers agree that
in Ensor's career the turn of the century marked a decisive change
for the better. Already about 1888, the best of the young Belgian
writers, Verhaeren, Maeterlinck, Eeckhoud and, above all, Eugène
Demolder, had become his abettors and allies in his struggle for
recognition. In 1898-1899; at the instigation of Demolder, the Paris
review La Plume organized an Ensor retrospective, followed by
a special issue dedicated to his art. This meant almost a breakthrough; from then on, sales mounted slowly but steadily. Even
more slowly, the hostilities of official art criticism turned into
grudging recognition of Ensor's talent. Four years later, King
Leopold made him a knight of his order. Why, then, is our painting
expressive not of renewed confidence but of the stubborn and painful
presence of past sorrows?
The answer is that it took Ensor much longer to purge his soul of
all
the rejections and humiliations of his youthful career; the best of
his strength dissipated in the process. Certainly, it was hard to
forget facts such as the attitude of "Les XX" who, in
1889, not only refused to exhibit his Entry of Christ into
Brussels
but put his expulsion to the vote; Ensor maintained his
membership thanks to one single vote, his own. Even unwanted, he
needed "Les XX" as the only forum to show and promote his
art. Think, too, of the depth of despair which, in 1893, made him
decide to sell the whole contents of his studio for a give-away
price - in spite of his and his friends' efforts, the sale did not
even materialize! Add to this the constant harassment of his mother
and aunt who wanted him to do something useful and did not attach
the slightest value to his painting. All this had undermined Ensor's
resistance. He had become subject to depression and self-doubt and
could cry bitterly at his misfortunes, like Pierrot, his alter
ego. Thus he reacted to the unexpected praise of former
detractors not with joy but with suspicion, always expecting new
incomprehension and meanness. (12) During his darkest years, he had taken to the habit of somewhat
inadequately likening his sufferings to the Passion of Christ. (13) As
late as 1923-1924, when he had long been universally admired and
honoured, Ensor was once more overcome by this mood of self-pity and
painted himself as Christ Carrying the Cross. (14) However,
precisely from 1900 onwards, Ensor's tragedy was further aggravated
by the incontrovertible fact that in the same measure as his
worldly circumstances improved, his creative force dwindled. The
rhythm of his production slowed down and, occasional masterpieces
notwithstanding, his technique slackened and his invention
degenerated into sad self-repetition, if not self-parody. Seen in
this light, it appears as if Skeletons in the Studio reveals
not only the persistence of past sorrows but even a premonition of
future ones. What, the painter may have asked himself, if his
enemies really had crushed his creativity between their teeth, so
that he would never again attain his former excellence? Then, the
battle of the skeletons would have been the battle of attrition of
his art. Side by side with Pierrot, the terrified Oriental mask may
express this fear.
Are there any symbols of hope in the picture?
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