Vilhelm Hammershoi: The Poetry of Silence
Royal Academy, London
THERE are two surprises in the retrospective exhibition of the work of the Danish artist Vilhelm Hammershoi – one is the engaging, almost haunting quality of these little-known images. The other is that half way through, after many paintings of domestic interiors, there are views of landscapes and woods that continue to evoke a sense of the intimate.
Although Hammershoi employs a limited range of colours – mid tones, many shades of greys and close hues that recall the work of Whistler – Hammershoi was his own man, developing his own subdued, retiring tones to create quiet, haunting interiors of contemporary life. Some are devoid of people altogether – the only evidence of life being dramatic shafts of sunlight, the rays picking up the dust.
In other works Hammershoi might include a single figure, a woman, her back to us, holding, for example, a blue and white plate. A magnificent porcelain tureen sits on a sideboard, but otherwise the space is spare and uncluttered. In one image, we see the back of a woman sitting playing at an upright piano, the table half laid as if for an impending meal – a moment, perhaps, when the woman seized a private moment to practise a tune, although it is one that we can only imagine.
Throughout these spell-binding images it is as if time stands still, the paintings serving as meditations on time past, time present and time future, yet the modest, undramatic compositions are full of feeling and emotion, evoking an inner rather than an outer life. Despite little seeming to happen in these silent vocations, it as if, by portraying his house in Copenhagen, the artist is revealing much about his life.
Quiet and unassuming, Hammershoi seemed content to pursue his own ideas working modestly in Copenhagen, but as a visitor to London and a traveller within Europe, he was well aware of the work of other artists, but his paintings show little direct influence. There are echoes of Dutch interiors, but while these evoke complex narratives, Hammershoi seems almost to seek non-narrative, a way of elevating the everyday. To some extent, this is affirmed in a self-portrait with his wife. She sits at the table covered with a clean, newly starched white linen tablecloth, her eyes cast demurely down. He looks at her but his head is averted so we cannot see his face.
Hammershoi’s street scenes and landscape are equally modest, as if seen through a gentle mist. Like many of his interiors the buildings and streets are unpeopled, deserted, recalling early morning. One image of a group of trees, set against the sun and a cloudy sky, creates an effect that is almost mystical, the light adding a radiance that takes us to other places.
When speaking about his work, Hammershoi acknowledged the importance of light, but stressed that it was structure that was of most importance. All Hammershoi’s paintings are carefully ordered, many of the interiors with a measured geometry that gives them a mathematical precision. Yet, they are anything but mechanical or cool, since these are deeply felt images of a life lived and observed that say far more than is presented – they open up and transport us into different worlds.
Emmanuel Cooper
Vilhelm Hammershoi: The Poetry of Silence continues until September 7
