‘Gauguin to Picasso’ at the Phillips

Among our intermingling generations of highly fluent arts enthusiasts, there are loose classifications and widely shared sentiments around various periods that evolve into a kind of shorthand. Certainly one of the most common collective opinions is the steadfast exaltation that we reserve for painters from about 1870 through the 1920s. No recent period in art history elicits as much untethered adoration in the popular consciousness as that from, say, Gauguin to Picasso.

At the Phillips Collection through Jan. 10, “Gauguin to Picasso: Masterworks from Switzerland” showcases a sensationally good collection of work that goes from Impressionism through early Modernism, never before exhibited in the United States. Centered around the collections of two pioneering supporters of the arts, Rudolf Staechelin (1881–1946) and Karl Im Obersteg (1883–1969), the show is rife with rare and famous masterworks from many of our favorite painters, as well as striking paintings by lesser-known artists of the time that will stake immediate claims in the territory of our memory.

To start with the heavy hitters, there are some breathtaking pieces by Van Gogh, Gauguin, Pissarro, Cézanne and Picasso, as well as by Chaim Soutine and Marc Chagall. Van Gogh’s “The Garden of Daubigny” shows us one of his most intriguing and lovely compositions, which says a lot for an artist of such unparalleled sense for arrangement. In “The Red Herrings,” he pulls light from darkness with stunning visual force, and the scaly terrain of this dusky, greasy pile of fish comes to life in a way rarely seen from the painter.

What might be the centerpiece of the entire exhibition, Gauguin’s “When Will You Marry? (Nafea faa ipoipo)” is a rather trance-inducing portrait of two Maori women in a colorful, idyllic landscape. With the demure, statuesque, impenetrable faces of the mysterious green-skinned women, this is an exemplary representative of the artist’s Tahitian paintings.

A double-sided panel by Picasso sits like a throne in the center of the main gallery. On one side, “The Absinthe Drinker” is a comically glum and charming portrait. On the verso, “Woman at the Theater” is a rare treat of muddy, exploratory brushwork from our crown prince of Modernism, the subtle pomposity of her posture perfectly attuned to her character.

The works by Soutine are just great. Using a palette of evening sea foam and raw clay, “Dead Pheasant” recalls the shriveled, cold weight of dead game with brushwork and an inherent sense of suffering that would make Francis Bacon drool.

And, of course, Chagall. Is there anyone better, more stylistically precise, more endlessly creative in arrangement and color? Chagall was so attuned to the joys of geometry that just to stand before his work is a treat. Compounding Fauvism and Cubism into his own singular, exuberant expression of Judaic pseudo-iconography, his cultural specificity was both brave and innovative in his time. His three portraits of rabbis in the final gallery of the exhibition are worth the price of admission.

The exhibition also features works by less familiar artists that stand up admirably to the big names, most notably Ferdinand.

Among our intermingling generations of highly fluent arts enthusiasts, there are loose classifications and widely shared sentiments around various periods that evolve into a kind of shorthand. Certainly one of the most common collective opinions is the steadfast exaltation that we reserve for painters from about 1870 through the 1920s. No recent period in art history elicits as much untethered adoration in the popular consciousness as that from, say, Gauguin to Picasso.

At the Phillips Collection through Jan. 10, “Gauguin to Picasso: Masterworks from Switzerland” showcases a sensationally good collection of work that goes from Impressionism through early Modernism, never before exhibited in the United States. Centered around the collections of two pioneering supporters of the arts, Rudolf Staechelin (1881–1946) and Karl Im Obersteg (1883–1969), the show is rife with rare and famous masterworks from many of our favorite painters, as well as striking paintings by lesser-known artists of the time that will stake immediate claims in the territory of our memory.

To start with the heavy hitters, there are some breathtaking pieces by Van Gogh, Gauguin, Pissarro, Cézanne and Picasso, as well as by Chaim Soutine and Marc Chagall. Van Gogh’s “The Garden of Daubigny” shows us one of his most intriguing and lovely compositions, which says a lot for an artist of such unparalleled sense for arrangement. In “The Red Herrings,” he pulls light from darkness with stunning visual force, and the scaly terrain of this dusky, greasy pile of fish comes to life in a way rarely seen from the painter.

What might be the centerpiece of the entire exhibition, Gauguin’s “When Will You Marry? (Nafea faa ipoipo)” is a rather trance-inducing portrait of two Maori women in a colorful, idyllic landscape. With the demure, statuesque, impenetrable faces of the mysterious green-skinned women, this is an exemplary representative of the artist’s Tahitian paintings.

A double-sided panel by Picasso sits like a throne in the center of the main gallery. On one side, “The Absinthe Drinker” is a comically glum and charming portrait. On the verso, “Woman at the Theater” is a rare treat of muddy, exploratory brushwork from our crown prince of Modernism, the subtle pomposity of her posture perfectly attuned to her character.
The works by Soutine are just great. Using a palette of evening sea foam and raw clay, “Dead Pheasant” recalls the shriveled, cold weight of dead game with brushwork and an inherent sense of suffering that would make Francis Bacon drool.

And, of course, Chagall. Is there anyone better, more stylistically precise, more endlessly creative in arrangement and color? Chagall was so attuned to the joys of geometry that just to stand before his work is a treat. Compounding Fauvism and Cubism into his own singular, exuberant expression of Judaic pseudo-iconography, his cultural specificity was both brave and innovative in his time. His three portraits of rabbis in the final gallery of the exhibition are worth the price of admission.

The exhibition also features works by less familiar artists that stand up admirably to the big names, most notably Ferdinand Hodler (1853–1918) and Alexej von Jawlensky (1864–1941). (Neither Hodler nor Jawlensky are pushovers. Jawlensky’s canvases regularly fetch in the millions at auction and Hodler is one of the most popular Swiss painters of the 19th century. But when put alongside the names that have just been tossed around, any artist can look like small potatoes.)

Jawlensky’s “Child” is a boxy, marionette-like seated portrait of a funny little girl. Like many children, she is severe in expression but made ridiculous by the very condition of her youngness. With overly rouged cheeks and a demeaning red bow fastened atop her straw-blond head like a cherry on a sundae, her entire existence up to this point amounts to following with aloof expectancy the dictates of her parents. Jawlensky was an Expressionist who moved from Russia to Germany as a young man and became a member of the prominent Blue Rider group alongside Franz Marc and Wassily Kandinsky. In the context of “Child,” his bold and sun-kissed colors take on new meaning.

A trio of paintings by Hodler are the most sobering in the exhibition, recording the slow death of his lover and fellow painter Valentine Godé-Darel. In two, both titled “The Patient,” she is shown lying in bed. They will remind anyone who has gone through a loved one’s passing of the acrid tinge and fleeting jolts of pained hope that encircle the terminally ill. The final painting, “The Dead,” is immediate, blunt, austere and troubling. The stark accuracy of the hard mattress and chunky pillow, the dead weight of the body stretched across them with its hollow, bloodless face, make it devastating.

Perhaps we should try to end on a lighter note, but, alas, this is sometimes where art takes us. Nevertheless, “Gauguin to Picasso” is a show that will refresh your senses in that particular way that only great paintings can.