Waiting in the Wings

If you’ve ever been backstage for a production, you know that it is an entirely different world than what one would find in the entrance and or house of an auditorium. The mood is chaotic yet organized, stressful yet soothing, and (most vividly for the performers) nerve-racking yet exciting. Truly, there is nothing else like it.

With that in mind, it is understandable as to why an artist like Edgar Degas spent countless hours in the dressing rooms and other backstage areas in order to capture these images on his canvases. Marcus Verhagen wrote of this in All the World’s Backstage where he described Degas’ intent for such subjects in his masterpieces. The use of the rise in popularity of stage performances during Degas’ time and Emile Zola’s story of a courtesan to depict Degas’ backstage interest emanates that everyone can see what happens on the stage – but very few get to witness what goes on behind the curtain, in the wings, and in the dressing and rehearsal rooms. Verhagen uses this truth of Degas’ paintings to show not only Degas’ enjoyment of backstage, but also the scenes painted to define what was deemed important to those backstage, be it the costumes and or the intensity of their focus. Through his paintings, Degas uncovers the truth of the times with the scenes of his dancers, yet leaves some of the works open to individual interpretation.

From Zola’s novel Nana, the backstage area called the coulisses is where Verhagen draws all of his reasoning for Degas to have had desire to paint scenes of dancers in the wings, onstage, and in rehearsal. Zola felt that the coulisses were a “place of demystification” (Verhagen 74). Because modern theatre and stage performances had gained popularity at the time, understanding and seeing the backstage happenings was new, different, and intriguing. No one usually got to see the coulisses, so it became a place to find new stories and scenes – a place of new realism in the art era of impressionism. Degas could use his talents to show reflections of backstage, yet his impressionistic strokes left much of the scenes to be left in the imagination of the viewer.

In this work, the dancer in the foreground appears more distinct than those stretching in the background. Her gaze is focused, on what we don’t know, but notice those dancers in the background. Yes, they just seem splotched in there to fill in space – but there is one dancer in the back who appears to be looking out of the painting into the eyes of the viewer. Her face isn’t distinguished, but one can get the impression that she is deep in thought (maybe about choreography). Also, the others in the background are stretching showing their focus on their work ethic as dancers.


Verhagen makes good points, but he has to use a novel by Zola to further what he wants to say. But along with this idea of impressionism giving a scene some details but having loose strokes to leave indistinct areas where the viewer could fill in his or her own ideas, the art blog “Arts and Mind” discussed Degas’ ability to do this. Objects in the background were painted with such quick and slack brush strokes that the objects are only left as impressions; therefore they don’t seem as important to the entirety of the painting. This leaves the viewer open to weave in more personal details. However, the blogger states that even in the foreground details are left missing with fuzzy strokes giving the viewer this same ability to imagine.


Degas’ impressionism in this painting of “Dancers in Pink” gives the viewer distinct dancers against a blurry background. But even their faces are a little blurry when given proper time to examine this painting. In keeping with the idea that this leaves us the possibility of filling in our own images with Degas’ works, perhaps we can put faces on the dancers and more detail into the background. One very important thing to notice about all of Degas’ pieces of dancers is that they seem intently focused on their work, be it technique in their movements or appeal of their costumes. This adds to the air of being backstage, drawing the viewer away from the idea of the subjects being staged models.

Degas is my favorite artist not only because I like impressionist art the most, but also because of his love of dancers as subjects. Leaving the faces and backgrounds less distinct, I feel like I can have a more personal connection with his works. Verhagen is correct too about backstage being so exciting. There is no wonder in my mind why Degas would paint such scenes – not many get to see it, and that’s a shame. Verhagen does however mention the possibility of Degas’ focus of these dancers as sexual desire, which I don’t necessarily agree with. Zola seems more accurate in this sense because being backstage was new and different, especially with the rise of theatre in Degas’ lifetime. It is ironic though how a blogger seems to be more credible in their analysis of Degas’ work than a scholarly article author…

Arrogance or Invisible? Chuck Close's Effect on Modern Art

One of my favorite artists is Chuck Close. I admire the level of realism in his paintings, which are indistinguishable from a photograph. By using a grid, he can take a photograph and replicate it on an abnormally large scale. Close’s portraits are a cornerstone of modern art, and are subjects of much attention and debate in the art world. However, his artistic methods lead critics to question the meaning behind his art. His Big Self Portrait is so big that Donald Kuspit argues Close creates his art on such a large scale to emphasize the “importance” of artists. In his article, “Heroic Isolation or Delusion of Grandeur? Chuck Close's Portraits of Artists,” Kuspit finds Close’s art to be pretentious. In another article, titled “Chuck Close: Recent Paintings,” John Ewing claims Close’s art, despite its size, risks being overlooked by the viewers. He claims the subjects of Close’s portraits, relatively unknown artists and friends, cause the paintings to lose some of their meanings.

Kuspit, an art history and philosophy professor, compares Close’s self-portrait to Albrecht Durer’s self-portrait. Both portraits convey the artist as more important that they really are. Durer’s portrait portrays himself as a Christ-like figure. Close’s portrait is different. Kuspit claims his painting lacks the emotion of Durer’s. This lack of emotion causes Close to seem more arrogant and self-obsessed. Kespit believes Close’s portraits offer “little sense of sharing and communicating the common lot of humanity, and virtually no sense of belonging to the human community and being subject to the vicissitudes of life.” The author wonders why Close has conveyed this in his art and decides that Close is attempting to raise the artist above the average human being. He often paints other artists in his photorealistic portraits. Kuspit writes, “What we have in Close's portraits is a bombastic elevation of the artist above the human condition--a glorification of the artist carried out by means of a monstrous enlargement (indeed, grotesque monumentalization) of his appearance.” He follows by claiming the use of enlargement is to convince the viewer that the artist is superior. That is not too farfetched, usually things that are big are important, so why not pictures of artists? Lincoln has his own monument, why can’t Chuck Close and the artist have theirs? Kuspit believes Close paints the artist in such a way because the artist’s way of life is threatened. If the artist is not superior, why should non-artists shell out big bucks for their paintings and sculptures?

Kuspit criticizes the “lack of introspection” found in Close’s art. Despite pretentiously painting himself, Durer still managed to provide some self-perspective. However, Close’s art uses its domineering size to make up for its emotional shortcomings. The writer even calls Close’s art pugnacious for brandishing its power. The art’s sheer size wants to make the viewer feel inferior to protect the modern artist’s lifestyle. Apparently, the artist “has to be a hero to himself because he feels isolated and alienated, however economically and socially successful he may be.” Kuspit finds Close’s portraits of himself and other artist to be nothing more that self-made advertisements. Modern artists can no longer rely on their work for publicity. Instead, they have to rely on overbearing portraits of themselves, which make them seem more important than they really should be.

Kuspit finds himself quite disgusted with Close’s advertisements – I mean artwork. For something that is so reprehensive, it is unlikely it would go unnoticed. However, according to an article by John Ewing, Close’s art has become commonplace to the extent that it is invisible. According to Ewing, the photorealistic portraits are so accustomed in the public eye, that they risk suffering the same fate as Andy Warhol’s pop art did in the 1980’s. He believes Close’s art is in danger of being unnoticed because of his subject matter. His portraits of relatively unknown artists and family friends require the viewer to ask, “Who’s that?” The viewer who fails to ask the question will not appreciate the portrait.

Why does it matter if the viewer recognizes the subject, there are many paintings of unknown individuals. Perhaps it is the level of realism in Close’s art. The portraits (at least the older ones) are nearly indistinguishable from the photographs of which they are based.
The viewers know the portraits represent someone, but whom? The viewer who doesn’t know the subject is just looking at a photograph of some random person. Photorealistic paintings leave no room for symbolism. In older portraits such as Durer’s, the artist could alter the appearance of a certain object to create extra emotion in the painting. There is no denying Close’s art appears slightly empty and there is little emotion involved. The still-faced stare of Big Self Portrait looks more like a mug shot than an insightful portrait.

Interestingly, Kuspit and Ewing disagree about the subject matter and its effect on Close’s artwork. Kuspit finds the large-scale interpretation of artists to be pretentious. Ewing claims Close’s artwork suffers from the unknown subjects it sometimes portrays. Kuspit’s extremely critical argument hurts its own credibility by being so harsh. The author does not find one thing to admire about the portraits. He only uses his own opinion, which allows the reader to think he is the only person with that viewpoint. On the other had, Ewing describes an art gallery showing Close’s recent work. He mentions the whispers of “Who’s that?” creeping through the gallery. Plus, Ewing didn’t resort to criticizing every facet of Close’s art. His criticisms are stated in a professional manner and he avoids expressing his own opinion about the arts purpose.

1. Kuspit, Donald. “Heroic Isolation or Delusion of Grandeur? Chuck Close's Portraits of Artists.” Art New England 19.4 (June/July 1998): 11.
2. Ewing, John. “Chuck Close: Recent Paintings: PaceWildenstein.” Modern Painters (September 2005): 108.

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