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Lot Essay
‘Hamlet is a great role model … a literary character who is thoughtfulness incarnated’ (Nicole Eisenman)
With this virtuosic portrait, Nicole Eisenman breathes new life into one of the most famous characters in literary history, William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The prince stands clutching the skull of deceased court jester Yorick while contemplating the fragility of life. His black garments shimmer with a petrol-like iridescence, gleaming with a spectrum of colours. He stands against a shadowy backdrop of dynamic, sweeping brushstrokes. Bright beams cast his shadow towards us, suggesting theatrical footlights. The edge of a door is visible behind him. Perhaps this is not an imagined Hamlet but an actor playing the role, about to step out on stage. The prince has an androgynous appearance: could this be a covert self-portrait of Eisenman herself? Whether artist, prince, actor or all three, her subject broods with a solemn, enigmatic gaze. Painted in 2007, Hamlet is a bravura display of Eisenman’s skill. It has been extensively exhibited, presented first at her international breakthrough exhibition at the Kunsthalle Zurich in 2007, and then in three further major institutional surveys between 2014 and 2023.
Eisenman was born in Verdun, France in 1965, but moved to Westchester County, New York, five years later. After studies at the Rhode College School of Design she moved to New York City, where she remains today. Eisenman first attracted notice in the early 1990s as a provocative artist who melded rich references to the Old Masters with a sharp edge of satire, drawing on the language of cartoons and gleefully explicit imagery. Many of her early paintings conjured up a female utopia, free from the meddling of men. A pivotal moment came in 1992, when she took part in a group exhibition at the Drawing Center in New York, kickstarting a steady rise. Today Eisenman is one of the most garlanded artists of her generation. In 2015 she became one of a handful of painters to win a MacArthur Genius Grant.
Eisenman’s powers have grown with her success. She has learnt to deploy a dizzying repertoire of art historical techniques and modes, from Philip Guston-esque caricature to the bracing realism of the interwar German New Objectivity movement. Hamlet’s sophisticated handling of chiaroscuro is reminiscent of the Spanish baroque master Francisco de Zurbarán. Yet none of her works simply imitate a pre-existing style. As Cyrus Simonoff writes, ‘Eisenman has constructed a painterly world in which the lineage of Western painting is collapsed rather than straightforwardly absorbed or mimicked: great men and their brushwork have been consumed, chewed up, and spit back out’ (C. Simonoff, ‘A World Without Heroes’, in Nicole Eisenman: Al-ugh-ories, exh. cat. New Museum, New York 2016, p. 26).
In the early 2000s, during a period where she felt uncertainty about her status in the art world, Eisenman began a series of works depicting ‘role models’, exploring the travails of a contemporary artist. Her depiction of Hamlet, she said, was ‘thoughtfulness incarnated … He’s the anti-action figure … Hamlet goes back to my ideal of a genderless state. He’s feminised because he’s thoughtful’ (N. Eisenman in conversation with L. Tillman, in Nicole Eisenman, exh. cat. Kunsthalle Zürich, Zürich 2007, pp. 17-18). As a figure in a play, Hamlet provides a rich subject for her explorations of selfhood and representational codes. What remains of a contemporary artist after they die? Is the artist merely an actor playing a role? Hamlet is famed for his indecision, but Eisenman has painted him after his return to Denmark and commitment to decisive action. The picture might reflect Eisenman’s own choice to stay true to her artistic path, making it at once a demonstration of painterly prowess and a statement of resolution.
With this virtuosic portrait, Nicole Eisenman breathes new life into one of the most famous characters in literary history, William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The prince stands clutching the skull of deceased court jester Yorick while contemplating the fragility of life. His black garments shimmer with a petrol-like iridescence, gleaming with a spectrum of colours. He stands against a shadowy backdrop of dynamic, sweeping brushstrokes. Bright beams cast his shadow towards us, suggesting theatrical footlights. The edge of a door is visible behind him. Perhaps this is not an imagined Hamlet but an actor playing the role, about to step out on stage. The prince has an androgynous appearance: could this be a covert self-portrait of Eisenman herself? Whether artist, prince, actor or all three, her subject broods with a solemn, enigmatic gaze. Painted in 2007, Hamlet is a bravura display of Eisenman’s skill. It has been extensively exhibited, presented first at her international breakthrough exhibition at the Kunsthalle Zurich in 2007, and then in three further major institutional surveys between 2014 and 2023.
Eisenman was born in Verdun, France in 1965, but moved to Westchester County, New York, five years later. After studies at the Rhode College School of Design she moved to New York City, where she remains today. Eisenman first attracted notice in the early 1990s as a provocative artist who melded rich references to the Old Masters with a sharp edge of satire, drawing on the language of cartoons and gleefully explicit imagery. Many of her early paintings conjured up a female utopia, free from the meddling of men. A pivotal moment came in 1992, when she took part in a group exhibition at the Drawing Center in New York, kickstarting a steady rise. Today Eisenman is one of the most garlanded artists of her generation. In 2015 she became one of a handful of painters to win a MacArthur Genius Grant.
Eisenman’s powers have grown with her success. She has learnt to deploy a dizzying repertoire of art historical techniques and modes, from Philip Guston-esque caricature to the bracing realism of the interwar German New Objectivity movement. Hamlet’s sophisticated handling of chiaroscuro is reminiscent of the Spanish baroque master Francisco de Zurbarán. Yet none of her works simply imitate a pre-existing style. As Cyrus Simonoff writes, ‘Eisenman has constructed a painterly world in which the lineage of Western painting is collapsed rather than straightforwardly absorbed or mimicked: great men and their brushwork have been consumed, chewed up, and spit back out’ (C. Simonoff, ‘A World Without Heroes’, in Nicole Eisenman: Al-ugh-ories, exh. cat. New Museum, New York 2016, p. 26).
In the early 2000s, during a period where she felt uncertainty about her status in the art world, Eisenman began a series of works depicting ‘role models’, exploring the travails of a contemporary artist. Her depiction of Hamlet, she said, was ‘thoughtfulness incarnated … He’s the anti-action figure … Hamlet goes back to my ideal of a genderless state. He’s feminised because he’s thoughtful’ (N. Eisenman in conversation with L. Tillman, in Nicole Eisenman, exh. cat. Kunsthalle Zürich, Zürich 2007, pp. 17-18). As a figure in a play, Hamlet provides a rich subject for her explorations of selfhood and representational codes. What remains of a contemporary artist after they die? Is the artist merely an actor playing a role? Hamlet is famed for his indecision, but Eisenman has painted him after his return to Denmark and commitment to decisive action. The picture might reflect Eisenman’s own choice to stay true to her artistic path, making it at once a demonstration of painterly prowess and a statement of resolution.