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拍品專文
At the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Max Beckmann volunteered to serve in the medical corps for the German army. Executed on 3 April 1915 in Lille, where the artist was stationed, Selbstporträt mit Krankenpflegeruniform und Autobrille is a searing documentation of his experiences. In this striking self-portrait, Beckmann depicts himself in his military uniform: his Red Cross brassard, which identifies him as medical personnel, can be glimpsed around his right arm. Beckmann eschews any sort of hollow glorification of the war, or false sense of heroism. Instead, he remains true to his steadfast, characteristic pursuit of artistic objectivity in depicting the subject represented. Yet, with his dynamic, frenetic strokes and his challenging, jaded expression, the composition seems to betray the deep emotional turmoil he was experiencing less than one year into the war.
Selbstporträt mit Krankenpflegeruniform und Autobrille is directly referenced in a letter Beckmann wrote to his wife, Minna Beckmann-Tube, the day it was created. In his letter he describes the chaos of the war-torn city, the stench of corpses permeating its ravaged streets, and the sounds of cannon fire thundering overhead – comparing the scene to the Biblical Judgement Day. And yet, amid the calamity of the shouting soldiers and ruined buildings, he was able to consecrate a few moments to art, producing the present work under ‘the harsh glow of an electric light’ (Letter to Minna Beckmann-Tube, 3 April 1915, quoted in Max Beckmann, exh. cat., Hamburg, 2006, p. 34). Pendent above Beckmann’s head, a small lightbulb’s brilliance is rendered through the absence of pigment, as the artist powerfully explores the effects of light and shadow. This charged chiaroscuro endows the composition with striking intensity, speaking to the destabilising reality of war.
Selbstporträt mit Krankenpflegeruniform und Autobrille is directly referenced in a letter Beckmann wrote to his wife, Minna Beckmann-Tube, the day it was created. In his letter he describes the chaos of the war-torn city, the stench of corpses permeating its ravaged streets, and the sounds of cannon fire thundering overhead – comparing the scene to the Biblical Judgement Day. And yet, amid the calamity of the shouting soldiers and ruined buildings, he was able to consecrate a few moments to art, producing the present work under ‘the harsh glow of an electric light’ (Letter to Minna Beckmann-Tube, 3 April 1915, quoted in Max Beckmann, exh. cat., Hamburg, 2006, p. 34). Pendent above Beckmann’s head, a small lightbulb’s brilliance is rendered through the absence of pigment, as the artist powerfully explores the effects of light and shadow. This charged chiaroscuro endows the composition with striking intensity, speaking to the destabilising reality of war.