the Grand Tour blog

Goya, Daumier and Toulouse-Lautrec

The permanent display of the Scharf-Gerstenberg collection is superb, but I was actually here to see the special exhibition ‘The Eccentric Gaze: Goya, Daumier and Toulouse-Lautrec’. I went in at 11:45 (after warming up in the very nice café). Works by these three artists, from their three different generations, were among the cornerstones of Otto Gerstenberg’s historical collection, now reconstructed after being dissipated during the war.

• Postcards: Goya, Daumier, Toulouse-Lautrec

Paintings by Francisco de Goya (1746-1828) document the events of the Peninsular War of 1808-1814 while his prints make biting criticism of the grotesque social conditions at the time. He mocks the nobility – often showing them as donkeys – despite being employed as court painter. The caricatures of freelance artist Honoré Daumier (1808-1879) supported the revolutions of 1830 and 1848 in France – he spent six months in prison in 1832 for being critical of the government – and he continued to create overtly political caricatures until he lost his sight in 1872. Coming from an aristocratic family in southern France, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901) became a sharp observer of a social class that had slid into a state of decadence.

The three are united in showing through their etchings and caricatures and drawings how individuals relate to the society around them. They adopt the eccentric perspective of outsiders, and their subjects are shown as pompous, or comical, or ridiculous. Through the strong medium of printmaking they show both the glittering and the dark sides of society. The sharp contrasts in Goya’s etchings are echoed both in Daumier’s caricatures and in Toulouse-Lautrec’s stage drawings, with their rich visual effects; examples from the Gerstenberg Collection show that Toulouse-Lautrec clearly studied and responded to the earlier works by Goya and Daumier.

The exhibition was exceptional, and I enjoyed it immensely. Part of it was arranged in groups of three pictures, one by each artist, with a common subject, and the influences were obvious. Elsewhere, each had his own space. Daumier was new to me and I liked both his caricatures and his oil paintings, a few of which were on display.

I would have liked to spend some time back in the Scharf-Gerstenberg main collection, but as this is my last full day in Berlin I had to press on with my schedule for the west side of the city, and move on to Helmut Newton.

Georg Pencz at the Gemäldegalerie

After a very late, fairly enjoyable, and not very cheap lunch in the huge Arkaden shopping mall – so many ice cream places, so little protein – I walked back to the Kulturforum to visit the wonderful Gemäldegalerie (‘Painting Gallery’) for a small exhibition on the 16th-century artist and engraver Georg Pencz; the one-room show was curated by the Kupferstichkabinett (‘Engraving Cabinet’), the Gemäldegalerie’s neighbours in the Kulturforum.

Georg Pencz (~1500-1550) was some 20 years younger than Albrecht Dürer, the towering figure of 16th-century German painting and printmaking. Like Dürer he was based in Nuremburg, then the leading art centre in the German-speaking world, and in fact worked for a time in Dürer’s workshop. After Dürer died in 1528, Pencz – active as a painter, cartographer and engraver – was one of the most highly sought-after artists in Nuremberg; Dürer had apparently already faded into obscurity. Today, sadly, Pencz’s name is little known.

Most of the engravings on display were quite small, as if for book illustrations; beautiful and very interesting. But there were two or three larger (‘A4’ size) works, one of which was a remarkable coloured engraving titled ‘Venus’:

A larger Dürer too, which was pretty darned good. I wandered round the rest of the gallery, much of which I’d visited before, enjoying the works which attracted my eye rather than trying to be academic! The Kupferstichkabinett, upstairs in the same building, is closed for a while, and I ended a pleasant afternoon with a welcome hot chocolate in the large laid-back café next door. In the evening to the wilds of Görlitzer Straße to eat at the excellent Italian De Noantri.

Romantic Painting After Schinkel

I was out of the apartment by 9:25, and by U-bahn and S-bahn the few stops to Friedrichstraße. The next M1 tram was still 7 minutes away, so I walked briskly east in the cold morning air past the Deutsches Historiches Museum and over the river towards the Alte Nationalgalerie, diverting briefly into Lustgarten – the open and today empty space fronting the austere Berliner Dom and Schinkel’s Altes Museum – for a couple of photos of the cathedral.

After another photo-pause outside the Alte Nationalgalerie I went inside to warm up and buy my ticket for ‘The Romantic Middle Ages: Architecture and Nature in Painting after Schinkel’. This was an excellent exhibition on the top floor of the gallery, bringing together paintings from a roll-call of Romantics: Gaertner, Carl Blechen, August Haan, Elasser, Karl Friedrich Lessing, and the Dresden painter Oehme – a friend of Caspar David Friedrich – among others. The great Friedrich himself and the architect and painter Karl Friedrich Schinkel were there too of course; the Alte Nationalgalerie has a good selection of works from both men in its permanent collection.

Architectural painting experienced a revival in the first half of the 19th century, when medieval architecture in Germany became rather emotionally charged; buildings were destroyed during the Napoleonic Wars, and the secularisation of Germany in 1803 left churches, monasteries and castles facing demolition. But the old buildings invoked feelings of nationalism, patriotism and romanticism, becoming an integral part of Germany's cultural heritage. Medieval castles and forts were a popular motif in literature and painting. The aim of this exhibition was to show such architectural paintings from the time of Schinkel, and from the following years.

Schinkel allegedly made his career change from painting to architecture – with remarkable and wonderful results – after seeing the work of Caspar David Friedrich and deciding he could never be as good. But the few late Schinkel paintings on display in this collection were superb, often using what I would consider photographers’ techniques: for example full contre jour with the bright sun hidden directly behind a central tree. 

Overall a superb exhibition, which kept me entertained for an hour and a half or more.

Modern at Hamburger Bahnhof

Homeward bound today, but not until lunchtime. After fiddling with packing and trying to fit in all the paperwork I’ve collected, I had a late breakfast and finally paid the hotel bill at 09:15. Left my case at Reception to collect later. 

Caught a bus to the Hauptbahnhof from the north entrance of Nordbahnhof and doubled back a little to the Museum für Gegenwart (Museum of Contemporary Art) at Hamburger Bahnhof; bought a €12.00 combi-ticket to visit the permanent and temporary exhibitions. 

Not surprisingly the Museum has quite a large collection of Joseph Beuys (1921-1986), now regarded as one of the most influential German artists in the 2nd half of the 20th century. It also holds the private collection of the Berlin entrepreneur Erich Marx, which he offered to the city in the mid-1980s and which triggered the conversion of the old railway station to an art gallery with some pretty big spaces (parallels with Tate Modern in London). The Marx collection includes Beuys, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Anselm Kiefer, Cy Twombly, among others, and a selection from it is always on display. 

I find Beuys 'difficult', but it was a pleasure to walk into a huge room of massive Warhols, dominated by one of his 14ft high Chairman Mao portraits. I also enjoyed the two comic-book Lichtensteins on display. There was a big feature on Cy Twombly's work, with one description commenting on his "generous sense of emptiness"; plus a display in a separate room of a dozen small 16th century engravings (I assume they were) by Poussin, Mignon and others in the Mannerist Fontainebleau School, which apparently had influenced him. 

One enormous hall was filled with a large number of the almost-white paintings of Chinese artist Qiu Shihuaz; his first solo exhibition in a European gallery. "At first glance Qiu Shihua's works appear as monochrome, almost completely white canvases. However, on closer inspection, expansive landscapes emerge from their painterly surfaces, which, depending on the way you look at them, gradually blossom with detail, or recede again from view." It mostly didn't work for me, but some I liked. 

The special exhibition space at the centre of Hamburger Bahnhof was completely blacked out, and held a collection of the light works of American artist Anthony McCall, under the title 'Five Minutes of Pure Sculpture'. The works "exist at the boundaries between cinema, sculpture and drawing: animated lines are projected in a dark room filled with a light haze, allowing viewers to step into the beam of light and change its appearance". It was all rather interesting, and naturally a challenge for a photographer – 2 sec exposures with a compact camera hand-held against the nearest wall. 

Finally – with my eye on the clock – to Architektonika, a huge exhibition running down one side of the old station of sculptural and photographic works, films and paintings illustrating how artists have approached the interface between art and architecture. I made it almost to the end, without, to be honest, being terribly inspired, but had to leave at 13:00 to get back to the hotel to collect my suitcase and make the return journey to the Hauptbahnhof for the train to Schönefeld airport. In fact I'd stayed longer at Hamburger Bahnhof than expected and still hadn't seen everything.

Potsdam: the Neues Palais

The forecast is gloomy: I fancied a three hour boat trip round the city on the Spree and Landvehrkanal, but there's no point unless there's sun all the way. So how about going back to Potsdam for 'Friederisiko' in the Neues Palais, which is a once in a lifetime exhibition? 

Into breakfast at 08:00, then, and to Nordbahnhof just after 09:00; I've come here almost every morning in the last week and I'm starting to feel like a commuter. The weather is brighter than it was but there is still much cloud. I'm wearing extra layers today, just in case. The S7 is very crowded at Friedrichstraße but there are seats by Zoo. 

I arrived at Potsdam Hbf around 10:10 and caught a 606 bus direct to the Neues Palais – I really did walk a long way last Thursday! At the ticket office and shop in a large marquee a little way away from the palace the ticket is €12.00 (€2.00 off with Berlin Welcome card) and comes with an audio guide and a substantial 'catalogue' of information on every significant item on display.

Into the palace at 10:45. Sadly no photos allowed inside. And this view of the outside was taken last Thursday when the sky was blue and the air was warm:

Frederick had the Neues Palais built between 1763 and 1769 as a monument to himself, after the triumph of the Seven Years War. It is the last major Baroque palace building; he called it a "Fanfaronade", a boast. He had risked everything for glory; his wars had almost ruined the country, yet they finally helped Prussia find its voice among the European powers. 

He alone determined how the Neues Palais should look, both inside and out. He staged himself as ruler and philosopher, through paintings, furniture, wallpaper, marble and parquet floors. The architecture and interior design of the Neues Palais reflect what Frederick – the PR man and image-maker par excellence – wanted to be.

The Fresderisiko exhibition is huge, spread across 72 rooms on almost all of the ground and first floors of the Neues Palais. It was organised in 11 themes which can be followed in any order. A path with slightly raised edges is laid throughout to protect the wooden floors from the endless crowd of visitors. The exhibition runs for seven months, to the end of October, and even midweek and with timed tickets it's packed.

The Marble Gallery, early on my chosen route, displayed many of the luxurious materials and objects used in the decoration of Frederick's palaces; they are of great value not just in monetary terms, but also in their significance and in the message they convey. The display of the small items is superb. Oversized 'price tags' hang from some of the display cases to try to give an idea (in both German and English) of the costs. 

The chandeliers were the most expensive single items, initially bought in France and then copied faithfully by local craftsmen. They are cut from very pure rock crystal which Frederick buys in large quantities in Paris; a total of some 50,000 parts if I remember correctly. 

A snuff box made of chrysoprase (a greenish colour not unlike jade) is ringed by a broad band of diamonds and gold. Chrysoprase is the most valuable precious stone found in Frederick's empire; after his death, four crates of chrysoprase are found in his bedroom. In his bedroom! That's how valuable it is. He has 150 of these snuff boxes. Collecting snuff boxes made of ‘noble’ materials is his most expensive passion, and several hundred of them are listed in his estate. He is following the fashion of the time, of course, in which consuming tobacco (as snuff) – as well as collecting the boxes – expresses a refined way of living. 

I was particularly attracted to a large cylindrical ‘snowball vase’. Standing three feet or so high, and 15-18 inches diameter, it was covered by thousands of tiny snowball flowers, almost touching, each about half an inch across, with delicate pink decoration. 'Handles' on either side of the vase were in the shape of birds, and were modelled and painted from life. The vase was produced by the Meissen factory, which Frederick had 'acquired' when his army occupied Saxony. As well as being beautiful in itself it was technically difficult to make; in other words it was expensive. 

Later, in a waiting room for visiting foreign leaders and diplomats, I counted 22 such snowball vases on shelves around the walls; the room was expressly designed to show his visitors that Frederick is a man of great wealth, taste and importance. But no-one really knows the true cost of building and furnishing the Neues Palais, as Frederick had all the invoices sent for his personal attention, and destroyed them.

In the Concert Room – scene of that painting by Adolph Menzel – was Frederick's flute, made by his teacher Quantz around 1750, in its case. Clearly he had more than one (there's another in Schloss Sanssouci, for a start) and this instrument is split into six sections so was perhaps a travelling model. Also a 1747 piano by the great organ builder Gottfried Silbermann; Frederick bought another from Silbermann in 1746 which is now in Schloss Sanssouci. 

The 'private rooms' reveal something of the regular daily routine of the man. In particular a bright Reading Chamber where he spends several hours each day; his modest library of books is almost entirely in French, the smart language of the day. He wants to be taken seriously as a writer in French, and works hard on his grammar. The menu for his midday meal each day is presented to him the previous evening; an example on display shows he makes extensive changes, and requests a menu of several courses only a few days before his death. 

I came out of the Neues Palais after three hours at 13:50. Spent a short time in the shop, then off to find the bus stop to return to the station. Caught the 14:36 bus, and was on the S7 towards Berlin by 15:00.

Japanese Photos but No Views

I caught a 200 bus from outside the Reichstag to Berlin Zoo, arriving at 15:05: round the corner is the Museum für Fotographie. The Helmut Newton permanent collection, which I saw in 2008, is currently closed for rearranging. But I'm here for 'Metamorphosis of Japan: Photography 1945-1964'. 

All monochrome photos of course – such a strong medium – and some powerful images showing the poverty immediately after the war. Later moving on to more artistic and optimistic work. Quite a big exhibition, and beautifully hung. All about 20x16in prints I guess; I didn't measure.

Out at 16:05 and an M49 bus from Zoo to Messe for the Funkturm, the old radio tower which now has a 126m high observation platform offering what the Rough Guide calls “toe curling” views over the city. I walked for ages on the main roads round Berlin's answer to Olympia (closed for some time by the look of it) trying to find the entrance, only to find that the Funkturm is closed today because it's too windy: it does look pretty spindly. 

So an M49 bus back as far as Savigny Platz for an early dinner at restaurant Windrath – I had no lunchtime bun today as I was relying on breakfast to keep me going. Grilled zander and a large and very tall beer, then 'Nordic fruits with vanilla cream' in a glass jar; both excellent and good value. 

I left the restaurant at 18:40 and took the U2 to Potsdamer Platz to visit the permanent exhibition at Topographie des Terrors (the Topography of Terror Documentation Center). I had seen the below-ground outside display in 2008; now as then there were many young people taking a serious interest. This time I spent about 45 minutes looking at the information panels in the new (2010) building, until 20:00 closing time. 

There's quite a lot of data about individual Nazis. I am amazed how lightly some of them were let off; many escaped, and those that were prosecuted sometimes had just a few years in prison after being complicit in mass murder. Some even successfully appealed. It's not a cheerful display, but would be worth a longer look next time. There's still some empty space, so presumably there's more to come.

The Stone Age and Dalí

I have to get a new 3-day Berlin Welcome card as #2 runs out this evening. So out at 09:15 to walk down to Torstraße to catch a 142 bus to the Hauptbahnhof; it's only a short journey, and I had to wait 9 minutes, but it saves my feet from the slog along Inviladenstraße – even worse at the moment with long-running roadworks causing disruption. 

Bought the Welcome Card at the Hbf Tourist Information and some stamps in a nearby card shop. Then up a couple of floors for the S-bahn to Hackescher Markt, arriving at 10:00. A short walk to Museumsinsel, where I queued briefly at the outside ticket office for my free (with Museumsinsel Welcome card #2) timed ticket for the Neues Museum. I was inside by 10:20. 

I started in the Stone Age and Bronze Age on the top floor and worked down to the Romans. It's not a subject I know about and I found it all very interesting, especially the early times. There were many beautiful artefacts on display. Had some thoughts about the gradual development of communities for the benefit of all, and the subsequent emergence of rulers which has not always been to everyone's benefit. Took a tea break in the good and quiet café part way though, and emerged with a few photos after three hours at 13:15. 

A 200 bus from Lustgarten – the green square outside the Berliner Dom and Altes Museum – to Leipziger Platz, for the Dalí Museum. I stayed for two hours. There are none of Dalí’s familiar paintings, nor anything about his life, which was disappointing. Instead it's a gallery of perhaps 200 or so illustrations (lithographs and some engravings) dating from the mid 1950s to the early 1970s, 20+ years later than the paintings. I really enjoyed them.

All are in series: Don Quichotte de la Mancha (1956/57), Le Tricorne (1959), Tristan and Isolde (1970), Faust (1968/69), Suite Mythologique Nouvelle (1971), Les Amours Jaunes (1974), Carmen (20 lithographs from 1970 that I liked a lot), Dix Recettes d'Imortalite (1973), Knights of the Round Table (1977), Pater Noster (1966), La Divine Comédie (1960).

Out of the Dalí Museum at 16:30 and home by 17:00 to rest my feet and write some postcards. Out again at 18:15 towards Savigny Platz in search of another restaurant from my list.

Treasures and Schinkel

From the Alte Nationalgalerie I walked the long way (very long as it turned out, due to building works) to the Bode Museum – containing mainly sculpture from early Middle Ages to late 18th century. The main attraction for me was a special exhibition in the basement called 'Treasures of Faith': religious artefacts, mainly in gold; fantastic workmanship considering some are 800 years old. 

I also wandered around the two floors of the permanent collection – it's not really my thing, yet I stayed for an hour just absorbing it all. Then at last a small and expensive salad and orange juice in their smart and peaceful café; outside on Unter den Linden is not the place for me on a sunny Sunday. 

To the Berliner Dom at 15:40. A heavy and not very exciting church, but I wanted to go up to the dome for the views. I eventually found the start of the 270 steps, and was beginning to think the views were only behind glass when after being directed all around the base of the dome there were some more steep steps to the outside platform. 

After an hour in the Dom and quite a few photos from the top I went over the road to the Schinkel Museum in the disused Friederichswerdersche church. A superb display of statues, with some information in German about the handsome Karl Friedrich Schinkel (1781-1841) and his work. Free entry. I subsequently twigged that Schinkel designed the church, which is why it looks so good! And why it's called the Schinkel Museum.

In the evening I went in search of Italian restaurant De' Noantri in Görlitzer Straße. Unfortunately I forgot that I'd read ages ago of a festival in the south east of the city today (this is a holiday weekend), so when I came to change trains at Hallesches Tor there were a million people on the platform and much security. And the same on the way back. It was all pretty good natured, but as an older person I felt I ought to eat quickly and not be too late home! A VERY good creme brulée to finish the meal.

Art in the Alte Nationalgalerie

Down to Brandenburger Tor at 09:00, which was clear for a change, and almost straight round to the nearby Holocaust Memorial, which I always find has a rather strong effect on me. I took about 35 photos – to continue a photographic project I started last time I was in Berlin – but I moved on earlier than planned when l sensed that one of the security men was starting to follow me around; maybe not, but I felt uncomfortable. 

A 200 bus along to Museumsinsel, a few photos outside there, and then into the Alte Nationalgalerie at 10:10 for the images of Friedrich der Große by Adolph Menzel (1815-1905), which he created after much research to illustrate Franz Kugler’s 1842 book ‘History of Frederick the Great’. Some big paintings (including the well-known 'The Flute Concert'), which were then, of course, engraved for the book. 

I liked Menzel’s style and his precise hand; and his preparatory sketches are wonderful – he even did a full floor plan for 'The Flute Concert'. And a detailed drawing of a carriage step, for example, to be sure it was right in a painting. I messed up my early photos by leaving the camera on f/13 and wondering why the light seemed so dim. 

Out of there at 11:30 and into the permanent collection, which is all 18th century – Graff, Schinkel, Caspar David Friedrich, Carl Blechen, Feuerbach, Arnold Böcklin, Max Liebermann, some nice scenic Monets, and lots of Hans von Marées. Also Wilhelm Leibl, who had a sad picture called 'A Woman of Dachau with a Child', 1874, long before that name gained such terrible significance. 

Staggered out at 12:15 to the little café in the basement which is part of the bookshop, for a cappuccino and chocolate cake. Saw a sign for the Schinkel Museum in Friederichswerdersche Kirche, which I hadn't heard of but is on the map just the other side of Unter den Linden.

18th Century in the Kulturforum

At 13:50 from the Kunstbibliotek to the Kulturforum’s outdoor café – still run by the same multi-tasking proprietor that I met in 2008 – for lunch in the shade of a large umbrella, then inside again an hour later to the Engraving Gallery – the Kupferstichkabinett – for several series of prints by outstanding 18th Century artists such as Tiepolo, Canaletto, Piranesi and Fragonard, under the title 'On the Edge of Reason' (Am Rande der Vernunft). 

All of the prints were superb; I was particularly struck by the series 'Imaginary Prisons' by Piranesi – each print 50-60cm wide – which portrayed huge cathedral-sized interiors with arches and flying staircases that wouldn't look out of place in a film like Lord of the Rings. Also by Piranesi some of the 137 etchings of a similar size in a series he called 'Veduti di Roma' (Views of Rome), on which he worked over three decades from 1748; the realistic portrayal modified to be part dramatic, part painterly. 

By contrast, lovely small cartoons – actually 'Singeries', which use a monkey to satirise humans – by Guélard and Huet from around 1743. And a selection of the prints by Francisco de Goya, best known as a painter, in his Los Caprichos album, which combine an incised line with the broad effect of aquatint; the small aquatints were an artistic experiment which he completed in the late 1790s as he recovered from a serious illness, and which he said depict "the innumerable foibles and follies to be found in any civilized society". The display included the iconic 'The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters', which was also used to promote the exhibition:

© Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

I enjoyed fifty minutes in the Kupferstichkabinett before moving nearby to the Musikinstrumenten Museum, next to the Philharmonie (predictably I had to walk all round it to its entrance on the main road). A huge collection of keyboard instruments, and much else, in one big space; lighter and less crowded than the museum in Leipzig that I visited last year. I didn't take the audio guide, which I think plays samples from many of the instruments, due to lack of time; I wanted to get back to the hotel for a quick break and to change before returning to the Philharmonie for my pre-booked concert tonight. So I left the Musikinstrumenten Museum at 16:30, walked back to Potsdamer Platz and took the train up to Nordbahnhof.