El Greco and Mytaras Face to Face - Case Study Example

Academia - Research January A Historic Way of Looking: El Greco and Mytaras Face to Face To create meaning through art has been the aim of artists since cave painters of ancient France. Achieving meaningfulness through art has been necessary perhaps since that time: using materials to produce an artefact that is greater than the sum of its parts is not only meaningful: it is historically significant (Sturken & Cartwright 2009). Here, two artists from different times provide an investigation into different materials, processes and journeys that have produced differing works of art. How they compare and contrast, and how process and materials can determine or change meaning will be analyzed. Doménikos Theotokópoulos, known as El Greco, and his later works, mystified observers of his time: it was the early 1600s, and non-natural illustrations of the human form were viewed as deranged. The way he described his inspiration was strange: he called it the mystical inner construction of life (Davies 2005). The word construction makes one choose this artist from thousands available: he had a sense of building something of his own in pictorial space under pictorial illumination (Davies et al Ibid.) His brushwork was considered so unusual it was miraculous: a flickering that, coupled with anthropomorphic distortions, gave his paintings captivating quality. Dimitris Mytaras lives and paints almost 1400 years after El Greco wrought his magic in the Mediterranean. Just as inspired by the human figure, his sojourns in Italy and France have brought about a unique expressionism that has gained him renown even in his own Greece. His quasi-surreal and realistic mixtures create difficult conversation or discourse with the viewer. Known to incorporate political as well as classical themes, and having a body of sacred art to enable this discussion, this artist also proves an excellent candidate. From the earliest works of both artists, to important mid-career expressions and on to final pictures for El Greco and most recent offerings from Mytaras, keen observers find wildly contrasting notions, but certainly salient features that point to similarities. Without deconstructing each piece completely, we can find that sense of self was established through the making of a discourse (Rose 2006). Certainly, controversial use of distortion and unusual placement of objects, the enormous size of some of their works, and tendency to place importance on aerial objects does two things. It gives the artists something in common, and indicates in both the desire to rouse an active response from the viewer. Both have works that are impossible to simply ‘glance’ at just once. Choice of materials is a vital aspect of interaction between artist and viewer. Mytaras’s murals at the Greek chapel known as Panayia Katafiyotisa show how walls are a material that changes when painted. Aspects of the interior are taken over by enormous iconography, making the entire building a material inside which captive viewers are surrounded. One is forced, by the absent artist, to move, to gaze on every part. An airborne figure over a window trails ribbons, so observers wonder which way to turn. Distortion is everywhere, but technique is evident: this is not madness, it is clever conjuring of shape that arrests and transports with connections and hints. Flying figures angled around corners have calm expressions: but they do not emit serenity of Divine creation. There is a sense of bearing the sorrow of human concreteness. There are borrowings from Byzantine examples, echoes of mosaics in Ravenna and Constantinople, luminous golds and reds of El Greco. The discourse is with frequenters of this chapel, so they must necessarily relate to Greek tradition: one has to seek them: personification of the Aegean winds, a ship in full sail. El Greco’s enormous canvasses, The Assumption of the Virgin and The Burial of the Count of Orgaz are nothing like little icons he painted at the start of his career in Crete. These are monumental pictures with a useful comparison to Mytaras’s chapel because of size, colour and airborne figures. One has to take a step backward and look up: movement is demanded by the absent painter, just like before. Although all that is visible is the product, in all cases viewers must address notions of quantity, of scale, of composition, and of the solid, before addressing the abstract (Mirzoeff 2002). The language used, however is distinct: El Greco presents a literal interpretation of a religious scene, together with historically identifiable characters, symmetry compatible with the age and location. El Greco speaks the same visual language (Rose 2006) as those whose sites his pictures must occupy. The semiotic interpretation is straightforward. Mytaras, on the other hand, is cryptic. His language is coded: viewers must make an effort to understand any messages: there are angels, but the rest must be deciphered. The boat and birds suggest a narrative, but it is wildly divergent from narratives set in El Greco’s pictures. His faces to not look heavenward. Mytaras has taken some forms from the Renaissance, but without details, colours, volume, or perspective. He emulates only slightly Byzantine iconography, as far as colour and perspective (or the lack of it) are concerned. He introduces his own stylistic elements and his own logic. El Greco overthrew tradition: Dimitris Mytaras attempts to overthrow it through his own dialogue. Its success will be judged by philosophers of art, or audiences of the future. This brings viewers to analyse distinction as being not merely difference in supports (canvas versus wall, oil paint versus acrylic) but diversity of language, despite that the discourse might have a vaguely similar message. The contexts in which messages are used are vaguely similar too: chapels or churches, and if viewers are conventional, El Greco enjoys a better traditional fit. Mytaras fits only if observers understand his visual language. It must be said, however, that seen within his time, El Greco was not as easily understood as now (Allardyce 2003). His style was as bizarre to traditionalists as Mytaras is to those striving to receive his messages today. He subtlely introduces the mature period of El Greco: not so much in control of volumes and perspectives, but in the way he organises thoughts and movements of observers. Mytaras manages the dimensions of the space by magnifying figures in the iconography, playing with depth, encrypting analogies, and outlining earthly elements in relation to dominant forms in the oeuvre. The discourse that takes place between viewer and viewed demands more than superficial examination. Deeper understanding of subtexts needs more than one example (Mirzoeff 2002). Hagiography / iconography are not merely the sum of their material parts. In descriptions of El Greco’s connection with Toledo in Spain, Isabel Allardyce (2003) mentions how the artist’s philosophical writings have been lost. But her description of carvings, retablos, sculptures, and churches he had built, together with eloquent paintings, suggest that his legacy of discourse is still available to students. It is valid now to compare his St Martin with Seated Man by Mytaras. Obvious differences in style are not as significant as interaction the artist is seeking with viewers. In El Greco’s famous painting, materials (or props) chosen present an immediate narrative: St Martin offering his mantle to a destitute man. A pious audience reads a message: be charitable. In its time, this painting aroused controversy because of social sub-texts. St Martin is obviously wealthy: the social gap between the two men emphasised social problems in Spain. Elongation of the beggar’s torso and the tiny size of the men’s heads gave critics trouble. Proportion translated into conformity and traditional values in those times. This artist overturned iconographic tradition that dated back to the Byzantine period: but he had done his apprenticeship painting icons (Davies et al 2005). This was a necessary departure, to say necessary things. Dates are included here to indicate their importance, because they form part of the dialogue. When placed together, images take on new semantics: meanings shift slightly to accommodate each other’s. When curators organise exhibitions, they take enormous care to interpret and decipher possible messages they are putting together (Rose 2006). The message here also includes intentions of the student who places them in juxtaposition (Sturken & Cartwright 2009). El Greco was seen as non-traditionalist when this canvas was painted, but placed side-by-side with Mytaras’s Seated Man, it seems conservative. Mytaras used a number of symbols whose semiotics baffle even the most knowledgeable observer. The red of the rocking chair, and the curve of its base, echo in an arrow near the horse’s neck. There must be significance in the similarity between the man’s foot and the tail. The student must pause in front of this picture, trying to receive the message: it requires effort, comparisons, critical thinking, and ability to find inter-relationships (Mirzoeff 2002) between objects. Even when we accept that different symbols have different meanings for different people, as is evident from the picture on the left, it must also be true that a picture can have the same meaning for all viewers. This furnishes us with the main difference between the pictures: one tells a universal story, the other needs interpretation that might be diverse for each observer (Rose 2006). Dubbed the ‘Miracle Greek’ by Spanish followers (Allardyce 2003), El Greco - some say because of his optical condition, astigmatism - went on to further distort human forms, to become the precursor of cubism and abstract art. Picasso’s emulation of his forms and gestures created another dialect where the message is the same, where viewers are just as startled. Mytaras is this age’s ‘Miracle Greek’. With no signs of adopting El Greco’s second phase, he comfortably rolls into his own, without paraphrasing (Sturken & Cartwright 2009). In a sense, he acts as translator, from Renaissance and Byzantine times to the future, taking bold expression wrapped in materials and props that sometimes puzzle. They puzzle today: how will they be explained decades hence? In conclusion, it seems logical to propose Mytaras could constitute connecting links in the space between the transition phase of El Greco, but whether his straightforward dialogue is similar to Mytaras’s cryptic discourse can only be seen in the future. * (1777 words, including references in parentheses) References Davies, David, et al 2005 El Greco National Gallery, London Mirzoeff, Nicholas 2002 The Visual Culture Reader Routledge Rose, Gillian 2006 Visual Methodologies: An Introduction to the Interpretation of Visual Materials Sage Publications Ltd Sturken, Marita and Cartwright, Lisa, 2009 Practices of Looking: An Introduction to Visual Culture University Press USA Allardyce, Isabel, 2003, Historic Shrines of Spain Kessinger Publishing National Art Gallery and Alexandros Soutzos Museum - Athens, Greek Painting of the 20th Century 2009 Accessed January 10, 2010 Read More