Both the quality and the quantity of the printed art that Vienna’s two Albertina Museums have brought together is downright overwhelming. Visiting exhibitions like these is like running a marathon: beforehand, you have to think about the pace and the intensity with which you take in these multicoloured works.
We start at the Albertina Modern, where we admire Andy Warhol’s huge Mao silkscreens, that lured us into this museum from the posters outside. When Warhol started making his pop art in the 1960s, many thought that people would eventually get bored of this paste-and-cut work. Six decades later, the opposite appears to be the case: in all his shades of colour, the iconic Chinese leader fascinates more than ever. Warhol had many imitators, but the real thing stands out immediately. Warhol was the master of composition. He knew exactly which parts should remain realistic and where brightly coloured areas would do. Majestically, Mao looks at the visitors in ten different versions. The effect is almost intimidating.
In Chuck Close’s ‘Phil’ (1982), I recognise composer Philip Glass from a distance. Getting closer, the image that appears to be made of papier-mâché fades.
Roy Lichtenstein solidified well-chosen images from comic strips and blew them up into museum-worthy pieces of art. ‘La Sortie’ (1990) is powerful (highlighted picture), the tapestry next to it is less convincing. ‘Silvia’ (2002) by Franz Gertsch is an intriguing portrait. Especially when you realize that her face is the result of the print of a woodcut.
Damian Hirst is represented in Vienna with relatively sober prints. The British artist shows three etchings: ‘Cyclopirox Olamine’, ‘Cinchonidine’ and ‘Cineole’. They are named after chemical substances used to make medicines. Hirst printed them in colour and in shades of grey. His wall-sized ‘The Last Supper’ (2006) consists of a series of framed images of medicine packaging. By slightly modifying those packaging, Hirst mocks the commercialization of the pharmaceutical industry. As Jesus hangs in the middle, his final supper consists of some mushroom pills.
In the Main Building, a few streets away, we go back in time. The theme is still ‘printed art’, which has been practiced since the 15th century. By printing their images, artists were able to reach many people. The museum shows early examples by Martin Schöngauer, Albrecht Dürer (his famous ‘Rhino’ from 1515) and Pieter Bruegel.
Rembrandt’s etchings are well known, it is moving to see so many people looking admiringly at the work of the Dutch artist who scratched these images with sure hand into the metal. His craftsmanship enabled him to get such lively images on paper by this indirect means. Rembrandt mainly etched Biblical scenes, landscapes and self-portraits.
Matisse’s ‘Young Student’ (1952) is also powerful in its simplicity. Juan Miró made ‘Boy with Red Sun’ (linocut, 1938) that was not revolutionary in itself, but the sophisticated use of colour in just red and blue gives it tension. Norway is represented by Edward Munch (‘The Kiss’, a 1902 woodcut).
When my spoilt senses reach saturation point after this lavish visual stimulation, the Picasso room has yet to begin. However, the 1952 Mediterranean landscape by the Spanish master is so stunning and so bright in colour that the energy pours back into my body. Picasso’s art is like a handful of stimulating chocolates and a strong espresso after a copious meal. Picasso conjured up miraculous compositions using various printing techniques.
Apart from the printing process, the artists in these three epic exhibitions have something else in common: they all present their artworks as if they took them no effort at all, while in reality those prints and sculptures are the products of practiced eyes, experienced hands and an enviable innate talent.