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Gloominess that can tickle your fancy

These paintings show us how feel-good emotions are not the only good emotions

By Asterion AvocadoPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
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Melancholy by Edvard Munch

Today here, in Melbourne, the sky is blue. Some clouds are welcomed as they spread in their whiteness the luminosity of the sun. However, I sigh. Missing a little bit of the melancholy of a gloomy day.

There should be a term for when you need to feel melancholic. I wonder if the Scandinavians or the Japanese have one. There should also be a term that encompasses all sad art. Finally, there should be a term for when one feels the need for emotional catharsis through sad art.

The art does not need to have sad backstories, though those are also appreciated (for the goal of pathos and catharsis). This kind of art is important, especially for those who, not unlike me, cannot paint their own emotions themselves. Painting is a way of communication, and communication needs more than a party of one. Thus, we, the audience of the art can also communicate through observation and analysis.

I like decorative paintings, but I also really like paintings with deep meanings. The search for an understanding of one's own emotions. And that is why I'd like to talk about three paintings by Frida Khalo, Edvard Munch, and David Caspar Friedrich.

The Wounded Deer, Frida Khalo, 1946

In The Wounded Deer, the face of a stoic Frida further humanised the scene of the wounded stag. A strong animal now caught into the game of life. Carma is the word Frida decided to use, written next to her signature. Does she feel like the pain served to her is deserved, or that nothing and no one, not even the strongest of stags, can escape the pain of destiny?

A storm in the background plays the funeral march for the best. The viewer is allowed the honour of keeping the moment: the deer still in motion, the lightning just striking ground and water.

The branch already there is the sign of the all-knowing power of destiny, it will play into its role as grave adornment.

Sure, the painting is sad. But one cannot help but feel honoured of having had the chance to lay eyes on it. Beautiful, in its strong but muted colours. As surreal as faith, and fate itself.

Portrait With Cigarette, Edvard Munch, 1895

Munch’s self-portrait with cigarette is my favourite painting at the moment. There, I said it. Biased as one can be.

The gloomy atmosphere is nostalgic, the brush energetic, and the man almost divine. I am so enthralled by the power of this piece that I insert it everywhere I can (you might expect it referenced in some future essays as well).

The painter’s stare is stunning, as if he is gazing directly at an audience that is staring back. Despite the fact that there is no camera present, he appears to be staring directly into one’s soul, evoking the feeling of an old paranormal film.

Ghostly. A spell has been cast on the painter and now on me, the observer.

The image’s blue is spooky, yet it’s gentle in the way it changes with the light, nearly making the subject ethereal.

Monk by the Sea, Caspar David Friedrich, 1808–10

Monk by the sea is such as special painting. From the content to the form, to the style and colours. It is all one unforgettable and organic picture. It’s still-storytelling: the landscape acquires movement and time thanks to the conscious presence of the monk.

The monk is so dark and small that he has become lost in the water.

However, because of the scale and perspective, something remarkable happens for us, the viewers.

We become the figure. In front of the dark blue sky, we might be in wonder and frightened, little and cold.

The location of the landscape has been identified as Rügen, an island off Germany’s north-east coast that Friedrich painted regularly. The horizon line in the artwork is exceptionally low and runs unbroken from one end of the canvas to the other.

Friedrich uses colour and shape to convey an individual’s feelings usually associated with the Sublime. The deep blue water is flecked with white, implying that a storm is approaching. Blue-grey clouds accumulate over the monk, giving way to a cleaner, calmer blue in the upper reaches.

What does this painting make you feel? Fear, awe? Does it make you think?

For me, the size and colour of the sky evoke fear and existential angst. But the monk gives me hope. He is so small in front of the vastness of nature, of the sublime, still…he stands.

There you have them. A wounded deer, a troubled man smoking a cigarette, and a monk lost in the vastness. I sincerely hope you too feel as these paintings pay homage to your melancholy and other gloomy feelings.

Since the ancient times of Greek literature and theatre people have been profoundly affected by stories and images of tragedy, or sadness. This is thanks to the powers of pathos and catharsis. We are humans, we feel, and feelings need somewhere to be channelled to. Especially when complex, and difficult to gather in their entireties.

People obsessed with positivity will tell you that every time you don’t feel happy there is something wrong, something that needs to be changed. Don’t believe them.

Accept all of your emotions, all of your needs. If needed, search for art.

art
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About the Creator

Asterion Avocado

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