Fall – a season of change! The leaves drop, the wind turns cold, and Christmas gifts line the aisles for early-bird shoppers. As I brainstormed possible art pieces for this article, I found that a lot of autumn artwork looks very much the same: orange leaves, sheaves of hay, bare trees, and pale skies. I began to wonder if there were any artists out there who saw past the changing colors to something else about fall, something even better than the pastel hues that grace the trees. (Okay, I’ll stop being poetic now.) After many long hours of searching, I stumbled upon an artist named Marc Chagall and his somewhat autumn-inspired piece The Promenade.
Take one look at this piece and you’ll notice it’s not your average orange-leafed landscape. Geometric green shapes make up the turf; homes drawn in dreadfully inaccurate perspective have taken the place of quaint cottages; and instead of the usual, raincoat-clad lovers, we find a ghoulishly-grinning gentleman appearing to fly his wife as a kite. Now before I get any further, let me establish something: I didn’t choose this piece because I like the style or think the artist has any talent whatsoever. In all honesty when I first looked at this piece, I laughed. I appreciate bending the rules of reality in some situations for art, but this? I saw no meaning behind it, and the gentleman’s pasted smile was sure to leer into my nightmares. But here I am, giving it a chance! After all, fall is all about change, so maybe we can learn to like this seemingly-meaningless, modernist style.
Let’s begin with a little context. Marc Chagall (1887-1985) was a Belorussian-born artist whose work was heavily influenced by the politics and world around him. As World War I and the revolutions in Russia broke out, his art began to reflect the impact of the war on his life and the lives of many others. In fall of 1917 (the same year he painted this piece), the October Revolution took place, which ended up granting the Jews liberation and equal rights, giving Chagall an exhilarating sense of freedom and optimism which his artwork reflected.
Phew! Now with all that out of the way, we can look at The Promenade through a lens of historical accuracy—a lens that makes the painting no less bizarre.
If you read the previous article of this column, you’ll remember that I dissected, minced, and pulled apart the Last Supper, examining each detail for significance. I’ve been trying to do that with The Promenade, but somehow every time I look at it, all I see is that ghoulish smile.
It’s a self-portrait, and the woman is his wife Bella, the joy and light of his life. The cityscape behind them is most likely his home town of Vitebsk. I tried to find meaning behind the fact that a church-like building is the only differently-colored structure. Perhaps it’s the place he finds to be somehow different from the rest? Or that bluish tree on the left—does it signify the hopes of days past or the promises of the future; or did he merely need to add some balance to the painting? Or perhaps all of this is a ruse by an overtaxed writer who had to crank out an 800-word article with absolutely zero inspiration. Really, what am I supposed to do with a weird painting of a flying lady wearing really uncomfortable-looking shoes?
And so we come to the end of the article, where I’m supposed to interpret the painting and leave you with a deep, resonating message. Even paintings that aren’t supposed to mean anything always reveal the artist’s thoughts and feelings—our art betrays us, really. No matter what you do, your experiences and emotions will always come through, so we can read at least a little bit into Chagall’s worldview through this piece. And what do we see through our discriminating, Christian lens? Well, we still see a flying lady and a creepy smile.
“What’s the point?” you’re probably screaming by now. Well, when he painted this piece in 1917, Chagall was in the midst of several major changes. He himself emerged from the shadows of the art world to fame and prestige, the Jews went from subjugation to liberation, and his lonely life shifted to joy when he married Bella. But in all his fame and glory it’s interesting that he chose to show this scene: an autumn walk in the park with Bella at his side (or more accurately, above him). Out of all the changes in his life he could have painted, he chose her.
He didn’t portray his fame or money, and he didn’t even try to make this portrait sentimental and beautiful. (No sappy swirling leaves here!) His own face is disfigured, and his portrayal of his wife is not exactly flattering. No, in the midst of his fame and happiness, he translated his emotions onto paper as best as he could. It’s a work of pure joy, ecstasy, and fullness of life. And no, it’s not realistic simply because some things can’t be expressed through realism and the normal rules that make sense to our brains. Though I may laugh at his work, I’m sure he doesn’t care. So maybe, just maybe, if we really want to squeeze some meaning out of this piece, it’s that we must reflect the joy and life that are within us as best we can, no matter the other changes taking place around us. Not everyone is Michelangelo, but who cares? The joy is ours; what does it matter if the world points us out and calls us crazy? After all, isn’t a risen Savior just as ludicrous as a flying lady? Be full of the joy of the Life that’s within you. The joy is ours, who cares if the world laughs?
Works Cited
“The Promenade, 1917 – by Marc Chagall.” Marcchagall.net, https://www.marcchagall.net/the-promenade.jsp
“Nov 7, 1917 CE: October Revolution.” Education.nationalgeographic.org,https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/october-revolution
“Marc Chagall.” Biography.com, Apr. 27, 2017, https://www.biography.com/artist/marc-chagall