Kazimir Malevich

In the early twentieth century, the manifesto began to become very popular in organized art history movements. Manifestos were once the domain of philosophical and political movements, but now artists were writing 'em too. This heralded the birth of what we can call the "artist philosopher" (that's my own term), which is basically a painter whose work may be deep and meaningful but isn't something you'd want to hang on your wall.

For eight hundred years the Russians really didn't have anything to show us artwise except Candyland-looking basilicas and heavily gilded, sleepy-eyed icons. But that changed shortly before the Bolshevik Revolution with the coming of two new movements in Russian art, Suprematism and Constructivism. The lithographed red and black posters with lots of backwards "N"s and "R"s and the big solid statues of well-built women holding sickles that may come to your mind when you think of Soviet art belonged to the Constructivist movement. But its harbinger, Suprematism, was far less interesting. The movement's creator, Kazimir Malevich, is notable for his ability to crank out hundreds of paintings in a short period of time that basically all looked the same.

Kazimir Malevich, Red Square. 1915, oil on canvas.

Kazimir Malevich, Black Square. 1913, oil on canvas.

Kazimir Malevich, Suprematist Composition White on White. 1918, oil on canvas.

If you're somewhat afraid that you're missing something, or if you feel a tad ignorant because you just don't "get" it, never fear. Take the advice from someone who's more than a bit knowledgeable concerning this sort of thing and just don't read too much into it. They're squares. That's all. Just fucking squares. And if you ever got a chuckle from any of those eighties movies where some culture snob looks at a painting of a square and snobbishly remarks on how brilliant and thrilling it is while all the cool kids laugh about how he's really just an idiot, you have Malevich to thank.

But just for the sake of it, let's get to the topic of Malevich as a philosopher. To really strip it down to the bones, here's what a Suprematist thinks:

1. Nothing is more important (or "supreme") than feeling.
2. You cannot use art to produce feelings if your art is actually of something that exists in real life. Only master forms can produce feeling.
3. The square is the ultimate master form.

See, that's pretty simple, huh? What sort of "feelings" do Malevich's paintings invoke for you? Yep, I'm drawing a blank too.

All of this talk about art producing "feelings" and how you can't paint a rose or a bunch of guys in a boat and produce these "feelings" because only lines and squiggles can do that may remind you of the artistic philosophy of another artist, who was also a Russian by birth (but a German by all other definitions).

Wassily Kandinsky, Composition VII. 1913, oil on canvas.

Now THIS is what a non-objective painting should look like. Not only did it probably take more than fifteen minutes to complete, but it really does invoke feelings in the viewer. I feel a surge of creativity and inspiration when I look at it, but you may feel frustration, anger or indignation. That's the idea, y'know?

In my humble opinion (and that's the only one that matters here), we shouldn't even compare this Malevich dumbass to the Bauhaus color theorist and legendary art educator Josef Albers, who painted a whole series of "homages to the square."

Josef Albers, Homage to the Square. 1965, acrylic on canvas.

This may be an homage to the ultimate master form, yes, but it's all about color, not form. And yes, you could go to Michael's and buy a pre-stretched canvas and a few fifty cent bottles of Delta Ceramcoat acrylic and do one of these yourself- but depending on your decor it might look quite striking over your sofa.

Although he usually chose not to, Malevich could actually paint quite well. He painted many very good portraits and objective paintings before and after he founded the Suprematist movement. Of course, as far as the "after" part goes he really didn't have much choice; the Stalinist regime forbid all forms of nonrepresentational art, arguing that they were bourgeois. But he signed all of these paintings with a black square. And when he died in Leningrad in 1935 his body was displayed beneath his beloved black square. (Hmph... now I feel a little guilty for slagging him so badly. He must have really loved his squares.)