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Max Liebermann, Briefe [Letters]. Collected, annotated and edited by Ernst Braun. Volume Two (1896-1901). Part One


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German Artists' Writings in the XX Century - 9

Max Liebermann
Briefe [Letters]
Collected, annotated and edited by Ernst Braun
Volume Two (1896-1901)


2012, 579 pages, Baden-Baden, Deutscher Wissenschaftlicher-Verlag (DWV)

Part One

Review by Francesco Mazzaferro

[Original Version: November 2016 - New Version: April 2019]

Fig. 1) Max Liebermann, A Street in Milan, with no indication of date (Published in Pan, IV, 1898, N. 3, p. 142 http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/pan1898_99_2/0008?ft_query=Liebermann&action=fulltextsearch&navmode=fulltextsearch)


The second volume of the correspondence of Liebermann coincides with his ascendancy as a man and an artist. It is for this reason that we are reviewing it in a two-part article. These were important years to both Liebermann and the German art, with the birth of the Berlin Secession. It was the period of his success in the German capital, thirty years since the beginning of his artistic activity. Between 1896 and 1901- that is between his 49 and 54 years - Liebermann received in Berlin the honours that he had previously obtained only abroad (for example, in Paris, with the Légion d’Honneur [1]); for instance, he was finally admitted in the Senate of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts (his applications had been twice rejected in previous years) also thanks to the unexpected support of Anton von Werner, his historical rival. Upon reaching a situation of full social and professional recognition, he enjoyed the luxury of searching for full revenge. Thus, as we will see in the second part of this post, he founded, and became president of the local Secession, and animated a parallel organized circuit for the marketing of artworks, different from the ones traditionally operating in the German capital. He also organized four exhibitions of the Secession, respectively in 1899, 1900 and two in 1901. The exhibits proved to be a great success with the public, including in commercial terms, and above all showed that even in Berlin there was room for an organized opposition outside of the more conservative artistic circuits, related to the royal house and therefore particularly strong in the city. At the same time, his vast network of contacts in the art world and the creation of an alternative trade circuit helped him to establish himself as a very successful nonconformist painter; in 1900 a monograph was published on him (very rare circumstance in those years for living artists). As we will see at the end of the second part of this article, the counterpart of the success was envy: for the first time, in 1901, the painter was victim in first person of an anti-Semitic and nationalist written attack, albeit confined to the activity of a minor art critic, who was hiding behind a pseudonym. Liebermann was specifically condemned for being a leading exponent of a new centre of power in the German art market, coagulated around him and the Cassirer cousins, the rising stars of art trade and publishing. It is with his response to this attack that the second volume of letters ends.

I feel, however, important to propose to the reader also a critical reading of the correspondence. While we certainly have to do with a personality in the foreground of the Berlin cultural life, we should also note that he was, so to speak, less and less a painter (in the sense of the author of new canvases) and increasingly more an organizer of his own success and of the fortune of a group of artists connected with him or in tune with his ideas. In general, also the features of the letters seems to betray a certain gentrification; perhaps because of age, or perhaps for the sake of posing as a member of the academic world, in his letters were suddenly abounding learned quotations in Latin, and the style - once more discursive and agile – was sometimes becoming heavier [2]. Another sign of the new times was the increased attention that Liebermann devoted to the photographic reproduction and management of the copyrights of the artworks which he had painted in the past, compared to the creation of new works. Many letters were devoted exclusively to these commercial issues [3]: in most cases, it was about making sure works on display in museums would be properly photographed, so that they could be reproduced in books, catalogues, brochures and magazines. In 1897 were also mentioned for the first time the slides, which the art critic Alfred Koeppen used to give a university lecture on the painter [4].

Judging from the correspondence, one might almost say that by now, during the time of the year spent in Berlin, Liebermann was mainly playing the role of great art impresario, dedicating to painting only a few hours per day. His art production was concentrated above all during the three-month holidays in the beloved Netherlands. His world, which once extended far beyond Berlin (with important activities in Paris, Munich, Hamburg and Dresden), was seemingly more and more focused around the German capital, where he created indeed a very strong business relationship with the new gallery of the cousins Paul and Bruno Cassirer. Liebermann also took the risk of seeking legal action against the administration of the city, which had denied him the possibility of raising the height of the family home, in the very central Pariser Platz, in order to obtain a studio in the attic (the administration was opposed, to preserve the original profile of the square, facing the Brandenburg Gate). The legal dispute ended with a favourable ruling for him, which Brand transcribed in the volume [5]. In September 1898, Liebermann announced triumphantly to Tschudi that the work was completed and welcomed the conclusion of the story "as a demonstration of free citizenship against the arbitrariness of the police” [6].

Fig. 2) Berlin, Pariser Platz in 1894

But, beyond the clues that seem to show at times an overconfident attitude, the reasons to ask questions about these years are primarily linked to the start of the experience of the Secession. At least in the second volume of the correspondence, it is not immediately apparent what aesthetic reasons were binding the artists of the Secession. Moreover, rather than guaranteeing the involvement of young artists, making sure that the new exhibition spaces would host new talents and foster new ideas, Liebermann, as President, was apparently mostly preoccupied to warrant that the exhibits of the Secession hosted works by well-established artists in Germany (Leibl) or already famous outside the country (Rodin). The impression is anyway that a common orientation was lacking. In aesthetic matters, in fact, Lieberman expressed highly severe positions against symbolism and was in favour of a type of painting celebrating nature and representing people in the open air. However, the Secession which he presided proved to be a far-from-uniform art movement in that respect, where symbolists painters where well represented. It seemed to prevail the (logic) aspiration that the shows would achieve a success in sales, also benefiting from the fresh collecting fever that made the new German middle bourgeoisie of those years (consisting of notaries, lawyers, doctors, dentists, etc.) hungry of French Impressionist and post-Impressionist paintings. In short, in a universe where secessionist groups elsewhere were often characterized by the prophet-artist myth (think of Klimt, Schiele, Munch, Hodler), Liebermann’s art world stayed well grounded (you will allow me an unusual parallel: Liebermann does not look like an Andy Warhol of the seventies, but a Jeff Koons of our time). We will try to read his letters along with other texts drafted in those years, some of them chosen and proposed with great ability by Ernst Braun in the appendix to the volume, to advance some considerations on lights and shadows of the birth of the German pictorial avant-garde on the rise of the new century.


Painter and entrepreneur

Fig. 3) Reinhard and Lindner, Picture of Max Liebermann,
Source: Hans Rosenhagen, Max Liebermann, 1900
https://archive.org/stream/liebermann00rose#page/2/mode/2up

Also in the second volume, the letters confirm the image of Liebermann as a man with a great sense of concreteness, excellent organizational skills, acumen and ease in weaving and cultivating relationships. But was Lieberman still a painter?

Just read what he wrote to Max Linde in February 1898, to understand that the question is legitimate. At least in Berlin, he had become a public man: "Unfortunately, I cannot dedicate myself to work: dinners every night, when I cannot eat or drink anything because of my many ills: during the day many bureaucratic hindrances and the most varied difficulties, visits, lectures to female students and other stupid things" [7]. In the first volume of the letters, we had seen him engaged in an intense production lasting more than twenty years, during which his work evolved from predominantly rural Flemish subjects to portraiture and landscape painting; the second volume is almost creating the impression that the painting had by now become a secondary activity, all concentrated in the summer months in the Netherlands. There was in my opinion mainly one exception: for the first time, Liebermann became deeply involved with murals, accepting the task entrusted to him by the Schnitzler family to paint the rooms of the castle Klink in Mecklenburg (the cycle went lost at the end of the second world War).

Fig. 4) Max Liebermann, Herd’s boy, reproduction of a (lost) mural painting in the Klink Castle, Mecklenburg, 1898.
Source: https://archive.org/stream/maxliebermanndes00paul#page/118/mode/2up/search/klink
Fig. 5) Max Liebermann, Family of workers, reproduction of a (lost) mural painting in the Klink Castle, Mecklenburg, 1898. Source: https://archive.org/stream/maxliebermanndes00paul#page/116/mode/2up/search/klink

The cycle of mural paintings (they were not frescoes, but oil on canvas laying on the wall) was a new challenge for the painter, who was for the first time copying with the problem of monumental art. It was a topic he discussed several times with Bode [8]. Then he announced to Max Linde: "You will surely be pleased to know that Mr. Schnitzler - his wife is a member of the Borsig family - gave me the task of painting a room in their castle. He loves so much my sketches that he agreed to everything I asked. And since I can paint what I wanted, I'm really enjoying it. Hopefully, I will do something suitable out of it and later on the state administration will finally decide to assign me a commission. In the end, you get old and you would also like to have done something great, even from a spatial point of view. It is true that art is not measured in square meters, and a small Degas is better than the largest academic daub" [9]. And with a clear sexual innuendo, he concluded: "But a man may well want to try something new from time to time" [10]. He confided to Kollmann: "Only the future will show if I can succeed in this task, but it interests me enormously" [11].

Fig. 6) Max Liebermann, Autumn, reproduction of a (lost) mural painting in the Klink Castle, Mecklenburg, 1898.
Source: https://archive.org/stream/maxliebermanndes00paul#page/114/mode/2up

Fig. 7) Max Liebermann, Summer, reproduction of a (lost) mural painting in the Klink Castle, 1898.
Source: https://archive.org/stream/liebermann00rosegoog#page/n102/mode/2up

Fig. 8) Max Liebermann, Winter, reproduction of a (lost) mural painting in the Klink Castle, Mecklenburg, 1898. Source: https://archive.org/stream/maxliebermanndes00paul#page/116/mode/2up/search/klink
Fig. 9) Max Liebermann, Women who collect firewood, Lithograph published in Pan, 5, IV, 1899, p. 205
http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/pan1899_1900_2/0099?sid=17f9246985ad38d24ed7eda39a1c739e

With the exception of the cycle in the Klink castle, the sheer annual size of new art production mainly depended on the productivity of the artist during the Dutch summers. In February 1897 he wrote to one of his principal trade agents, Albert Kollmann, and described the previous summer events: "From London I travelled, as usual, to Laren, where I painted a bit. Here [in Berlin] I did some portraits. In general business is just fine, especially in Frankfurt where - after the personal exhibition two years ago – have remained twenty paintings" [12]. He was back in Laren in July 1897 [13] and again a year later. In August 1898 he excused himself with Tschudi for not having followed him in a trip to Paris and London: "After nine months, during which I had produced so much junk in my studio, I had absolutely necessary to work in front of nature. And in the five weeks in Laren I have painted as much I could, despite the awful weather" [14]. In the summer of 1900 was first in Leiden [15] and than in Scheveningen [16]. He wrote jokingly: "In the three months that I was in the Netherlands (...) I painted horses and naked women (but not on horseback)" [17].


In search of fame

One of the recurring themes of these years was the desire to gain notoriety: a completely understandable ambition, when you consider that the painter had been active for three decades, and now saw new opportunities, which should be seized upon.

Fig. 10) Photo of some painting rooms at the Galerie du Luxembourg.
Source: Léonce Bénédite, Le Musée du Luxembourg, 1894 http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k56271312/f29.image

This drive manifested itself in a permanent attempt to get the best exposure conditions of the works from the organizers of the exhibitions, especially when it came to international exhibitions. It must be said, in this regard, that the art shows of those years were characterized by exhibition standards entirely different from those of today: all the space on the walls was used up to the last centimetre, and the paintings were placed according to an implicit hierarchy of values: those of greater value had to be more accessible to the visitor's scrutiny (it was then said, using a French expression, that they were en pleine cimaise), while the others were placed wherever possible, including in places that were not well lit and were difficult to observe.

In February 1896 Liebermann learned from the landscape painter Otto Feld (1860-1911), who had just moved to Paris, that one of his paintings exhibited at the Palais du Luxembourg, the museum where exhibitions of contemporary artists were held at the time, was badly placed. It was The Biergarten in Brannenburg, a work of 1893. He answered the colleague thanking him, but was also admitting that he had insufficient contacts to secure a better position [18]. Nevertheless, he immediately contacted Woldemar von Seidlitz, the director of the Dresden Gallery, of whom he knew the good relations with the Luxembourg Director, Léonce Bénédite, asking him to intercede on his behalf. Through Seidlitz, he received, one month later, the surprised reaction of the conservator of the Paris museum: "I confess, in all honesty, that I was very surprised of the observation you made to me about the position of this picture. It is at the centre of a wall, surrounded by works that cause him no wrong, exposed to great light and is getting a legitimate success. I would have found it difficult to expose it better" [19]. It must be said that these were sincere words: the painting was acquired by the museum and the same Bénédite included it in the official catalogue (the work is still preserved at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris).

Fig. 11) Liebermann’s picture in the catalogue of the paintings of the Musée du Luxembourg,
in the edition edited by Léonce Bénédite in 1912.
Source: http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k6463184s/f245.image

The same situation arose again in 1900, reflecting the fact that Liebermann considered the way his works were exhibited in Parisian group shows as a very important aspect. The painter participated at the Paris International Universal Exposition of 1900 with 'Old lady with goats', a ten-year old painting; it was one of his most fortunate artworks, first exhibited at the Kunstverein in Munich, where it was given the gold medal in 1890 (see the review of the first volume of the letters), and where it is still kept today at the Neue Pinakothek of the Bavarian capital. The Paris exhibition was held once again at the Galerie du Luxembourg, where evidently it was customary to occupy all the spaces in order to arrange the pictures. The German section of the Paris exhibition was organized by Lenbach, a famous Munich-based painter whom he personally knew since many years (they met first in their thirties in Venice in 1878), but with whom there had been many frictions: Lenbach, in fact, was a fierce opponent of all secessionist movements. An unspecified friend, who had just visited the exhibition, informed Liebermann that his picture was exposed above a work by Eduard Gebhardt (1838 -1925), a member of the Düsseldorf school and a religious painter with a realist style, strongly inspired by the German Renaissance painting. The news was intolerable for him, and urged him to immediately send a telegram to Lenbach and a letter to his colleague Max Fritz (1849-1913?), Fritz had been given the task to take care of the interests of the Berlin artists at the Paris exhibition [20]. Liebermann claimed his work should be exhibited en pleine cimaise. It was 24 April 1900. At first, Lenbach did not respond to the telegram. After four days, Liebermann wrote to August Schricker (1838-1912), director of the (then German) Strasbourg museum, complaining that the Paris show hosted as many as 14 works of Lenbach, and thus suggesting that his own work was actually hidden to the public of the Galerie du Luxembourg so as to favour commercially the works of the Munich master: he threatened to withdraw his picture, if it were not better exposed [21]. He accompanied his letter with a publication of Lichtwark, the Hamburg art critic who was his friend and had drafted positive reviews in his favour, to confirm that he was an important representative of contemporary German art.

The letter must have produced some effect. Max Fritz informed him that the painting had been relocated, and described the new location as 'very favourable'. Yet Liebermann did not trust him and asked his friend Theodor Wolff (1868-1943), a journalist working at the time as Paris correspondent of the newspaper Berliner Tageblatt, to check the information. The latter confirmed the transfer, but only spoke of a relative improvement in the setting. A second letter to Max Fritz, of 29 April, gave the gallery a new ultimatum: either the picture was placed en pleine cimaise or it would be withdrawn. Liebermann added he was one of the very few German artists known in Paris and stated that the exhibition would gain from accommodating his requests [22]. On the same day, Lenbach sent him a resentful telegram from Paris: "Your correspondent has lied or is blind: your picture is at an appropriate height (and perfectly in line with its composition) in the most beautiful room" [23]. He added a few considerations which proved the intense rivalry between Munich and Berlin: "We were really disappointed from Berlin. You should have sent us a lot more; the works that we have received from the gifted Scarbina, from Menzel and from the others promising artists were not really the best; we got nothing from von Werner, from Begas, only two insignificant watercolours from Menzel ... [24]. Liebermann replied on May 1, with a letter to Theodor Wolff: he stated that "since 10-12 years, that is since I have started to gain authority in Germany, Lenbach has the greatest aversion for my art (in which he sees, rightly so, the most dangerous enemy for his own)." He confided to consider Max Fritz as a real nil both as an artist and as a man [25]. And then he explained: "In France the admission jury attributes to the works the numbers 1, 2, 3 etc. The number 1 must be placed in the lowest row; this is called honneur de la cymaise [sic], and a picture that is respected is hanging on the cimaise. I have this right even more, since I am displaying a single picture, while they have eleven Lenbach, three Stuck, and all of them are obviously placed in low places. (...) If Lenbach is so selfish as to want to show eleven of his paintings, while the Berliners are granted only one, at least must place it well" [26].

In short, what looked like a repartee between two mischievous colleagues was instead a real battle to give greater or lesser visibility in Paris to the art of the north or the south of Germany (something similar occurred in the following decades even at the Venice Biennale, where the solution was found in applying a rule of alternation, giving priority once to Berlin and once to Munich). It was also a sign of the tensions between the two secessionist groups (in his letters Liebermann did not only criticise Lenbach, but also Stuck, and therefore not only the academic painters but also the Munich secessionists).

On September 1, Liebermann wrote to the art critic Hans Rosenhagen (who - as we shall see - had just published a book about him): "It is quite difficult for me to understand your remark that the Munich artists would be irritated with us: we would have many more reasons to be unhappy with them. In Paris they simply sacrificed us, and they did not dare opposing the juggernaut Lenbach. Lenbach and Werner, this noble pair of Dioscuri trying in parallel to rise to art Bismarcks, are both equally dangerous. I do not understand why the Munich Secession is not aware of it: Slevogt and companions should take strong action against the tyrant: the leaders of the Secession are too soft or are marginalized with real diktats. I hope that the scandal of Paris - because you cannot call the German artists’ exhibition otherwise - will open people's eyes. Lenbach is even more dangerous than Werner, because, in addition to his bovine brutality, he also has talent” [27].

Fig. 12) A 1902 brochure containing all the interventions on the "Decadence of Munich as a city of art"

And he concluded: "Unfortunately, the liberals - both in art as well as in general - are not joining their forces together, while Werner and Lenbach, although poles apart, are able to ally themselves immediately against us. They are preaching the fight against the retrogrades, whether in Berlin or in Munich. The flirt in Munich between the secession and the crown prince will be paid dearly. You can have power only if you can rely on your own" [28]. A year later, in 1901, Rosenhagen enlivened the controversy over the "Decadence of Munich as a city of art", with an article [29] which will be followed by a very long train of polemics.


Why the geographic focus of Liebermann’s business moved from Munich to Lubeck

An element differentiating the correspondence in the first and second volume is the different attitude of the painter vis-à-vis Munich, which was the city where he had studied in the early eighties and which he still preferred as art centre until the early nineties. Over the last decade of the century, Munich was becoming an increasingly hostile and faraway city for the Berlin painter. Conversely, Liebermann was getting more and more interested in the artistic life of Northern Germany and (probably as the result of a series of random events that materialized around 1897) specifically of Lubeck. It is here that had moved Albert Kollmann, his historical agent who had helped him at the beginning and had sold his paintings in Munich. And also here lived the ophthalmologist Max Linde, known to history as a collector of art of the impressionists and the early twentieth century, and as the patron of Edvard Munch, but certainly also a great supporter of the work of Liebermann. Linde was a figure that Liebermann always treated favourably: when he painted a portrait of him and his wife seemed not to like it particularly, he said immediately that he was willing to make changes [30] and offered to leave immediately for Lubeck (which became a frequent destination) [31]; or even to paint a second one [32] (at the end, the portrait was accepted in its original form) [33]. And one great friend of Linde was the Lübeck-based art critic Rosenhagen, who turned to become one of the most dedicated supporter of Liebermann, as we will see.

In short, the commercial focus of the painter moved from Munich to Lubeck, largely due to the triad Kollmann-Rosenhagen-Linde, which occupied a large part of the correspondence in the second volume, while the interest for the Bavarian capital, prevailing in the first volume of letters, was waning.

The judgments on Munich were increasingly sceptical. Immediately after his election to the Senate at the Academy of Berlin, Liebermann wrote to Bode: "If Anton von Werner [editor's note: who had nevertheless voted for his election] was replaced by the right man, in a short time Berlin would become the city driving art not only in Germany, but worldwide. Since Munich is dead: I just saw the last exhibition here dedicated to Uhde, Dill, etc .. [editor's note: the school of Dachau] and is even more bleak than the last Munich exhibition" [34]. These words were dated February 1898. And in September of the same year he expressed even clearer words in a letter to Tschudi: "Finally, I find Munich (like last year) in strong decline, both in painting and in the architecture. Everyone complains, and is disheartened and would like to move to Berlin" [35].

There are two elements that must be considered here, to clarify the reasons for the alleged end of what was still being considered in Germany as the painting city par excellence. First of all, the Munich Secession, founded in 1892, was increasingly in difficulty due to the predominant weight in the artistic life of the city of Franz von Lenbach, the painter about whom we already talked as organiser of the German exhibition at the Paris Universal Exhibition of 1900. Those difficulties eventually brought some of the reference Munich artists (Slevogt and Corinth) to join the Berlin Secession in the following years. Secondly, the Munich Secession, under the leadership of Franz von Stuck, evolved ever more clearly in the direction of symbolism, i.e. of an art orientation which was particularly averse to Liebermann’s taste. In 1897 the painter visited the seventh international exhibition of art in Munich, but was disappointed: "The new is not good and the good is not new" [36]. On the occasion of the preparations for the first exhibition of the Berlin Secession, the painter told Tschudi he had to travel "like a homing pigeon" [37] to Munich in April 1899, asking for the support of the local group, especially in terms of paintings to be exhibited; he added however: "I'm afraid I will not discover any new genius in Munich (as with Bordeaux wine, the last twenty vintages have not been good) and we will have to be content with old and well-tested brands" [38]. These very private utterances reveal that a deep rift was now opening between the secessionists those in Berlin and those in Munich, although about half of the works exhibited at the first exhibition of the Berlin Secession came from Munich, thanks to the mediation of Liebermann. The reasons of the rift seem to be more commercial than ideological.


The growing success with the public in Berlin

In 1897 Liebermann exhibited in Hamburg [39], Copenhagen, Stockholm (where he was given an award by the king of Sweden [40]) and Venice (at the second Biennale, where he was also member of the jury).

The Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Berlin dedicated a personal section to him, within the large group exhibition (the "Große Berliner Kunstaustellung") organized every year in the German capital. Although it was an unusual honour, the painter was hesitating: he had always been harshly critical of academia. In March 1897, he wrote to Lichtwark: "I do not know whether I've already written to you that I am preparing a solo exhibition, hosted as a special initiative in the framework of the academic exhibition of this year. I'm afraid I was just foolish to accept the invitation. On the other hand, I had no choice: if I had refused the offer, my enemies would have simply said that I was afraid to show my stuff" [41]. The sour polemical comments against Anton von Werner (President of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts ) continued, however, before [42], during [43] and after the show [44].

Yet Liebermann eventually agreed and worked hard to pick his best works, asking the respective owners to loan them to the exposers [45]. Often he had to engage in exhausting negotiations: the painter wanted to gather all his best paintings, but the directors of galleries owning them (including friends, as Lichtwark in Hamburg) were unwilling to provide them [46]. On 8 May 1897, Liebermann wrote to Max Linde, appearing surprised at the success of his solo exhibition: "My show in Berlin seems to appeal to people (I still have serious doubts whether this will have effects in some positive or negative way on the commercial value of my paintings). And anyway, if you organize an exhibition - and here I collected 25-30 paintings, and a large number of drawings, engravings and lithographs - it is better to be successful. Even my most visceral opponents among my colleagues showed to be very favorably impressed by my things and the lay-out of the room" [47]. On 9 June he reiterated, always writing to Linde, that the success was sensational and that those paintings that twenty years earlier had been derided, were now celebrated.

Fig. 13) Melchior Lechter, Poster of the Grosse Berliner Kunstausstellung 1897

While the exhibition in Berlin was still ongoing, the news arrived that the emperor had given him the Grosse goldene Medaille for a painting shown at a parallel international art exhibition in Dresden [48]. Full of enthusiasm, he announced he had obtained the gold medal to many friends, also receiving many congratulations; to see his talent finally recognized - he wrote to Linde - was like finishing the rigmarole of infectious diseases in children [49]. Moreover, some of his paintings, which he had originally sold abroad, were returning home and were finally accessible to the German public: the Leipzig Gallery, for instance, bought some of them from some French collectors [50]. He was also appointed Chairman of the Verein Berliner Künstler, the association of Berlin artists [51]. The number of awards seemed to have no end.

In February 1898 Max wrote a triumphant letter to Bode: he had been finally elected by a majority as a full member of the Senate of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, winning on two competitors, the sculptors Meunier and Breuer. Even Anton von Werner had voted in his favour [52]. This was not a foregone conclusion: in 1896, Liebermann had to confess to his colleague Otto Feld of having been rejected for the second time in the competition [53]. Immediately after the appointment, he visited the Academy to thank for the nomination, and met there the Minister of Culture (Kultusminister) in person, Robert Bosse, who made him many compliments [54]. In short, it would be really very hard to find evidence of a negative attitude of the official circles about him, at least in those months.


Liebermann as artistic and commercial intermediary of Rodin, Whistler and Meunier

Liebermann was convinced that the renewal of art taste in Berlin depended upon the dissemination of the work of foreign artists already famous elsewhere, but still not sufficiently known in the city: it was the case of the French Rodin, of the American Whistler and the Belgian Meunier. He addressed them several times by letter, proposing exhibitions and, in some cases, making missteps.

The first evidence of a correspondence between Liebermann and Rodin dated back to June 1896 [55]. The painter addresses him in a respectful manner, opening the letter with cher maître. Liebermann was about to travel to Paris, where he was accompanying the Swiss art historian and critic Hugo von Tschudi, the newly appointed director of the Nationalgalerie in Berlin. It was an important trip because Tschudi - whom Liebermann considered the only one capable of moving things in Berlin, as he wrote in a letter in November of that year [56] to the Director of the Applied Art Museum in Leipzig, Richard Graul [57] - was using this circumstance to buy for the Berlin museum thirty paintings of French artists such as Manet, Monet and Degas.

Two years later, in July 1898, Rodin explained he was not able to send immediately any works to Berlin: they were scattered among various exhibitions. And yet there was a clear sign of interest [58]. In March 1899 Liebermann started a counterattack, urging him to accept an exhibition of his works in Berlin in October of the same year [59].

On 1 June 1900, Liebermann wrote to Rodin to inform him that he had been "elected by the General Assembly as a corresponding member of the Berlin Secession" [60]. The only condition was that members would not be able to exhibit their work in any other location in Berlin, during the exhibitions of the Secession.

In June 1896 Liebermann met in London James Whistler, an artist with whom he already had dealings in previous years but whom he had not yet met in person. He esteemed him so much that he decided to promote the dissemination of his works in Germany [61]. Here a peculiar event occurred. The German painter received the Arrangement in Grey and Black No.1 in loan from the Colnaghi Gallery in London. He first showed it to Bode, clearly thinking of a possible purchase by the Kaiser-Friderich-Museum [62] and then sold it to his friend Max Linde [63], a famous collector. But Whistler had no intention to sell the painting, and therefore he required its immediate return: Liebermann first reassured Linde on 20 May 1897 that he would find a way to convince the American colleague, although he also wrote that he had heard that he had a reputation to be a very eccentric person in the field of commercial negotiations [64]; then he had to give in and ask Linde to return the painting.

Returning to the meeting of 1896 between Lieberman and Whistler, the painter described the event in a letter to Richard Graul; soon returned to Germany, he wrote him from the health resort of Sankt Blasien, in July of that year. The text, full of enthusiasm, confirmed Liebermann’s passionate attitude, but at the same time betrayed his interest for German portraitists of the nineteenth century, who would be considered today as absolutely traditional and less relevant for art history: "In London I met Whistler and my admiration for him has risen. Among other things, his reproachs against UK colleagues reminds me of what I really think so too. And you can imagine how this has made me feeling at home. And I also saw at his house some portraits of ladies, but which portraits! They would hold up very well in comparison with Konrad Dielitz, even with [Max] Koner or Count Ferdinand Harrach and [Ludwig] Passini. A portrait, showing the mother-in-law, might figure well even close to a Velazquez or our master Nathaniel Sichel. Of course, the Senate of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts would give the palm to Sichel, but again I would not change judgement." [65]

In common with Meunier, Liebermann had a lively dislike for each conceptualism in art. Liebermann cited him (in French) when Meunier stated about Böcklin (a painter rather suspect also to Liebermann): "I do not understand his genius, but what I understand is that he is not a painter” [66].

Fig. 14) Max Liebermann, Portrait of Constantin Meunier, 1898. Published in: Pan, III, 4, 1897-1898, p. 244.
Source: http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/pan1897_98_2/0146?ft_query=Meunier&action=fulltextsearch&navmode=fulltextsearch

Liebermann drew a portrait of Meunier to publish it on the Pan journal [67]. Even here, though, a similar incident to the one with Whistler occurred. Liebermann - who obviously was focused on business and therefore was ready to sell everything for which he had a buyer at hands - described what happened to Max Linde, in March 1898: "You know that the Magdeburg museum bought my portrait of Meunier. I have come now to know that Meunier is really angry and took very badly that I have sold his portrait. You can imagine how it was embarrassing to have to write to Volbehr asking to cancel the sale. I look forward to his response" [68]. That answer letter from the museum has gone lost, but Ernst Braun has found the relevant documents in the archive of the city of Magdeburg, which document the return of the drawing [69]. Meunier wanted the design for himself, while Liebermann hoped to make sure it would be exposed to the public: he proposed it would be sold to the Brussels Gallery, or the Nationalgalerie in Berlin, but the Belgian sculptor always refused [70]. "My dear Liebermann – he wrote in October 1898 - of course I am keeping for me your portrait; I thought I had already announced it to you" [71]. Their relationship, however, did not suffer. When Meunier encountered problems with Berlin art brokers who were not paying, he asked Liebermann’s support [72] and found a solution thanks to him [73].


The favourable criticism of Hans Rosenhagen

One of the earliest and most dedicated supporters of Liebermann was the art critic Hans Rosenhagen (1858-1943), a scholar and a correspondent of the daily Tägliche Rundschau, a nineteenth-century newspaper of national-liberal inspiration whose publication was interrupted with the seizure of power by Adolf Hitler in 1933. Rosenhagen had been the editor-in-chief of the magazine Atelier between 1890 and 1896, and had published there the first positive reviews about the Association of the XI (see the review of the first volume of the letters), courageously resisting the monarchist circles. In the Tägliche Rundschau were published in December of 1896 two reviews by him on the new acquisitions of the Nationalgalerie. Among them were mentioned eighteen drawings of Liebermann: "And here we find represented with wonderful designs one of the best artists of our century, one of the few who follows his way without hesitation: Max Liebermann. One can understand at best the essence of his art in these drawings, which have been created under the direct influence of nature or on the basis of impressions it generates. What capacity to view, what keen sense for spatial effects, what simplicity of means and what monumentality of the overall effect! " [74]

In the first letter addressed to him, Liebermann thanked the art critic [75], and told him he had first showed the item to Tschudi and then to Seidlitz. He asked therefore to receive a new copy. In a second letter, the painter sent him the invitation to attend the second edition of the Venice Biennale [76]. In a third, immediately following missive, he dwelled with Rosenhagen on a forthcoming international exhibition in Stockholm [77]. This was the start of a regular exchange of messages, more and more marked by great friendship.

A year later, the critic wrote an article entitled On the National Art in Berlin [78] in which he frontally attacked Anton von Werner and the nationalist academicism in the capital. It was always Rosenhagen to sign one of the first supportin surveys on the new art gallery of Bruno and Paul Cassirer, only one week after its opening in November 1898 [79].

Fig. 15) The monograph of Hans Rosenhagen on Liebermann

Liebermann was increasingly achieving success and, in February 1898, was not ashamed to ask Alfred Lichtwark to write a monograph dedicated to him, in a series entitled "The artists who open the new century" by the publisher Georg Bondi [80]. The director of the Kunsthalle in Hamburg, while being his longtime friend, declined [81]: he said he did not feel up to it. Two years later, however, on 18 June 1900, Liebermann received a surprise from the Velhagen & Klasing publisher in Bielefeld: it was a copy of the monograph dedicated to him and written by Rosenhagen [82]. It was a one hundred page volume, full of illustrations, opening with the statement that the major contemporary artists were Manet and Liebermann. The text reviewed the whole art production, the evolution of style, the periods during which the external influence (eg from Menzel) was more evident, the themes, the use of light and perspective, the setting of space and form.

Lieberman sent to Rosenhagen an enthusiastic letter: "Dear Mr. Rosenhagen, an hour ago [Robert] Ernesti [editor of the publishing house] sent me your book and I want to send my warm thanks. Although I have not read it yet, I have already browsed it. I can not form an opinion yet, but I see that you wrote it with great dedication and love" [83]. What is striking, reading Rosenhagen’s monograph, is that - beyond the description of themes and works - he produced a formal criticism on Liebermann’ works which was based on categories (space, light, color, perspective) that were totally 'external' to the world of the painter: no references to that analysis never appeared in his letters. The painter must have been aware of it: in the second part of the same letter he wrote: "I would however want you to know how much I am deeply grateful to you, because I know very well how hard it can be the fatigue to write such an extensive book about a painter whose characteristic is not to be 'literary'. And if you can write on the literary, the rest is really difficult. It's a breath of air, almost not perceivable, and yet it is the whole essence of art" [84]. And anyway, a few days later, on July 1, 1900, Liebermann formally communicated his appreciation to the publisher and the positive judgments of Bode and Tschudi on the volume [85].


The favourable criticism in France: an article in the Gazette des beaux-arts

In 1901 Gustave Kahn published an article on Lieberman in the prestigious Gazette des beaux-arts, the main art magazine in Paris. He presented him as a cosmopolitan artist, not an painter really belonging to the German tradition, except for a reference to Menzel, but strongly influenced by Millet, the Barbizon school, Monet and Manet and the Dutch art. The article was also clearly influenced by the Rosenhagen monograph, especially as regards the discussion of parallels and differences between Liebermann and Manet, and the diverse relationship between light and space in their paintings.

Fig. 16) The article on Max Liebermann by Gustave Kahn, published in the Gazette des beaux-arts.
Source: http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k203154r/f332.item

Liebermann thanked Kahn on 8 October 1901, with a letter in German (all their correspondence was normally in French, but the painter recognized not to be able to express himslef in French on the issues he wanted to deal with, in this case). "Early in his career, an artist is happy if one writes about him, no matter whether it is praise or blame. It is enough that one is discussing him. As his reputation grows, the artist begins to be interested on where one writes about him and finally is only concern is on who writes about him. Well, I am proud that you wrote about me in the Gazette, and moreover in such a flattering way (...) What I appreciate most in your article is the courage of your conviction, that allows you to write in a French magazine on a German artist. If your motto that, for the great artists, art is the only true home, could really become reality! Unfortunately, a fatal chauvinism has been spreading in Germany in recent times - I think of course about what it is being said in these days in Dresden in the Congress for art education, about the national art [Heimatkunst]. There is only good or bad art, and Millet could be a German as well as Menzel a Frenchman, without denying that the artist is influenced by his environment" [86].

End of Part One
Go to Part Two 


NOTES

[1] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, 1896-1901, Baden Baden, Deutscher Wissenschaftsverlag, 2012, 579 pages. Quotation at page 13.

[2] These were often short sentences, either inserted to confirm the contents of most complex and articulated arguments, or simply for pure stylistic complacency. Here are a few examples. For a Happy New Year greetings to Alfred Lichwark: "Quod felix faustmque sit!" (p.66); to Max Linde, in order to celebrate the gold medal granted to him by the emperor: "Habent fata sua tabulae!" (p.117); to Rosenhagen, to congratulate him for the courteous but firm attitude against the academic positions: "Fortiter in re, suaviter in modo" (p.138); again to Lichtwark, to explain the strengths and weaknesses of the new building of the Secession: "Ultra posse nemo obligatur" (p. 271; the same expression is also used in a letter of 1901, p. 398); Linde, to speak unfavourably about Anton von Werner: "Quem deus perdere vult, prius dementat!" (p. 274); again to Linde (in the same letter) to explain the thrust of an article he wrote about Degas, published on Pan: "De omnibus rebus, et quibusdam aliis" (p.275); and finally to Max Lehrs, commenting on the fact that in Leiden, where he found a house from Rembrandt time, students were not occupied with history of art, but to get drunk with champagne: "Sic transit gloria mundi" (p.360).

[3] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), pp. 10.3, 105, 108, 144, 173 and 190.

[4] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 152.

[5] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 454.

[6] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 229.

[7] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 201.

[8] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), pp. 178 and 179.

[9] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 188.

[10] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 188.

[11] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 205.

[12] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 70.

[13] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 131.

[14] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 226.

[15] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 360.

[16] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 361.

[17] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 366.

[18] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 21.

[19] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 32.

[20] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 343.

[21] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 345.

[22] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 346.

[23] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 347.

[24] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 347.

[25] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 348.

[26] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), pp. 348-349.

[27] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 362.

[28] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 362.

[29] Rosenhagen, Hans - Münchens Niedergang als Kunstst.adt, in Der Tag, 13 e 14 aprile 1901.

[30] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 127.

[31] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 128.

[32] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 141.

[33] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 146.

[34] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 199.

[35] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 230.

[36] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 151.

[37] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 151.

[38] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 284.

[39] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 74.

[40] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 164.

[41] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 87.

[42] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 92.

[43] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 138.

[44] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), pp. 201 and 274.

[45] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 73.

[46] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 75.

[47] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 102.

[48] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), pp. 104 and 115.

[49] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 117 and 200.

[50] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 131.

[51] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 101.

[52] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 199.

[53] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 22.

[54] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 199.

[55] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 42.

[56] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 53.

[57] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 43.

[58] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 224.

[59] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 280.

[60] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 355.

[61] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 61.

[62] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 81.

[63] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 93.

[64] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 105.

[65] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), pp. 43-44.

[66] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 193.

[67] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 191.

[68] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 207.

[69] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 207.

[70] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 227.

[71] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 241.

[72] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 238.

[73] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 248.

[74] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 60, footnote 203.

[75] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 60.

[76] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 62.

[77] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 64.

[78] Rosenhagen, Hans - Die nationale Kunst in Berlin, in Die Zukunft 20, 1897, pagine 428-34. The text is available at
http://germanhistorydocs.ghi-dc.org/sub_document.cfm?document_id=721&language=german.

[79] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 250.

[80] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 196.

[81] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 198.

[82] Rosenhagen, Hans -Max Liebermann, Bielefeld, Velhagen and Klasing, 1900, 104 pagine. Text available at https://archive.org/stream/liebermann00roseuoft#page/n3/mode/2up.

[83] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 358.

[84] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 358.

[85] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 359.

[86] Liebermann, Max - Briefe. Volume 2, (quoted), p. 416.


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