Yesterday afternoon, in extreme cold temperature, we decided to venture out into the city. As we crossed the road into the Künsthalle Mannheim, I had no expectations what so ever. As much as I love art, the moment I see a museum my eyes grow heavy and start to droop. We gave our coats at the cloak-desk and were guided to the “Kasse” to buy the tickets. I looked at the Kasse from the desk and saw that we had to cross the Museum shop – an adrelin surge took place deep within. Catching the enthusiastic response to the open door, Parmanu said – “Let us first look through the galerie and then you can do your shopping”. My eyelids drooped again.
In the first hall, there were three huge paintings kept one next to the other. It had violent oil paint strokes on them towards the bottom giving me the feeling of an ocean and above were well-defined lines (as we represent number with ////) separated by dates.
“Looks like someone is keeping track of the number of days he has been marooned in an island like Robinson Crusoe” – remarked Parmanu. Strangely there was also a sculpture in front it – wave-like set of blocks with a weathered ship on top.
We moved up and into the main gallery the main exhibition of Miriam Vlaming opened out.We moved into the vast white washed room.
Deep colours awash with dripping paint caught my eye.
Ghostlike group of musicians from 18-th/19-th Century stood in spookily sober woods with no clear features. Paint dripped all around them and short strokes gave the autumn texture to the ground.
Most of the paintings by Miriam Vlaming, in the first floor hall, had strong colours on them. Each one had central object/s made stronger by strokes or an external pattern which gave the feeling of having a superimposed extra image on top of the actual image.
This stood out even stronger in the painting “Good Morning Revival” – it had wooden planks set at bridges over some kind of streamlet fading away into the horizon. The planks painted in white touched with shades of somber blue-black. Finally, an interesting scene was punctuated by three brighter blue curves – overwritten as if the artist wanted to tie the painting up with 3 ribbons to add a different character to it. Standing in the middle of that room it suddenly struck me – Art is more the act of giving a distinctive independent character to what you produce more than a perfect scenery as you have seen somewhere outside.
On the other hand, it also gave the feeling of someone who wanted to be so extensive with the use of shades of each colour that she even thought there was meaning in long dripping paint lines. True to that – the dripping paint lines had a different shade as well.
While the room we entered into had paintings with somber outlook and either landscape or people related topics, the first room on the upper floor dealt more with dwellings. The objects were buildings like hotels, abandoned villas and a caravan. These paintings had more strong brush strokes than dripping paints – yet the monotonic colours with different shades continued the colours giving the character behind the picture (why did I feel the Villa was abandoned?). The diversity in her work was made more visible by two paintings which had smoother lines and where the colours just smoothed into the next shade. Interestingly both were titled similarly – one was Hollywood Inn and the other Hollywood. It made me wonder whether her associations with trees were more well-defined and definite yet dramatic while her associations with Hollywood were smoother.
And we moved into the next room which took my breath away. Each painting had a surreal yet transforming effect of moving you right into the middle of the scene. All of them dealt with outdoor (broken by three paintings of portraits of multiple people) and each of them had strong lines to define the contours of the trees. I had a tough time getting out of one into the other one. Yet, each one seemed to tell a story of a similar wood at different times either of the day or of different seasons. Putting all together, I could imagine writing a book about “The tale of an enchanting woods” ending with Brennholz (Firewood).
My favourites here were the “Die Zentralle” and the “Stranger” – one had a violent eerie feeling with bright yellow and orange superimposed by dark drips of trees while the other had a pale ghost like feeling – almost as if you could catch the stranger and yet were not sure he was there – his surrounding more vibrant and he pale inside the vibrant surroundings, different coloured short strong strokes enhancing the vibrancy.
It was an unwelcome break to move into the room of intricacies showcased by laces in different format and then into the room with smaller, more sober paintings without vibrant colours. Yet, even these I could compare to ancient black and white pictures of an era that had disappeared. The final painting, so pale and moving us into a cloud or fog made us stop just before we left the room.
These two rooms made me walk back into my enchanting woods a few times. Finally, I asked Parmanu to sit on a sofa outside as I paid my final visit. Each room with its own theme tied together by the entrance room with different objects as its central focus gave the feeling of having seen different stories being told tied together by a strong character – a single line of thread through all the rooms. Though there were a couple of different ways in which she showcased her paintings, there was the usage of few colours and different shades of each of the mono or dichromatic effect in each of her paintings which tied the whole exhibition into one.
We moved to the other galleries in between to see some sculptures and Lithographs by Picasso – yet, even in between the Maestro, Miriam Vlaming held her own.