Cross in the Mountains or Tetschen Altar
Caspar David Friedrich, 1807-08
Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Gemaldegalerie, Dresden
(image used with the courtesy of http://www.joybunny.artfriend.com)
Art students know the situation well. It's the big critique and they have to present their work in their studio or in a classroom as if it was in a gallery. Perhaps this means painting a wall white, tidying a corner, adjusting the lighting, or preparing a pedestal among other things. But no matter how hard they try, anxious what-ifs float around like, "Would it fold this way if it was in gallery?" And a feeling of artificiality, like watching a concert on DVD, permeates the exchange.
This act of "putting on airs" characterized the setting of Caspar David Friedrich's presentation of the Cross in the Mountains in 1808. He made the painting, as one story goes, specifically to be an altarpiece in a small chapel within the Tetschen Castle in northern Bohemia. After its completion, however, it didn't have a public place yet and due to his friends' demands, he reluctantly decided to show it in his "atelier" i.e. his home studio.
As German painting scholar Joseph Koerner documents in his book Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape, educator Johann Jacob O.A. Ruhle von Lilienstern (a mouthful, eh?) wrote, "In order to counteract the bad effect of the totally white walls of his small room, and to imitate as well as possible the twilight of the lamplit chapel, a window was veiled and the painting, which was too heavy for an ordinary easel, was erected on a table over which was spread a black cloth." Amusingly, today, most of our efforts are put towards achieving white walls. One can imagine Friedrich saying, "Now, if the painting was in its proper setting, the effect would be such and such as I intended." or "Pay no attention to unwanted variables A, B, and C..."
As most art students do, Friedrich put on this show with the hope of the work eventually achieving its intended setting. The immediate display simply being a trial run for the real thing. The problem for Friedrich is that its promised place wasn't available. To explain further: Countess Maria Theresa von Thun-Hohenstein supposedly had commissioned the work specifically for placement in her husband's private Tetschen chapel. It turns out that the painting was originally dedicated to Friedrich's king, Gustav IV Adolf of Sweden and not commissioned by Maria. Only when the king was overthrown in 1809 did Friedrich then agree to sell it to Maria. He and his "circle of friends" reconstructed the story of the origins of the work to make it seem as if he had created every detail to suit the Countess' chapel perfectly.
After Friedrich had sold the work to Maria, he wrote that he would like to "oversee the painting being installed and consecrated as a working altar." However, the work was never actually going to be placed in its promised spot. In fact, there was already an altarpiece designed by Joseph Bergler, the director of the Prague Art Academy, in the chapel in question. So, when Friedrich inquired about a visit, Maria had to make up a story that the piece was actually going to be installed in a chapel in Prague. When he said he would then come to Prague, she had to "give him the slip" again.
Hilariously, instead of the work being in a chapel it was in Countess Maria's BEDROOM! She had concocted the scheme to convince Friedrich to part ways with his masterwork. No wonder she didn't want him to come and see it...it was hanging above her bed. Rather than being a central object in worship ceremonies, I'm sure Friedrich would've loved to have seen his work shaking as the countess made love to her husband! When Friedrich was adjusting the black cloth in his atelier I'll bet that he never considered the possibility of undergarments hanging on his painting...and maybe the cat at rest on top? Perhaps he would've been better off naming it "Headboard" instead of Tetschen Altar. :P
This act of "putting on airs" characterized the setting of Caspar David Friedrich's presentation of the Cross in the Mountains in 1808. He made the painting, as one story goes, specifically to be an altarpiece in a small chapel within the Tetschen Castle in northern Bohemia. After its completion, however, it didn't have a public place yet and due to his friends' demands, he reluctantly decided to show it in his "atelier" i.e. his home studio.
As German painting scholar Joseph Koerner documents in his book Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape, educator Johann Jacob O.A. Ruhle von Lilienstern (a mouthful, eh?) wrote, "In order to counteract the bad effect of the totally white walls of his small room, and to imitate as well as possible the twilight of the lamplit chapel, a window was veiled and the painting, which was too heavy for an ordinary easel, was erected on a table over which was spread a black cloth." Amusingly, today, most of our efforts are put towards achieving white walls. One can imagine Friedrich saying, "Now, if the painting was in its proper setting, the effect would be such and such as I intended." or "Pay no attention to unwanted variables A, B, and C..."
As most art students do, Friedrich put on this show with the hope of the work eventually achieving its intended setting. The immediate display simply being a trial run for the real thing. The problem for Friedrich is that its promised place wasn't available. To explain further: Countess Maria Theresa von Thun-Hohenstein supposedly had commissioned the work specifically for placement in her husband's private Tetschen chapel. It turns out that the painting was originally dedicated to Friedrich's king, Gustav IV Adolf of Sweden and not commissioned by Maria. Only when the king was overthrown in 1809 did Friedrich then agree to sell it to Maria. He and his "circle of friends" reconstructed the story of the origins of the work to make it seem as if he had created every detail to suit the Countess' chapel perfectly.
After Friedrich had sold the work to Maria, he wrote that he would like to "oversee the painting being installed and consecrated as a working altar." However, the work was never actually going to be placed in its promised spot. In fact, there was already an altarpiece designed by Joseph Bergler, the director of the Prague Art Academy, in the chapel in question. So, when Friedrich inquired about a visit, Maria had to make up a story that the piece was actually going to be installed in a chapel in Prague. When he said he would then come to Prague, she had to "give him the slip" again.
Hilariously, instead of the work being in a chapel it was in Countess Maria's BEDROOM! She had concocted the scheme to convince Friedrich to part ways with his masterwork. No wonder she didn't want him to come and see it...it was hanging above her bed. Rather than being a central object in worship ceremonies, I'm sure Friedrich would've loved to have seen his work shaking as the countess made love to her husband! When Friedrich was adjusting the black cloth in his atelier I'll bet that he never considered the possibility of undergarments hanging on his painting...and maybe the cat at rest on top? Perhaps he would've been better off naming it "Headboard" instead of Tetschen Altar. :P
