Interiors
Photographing the interior of a cafe or tavern can evoke a
particular mood. Some are crowded, some not;
people may be solitary, in twos or larger groups. Some interiors are
intimate, some closed-in, and still others more spacious and area.
Each, though, has its own atmosphere. We seek refuge in such places.
We look for comfort, for familiarity, for the ease of conversation and
companionship, even if to exchange a word with a server, and contemplate our
existence. These are places of respite. Or are they? Are they,
perhaps, a kind of purgatory, a no-mans land that is less respite than
just another battleground in the struggle for survival? I present two
of my own, from Vienna, for comparison with three paintings--two late nineteenth century
European impressionistic paintings and one mid-twentieth century realist
American. To the right is the Tirolerhof Cafe. A lone
woman reads at the near right corner; a waitress attends a group at the
back. Couples converse. There is significant space between them,
yet all
are in this same place, sharing a set of moments. They remain strangers.
All seem comfortable within their own thoughts and conversations.
Below
left is Cafe Central, also with a solitary figure in the foreground.
The setting is more elaborate and conveys a sense of well-being. These
are places of comfort..
On the other hand, shown here for purposes of
comment, are three paintings that evoke atmospheres of estrangement and
tension. In the Philadelphia Museum of Art are Peter Severin Kroyer's "Interior of a Tavern,"
painted
in 1886 (left), and
Santiago Rusinol's "Interior of a Cafe," from 1892 (below). Kroyer's interior
features more of a crowd, although one
man remains alone, with his aquavit and his thoughts. The interior
space is tighter, the figures closer together, but for me, there is more a
pervading sense of isolation than companionship. In Rusinol's cafe, each figure is alone. Some are glimpsed only in part;
the two women are more clearly seen, and the man at the table, framed
through the door, is also generally realized. None seem engaged with
the other. The Philadelphia Art Museum catalog suggests the foremost
figure is a prostitute "far gone in drink."
One of the most iconic interiors was actually
painted from an exterior view but nonetheless conveys the ultimate sense of
estrangement.
This
is, of course, Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks," in the Art Institute of
Chicago. The presumptive couple are disengaged from each other as well
as the counterman and a stranger with his back to us. We are all
photographers, all voyeurs, with their thoughts reflecting back on us.
IN the others, we are inside; in Hopper's painting we are a step removed, a
more objective observer, perhaps, increasing the sense of alienation.
We are passing by on the street outside; an ostensibly welcoming light
proves anything but as it reveals the intensity and isolation of existence.
September 2009
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