The Sublime and the City
p. 227-239
Plan détaillé
Texte intégral
1Artistic representations of industrial processes have only recently been discovered by art historical research in the proper sense. Art and the Industrial Revolution, a ground-breaking study by Francis Donald Klingender, was published as early as 19471. Yet Klingender had, in fact, little to say about the artistic part. The bible of art historians, the Propyläen Kunstgeschichte, and the Pelican History of Art both mention one single picture representing a factory. Hans Holländer has done research on representations from natural history and the history of technology2, and in 2002, an exhibition on depictions of the industrial world from the 18th century was shown in Berlin3.
2The subject of the Sublime and the city, is, in other words, the aesthetic reaction of painters towards the industrialization and the rapidly changing appearance of cities. This phenomenon first occurred in England in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Therefore I will first give a short survey of the definition of the Sublime in England4 and show how this literary theory was applied to painting. The Sublime started its pictorial career in history painting, then made its way into landscape painting and from there into pictures of urbanized landscapes.
The definition of the Sublime
3In 1688 John Dennis (1657-1734) described his impressions of crossing the Alps : he felt « a delightful horrour, a terrible Joy, and at the same time, that I was infinitely pleas’d, I trembled »5. These are the feelings that are evoked by the Sublime : a mixture of delight and horror. Delight was aroused by beauty, the horror by the terrible.
4A few years later, in 1712, Joseph Addison separated the Beautiful and the Sublime into two distinct categories, thus creating a dualism6. Jonathan Richardson elaborated this theory : « ... the sublime is consistent with great irregularity ; nay that Irregularity may produce that Noble effect [...] The Sublime therefore must be Marvellous, and Surprizing. It must strike vehemently upon the Mind, and fill, and Captivate it Irresistibly… »7. Richardson defined the Sublime as the highest degree of the excellent8. He developed his theory with regard to poetry, but thanks to the doctrine of « ut pictura poesis » it could easily be applied to painting. This is what Edmund Burke did as well.
5In his book A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful Edmund Burke defined the Sublime as an aesthetic category in its own right. The treatise was published in 1757 and proved highly influential. Burke described the Sublime as it was to be understood in the 18th and 19th centuries. He contrasted « beauty » and the « sublime » according to their different, even opposite, effects on the mind. Beauty inspires love, but the Sublime, whose source is, among other causes, « terror », evokes fear9 : « ... turning upon pain may be a source of the sublime »10. And even more : « All general privations are great, because they are all terrible ; Vacuity, Darkness, Solitude, and Silence… »11.
6Pain, darkness, solitude, silence : all these found their way into a multitude of pictures of captives, prisons, and caves during the second half of the 18th century12, which combined all these qualities.
7Burke had given exact precepts for the painter on how to adequately depict such terrible subjects : « Among colours, such as are soft, or cheerful [...] are unfit to produce grand images [...] the cloudy sky is more grand than the blue ; and night more sublime and solemn than day [...] when the highest degree of the Sublime is intended, the materials and ornaments ought neither to be white, nor green, nor yellow, nor blue, nor a pale red, nor violet, nor spotted, but of sad and fuscous colours, as black, or brown, or deep purple, and the like »13. Therefore most of these pictures are painted in brownish tints, which came to be seen as a trademark of the Sublime. A strong chiaroscuro is another characteristic trait of the Sublime. Again, Burke is responsible for this:
Mere light is too common a thing to make a strong impression on the mind, and without a strong impression nothing can be sublime. But such a light as that of the sun, immediately exerted on the eye, as it overpowers the sense, is a very great idea […] A quick transition from light to darkness, or from darkness to light, has yet a greater effect […] Extreme light, by overcoming the organs of sight, obliterates all objects, so as in its effect exactly to resemble darkness [...] Thus are two ideas as opposite as can be imagined reconciled in the extremes of both ; and both, in spite of their opposite nature, brought to concur in producing the sublime14.
8The traditional history-painting was supposed to demonstrate examples of virtue or great deeds ; it took its subjects from history or literature. But sublime history-paintings lost this moral or didactic function : above all, they appealed to the emotions, and this opened the door for new subjects. Sources of the Sublime such as « Vacuity, Darkness, Solitude, and Silence » could be found in nature, and thus in landscapes – one is reminded of John Dennis crossing the Alps. Moreover, pictures of landscapes did not require extensive explanations of the historical event or the literary context. This was crucial for the further evolution of the Sublime. Extreme landscapes such as high mountains, sea storms with shipwrecks, the seemingly infinite vastness of oceans, or the eruption of a volcano with all its terror were discovered as subjects of the Sublime. There is a reason why the first Alpinist club was founded by Englishmen (1857)... The greatness of history was supplanted by the greatness of nature.
9One could go even further. Not only was nature capable of evoking emotions. Darkness, infinity etc. were also to be found in landscapes shaped by civilization, in cities and their manufactures. And indeed, these motives found their way into representations of landscapes, which thus turned into industrialized landscapes.
10The Sublime evoked deep emotions. But only great, overwhelming subjects could arouse great, overwhelming emotions. What, one may ask, was great and overwhelming about industrial subjects ? The answer is : caves, striking effects of light, darkness, and fire. Where did these phenomena occur in industry ?
11Cave-like situations were to be found in mines. The copper mine of Falun, Sweden, was one of the largest mines of the world and the most visited. The Swedish painter Per Hilleström the elder (1732- 1816)15 painted it after a visit (fig. 1). The ancestors of the Sublime as far as history painting is concerned, were Michelangelo and Salvator Rosa. But with respect to industrial subjects, other precursors were to be found, such as Piranesi’s « Carceri » (1745-61), strongly reminiscent of caves and prisons, which were so popular in the second half of the 18th century.
12Technical requirements shaped the combination of nature and industry. Factories needed waterpower to make the engines run, and they needed water as a means of transportation. So they had to be built outside, but still close to the cities – in the « ceinture rouge » of Paris, for example.
13Drastic effects of light – like an outburst of fire from a volcano – were also offered by smoking chimneys. The effects were decisive, that means aesthetic, criteria. One example was painted by Philippe Jacques de Loutherbourg in 1801 (fig. 2): « Coalbrookdale by Night ». Coalbrookdale, Shropshire and Cyfarthfa in Wales were the most important regions with a plenitude of coalmines and furnaces. Loutherbourg was originally a theatre painter, specializing in stage effects, which is quite apparent in this picture. It was painted for its effect – it is not a portrait of a factory as a piece of architecture in the typically English tradition.
14If this new genre of industrial painting was to acquire a place in art history (and on the art market), it had to compete with traditional history painting, with religious subjects and traditional landscape painting. Architectural views, Canaletto-style « vedute », would be regarded as a kind of portrait, especially in England. Elsewhere it was defined as genre painting. The Sublime established its place between landscape and history painting. The aesthetic problem was not merely one of portraying a factory – this genre of painting, portraiture, had been an English specialty. The problem was how to cast the new experience – i.e. the combination of nature, civilization and state-of-the-art mechanics – into an adequate form. Emotions and atmosphere were the main ingredients of this new form, expressed in the colours and the chiaroscuro of the Sublime. Artists soon discovered that dark colours, especially those brown shades of the Sublime, were typical of all kinds of industry. By night, effects of gaslight and fire were even more efficient. This is why many of the « sublime » paintings of industrial areas or cities are nocturnes. It may also be relevant that Edmund Burke had praised the night as better suited to sublime subjects than the day.
15There were pictures that showed nature and industry in perfect harmony, especially in the beginnings of industrialization. An example is Joseph Wright of Derby (1734-97) : « Arkwrights Cotton Mills, by Night » (fig. 3). Landscape and factory harmonize : the buildings snuggle up into Matlock Dale. But nature provides just the background for what really matters in this painting : the factory itself. It is an architectural portrait ; the gaslight from inside the buildings commands more attention than the natural moonlight. It documents the owner’s pride in his achievements16.
16Thanks to landscape painting, the Sublime had become emancipated from history painting. It was closely associated with emotions. Because it had already once grown away from a certain kind of painting, it could easily be connected with another. Infinity and greatness both leave the eye without any point of orientation. The interiors of industrial architecture were often enormously long halls, offering extreme spatial conditions. Men became tiny and seemed utterly unimportant compared to the vast dimensions of architecture and the enormous trees that would fit into a building like the Crystal Palace (fig. 4 : Adolphe Gusmand after Freeman : « View of the Crystal palace », London, 1851). The iron elements of the structure are uncountable ; its dimensions are seemingly infinite. The spectator himself stands within the building, left without any means of reference ; he cannot even estimate the dimensions of the architecture.
17Early paintings of industrial landscapes and architecture conveyed a harmonious image of nature and industry. But there were also painters who emphasized the destruction of nature by industrialization. From the middle of the 19th century onwards, this aspect of the subject became more and more important : in painting as well as in literature, e.g. in novels or descriptions of journeys17. The aesthetic reaction to industrialization (« la perception industrielle ») was not uniform ; the idyllic or decorative subjects were joined by terrible ones. Landscape and old, peaceful cities were devoured by factories. But even then the Sublime was an appropriate means of representing these terrible effects. Almost from the beginning, the Sublime had also comprised the terrible18. Not delightful proportion and harmony, but delightful horror evokes deeper emotions : Romanticism versus Classicism.
18In 1869, Henry Warren (1794-1879) painted a city of hell, which was engraved by George Greatbach : the so-called « Black Country » near Bilston (fig. 5). There is nothing to be seen of the process of production, everything is smoke and darkness. This painting is just one of many examples, where all colour, all light seems to have disappeared from the earth. Even the earth is burning ; man is no longer at home in the world, but he has to fight for his mere survival. Chaos everywhere, no path to walk on, no house to provide a home. The whole world has become hostile towards man. Even nature, like the river in the foreground, has to serve industry. One feels reminded of Pseudo-Longinus, the antique author who had first dealt with the Sublime : poetry should touch the reader just as fire and storm19.
19In France, Charles Baudelaire described the aesthetic effects of industrialization when reviewing the Salon of 1859 :
Les majestés de la pierre accumulée, les clochers montrant du doigt le ciel, les obélisques de l’industrie vomissant contre le firmament leurs coalitions de fumées, les prodigieux échafaudages des monuments en réparation appliquant sur le corps solide de l’architecture leur architecture à jour d’une beauté si paradoxale, le ciel tumultueux chargé de colère et de rancune, la profondeur des perspectives augmentée par la pensée de tous les drames qui y sont contenus, aucun des éléments complexes dont se compose le douloureux et glorieux décor de la civilisation n’était oublié20.
20In England the disastrous effects of industry were sooner to be noted than on the Continent, where industrialization had begun later. In 1876, almost contemporaneously with the landscape of hell, the German painter Georg Arnould painted a similar subject : the iron-works of Burbach near Saarbrücken (fig. 6). But he represented it in the full light of the warm sun, and the rays of the sun form a halo around the chimneys : the glorification of industry.
21These last two examples of industrial paintings illustrate a striking paradox raised by industrialization : on the one hand, man becomes a servant and has to submit himself to the machine ; on the other hand, he is the inventor, the creator of the very same machine. In paintings and prints only one of these two aspects can be found, they never intermingle.
22The fourth element of the Sublime was overwhelming power. This could be found in the power of steam engines. Their power became a new subject in art. Again and again, the dynamics of engines are depicted : man is literally overpowered by the engine. This enormous mechanical power is conditioned by fire and steam ; the result is smoke. No wonder these components became constituent of further paintings of urban landscapes. That is the reason why railway stations and locomotives became a frequent subject in painting.
23The railway had been booming throughout Europe since the 1840s. The enormous need for iron and steel to build trains, rails and bridges increased the demand for iron-ore and coal in the mininj regions. At the same time the railway made accessible even those regions which had been difficult to reach before. One giant project led to the next. The belief in progress is also documented by the fact that catastrophes, which would have been suitable subjects for the Sublime as well, were not painted. For example, when a train with hundreds of people on it crashed from the bridge over the Tay in 1880, not a single painter reacted21.
24At the same time a new dimension entered the representations of industry : the fourth dimension, time. Speed as a criterion of quality changed industrial production ; time and speed became subjects of painting as well. Turner’s painting « Rain, Steam and Speed – The Great Western Railway » of 1843 (fig. 7) became the symbol of industrialization. No other painting seemed to visualize the power of the steam engine more forcefully. The viewer is located slightly above Maidenhead Bridge, where the train approaches at high speed. Only narrowly does it miss the spectator, leaving him with a taste of annihilation. This is the triumph of a machine over the helplessly weak individual. At the same time it is clear that the railway is an invention of man, and the painting celebrates this invention with all its fascination : the locomotive is acting like a living being, like a steel giant. The diagonal of its movement aims at the spectator and stops short just in front of him, thus creating a moment of utmost tension. Fear of and fascination with the engine : here they are combined to visualize an ambivalent attitude that was extremely widespread.
25In Turner’s painting nature is introduced through rain and by the movements of the atmosphere ; mechanical processes are visualized by steam and speed. The latter is a wholly mechanical movement, one of a precisely defined kind and with a predetermined direction. Speed means movement within a certain space of time : the shorter the timespan in which a distance is covered, the faster the movement. The faster an object moves, the less it can be discerned by the eye. Thus blurred outlines are the visual equivalent of velocity. And velocity came to be seen as productive activity, in contrast to meditative rural life.
26Speed became a characteristic feature of modern life. Artistically, the diagonal line is a pictorial indicator of movement. The central perspective that defined space was no longer an adequate means of visualizing the motion and velocity of the modern world.
27This was still valid in 1890, when the German artist Hans Baluschek (1870-1935) painted a railway engine steaming through the city of Berlin (fig. 8). But this particular view is brutalized : the beholder’s position is no longer above the train, and he can no longer look down upon it. On the contrary : he feels small and insignificant facing the locomotive, because he has to look up to it. One is close enough to feel exposed to the steam, to the heat of the engine, and to its noise ; one can almost hear it. Turner had painted the wideness of the landscape as well, but in Berlin, the houses seem to shrink back from the railway ; it is getting too close.
28No wonder industrial phenomena like steam, fog – not to mention smog – and the diagonal found their way into impressionist paintings. Starting in the 1870s, the impressionists discovered industrial and urban landscapes, the cities. This is a well-known story. Impressionists, however, took little interest in the Sublime. The artistic avant-garde did not give in to the purified technical fascination that was to be shown by 20th century modernists, but urban life and its mechanical components were now registered as neutrally as any other landscape. Terror and fear had no place in these impressionist images of urban life. Although railway stations remained a favourite subject, they were no longer sublime. Thinking of Claude Monet’s « Gare St-Lazare » : the colours are now bright, full of light and serenity, equivalents of a day in spring.
29The success story of the steam engine came to an end when electricity took its place. For industry this meant a tremendous change. For the arts, it is closely connected with the Futurists22. Very often the composition and the colours are still reminiscent of the Sublime with the notions of infiniteness, darkness, solitude, and sudden light. It was still a way of painting that proved appropriate to modern life.
Les premières représentations de paysages urbains industriels sont complètement dans la lignée du mouvement esthétique du sublime. La théorie du sublime, développée par Joseph Addison en 1712 et formulée par Edmund Burke en 1757, a eu un impact très important. Selon cette théorie, le sublime provoque des émotions bouleversantes par le biais de ses représentations de phénomènes extrêmes tels que, entre autres, la peur de la mort, la solitude, ou encore l’expérience de l’infini. Par la suite, ces phénomènes n’ont pas seulement été représentés dans des tableaux historiques, mais ils ont fait également leur apparition dans la peinture de paysages, par exemple dans les représentations de catastrophes naturelles ou de paysages de l’extrême tels que celui de haute montagne, ou bien d’une tempête de mer ou encore d’une éruption volcanique. Et à partir de là, ces phénomènes ont ensuite gagné les paysages industriels, où ils étaient accompagnés d’effets lumineux dramatiques et de teintes sombres qui avaient été considérés depuis le début comme étant des éléments caractéristiques du sublime. Ainsi, le sublime a été mis au service non seulement d’une dénonciation des ravages de l’industrialisation, mais aussi de l’exaltation des grands édifices industriels. Le train avec sa vapeur, sa rapidité jusque-là inconnue et avec son impressionnante puissance s’est ensuite offert comme nouveau thème du sublime : il est devenu l’un de ses thèmes favoris et l’est resté pendant une bonne partie du XXe siècle.
Notes de bas de page
1 Francis Donald Klingender, Art and the Industrial Revolution, New York, Augustus M. Kelley Publishers21968 (1947).
2 Hans Holländer (ed.), Erkenntnis, Erfindung, Konstruktion. Studien zur Bildgeschichte von Naturwissenschaften und Technik vom 16. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert, Berlin, Gebr. Mann 2000.
3 Sabine Beneke, Hans Ottomeyer (eds.), Die zweite Schöpfung. Bilder der industriellen Welt vom 18. Jahrhundert bis in die Gegenwart, Berlin, Deutsches Historisches Museum 2002.
4 For the understanding of the sublime in England the following book is fundamental : Walter J. Hipple, The Beautiful, the Sublime and the Picturesque in Eighteenth-Century British Aesthetic Theory, Carbondale, Southern Illinois U.P. 1957. For the later literature see Klaus Poenicke, « Eine Geschichte der Angst ? Appropriationen des Erhabenen in der englischen Asthetik des 18. Jahrhunderts », in Christine Pries (ed.), Das Erhabene. Zwischen Grenzerfahrung und Größenwahn, Weinheim, VCH 1989, pp. 75-90.
5 John Dennis, Letter describing his crossing of the Alps, written at Turin, 25 October 1688, in J.D., The Critical Works, ed. by Edward Niles Hooker, 2 vols., Baltimore, The John Hopkins U.P.21964 (1939-1943), vol. II, pp. 380-382. In 1704 he wrote a treatise entitled « The Ground of Criticism in Poetry ». Due to a lack of subscribers it never went to press, but it contains large passages concerning the sublime.
6 Joseph Addison, « Essays on the Pleasures of Imagination » (1712), in J.A., Richard Steele, The Spectator, 4 vols., ed. by Gregory Smith, New York, London, Dent 1967, vol. III, n° 411-421, pp. 276-309, esp. n° 412.
7 Jonathan Richardson, A Discourse on the Dignity, Certainty, Pleasure and Advantage, of the Science of a Connoisseur, London 1719, p. 35.
8 Richardson, An Essay on the Theory of Painting, London, A.C., Knapton 1715, pp. 226-255.
9 Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful (1757), ed. with an introduction and annotations by James T. Boulton, London, Univ, of Notre Dame Press 1958.
10 Ibid., p. 44.
11 Ibid., part II, section VI, p. 71.
12 Lorenz Eitner, « Cages, Prisons and Captives in Eighteenth-Century Art », in Karl Kroeber, William Walling (eds.) Images of Romanticism : Verbal and Visual Affinities, New Haven / London, Yale U.P. 1978, pp. 13-38. In particular, Laurence Sterne, A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy, London, Bliss, Sands & Co. 1768, in the chapter entitled « The Captive », provided the artists with a description that gave rise to numerous translations into the medium of paint : « he was sitting on the ground, upon a little straw, in the furthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternatively his chair and his bed : a little calendar of small sticks were laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there ; he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap ». Joseph Wright of derby painted two versions of a « Captive » (one in 1774, which is now lost, and a copy of it, exhibited at the Derby Museum and Art Gallery). A sketch for the original is to be found at the Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut. John Hamilton Mortimer exhibited a now lost pen and ink drawing (on which Robert Blyth based an etching in 1781) at the Society of Artists in 1774. This had been preceded by a pen, ink, and wash drawing in 1773 (Oppé collection). Benedict Nicolson, Joseph Wright of Derby : Painter of Light, London, New York, The Paul Mellon Foundation 1968, pp. 60-61, figs. 74-76, pl. 162, cat. no. 217.
13 Burke, op. cit., part II, section XVI, « Colour considered as Productive of the Sublime », pp. 81-82.
14 Ibid., part II, section XIV, « Light ».
15 For this artist, see Osvald Sirén, Pehr Hilleström d.Ä., Stockholm 1900; Sixten Rönnow, Pehr Hilleström och hans bruks- och bergwerksmalningar, Stockholm 1929 ; Gerda Cederblom, Pehr Hilleström. Som Kulturskildrare, 2 vols., Uppsala 1927 ; Margot Th. Brandlhuber, « Die Wissenschaft vom "Eisernen Zeitalter" – Léonard Defrance, Peter Hilleström d.Ä. und Joseph Wright of Derby », in Beneke, Ottomeyer, op. cit., pp. 53-59.
16 Usually, whenever a mill-owner asked for a painting of his factory, he wanted it of the representational kind. Aesthetically, the factories were not very attractive – to get an idea of what a factory or industrial city looked like, one could turn to the graphic media. For a collection of such depictions, see Julien François Turgan, Les Grandes usines de France, 4 vols., Paris, Michel LÉVY 1890-1895; Klaus Herding, « Die Industrie als zweite Schöpfung », in Beneke, Ottomeyer, op. cit., pp. 10-27.
17 See Sabine Coelsch-Foisner’s contribution and Sabine Krifka, « Industrie als Spektakel und Sehenswürdigkeit – Die Entstehung der Industrielandschaft in England », in Beneke, Ottomeyer, op. cit., pp. 48-53, esp. p. 51.
18 « Unter dem Mantel des Erhabenen findet das Nichtschone : das Entsetzliche, Häfiliche und Schreckliche Einlaß in die Kunsttheorie des 18. Jahrhunderts » (Carsten Zelle, « Schönheit und Erhabenheit. Der Anfang doppelter Ästhetik bei Boileau, Dennis, Bodmer und Breitinger », in Christine Pries [ed.], Das Drhabene. Zwischen Grenzerfahrung und Größenwahn, Weinheim, VCH 1989, pp. 55-73, here p. 60).
19 Pseudo-longinus, On the Sublime, 33, 2 and 33, 5. See also Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux, « Traité du Sublime, ou du Merveilleux dans le Discours, traduit du Grec de Longin », in P.-L., Œuvres complètes, pp. 331-440, here chap. XXVII, pp. 386-387.
20 Charles Baudelaire, « Salon de 1859 », in Ch.B., Œuvres complètes. Curiosités Esthétiques, Paris, Lemerre 1890, pp. 310-311. Baudelaire wrote this passage on seeing the etchings by Charles Meryon. These do not yet show industrialized landscapes, but for the first time they represent views of Paris with smoking chimneys.
21 Only Theodor Fontane almost immediately wrote his poem « Die Brück’ am Tay ».
22 For example Umberto Boccioni, « Le forze di una strada », 1911, private collection, Liechtenstein.
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