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拍品专文
We are grateful to art historian Juan Carlos Pereda for his assistance in cataloguing this work.
Rufino Tamayo's universalism is often expressed through depictions of humankind's relationship with nature. During the mature phase of his career, he painted numerous solitary figures cast among the cosmos. Here, Mujer y luna references the atavistic association between woman and the moon. The shape of the face of the woman echoes the black sphere in the sky; dusty white lines define the contours of her facial features, and four thin threads, suggesting a shared cosmic energy, further connect the two entities. Dynamic motion and supernatural forces are made visible through abstracted forms and lines.
Painted in 1953, Mujer y luna possesses a somber, foreboding feel. The work firmly belongs to Tamayo's paintings of the wartime era that, according to James Oles, "emphasize the toll of war on man and his constructed world," while at the same time they "avoid any reference to specific political positions, historical anecdotes, or national identity."[1] The moon, outlined in chalky white, is eclipsed. Indeed, the space that the black orb occupies is a deep void. The blue of the night sky is obscured by thick gray smoke, and pockets of the color red translate as cataclysmic fire. "Tamayo's art is a dramatic expression," wrote Paul Westheim in 1957, "saturated with conflicts and tensions, collisions of destructive forces, an art that reflects how fate sifts down onto man, and man's heroic struggle against this fate that is sifting down onto him. It is an art that rides with night and shadows, with demonic powers of darkness, and with the mystery of the stars."[2] In Mujer y luna, the timeless celestial domain competes with the catastrophic consequences of the atomic age, and humankind, represented by a bony, harshly drawn female figure, is at the mercy of both.
The impact of World War II was felt globally, but the nation of Mexico was in many respects isolated from the conflict. Tamayo's personal experience of the war, by contrast, was more direct. He and his wife Olga moved from Mexico City to New York City in 1936. They lived in New York for the better part of the war years, putting the artist in closer contact with the conflict than his Mexican contemporaries.[3] During the postwar era of the late 1940s through 1950s, the couple divided their time between New York and Paris, placing Tamayo in even closer proximity to the physical and psychological aftermath. It was not until the early 1960s that Tamayo and his wife returned to Mexico, where they resettled permanently.
Celeste Donovan, Ph.D.
1) James Oles, "The Howl and the Flame: Tamayo's Wartime Allegories," in Tamayo: A Modern Icon Reinterpreted (Santa Barbara: Santa Barbara Museum of Art, 2007), 308.
2) Paul Westheim, Tamayo: A Study in Esthetics (Mexico City: Ediciones Artes de México, 1957), 15.
3) Oles, 294.
Rufino Tamayo's universalism is often expressed through depictions of humankind's relationship with nature. During the mature phase of his career, he painted numerous solitary figures cast among the cosmos. Here, Mujer y luna references the atavistic association between woman and the moon. The shape of the face of the woman echoes the black sphere in the sky; dusty white lines define the contours of her facial features, and four thin threads, suggesting a shared cosmic energy, further connect the two entities. Dynamic motion and supernatural forces are made visible through abstracted forms and lines.
Painted in 1953, Mujer y luna possesses a somber, foreboding feel. The work firmly belongs to Tamayo's paintings of the wartime era that, according to James Oles, "emphasize the toll of war on man and his constructed world," while at the same time they "avoid any reference to specific political positions, historical anecdotes, or national identity."[1] The moon, outlined in chalky white, is eclipsed. Indeed, the space that the black orb occupies is a deep void. The blue of the night sky is obscured by thick gray smoke, and pockets of the color red translate as cataclysmic fire. "Tamayo's art is a dramatic expression," wrote Paul Westheim in 1957, "saturated with conflicts and tensions, collisions of destructive forces, an art that reflects how fate sifts down onto man, and man's heroic struggle against this fate that is sifting down onto him. It is an art that rides with night and shadows, with demonic powers of darkness, and with the mystery of the stars."[2] In Mujer y luna, the timeless celestial domain competes with the catastrophic consequences of the atomic age, and humankind, represented by a bony, harshly drawn female figure, is at the mercy of both.
The impact of World War II was felt globally, but the nation of Mexico was in many respects isolated from the conflict. Tamayo's personal experience of the war, by contrast, was more direct. He and his wife Olga moved from Mexico City to New York City in 1936. They lived in New York for the better part of the war years, putting the artist in closer contact with the conflict than his Mexican contemporaries.[3] During the postwar era of the late 1940s through 1950s, the couple divided their time between New York and Paris, placing Tamayo in even closer proximity to the physical and psychological aftermath. It was not until the early 1960s that Tamayo and his wife returned to Mexico, where they resettled permanently.
Celeste Donovan, Ph.D.
1) James Oles, "The Howl and the Flame: Tamayo's Wartime Allegories," in Tamayo: A Modern Icon Reinterpreted (Santa Barbara: Santa Barbara Museum of Art, 2007), 308.
2) Paul Westheim, Tamayo: A Study in Esthetics (Mexico City: Ediciones Artes de México, 1957), 15.
3) Oles, 294.