There’s something seriously on-point about the coupling of Egon Schiele and Jean-Michel Basquiat, who are currently the focus of two large-scale exhibitions running concurrently at Foundation Louis Vuitton in Paris. Covering the lifespans of this pioneering artistic pair, the silmultaneous shows aim to start a conversation between the two artists, who lived on opposite sides of the twentieth century.
In a way it does not seem so surprising that Schiele and Basquiat would be exhibited alongside one another. It’s almost as if the idea was already planted in our brains and cultivated because of the weight of their artistic legacies — the two could almost be like friends. Indeed, what’s particularly interesting about the choice to pair these artistic icons together is that it plays on this very assumption. Regarding their contexts, subject matter, style influence, and history, Schiele and Basquiat were light years apart — yet there’s something about the position that they occupy within an art historical lineage that knits them together.
In recent years, Schiele has had something of a renaissance with extensive retrospectives taking place in his hometown Vienna and at the Courtauld Institute in London. Similarly, Basquiat has experienced a boom in popularity with a widely publicised survey at the Barbican last year (which also travelled with much fanfare to Frankfurt’s Schirn Kunsthalle). In this way, it as though the two trailblazers have entered the cultural narrative in a much more significant way than they had previously been perceived. In their lifetimes, both were misrepresented and perceived as radical for their circumstances, becoming famous for their spirited imagery that shocks as much as it engages. Interestingly, both Schiele and Basquiat died aged 28, rising to prominence in under a decade. In spite of these likenesses, however, their differences far outweigh their similarities.
Schiele’s work is indissociable from the style and milieu in which he worked — the Vienna Secession — and he’s famous for his gaunt figures, all bone and sinew, portrayed in a way that seems to describe something of their fundamental humanity. The emphasis is on their flesh, pallid and sickly, with the occasional dash of vibrant colour. In particular, Schiele is renowned for his representation of female sexuality and his haunting self-portraits. On the other hand, the equally prolific Basquiat emerged out of the graffiti scene in New York City in the early 1980s. He became an art world superstar for his expressive paintings that mesh text and figures together with annotations from music and pop culture. Famously, he collaborated with Andy Warhol on several canvases, a few of which are shown in this exhibition, and even dated Madonna for a period. One of the most significant differences between the two is their subject matter. Despite a bold and characteristic use of line that defines the way they both depict figures, Schiele’s work seems to be more about depicting something personal, sensual and raw in his subjects. In contrast, Basquiat applied an assortment of content, imagery and ideas onto his canvases to create a holistic whole. In a sense, it’s an expression of an essence or emotion that best describes Basquiat’s work rather than his ability to depict something. Putting aside the very different times that they were working, the difference in intention makes for very disparate art.
With their works now hanging side by side in a gallery on the outskirts of Paris, Basquiat and Schiele have been taken well and truly out of their original context. Their work will be viewed by perhaps new and unfamiliar audiences, who will make connections and comparisons between them. The underlying assumption that the two work well together tells us perhaps more about how we digest and rewrite history, how we appropriate and misconstrue imagery rather than any actual similarity between the two.
If there is an overriding similarity between Schiele and Basquiat, it’s how that they both have been the subjects of extensive fetishising. They have assumed cult statuses for upholding the identity of the ‘tortured artist’. Arguably, even if we don’t want to admit it, this is the reason why the artists work so well together — why they are like artistic comrades from a different time and place. In turn, this fetishising effects the way we handle their legacy. Although Schiele was a notorious recluse, who had questionable relationships with his sitters, and Basquiat was homeless during the years that predated his success, these misfortunes and difficulties are mythologised rather than reflected critically upon. This is part of the dialogue that surrounds them: the Basquiat movie (1996) celebrates his lifestyle as a young homeless artist more than his actual art. In books about Schiele, the Viennese artist is said to be tormented and ill-adjusted, which lends his work its vital, visceral energy. Capitalism has capitalised on their legacies — we live in a time where it’s possible to buy Basquiat socks or Schiele T-shirts to profit from their ‘tortured artist’ image. Like with anything in this generation, we can cut and paste and reproduce their imagery to fit our own needs, in which case the artists become synonymous very quickly with a particular idea or lifestyle. Ultimately, this is what links Schiele and Basquiat most firmly in our imaginations — not their intentions, output or subject matter, but the identities we’ve constructed for them.
“Jean-Michel Basquiat” and “Egon Schiele” run through to 14 January 2019 at Paris’ Foundation Louis Vuitton.
Images courtesy of Foundation Louis Vuitton.