"Defensive Stand - Siberian
Crane," Robert Bateman, 1999. Acrylic on canvas from a private
collection.
GREENWICH, CONN. -- , Robert Bateman's distillation of the
essence of an animal goes far beyond getting the detail of fur,
feather or fin, and his compositions are founded upon the larger
harmonies often associated with abstraction. "Robert Bateman: A
Retrospective" at The Bruce Museum of Arts and Science, will
remain on view through August 3 before moving to its last venue,
the Houston Museum of Natural Science (August 30 to November 30).
It includes 35 paintings, as well as one sculpture, several
sketches and a few prints, all dated from 1948 to 2000.
Animals, known to steal the scene in film, probably have a
similar effect in art. The "art" can get lost with all the
attention going to the animal upon a cursory appraisal. Bateman's
work, however, invites lengthy contemplation. These are not
maudlin works fawning over themselves to borrow interest from the
animals. They are thoughtfully structured paintings that show a
thorough knowledge of the anatomy, behavior and specificity of
animals, painted by an artist who evolved into painting
realistically after years of painting as a modernist, and who
even flirted with Abstract Expressionism. (Bateman is to this day
mindful of Mark Rothko's sublime color, Franz Kline's
calligraphic brushstrokes and Clyfford Still's transcendent
abstractions).
Born and raised in Toronto, Canada, and now a resident of a
Canadian island off the Northwest Coast, Bateman's earliest art
was inspired by observation of animals. At 8 years old he was
enrolled in the Junior Field Naturalists Club at Toronto's Royal
Ontario Museum. He continued in this vein until he entered into a
ten-year period of artistic searching in his mid-20s -- at a time
when there were radical developments in art. Bateman experimented
with looser brushwork, as well as nonrepresentational painting,
and although he remained an ardent conservationist, he did not
paint with the realism that he is known for today. This
experimental time, however, most likely strengthened the
paintings that followed -- when Robert Bateman the artist fused
once again with Robert Bateman the naturalist.
The return to realism came from exposure to the oeuvre of an
important countercurrent artist at the time, Andrew Wyeth. A 1963
retrospective of Andrew Wyeth's work at the Albright Knox Museum
was a "road to Damascus" experience said Bateman. Wyeth's tour de
force realism stunned him, and changed the direction of Bateman's
work thereafter.
Deeply conscious of the plight of wildlife, Bateman uses his art
to further conservation and care of the environment. At a recent
talk to a full house at the Bruce Museum, Bateman pointed out
that he is for logging and fishing and farming, especially
to create jobs for responsible individuals and small companies.
What he sees as unconscionable is the massive-scale corporate
operations that rely on machine-driven techniques that leave
devastation in their wake.
Many paintings in the show take this issue on. One, "Driftnet,"
1993, shows a drowned albatross and dolphin caught as "by catch"
in a driftnet. "Carmanah Contrast," 1989, shows an old-growth
Sitka forest in its mystical splendor contrasted with the scene
just a couple of miles away of a logged-out barren land with only
broken spars and rubble left behind. "Self-Portrait with Ancient
Sitka & Big Machine," 1993, pits a glowering Bateman, as seen
from behind, against a gigantic logging machine.
A masterpiece in the show is "Ocean Rhapsody - Orca," 1999.
Measuring 48 by 96 inches, the painting is an underwater view of
graceful fronds of bull kelp in the foreground with a killer
whale swimming through an expansive gray-blue-green ocean.
Bateman is a master of values, making the viewer sense the tons
of water and the volume of the space. The subtle changes in color
and value, all accomplished without obvious brushstrokes, are
amazing. In the murky light the not-too-distant whale is both
beautiful and alarming. Bateman captures the moment of time when
the underwater viewer has most likely been surprised by the
sudden appearance of this leviathan.
Another centerpiece is "Everglades," a huge canvas that was
featured in a landmark Bateman exhibition in 1987 at the
Smithsonian Institution (a show that broke all attendance
records, even briefly surpassing crowds at the Smithsonian's Air
and Space Museum, an unprecedented feat). "Everglades" is an
expansive view of egrets standing in a marsh. Very atmospheric,
the viewer can see the humidity in the air. Because the egrets
are so captivating, only birders notice that Bateman has included
several other species of birds in the painting. The more you
look, the more you see.
From the Batemans' private collection is a favorite painting that
he and his wife Birgit will never sell. "Gentoo Penguins &
Whale Bones," 1979, shows two penguins that are not yet developed
enough to swim, perhaps hatched too late to survive. Their fate
is unclear. Heaps of desiccated whalebones create a sculptural
but morbid background. Bateman was reminded of the sculptures of
Henry Moore when he painted this work.
"Iceberg and Humpback Whales," 1999, is as much a seascape as it
is a wildlife painting. A large iceberg commands our attention.
The distant humpbacks slice through the water, with only the
backs in view -- a real life scenario that is not
sensationalistic but sensational just the same.
The Bruce Museum is at One Museum Drive. Hours are Tuesday
through Saturday, 10 am to 5 pm, and Sunday, 1 to 5 pm. For
information, call 203-869-0376 or visit www.brucemuseum.org.
