Verborgene Schätze. Werke aus rheinischen Privatsammlungen @ Kunstpalast, Düsseldorf

Gerhard Richter, Blumen, 1977, CR425-3

I braved the dead of German winter to travel to foggy Düsseldorf for this important exhibition of Gerhard Richter's works from private collections. I loved seeing many paintings in real life for the first time. In particular, a handful of early trompe l'oeil paintings, including Untitled (1966, CR701) and Small Door (1968, 210-4) were a treat. In these early works, Richter is clearly working out how to do what he needs to do. He will ultimately move on from the trompe l'oeil, but it makes sense that he was looking there to explore the specific questions of realism and illusion in painting that have concerned him over a lifetime. One of the exhibition texts claimed that Richter is concerned to pursue visual concepts. He is, but I would argue that the goal is more specific and more visual: Richter is searching for how to envision certain ideas about painting. 

Gerhard Richter, Small Door, 1968, CR210-4

Because the exhibition displayed works from private collections in the region, many of them were from early in his career, painted before he became internationally famous and the prices skyrocketed. While Richter made sculptures, mirrored works, and glass panels in this period, it was interesting to see that the people of the Rhineland chose to purchase paintings. That said, there was a small mirrored ball, however, it was exhibited as an object to be reflected on, rather than a reflective surface to create transformation in the room as his mirrored works are designed to do. There was one early sculptural work (Tube, 1965, CR59c), his only film (Volker Bradke, 1966) and some early self photographs, but the exhibition's focus was very much on Richter as a painter. 

Gerhard Richter, I.S.A, 1984, CR555

I have been looking at Richter's work for decades, but the exhibition reminded me of the sheer variety of his application of paint on the canvas. Of course, this is something that can only be appreciated when together with the paintings themselves, as opposed to seeing them in reproduction. It's not simply that he uses different tools - made visible through the density and path of the paint - but also that Richter uses a myriad of tools to apply paint in vastly different ways. Five small grey works from the 1960s and 1970s, each of which asks the question of "how can I apply grey paint to this canvas?" are a great illustration. Sponged, streaked, dragged, horizontally, vertically, or dancing across the canvas. The result is always different. Similarly, he asks the viewer to regard these differences, particularly, as the behaviour of light changes depending on the application of grey paint. Richter's paintings are always in motion, within the frame, in dynamic conversations with each other, and again with their viewers.

Gerhard Richter, Seascape, 1968, CR194-23

The importance of being together with the paintings was never more emphasized than when standing in front of the seascapes and alps which are among some of the most stunning of his grey paintings. In a Seascape such as CR194-23, 1968, the movement of the brush across the work is sumptuous. Here, Richter creates the line between sea and sky through technique and application of paint, but it's difficult to say where that line is. Something changes, but where on the canvas? We can say "here is the sea" and "here is the sky," but where the one becomes the other is unclear. This is in total contrast to other seascapes such as Seascape (Grey, Cloudy), CR241-2, 1969 with its artificial horizon line. Both paintings depict the enigma of the sea, abstracting it in opposite ways. 

Gerhard Richter, Seascape (Grey, Cloudy), 1969 CR241-2

Perhaps the most striking thing about the paintings on exhibition were the frames. As they are from private collections, the works are owned by someone other than Richter, and therefore, I assume that he has no say in how they are displayed or protected. Richter's paintings hold within them a complex discourse on framing; most often, frames within the paintings are removed, off-centre, in motion, or a subject recedes from the frame. Thus, a frame for Richter is something to play with, to remove, resist, pull away, to ensure his visual discourse on obscurity, transformation, and ambivalence. 

Untitled (Reddish), 1971

Untitled, 1966, CR70-a

When a hefty wooden frame is placed around a small abstract painting, it is trapped, shut down, its discourse on chance and motion removed. In frames added by collectors, Richter's works are forced to sit still like prisoners in an empty cell. The vulnerability and fragility of a small work such as Untitled (Reddish), 1971 is lost because it is no longer connected to the world, rather it is isolated when made precious and priceless objects. That said, when a work such as Pillow Picture (1970, 255-5) is hung next to Untitled, 1966, CR70-a which is captured inside an arrangement of no less than three frames, the Pillow Picture becomes luminous and perfect, its variegations brought to the foreground through comparison. The tender tiny painting pulsates with light, looking ominously like a television screen. There is an optical illusion here that would be lost if this little gem were placed inside frames.