Written by Isao Takahata, Japan
"Dance of the Moth" is the first Klee work I encountered. A replica, of course. I found the original thing from that year and put it on the desk, looking at it now. This is the frontispiece of the thirty-fifth volume of "The Complete Works of World Art" (Heiheisha) published in Showa 5 (1930). When I graduated from high school and left for Tokyo, I secretly tore off this painting and took it with me. The color and brightness are completely different from the original painting, not just because it has faded over time, but also because there is a problem with the original reproduction technology. Even if it is like this, it still looks so beautiful, which is also the terrifying thing about this painting.
The thirty-sixth volume of the magnificent hand-bound edition of "The Complete Collection of World Art" was considered an epoch-making publication at the time. However, there are only a few colored title page illustrations in each volume, and the rest are all printed in black and white. Despite this, together with the series "Japanese Children's Bunko" (ARS) and "The Complete Works of Soseki" (Iwanami Shoten), it can be regarded as the treasure of my family after the war. During the air raid in Okayama City, all my houses were burned down, but my brother still transported them to the countryside on a large truck and stored them there, which saved them from being destroyed. A separate volume on Western paintings, the title page picture is Turner's "Rain, Steam and Speed". We are particularly fascinated by steam locomotives and watched it many times while marveling.
"Dance of the Moth" first opened my eyes to the new charm of modern painting when I was a boy. It is a very important work for me. Unfortunately, however, it is completely missing from the recently published collection of Klee's paintings. Perhaps there are countless other charming works and important masterpieces, so during the selection process, it will always be missed anyway. Although it is hidden among Klee's works in Japan, I am afraid it is the first one that became familiar and close to me. This is the first thing that comes to mind when I choose to talk about Klee in my column. Today, after seeing countless art exhibitions and browsing a large number of Klee's outstanding works through many albums, this painting is no longer one of my favorites. However, with the convenience of modern printing technology and a little chance at this moment, I think it is a good time to let this painting see the light of day again. Moreover, I discovered that the Aichi Prefectural Museum of Art, which houses it, has published a copy of it on its official website. Watching "Dance of the Moths" again in detail was awe-inspiring to me. It's more profound than I thought.
Even among works of the same period, it still appears simple and simple. An anthropomorphic line-drawing moth flies above the grid-shaped color blocks with beautiful layers and depth. Klee has many small-sized works, and this one is only 50cm x 32cm. The moth's traces were drawn using a new technique called "oil reprinting," which was done through several trial drawings from 1922 to 1923. The oil paint was used to create the feeling of a charcoal painting. Place the oil painting side down on the watercolor paper, then use a stylus to mark the line outline onto the watercolor paper, and finally finish it with watercolors. The lines on the picture that look like dirt are said to have been stained by pressing the paper back with your hands during the transfer process. It is obvious that this painting must have been copied by imagining what the creatures we call "elves" in the cartoon would look like when they vibrate their wings.
In the center, in the light that penetrates the top and bottom of the picture, the moth is flapping its wings, raising its chest and raising its head, and its body is arched, soaring upward. However, Klee's unique six vector arrows constrained its movement, especially the long arrows that fell downwards like a pendulum, which exerted the effect of gravity and prevented the moth from continuing to fly upward. This is a moment of vigorous resistance. Its face was raised because its hair was pulled, its lips were pursed, and it held its breath; its eyes looked at the longing sky and flapped its wings, resisting in vain. The sun shape cuts across its body, and the surrounding dark blue-green areas and grid color blocks surround the moth, as if telling it: Don't even think about flying out from here. Look carefully, you can see that there is an arrow stabbed on the moth's chest and there is a wound. Could that drop of pendant on the lower part of the skirt be a tear? And the so-called "moth dance" is a tragic struggle to ascend?
I don’t know what meaning Klee placed in this work. However, when I read it again today, for some reason, I thought of Nagase Kiyoko, a poet I respected who was born in Okayama, and of a poem she wrote when she was about thirty-four years old, "The Goddess of the Kingdoms" ("The Goddess of the Kingdoms"). "Goddess", Kawade Shobo, 1940):
Kiyoko Nagase, a woman who loves light like the original sun, dreams of "the days of flying in the boundless sky" while working hard every day on housework, Raising children and farm work. Kiyoko Nagase was one of the poets who witnessed the discovery of Kenji Miyazawa's posthumous work "Fear of the Wind and Rain" at the funeral. Klee's moth is like the nightingale in Kenji Miyazawa's "Nightingale Star", yearning to fly into the sky. However, what is different from the nightingale is that just like Nagase Kiyoko herself, just like you and me, we want to fly but are pulled back to the ground, with arrows stuck in our bodies, and we keep struggling. By the way, the original German name of this painting is not motte, which corresponds to the English moth, but "Nachtfalter Tanz", which means "Dance of Lepidoptera at Night". Lepidopteran flying insects at night, also known as night butterflies. As a butterfly at night, the moth, like the nightingale, is reminiscent of a woman wearing heavy makeup and doing business at night.
Night Butterfly, desperately trying to escape from his situation... However, what this painting expresses is still a hint of a universal situation of us humans. The line drawing of the moth presents a unique humor of Klee that cannot be ignored.
The tones of Klee's paintings are really beautiful, and like poetry and music, they have a fairy tale fantasy humor, and most of them make people feel a sophisticated and refined aesthetic with an urban atmosphere. Among the painters of the 20th century, Klee is still the most popular to this day. Perhaps this is the reason. Many of his works appear fashionable and sophisticated at first glance, and it is only because of this that they strongly attract viewers. But in fact, they contain profound themes. "Dance of the Moth" is exactly such a work.
In fact, until I thought about it carefully this time, I had never thought that it was such a work with such a heavy theme. To me, "Dance of the Moth" is just a simple title page picture, with a dull red-purple tone. It has neither the blue-black darkness used to express the night nor the light. It is "although slightly brighter". A magical and interesting painting that is eerie but also contains a hint of humor somewhere.” And in my memory, this moth is more like a buzzing flying mosquito with flapping wings than a moth with wide, thick wings and plump limbs. I randomly thought that the arrow was an association with the mosquito-repellent incense advertisement; even the sharp arrowhead in the hand of the flying mosquito that pierced the lower center and made people feel like a javelin seemed to act as a reaction force to help the flying mosquito to fly. The moth made up its mind to leap and soar. In fact, looking at it again today, although it is leaping, it is not restrained, but is like a moth with an arrow hanging from it, jumping up resolutely and unyieldingly. The heavy, dark color band running across the moth's waist is basically invisible to people, but is used to clearly set off the moth's upturned body. Although the lines have never changed, they are so different from my previous impression of this painting.
I have two albums, both of which contain this work, the post-war 1955 and 1962 versions. Although it is said to be a "primary color version", it seems that the printing accuracy is very low, and it is more gray and blue than the real thing. It looks like two completely different works from the red and purple title page picture. Why didn't I read Dance of the Moths again when I saw them? I think it may be because it no longer looks as attractive as other works. Trapped by the first impression I formed as a child, I became very judgmental and held a strong prejudice, saying to myself: "It should be an interesting work that is easier to understand, but why is it so weird?" Before taking out the title page picture from my childhood to compare, I hurriedly turned the page and turned my attention to other works.
So, what does the original painting look like? I visited the Aichi Prefectural Museum of Art and saw the original work face to face for the first time. It feels larger than I thought it would be. The color is simple but it has a sassy vibe to it. It’s worth a look. It is neither too dark nor gloomy as seen on the museum's official website and catalogue. It's not so much blue as it is subtly green, and even the smallest details can be seen clearly. I felt a deeper and different sense of satisfaction than when I finally visited the Kunsthalle Bern, the home of Klee’s works, about two years ago. For things like painting, you still have to appreciate the original work. In the museum, it seemed that this painting was a star work, and there was a large poster for sale that was larger than the original size, so of course I bought it. Okay, let's put the title page picture of "The Complete Collection of World Art" that has bothered me for many years, together with the memory, into the depths of the box.
This time, I originally wanted to write about the charm I have always felt about Klee, a painter I love, who is interesting, profound, and even difficult to understand. Unfortunately, there is no such margin now.
At first glance, it would not be surprising to say that some of Klee's line drawings, one stroke at a time, and symbolic line expressions look like they were drawn by children. Painters such as Klee and Picasso, their attempts at simple lines had a huge impact on future comics and graphic design, but the directions of these two people were different from each other. Picasso's paintings are often described as "like a child's graffiti." It's just that Picasso had almost no influence from children, that's for sure. Picasso developed from the representation of reality to deformation, and then from deformation to omission. Therefore, he never abandoned his genius modeling ability, that is, his "excellent tracing ability". In contrast, Klee was obviously strongly inspired by children's paintings, and he did not devote his energy to the transformation of reality because of this inspiration. Instead, he took a leap and firmly connected to his childhood, or Since the distant primitive times, all the peoples of the earth have been performing the most common and unique behaviors of human beings. In this regard, Kleezen said: "Painting is not to reproduce what the eyes see, but to make things visible to the eyes." ("Confessions of a Creative Creed", 1920) Moreover, his sense of color is amazing. It is natural that fantasy and psychological aspects will appear in the works.
Klee, who opened up a path to the real world of painting, was the first Western painter to do this.
April 2004