In The Media
June 06, 2013
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"The Lady in Gold, " considered an unforgettable masterpiece, one of the twentieth century's most recognizable paintings, made headlines all over the world when Ronald Lauder bought it for $135 million a century after Klimt, the most famous Austrian painter of his time, completed the society portrait.
Anne-Marie O'Connor, writer for" The""Washington Post," formerly of the "Los Angeles Times, " tells the galvanizing story of the Lady in Gold, Adele Bloch-Bauer, a dazzling Viennese Jewish society figure; daughter of the head of one of the largest banks in the Hapsburg Empire, head of the Oriental Railway, whose Orient Express went from Berlin to Constantinople; wife of Ferdinand Bauer, sugar-beet baron.
The Bloch-Bauers were art patrons, and Adele herself was considered a rebel of fin de siEcle Vienna (she wanted to be educated, a notion considered "degenerate" in a society that believed women being out in the world went against their feminine "nature"). The author describes how Adele inspired the portrait and how Klimt made more than a hundred sketches of her--simple pencil drawings on thin manila paper.
And O'Connor writes of Klimt himself, son of a failed gold engraver, shunned by arts bureaucrats, called an artistic heretic in his time, a genius in ours.
She writes of the Nazis confiscating the portrait of Adele from the Bloch-Bauers' grand "palais;" of the Austrian government putting the painting on display, stripping Adele's Jewish surname from it so that no clues to her identity (nor any hint of her Jewish origins) would be revealed. Nazi officials called the painting, "The Lady in Gold" and proudly exhibited it in Vienna's Baroque Belvedere Palace, consecrated in the 1930s as a Nazi institution.
The author writes of the painting, inspired by the Byzantine mosaics Klimt had studied in Italy, with their exotic symbols and swirls, the subject an idol in a golden shrine.
We see how, sixty years after it was stolen by the Nazis, the "Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer" became the subject of a decade-long litigation between the Austrian government and the Bloch-Bauer heirs, how and why the U.S. Supreme Court became involved in the case, and how the Court's decision had profound ramifications in the art world.
A riveting social history; an illuminating and haunting look at turn-of-the-century Vienna; a brilliant portrait of the evolution of a painter; a masterfully told tale of suspense. And at the heart of it, the Lady in Gold--the shimmering painting, and its equally irresistible subject, the fate of each forever intertwined.
Publishers Weekly® Reviews
- Reviewed in: Publishers Weekly, page .
- Review Date: 2011-12-19
- Reviewer: Staff
One of Gustav Klimt’s most celebrated paintings (sold to Ronald Lauder for a record million in 2006 and now in the Neue Galerie in New York City, encapsulates a fascinating, complicated cultural history of fin-de-siècle Vienna, its Jewish intelligentsia, and their near complete destruction by the Nazis. Washington Post journalist O’Connor traces the multifaceted history of Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer (1907) in this intriguing, energetically composed, but overly episodic study of Klimt, Adele Bloch-Bauer, and her niece, Maria Bloch-Bauer who reclaimed five Klimt paintings stolen by the Nazis and was extensively interviewed by O’Connor. According to Maria, Adele was “a modern woman, living in the world of yesterday.” The book’s first and strongest section vividly evokes the intellectually precocious and ambitious Adele’s rich cultural and social milieu in Vienna, and how she became entwined with the charismatic, sexually charged, and irreverent Klimt, who may have been Adele’s lover before and also during her marriage. During WWII, Adele’s portrait was renamed by the Nazis as the Dame in Gold to erase her Jewish identity. O’Connor’s final arguments about the tragic yet redemptive symbolism of Adele’s portrait are poignant and convincing: while it represents the failure of the dream of Jews like Adele to assimilate, through the painting she achieves “her dream of immortality.” 54 photos. Agent: Steve Wasserman, Kneerim and Williams. (Feb.)
A portrait of Klimt and his Jewish muse
Vienna circa 1900 was a virtual paradise for artists, intellectuals and those who enjoyed their company. It was during this cultural golden age that the painter Gustav Klimt, having pulled himself up from poverty and into fame as a “workaholic artist and serial philanderer,” created his best-known works. Among them was a portrait, three years in the making, of Adele Bloch-Bauer, born in Vienna but of Jewish descent. She was The Lady in Gold.
Anne-Marie O’Connor’s book traces the history of the famous painting as well as those whose lives it intersected. The title alone tells part of the story: When the Nazis stole the painting during the war, leaving Bloch-Bauer’s name attached to it would have meant acknowledging that the painting’s subject was Jewish; far simpler then to reduce her to “the lady in gold.” Thus “Adele’s identity disappeared with a simple stroke of the pen.” Sixty years after its theft, the painting became the subject of lengthy litigation between Bloch-Bauer’s surviving family members and the Austrian government, a case that improbably ended up before the U.S. Supreme Court. The painting was ultimately returned to the heirs and sold at auction for a record sum. It’s currently on display in a New York gallery, but O’Connor’s focus is more on the journey than its end point.
The biographical sketches of Klimt, Bloch-Bauer and their families and community are richly drawn. While any book following the plight of Jews in Vienna at the time of the Holocaust will of course be full of sorrows, there are bright spots and humor as well. Having the paintings returned brings nobody back to life, but they do testify to a time when the Jewish elite were not just accepted but celebrated in Vienna. Klimt, derided by critics for “objectifying” women, found them to be his greatest champions for acknowledging and portraying female sexuality. It’s widely known that he carried on affairs with his models, and the historical assumption is that Adele Bloch-Bauer was no exception, but there is no proof to be found. One of Klimt’s grandsons was asked about it and, acknowledging there’s no way to tell, nevertheless added, “I’m certain he tried.”
Part history and part mystery, The Lady in Gold is a striking tale.