The irony of beauty

One of the aspects of the art experience that I find most interesting is the tension between the physical beauty of a composition and the darkness of the subject matter. Take these two paintings of Mao Zedong for example (brought to mind by the Beijing Olympics, which in itself is a bit ironic - who can forget the beautiful voice of the little girl singing the national anthem at the opening ceremonies, which turned out having belonged to another little girl, who was deemed by the Chinese authorites as not being pretty enough to sing it in person??)

The figure of Mao is problematic - a communist dictator who persecuted and oppressed the people of China and began a dark chapter in this vast country's great history. But yet these two paintings are technically "beautiful" to observe - Warhol turns Mao into a pop icon, similar to his portraits of Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor - and instantly we smile at this man's face, which normally should make us uneasy.

And Kiefer reminds us of the natural beauty and grace of flowers in abundance, even while they are thrown (all 1,000 of them) at the feet of a dictator, shown here in a Hitler-styled posture that brings to mind another set of sorrows. So here we are, as viewers, caught between the beauty and the darkness - and where do we go? Where do our minds and souls rest in between this tension? How do we resolve it internally? This is where I believe "art" resides - in this dialogue - in this relationship between us and the painting, us and the artist, and within ourselves.

Andy Warhol, Mao

Anselm Kiefer, Let a Thousand Flowers Bloom