LONDON — W.H. Auden poignant reminds us in his impressive poem “Musée des Beaux Arts,” reflecting upon Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s work titled “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus” (c. 1560), that significant events — like the tragic descent of Icarus, whose wax wings melt as he flies too close to the sun, leading to his fatal plunge — often fade into the background for regular people. The simple plowman on the hill, oblivious to the extraordinary departure of the mythological figure, continues about his day, indifferent.
Similarly, as onlookers gazing at this famed piece, we might be unexpectedly distant from the narrative, as the calamity—the fleeting image of a few legs thrashing—unfolds quite near the painting’s bottom edge, hardly registering in our consciousness when overshadowed by the grandeur of the nearby ship’s billowing sails or the vivid red shirt of the plowman.
This sentiment of disengagement resonated with me as I wandered through a beautifully appointed gallery nestled within an upscale district of north London, where the elegant stucco facades glistened in the September sunlight.
I was there to enjoy Love, Death & Ennui, a fresh exhibition showcasing prints and select oil paintings by the somewhat unconventional artist Walter Richard Sickert. With a heritage of Danish and German descent, Sickert passed away in 1942 but spent much of his life in England after extensive travels across Europe. His artistic training included mentorship under Whistler.
Sickert’s artistic journey was distinctly his own. Much like the peripheral subjects in Breugel’s portrayal of Icarus, the essence of many of Sickert’s finest works reflects seemingly trivial elements. He eschewed glamour and flattery; you might envision him as the antithesis to John Singer Sargent, who often catered to the affluent. Sickert’s creations, whether prints or paintings, often tread the line between the gritty and the mundane. In this exhibition, a plethora of prints (all from a single private collection) engage in compelling dialogues with a handful of finished oils. An industrious and somewhat chaotic printmaker, Sickert would revisit the same themes repeatedly, where a print could inspire a painting, and vice versa.
He treated every aspect of his artistry as mutable, rarely content with a singular depiction. For illustration, consider “Ennui” (c. 1913–14), a modest oil painting enveloped by countless prints — experimental pieces, afterthoughts, and variations, presenting different angles and crops. The artwork displays an older man languidly seated, puffing a pipe while staring vacantly ahead. What does the title reveal about the nature of its creation?
While ennui, or existential fatigue, burdens the psyche of a poet like Baudelaire—who pondered this state deeply about fifty years prior—it merely hints at boredom in Sickert’s character. But then, there is a curious detail: the woman standing behind him, turned away. What complexities does her presence invite? The engagement with the various prints exploring this slightly murky, pipe-filled world opens up an intricate narrative.
Another notable piece, “Le Journal” (1905–6), demands an intense gaze straight into the dark hollow of a woman’s nostrils, evoking a sense of dread.
Sickert: Love, Death & Ennui is on view at Piano Nobile (129 Portland Road, London, England) until December 19. The exhibition is organized by the gallery.
