Review: Munch At The National Portrait Gallery

By Erin Deborah Waks

I don’t, ordinarily, like art showcasing the male form as much as I both appreciate and like works that bring to the fore the beauty of the female.

Since becoming aware of this fact while strolling through the National Portrait Gallery several years ago and noticing I barely gave paintings of men so much as a sideways glance, I’ve made an effort to understand why. Is it because I find the female form more aesthetically pleasing? Does it indicate something subconscious about my sexual orientation I have not yet unearthed? Do I hate men? Do I hate the male body?

None of this being true, I set forth on a trip to the gallery’s most recent exhibit of a male artist, Edvard Munch Portraits. Indeed, it is not male artists I can’t get behind, but rather the representation of men. Frankly, I almost always find such depictions boring.

I knew Munch often painted images of men, and I was pleased to discover not only did he do so with unfaltering skill, but also with a depth of stroke and colour that made such works engaging - a tough feat, in my book.

The Norwegian artist, most famous for his harrowing and powerful 1893 painting The Scream, was known for his intimate, personal portraits, bold and vibrant use of colour and a sense of real connection and engagement with his subject. 

And I found the gallery’s collection, albeit small, brought this only too well to life. 

What surprised me most was the breadth of emotion captured. I had no doubt Munch did trauma, fear and sadness well - and this was confirmed upon arrival. And naturally, the bright paintings of women - notably sombre despite their vividity - were both beautiful and alluring.

 But what I did not expect was to be so drawn to the depth and variety of emotions his paintings of male subjects - and female ones, of course - brought out in me.

I was especially drawn to his depiction of German Jewish physicist Felix Auerbach, who killed himself when the Nazis came to power, for its bold red backdrop and intensely powerful, defiant glare. Likewise, his display of fellow Karl Jensen-Hjell turned out to be thought-provoking: I could not quite surmise what the subject was thinking, and found his expression to show a realistic, perhaps arrogant but also pensive, perspective. I stood in puzzlement for several moments - for me, always a sure-fire sign a piece of work has captured my attention.

I could have done with more signage and explanation of Munch’s life and work - the exhibit, while well curated and indicative of his style, did not take very long and I would have liked more bang for my buck.

That said, it was an enjoyable and, dare I say it, enjoyably masculine half hour.