KLAUS FRIEDEBERGER - Delahunty Fine Art
Transcript of KLAUS FRIEDEBERGER - Delahunty Fine Art
K L AU S F R I E D E B E R G E R
PA I N T I N GS & W O R KS O N PA P E R
1 9 9 2 - 2 0 1 5
DELAHUNTY21 BRUTON STREET LONDON, W1J 6QD
DELAHUNTYFINEART.COM
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 5
Introducing Klaus Friedeberger
The British are good at overlooking the artists in
their midst, which is one reason why those adept
at self-promotion occupy so much of our attention
these days. Excellence of product, it seems, is
of less relevance than efficiency at mass media
manipulation. One consequence of this is that
the quieter and more modest talents are ignored.
Klaus Friedeberger is just such an artist - a painter
of immense distinction and painterly verve, whose
work deserves far wider recognition than it has
hitherto received.
Friedeberger has made his home in this country
since 1950, when he painted in an Expressionist
and figurative idiom. From the mid-1960s his work
became increasingly abstract and monochromatic,
but still richly expressive in terms of form and
texture, light and space. Deliberate restriction of
means led to new and resourceful discoveries.
(Braque: ‘In art, progress does not consist in
extension but in the knowledge of limits.’) Half-a-
century later, his understanding of strategies and
materials is magisterial in its formal and emotional
implications. Friedeberger has created a body of
work quite remarkable in its abstract scope and
nuance. By limiting himself initially to black and white
(only recently allowing some colour to re-invigorate
his tonal dramas) he has plumbed new depths
of subtlety in his dedicated investigation of that
strange mixture of intoxication and sense which
constitutes art.
Klaus Friedeberger was born in Berlin in August
1922, the only child of middle-class secular Jewish
parents who separated in 1930. As the political
situation in Germany deteriorated, young Klaus
was sent to a Quaker school in Holland in 1938.
There he began to draw from nature, encouraged
by his art teacher Max Warburg, son of the founder
of the Warburg Institute in London. In April 1939
Friedeberger came to England as a refugee, and
found work with an electrical sign firm. Soon after
war was declared, he was classified as an enemy
alien and interned, then transported to Australia
on the troopship Dunera, along with nearly 3,000
others, mostly German and Austrian Jewish
refugees. Arriving in Australia, he spent two years in
an internment camp in New South Wales.
In the camp, he continued to draw and paint,
making portraits and figure studies, surrealistic
compositions as well as posters and scenery for
theatrical productions. The camp functioned as
a kind of unofficial university, and anyone who
had something to teach came forward and took
classes. There was the sculptor Heinz Henghes,
the surrealist painter and stage designer Hein
Heckroth, and the photographer Helmut
Gernsheim, who could only teach the theory of
photography because there was no equipment;
Ludwig Hirschfeld Mack from the Bauhaus taught
colour theory, and Ernst Kitzinger and Franz Philipp
art history. (Philipp later wrote the first monograph
on Arthur Boyd.) Heckroth was probably the
most important early influence on Friedeberger’s
developing vision of the world.
Lo o k i n g a t p a i n t i n g i s a b o u t t h e d i s cov e r y
o f t h e co m p l e t e n a tu r e o f a n i m a g e w h i c h
o n l y co m e s i n to ex i s t e n c e t h ro u g h t h e
i n t e ra c t i o n o f a l l i t s co n s t i tu e n t p a r t s
w h e n t h e v i ew e r i s s t a n d i n g i n f ro n t o f i t .
Th i s co m m u n i c a t i o n f ro m a r t i s t to v i ew e r
t h ro u g h t h e a c t i v i ty o f d i r e c t l o o k i n g i s
u l t i m a t e l y mys t e r i o u s a n d i n ex p l i c a b l e .
W e m i g h t d e s c r i b e i t a s t h e a u ra , p r e s e n c e ,
c h a ra c t e r, ev e n t h e m a g i c o f a p a i n t i n g ,
a n d Fr i e d e b e r g e r ’s wo r k h a s i t i n s p a d e s.
A n d r ew L a m b i r t h
6
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 7
Released from the camp, Friedeberger joined a
non-combatant labour corps in the Australian Army,
and worked for four years on the railway. When he
was finally demobilised in 1946, he applied to study
at the East Sydney Technical College and was
assigned to the painting department (rather than
to graphic design, as he’d expected, considering
he’d been making posters since he was 13). There
he came to know the young artists Guy Warren,
Tony Tuckson, and Oliffe Richmond and met other
painters intent on establishing themselves, such as
Arthur Boyd and Sidney Nolan.
Inevitably, Friedeberger was associated with the
great upsurge of Australian creativity at this time.
After his move to London in 1950, he exhibited
into the early 1960s as an Australian artist, but
subsequently was thought of as an independent
painter, neither particularly German, Australian
or British, just a painter living in cosmopolitan
London. In some ways he was better known as
a graphic designer - a subject he taught at art
school and practised in agencies to earn his living.
But he always continued painting, and for 20 years
(1946-66) his main subject was children, painted
allegorically and expressively in rich, discordant
colours. His first solo exhibition in July 1963 was
the inaugural show in Annely Juda’s new Hamilton
Galleries, in St George Street, Hanover Square. The
slim, elegant, square-format catalogue contained
an introduction by the critic Charles Spencer.
(The catalogue’s designer, Tony Guy, commented
that designing for Friedeberger was somewhat
fraught - ‘like pulling a tooth for a dentist’.) Charles
Spencer wrote perceptively: ‘The world of children
- serious, cruel, aggressive, self-centred - is to
him not only a reflection of life itself, but because
of its uninhibitedness a truer insight into human
behaviour. Yet even this is not really what he is after.
To him the painting is the end, not a bald statement
on the human situation.’
This last observation is worth emphasising: that
painting is the end, not the ostensible subject.
Spencer realised precisely where Friedeberger’s
true interest lay. And he also noticed that (even
by 1963) ‘a more abstract complexity has now
taken over’. This was prescient, for in 1966
Friedeberger renounced colour, exhibiting his first
monochromatic paintings (still of children) the
following year, and then beginning in 1969 his long
sequence of abstract black and white paintings.
After the high-flying start with Hamilton Galleries,
Friedeberger’s career slowed, and for fifteen years
he exhibited only infrequently in group shows. This
was essentially a period of transition, in which he
didn’t relish the spotlight. One exception was a show
at the Ben Uri Gallery in 1978 selected by Abram
Games, the great graphic designer, who included
three of Friedeberger’s abstracts. This was an
accolade. Games had responded favourably to the
Hamilton Galleries exhibition, commenting of the
paintings: ‘They aren’t even bad.’ It was the kind of
laconic understatement Friedeberger appreciated.
By the mid-1980s he was ready to exhibit once
again, with solo shows at the Warwick Arts Trust
(1986) and a retrospective at the Woodlands Art
Gallery in Blackheath (1992). In 2007, England & Co
mounted a show of his early figurative work (1940-
70) accompanied by a well-documented catalogue,
and then in 2009 Simon Pierse organised a splendid
show of recent abstract paintings at Aberystwyth
University. But Friedeberger’s exhibiting history has
somehow never regained its early momentum, and
as a consequence, his work is not nearly as familiar
to the gallery-going public or the critics as it might
be. This is a tragedy, as the paintings he has been
making over the last 25 years are the most original
and rewarding of his entire career.
Friedeberger’s current pictures have all been given
the title Black Space and then a number. He says
he finds it difficult to think of titles that won’t direct
the viewer. He doesn’t want to programme the way
someone looks at his paintings - he wants them to
respond from within themselves, not be saddled
with preconceptions. His paintings don’t start like
that, but mostly evolve from paint. ‘I sometimes
see things that suggest a painting, but the rest
comes out of the paint. I listen to the paint.’ Very
occasionally he will make a drawing in a sketchbook,
but generally he doesn’t make preliminary studies.
His works on paper (both drawings and collages) are
a parallel but self-contained activity. If he is tempted
to stay too close to an observed motif, the painting
will suffer. For instance, he remembers making ‘a
scribble’ of a wire-sided truck full of branches he saw
once in Paris. Later he felt the urge to turn this into
a painting. But the motif was too strongly figurative
and specific, and the painting was never resolved
to his satisfaction, even though re-painted several
times.
Nowadays he might begin with ‘a bit of an idea about
tones, but I have no great method.’ Sometimes
black and white photos might suggest something.
A photograph by Helmut Newton (or Helmut
Neustadter as he was when Friedeberger first met
him in the camp in Australia), might look good turned
upside down, when the abstract shapes make new
configurations. One painting was sparked off by
a portrait of Goethe looked at similarly - upside
down. Friedeberger has a number of reproductions
of paintings by Old Masters pinned up in his studio
(Caravaggio, Titian, Rembrandt), and these too can
serve as the starting point for a painting. ‘It always
has to start somewhere - that is really the problem.
You’ve get to get something down. If you don’t have
anything down you have nowhere to go.’ The blank
canvas remains a challenge.
He mostly paints in oil on canvas. ‘I don’t do much
in acrylic - it dries too fast.’ And this can be the
case with the metallic paints he began using in
1994, introducing accents of copper, silver or
gold. The metallic paints dry quicker than black oil,
for instance, and for a painter who is constantly
scraping or sanding back a surface to re-paint, this
can pose further difficulties. As Friedeberger says:
‘I’ve sanded through many a canvas - some are all
patched up on the back.’ He doesn’t use line much
but builds up a depth of paint in sensitive layers and
abutments, trying to create a sense of something
else behind the paint, which gives it an extra
(metaphysical) dimension. He doesn’t see himself
as a medium for some message from elsewhere (‘I
think of myself as a painter who paints’), and insists
8
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 9
that all his discoveries come through his relationship
with the paint. And like any relationship, this has to
be worked at, not taken for granted.
A painting may take months to finish and the main
task is to maintain a sense (and appearance) of
freshness while he agonises over its final form
and definition. His primary ambition is to stop
the image collapsing in on itself and becoming a
meaningless tangle of paint. On the other hand
he doesn’t want it to be too much about gesture.
The process of painting and scraping back can
become almost a despairing kind of drudgery, and
then suddenly there will come a point when it is right
and Friedeberger can recognise it as such. Then he
stops. It’s always a surprise. This is very difficult to pin
down and describe - it’s perhaps an almost mystical
moment of revelation. Certainly, the struggle is
resolved on some subconscious level. He doesn’t
want to know consciously what is happening, he
doesn’t want to direct it, he wants to discover it. The
challenge is to keep an open mind and not impose
an easy solution - for this will have no meaning in the
end. He needs to uncover something deeper.
He is an enthusiastic reader of Samuel Beckett, and
one of Friedeberger’s most eloquent supporters,
Stephen Coppel from the Department of Prints &
Drawings at the British Museum, has identified an
affinity between writer and painter. To illustrate this,
Coppel quotes that moving passage from Beckett’s
novel The Unnamable which concludes: ‘…you
must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on’. As a description
of the seeming impossibility of the activity of writing
or painting, it cannot be bettered. But actually how
Beckettian is Friedeberger’s approach? Certainly,
there are things that writer and artist have in
common - principally an urge towards restriction
and compression of means - but in comparison to
Beckett’s spirit of negation, I find in Friedeberger
something altogether more affirmative and
optimistic. In fact, a spirit of celebration - of the
glories of looking and the splendours of paint.
Friedeberger’s late work is profound, reflective and
serene, not gloomy and desolate like Beckett’s.
Beckett is the artist of deprivation and terminal
depression. This is not Friedeberger’s intellectual or
emotional complexion at all.
Beckett’s work is forbiddingly difficult and makes no
concessions to his public. Looking at Friedeberger’s
abstract paintings may be initially challenging, but
concentrated scrutiny (and an open mind) will
unlock his intentions. Although he is diffident about
his work and avoids talking about it, Friedeberger
is not socially reticent or miserabilist as Beckett
tended to be. (In fact, he’s a man of much humour
and enjoyment of life.) If Beckett is going into the
darkness and sending back bulletins of despair,
Friedeberger is coming out of the darkness with
glimmers of hope and recovered truth.
The decided chastening of his painterly style has
been relaxed over the last 20 years, and a certain
amount of colour has been allowed back to irradiate
his black and white constructions. If Beckett’s
increasingly minimal prose signalled a withdrawal
from the richness and warmth of the world,
Friedeberger’s much more opulent paint does not.
Although he doesn’t slather the paint around with
undisciplined abandon, he does offer a panoply of
textural and formal painterly considerations that are
a visual delight. But don’t look for narrative meaning
here. In 1992 he wrote: ‘since the 1970s my
paintings have not been “about” something outside
themselves. I want them to have a presence with a
convincing reality of their own. I like what someone
said about Turner’s landscapes, quoted by Hazlitt:
“Pictures of nothing, and very like.”’
Friedeberger is a tonal painter of decision and
subtlety, acutely aware of the materiality of paint,
and always trying to rid himself of distractions to get
to the heart of his investigation. His paintings are not
spontaneous but much worked over - fought over,
indeed - and filled with passages of dragged paint
of wondrous subtlety and overlays of forms moving
in upon one another (predatory or amatory?),
emerging and dissolving, summoning things from
shallow or deep space. The human mind cannot
help making connections and finding associations,
that’s its default mode, and although abstract
painters are no doubt fed up with people saying
‘that reminds me of…’, the individual associative
response is central to the experience of looking at
art. Thus, in Friedeberger’s abstractions, which are
purely formal explorations of light and space, the
mind sees other things. Among them: abysses and
summits and a rock-face in potent close-up; tunnel
and crypt; vegetation against a void; a window
filled in with any material to hand (this element of
bricolage lingers suggestively through the work); a
fishing boat drawn up on a beach; a parcel of string,
to some degree unravelled; portals; a window high
in a wall.
Looking at painting is about the discovery of the
complete nature of an image which only comes
into existence through the interaction of all its
constituent parts when the viewer is standing in
front of it. This communication from artist to viewer
through the activity of direct looking is ultimately
mysterious and inexplicable. We might describe it
as the aura, presence, character, even the magic of
a painting, and Friedeberger’s work has it in spades.
Perhaps creative art is a way of matching up the
changes that take place in nature with the changes
that take place within ourselves, and searching for
understanding as much as reconciliation. If all art
worthy of the name offers access to the centre
of things, it may be said that Klaus Friedeberger’s
paintings, drawings and collages throw a lasso
around the centre; and in this case, the centre not
only holds but reflects back an illumination that is
rare in contemporary art.
Andrew Lambirth
10
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 11
CLUMP, 1997
Oil on canvas, 127 x 127 cm, 50 x 50 in (KF002)
LIGHT SPATIAL, 1992
Oil on canvas, 101 .6 x 91 .4 cm, 40 x 36 in (KF001)
12
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 13
WHITE WITH GOLD AND SILVER, 2003
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 73.7 cm, 29 x 29 in (KF004)
DIAGONAL SILVER/BLACK AND A WHITE, 2000
Oil on canvas, 101 .6 x 101 .6 cm, 40 x 40 in (KF003)
14
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 15
DARK STILL LIFE WITH COPPER, 2007-8
Oil on canvas, 127 x 127 cm, 50 x 50 in (KF005)
HALTED GREY, 2008
Oil on canvas, 101 .6 x 101 .6 cm, 40 x 40 in (KF006)
16
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 17
BLACK SPACE 10, 2011
Oil on canvas, 127 x 127 x 2 .5 cm, 50 x 50 x 1 in (KF007)
BLACK SPACE 13, 2011/14
Oil on canvas, 127 x 127 cm, 50 x 50 in (KF008)
18
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
D
EL
AH
UN
TY
KL
AU
S F
RIE
DE
BE
RG
ER
DE
LA
HU
NT
Y 19
BLACK SPACE 15, 2012
Oil on canvas, 137.2 x 137.2 cm, 54 x 54 in (KF009)
BLACK SPACE 16, 2012
Oil on canvas, 114 .3 x 114 .3 cm, 45 x 45 in (KF010)
20
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
21
BLACK SPACE 24, 2015
Oil on canvas, 127 x 127 cm, 50 x 50 in (KF011)
BLACK SPACE 26, 2015
Oil on canvas, 114 .3 x 114 .3 cm, 45 x 45 in (KF012)
22
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
23
BLACK SPACE 18, 2013
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 73.7 cm, 29 x 29 in (KF013)
BLACK SPACE 20, 2013
Oil on canvas, 68.6 x 68.6 cm, 27 x 27 in (KF014)
24
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
25
BLACK SPACE 21, 2014
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 73.7 cm, 29 x 29 in (KF015)
UNTITLED, 1992
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 73.7 cm, 29 x 29 in (KF016)
26
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
27
UNTITLED ( I I ) , 1997
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 73.7 cm, 29 x 29 in (KF017)
UNTITLED ( I I I ) , 1997
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 73.7 cm, 29 x 29 in (KF018)
28
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
29
UNTITLED (A) , 2007
Charcoal on paper , 50 x 50 cm, 19 ¾ x 19 ¾ in (KF019)
UNTITLED (B) , 1984
Penci l on paper , 50 x 50 cm, 19 ¾ x 19 ¾ in (KF020)
30
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
31
UNTITLED (C) , 2000
Str ipped paper col lage, 45 x 45 cm, 17 ¾ x 17 ¾ in (KF021)
UNTITLED (D) , 2000
Penci l and col lage, 52 x 54 cm, 20 ½ x 21 ¼ in (KF022)
32
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
33
UNTITLED (E) , 1987
Penci l on paper , 27.3 x 26.7 cm, 10 ¾ x 10 ½ in (KF023)
UNTITLED (F) , 1987
Penci l on paper , 36 x 36 cm, 14 ⅛ x 14 ⅛ in (KF024)
34
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
35
UNTITLED (G) , 1987
Penci l on paper , 35 x 35 cm, 13 ¾ x 13 ¾ in (KF025)
UNTITLED (H), 1987
Penci l on paper , 39.4 x 39.4 cm, 15 ½ x 15 ½ in (KF026)
36
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
37
UNTITLED ( I ) , 2012
Str ipped paper col lage, 56 x 54.6 cm, 22 ⅛ x 21 ½ in (KF027)
UNTITLED (J) , 1996
Penci l and acryl ic , 40 x 38 cm, 15 ¾ x 15 in (KF028)
38
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
39
UNTITLED (K ) , 1998
Water-soluble wax crayon on paper , 35 x 35 cm, 13 ¾ x 13 ¾ in (KF029)
UNTITLED (L) , 1997
Water-soluble wax crayon, 35 x 35 cm, 13 ¾ x 13 ¾ in (KF030)
40
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
41
UNTITLED (M), 2006
Str ipped paper col lage, 19 x 19 cm, 7 ½ x 7 ½ in (KF031)
UNTITLED (N), 1984
Paper drawing col lage, 21 x 21 cm, 8 ¼ x 8 ¼ in (KF032)
42
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
43
UNTITLED (O), 2006
Acryl ic on paper , 23 x 23.5 cm, 9 ⅛ x 9 ¼ in (KF033)
UNTITLED (P) , 2006
Acryl ic and Penci l , 23.5 x 24 cm, 9 ¼ x 9 ½ in (KF034)
44
K
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R
DE
LA
HU
NT
YK
LA
US
FR
IED
EB
ER
GE
R D
EL
AH
UN
TY
45
UNTITLED (Q), 2012
Collage, 42 x 42.5 cm, 16 ½ x 16 ¾ in (KF035)
UNTITLED (R) , 1997
Str ipped paper col lage, 35.6 x 38 cm, 14 ⅛ x 15 in (KF036)
D E L A H U N T Y
21 Bruton Street
Mayfair
London
W1J 6QD
+44 (0) 20 7493 1613
info@delahuntyf ineart .com
www.delahuntyf ineart .com
Photography by Matthew Hollow
Design by James Robinson
www.jal loro.com