Text by Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen, with a foreword by Carl Brenders and an introduction by David J. Wagner, Ph.D., Edited by Laura White Schuett, Eagle Mountain Publ., Eagle Mountain, Utah, 290 pp., Numerous full-color paintings by the author.
Life unyielding. Naturally, this title reminds one immediately of Darwin's thesis of the struggle for existence. Living scenes of animals which illustrate this theme are the general subject of the American artist Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen. Until now, his paintings, usually acrylic or watercolors, were mostly seen only in art exhibitions in such venues as The Wildlife Experience in Denver, art exhibitions often curated by the learned museum specialist Dr. David J. Wagner. In addition to organizing a traveling exhibition of the art of Brest van Kempen, Wagner serves as "Tour Director" for the New York-based Society of Animal Artists, a worldwide organization of artists dedicated to the representation of animals.
In the United States, the genre of realistically-naturalistic animal painting booms, in complete contrast to Europe. In the days of Alfred Brehm that was the case here in Old Europe, too, when painting and drawing were extremely important partners to the authors of zoological reference books. Their task at that time was the realistic representation of animals, and as far as possible, in and/or with the environment in which these animals lived. Sometimes there were also "scenes out of life," especially to the eternal theme of "eating and being eaten." More and more, photography has taken over this task of animal book-illustration, and artistic collaboration has been reduced to anatomical illustration and informative diagrams, tables etc. Things are different, though, in America. The self-taught Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen has made his living since 1989 as an animal painter. In the aforementioned animal painter-guild (Society of Animal Artists) he received the highest honor, the "Award of Excellence" so far four times: 1994, 1996, 1997 and 2004. That is already respectable over 48 years of life!
His book Rigor Vitae: Life Unyielding is organized into five major chapters, each one named with a literary air - "Affecting Nature" for the introduction, "Spineless Wonders" for the invertebrate chapter with 16 pictures, "Slithering Towards Gomorrah" for the 45 pictures of reptiles and amphibians, "The Song of Icarus" section is illustrated with 50 pictures of birds and finally "A Class to Call Home" for the 34 images in the comprehensive mammal chapter. The chapter assignments of each painting were based on the title given by the artist, but that does not mean that representatives of other animal groups cannot be seen. Some have the role of prey, e.g. the Common Agama (Agama agama) on the page dedicated to a Lanner Falcon (Falco biarmicus) painting of 1994. Sometimes they illustrate the habitat. A prime example of that is the almost epic representation of the Hippopotamus (Hippopotamus amphibius) with African Softshells (Trionyx triunguis) painted in 1995. Here the painter has composed an almost magical scene where a Hippo rests in shallow waters before a papyrus-belt, while three Nile Softshell Turtles ride (like the translation of its trivial name "River horse" suggests) on a sunny spot on its back. One turtle jumps off as another looks as if to snatch one of the 34 St. Helena Waxbills (Estrilda astrild) that fly from the papyrus thicket. The third turtle has already landed in the water, as the spray drops show, but has not dived yet. All this did not interrupt a Sitatunga Antelope (Tragelaphus spekei) securing its browse in the background papyrus while a Black Heron (Egretta ardesiaca), unmoved by the dynamic events in the foreground gazes into the water so as not to lose sight of its prey. ...But the diversity of animal life in this large painting of an African river bank or lake bank is far from exhausted: the keen viewer finds on a papyrus stalk a tiny reed frog (Hyperolius sp.) in quiet daytime repose, also a flying small blue dragonfly... an opulent range of ways to approach the paintings (an outstanding playful learning opportunity with one's own or other children!), leading finally to a valuable scientific appendix where the most important plants and animals in every one of the reproduced paintings is listed with the English trivial names and the scientific names. Mind you, the most important! In our Hippo painting, settled upon a papyrus-stalk, another further zoological object, a water snail sits, perhaps to go ashore under an insect larva - who knows?
The just mentioned listing of the botanical and zoological "image objects" is to a certain extent the scientific picture inventory. The images themselves are accompanied by short texts with the picture title, the year of completion, the painting size (naturally in inches and not metric!) and the painting medium noted. In addition, the reader is informed with short, precise details about the habitat of the "title animal", its ecological niche, including eating habits or other relevant characteristic details. These importantly bring the novice viewer closer to the painting subjects. In the continuous chapter text, Carel Pieter tells far more about animals, including their geological age and about the ways of their evolution, but also much of his painting study trips into nature, including the one or other experienced here. The text reads fluidly, alive to be read, and informs the inclined reader intensively, but more "lightly" than the authors of other popular-science books usually succeed in doing. Brest van Kempen is therefore not only an excellent painter, but also a good storyteller and author.
It is now in order to speak of the style and skills of Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen's painting. Surely, he can paint, and in so doing renders the animal body perfectly, he knows the characteristic behavior, movement and manners and understands them, his anatomic drawing is always precise. The Hippo has just opened its mouth, probably yawning, perhaps evening threatening the interfering viewer, lending a fantastic insight into the jaws, bristling with the teeth of a rightly-feared animal that is anything but a "harmless giant". Brest van Kempen's love for the last detail is paired with graphic picturesque ability, and supported by an angel of patience, the last detail the artist actually paints is the industry standard into strange diffuse shading He carefully paints each furrow and blemish in each individual tooth, and of course each hair of the head, as the animal occupies the foreground. This meticulous detail continues in the thicket of papyrus jungle where we are "offered" not a few strands before a dark background, but rather can proceed ourselves, row for row into the stalk tangle until the last blade in the depths of the picture blocks our view, still suspecting how much further the papyrus continues beyond. A lively interplay of light and shadow makes this plant tangle so mobile and able to represent an overcharged depth of field that the best camera lens could never achieve.
Let us return to the "bulk motion studies," as if joining the perching and flying St. Helena Waxbills to convince them of the excellence of the master's brush. The "flight bearing" of the jumping Softshell Turtle is just right, and in this thousandth of a second is razor sharp sharper than the already burdened optics of a camera could capture. Nevertheless we are taken aback by the exact fraction of a second eye of the beholder: This is a vision that would last but one thousandth of a second, seen "live," and not eternally, as in the painting. Many more dramatic scenes emerge from the kaleidoscope of Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen's "Rigor Vitae," where two animals face each other as hunter and prey, or where "it" has already happened and the prey animal is in the pharynx, in the mouth or the claws of the hunter just as its last breath is heard here the painting can fix the moment, and thus the horror of the "struggle for life is eternalized in the leap of a Papuan Monitor (Varanus salvadorii) after a "cute" endemic small New Guinean mammal, a naked-tailed rat (Uromys spec).
Should a visual artist, a painter or sculptor represent just this or another better moment in and/or out of sequence? No less than Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729 1781) was at that time already putting the dramaturgy of one of the most famous antique sculptures groups, the Laokoon group of the Vatican collections to this question in his fundamental essay "Laocoon: An Essay on the Limits of Painting and Poetry" from 1766. In his opinion it is generally not feasible to mandatorily represent an explanation.
Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen frequently creates far less terrible scenes, ones often touching, even for our too-human emotions, for example a day gecko (Phelsuma quadriocellata), feeding on the nectar of a banana blossom, and other "harmless" scenes, like the awakening of a spadefoot toad (Scaphiopus couchi) from a months-long sleep into a small puddle formed by the "monsoon season" in the Mojave Desert.
Like the old masters, C. P. Brest van Kempen skillfully paints even the most difficult structures, like the raindrops falling around, dropping and flattening as they land and form the puddle.
Water is an element beloved by Brest van Kempen: he paints from a tadpole's-eye perspective a frog floating at the water's surface. What fate comes up from the depths cannot be surmised, hidden from the above-water light. The resulting waves or rings, resemble the strands of water fountains, like one from the mouth of the already discussed Hippo emerging and decaying at once in a happy art nouveau-like ornament, which he sometimes uses. Perhaps a little manneristic, but it does not detract from his art, it is only a very personal facet of his style.
In the foreword, his colleague, Belgian painter Carl Brenders, compares him to the old Flemish painters. He sometimes turns deliberately to the subjects of the old masters, for example, some still lifes also arranged and painted like an "animated" table with many bugs, flowers, a book, a wax candle, an earthenware pot, a puddle in which a water beetle has established itself - here we have actually arrived in 17th/18th Century Flanders! Delicate!
Even the sacred form of the triptych has been used by C. P. Brest van Kempen for his animal paintings: a Triptych with deBrazza's Monkeys (Cercopithecus neglectus): various scenes from the lives of these African primates and, naturally, from the lives of the creatures surrounding them from the Chameleo cristatus and Atheris hispida, various birds and small mammals, to the West African people, upon whose village life we gaze from the airy height of a powerful Umbrella Tree (Musanga cecropioides) this is a remarkable conversion of a classic form into the genre of the nature and animal painting! It almost tries, lacking a foot picture, the Predella, where triptychs usually supplemented the altars, to miss how a de Brazza's Monkey "ends," suffering in the Leopard's mouth or in the feet of an eagle. One could not deny that would be quite a predella with such a burial scene...
One could report much more about the extremely impressive art of Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen his opulent oeuvre offers a manifold platform for doing so. Please, dear readers of this review, Take this volume in hand, present yourself with the joy of this remarkable book! I am certain you will like it and will return often in order to search in the almost mystical depth of the pictures for new, previously overlooked secrets and details.
The volume should be missing from no library of art lovers, nature lovers, herpetologists or terrarium enthusiasts and is a grand and useful gift for like-minded or also "nature-distant" living friends and acquaintances. I am certain that the art of Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen reaches everyone not only all children of 9 to 90 years, but even the still younger and the older.
_____________________
Text von Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen, mit einem Vorwort von Carl Brenders und einer Einleitung von David J. Wagner. Herauagegeben von Laura White Schuett, Eagle Mountain Publ., Eagle Mountain, Utah, 290 pp., zahlreiche ganzseitige Farbbilder nach Gemälden des Verfassers.
Die Härte des Lebens – dieser Titel erinnert natürlich sofort an Darwins berühmte. These vom Kampf ums Dasein. Szenen aus dem Leben der Tiere, die das illustrieren, sind das Generalthema des amerikanischen Künstlers Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen. Seine Bilder, meist großformatige Acryl- oder Wasserfarben-Gemälde, waren bislang überwiegend nur auf Kunstausstellungen zu sehen, so z.B. Auf der The „Wildlife Experience” in Denver, die von Dr. David J. Wagner, einem erfahrenen Museologen, kuratiert wurde, Wagner betreut als „Tour Director” auch eine Wanderausstellung des Künstlers Brest van Kempen, organisiert von der Society of Animal Artists, einer in New York ansässigen weltweit tätigen Organisation von Künstlern, die sich der Tierdarstellung verschriben haben.
In den Vereinigten Staaten hat das Genre der realistisch-naturalistischen Tiermalerei ganz im Gegensatz zu Europa nahezu Hochkonjunktur. Bei uns in „Old Europe” war das zu Zeiten Alfred Brehms der Fall, als Maler und Grafiker äußerst wichtige Partner für die Verfasser von zoologischen Fachbüchern waren. Ihre Aufgabe war damals die realistische Darstellung von Tieren, und soweit wie möglich, in bzw. Mit der Umwelt in der diese Tiere lebten. Mitunter gibt es da auch „Szenen aus dem Leben”, vor allem zu dem ewigen Thema „Fressen und gefressen werden”. Später übernahm immer mehr die Fotografie diese Aufgabe der Tierbuch-Illustration, und die künstlerische Mitarbeit reduzierte sich auf das Ziechnen anatomischer Sachverhalte oder auf die grafische Gestaltung informativer Schemata, Tabellen usw.. Anders aber in Amerika. Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen, der als Autodidakt zur Malerei fand, lebt seit 1989 als Tiermaler und von der Tiermalerei. In der schon erwähnten Tiermaler-Gilde (Society of Animal Artists) gelangte er zu höchsten Ehren, indem er deren „Award of Excellence” bereits vier Mal – 1994, 1996, 1997 und 2004 – verlihen bekam. Das ist mit 48 Lebensjahren schon respektabel!
Sein Buch „Rigor Vitae: Life Unyielding” ist in fünf große Kapitel gegliedert, die mit literarischem Gestus benannt werden - „Affecting Nature” für die Einleitung, „Spineless Wonders” für das Wirbellosen-Kapitel mit 16 Bildern, „Slithering towards Gomorrah” für die 45 Bilder mit Reptilien und Amphibien, „The Song of Icarus” für den 50 Bildern illustrierten Abschnitt zu den Vögeln und zu guter Letzt „A class to call home” für das 34 Bilder umfassende Säugetier-Kapitel. Die Zuordnung erfolgte nach den vom Künstler gewählten Bildtiteln, was jedoch nicht heißt, dass in der Szenerie um das Hauptmotiv darüber hinaus nicht auch Vertreter anderer Tiergruppen zu sehen sein können. Sie haben dann die Rolle der Beute, wie z.B. Die Siedleragame (Agama agama) auf dem den Lanner-Falken (Falco biarmicus) gewidmeten Blatt von 1994, oder sie illustrieren den Lebensraum. Als Paradebeispiel dafür kann die nahezu epische Darstellung des Flusspferdes (Hippopotamus amphibius) mit Afrikanischen Dreiklauern (Trionyx triunguis) von 1995 gelten. Hier komponierte der Maler eine nahezu märchenhafte Szene, wo ein Flusspferd im Seichten Wasser vor einem Papyrus-Gürtel ruht, während drei Nil-Weichschildkröten (wie die Übersetzung ihres englischen Trivialnamens lautet) seinen Rücken als Sonnenplatz nutzen Genauer gesagt, tut das nur noch eine, eine zweite springt gerade ab, wobei es aussieht, als wolle sie sich vielleicht einen der 34 St. Helena-Astrilden (Estrilda astrild) schnappen, die aus dem Papyrus-Dickicht aufgeflogen sind. Die dritte Weichschildkröte ist even im Wasser gelandet, wie aufspritzende Tropfen zeigen, aber noch nicht abgetaucht. Im Hintergrund hat ein Sitatunga-Antilope (Tragelaphus spekei) sichernd ihr Äsen im Papyrus unterbrochen, während ein Glauschwarzer Glockenreiher (Egretta ardesiaca) ungerührt vom dynamischen Geschehen im Vordergrund tauchbereit ins Wasser schaut, um seine Beute nicht aus dem Blick zu verlieren...Damit ist aber die Vielfalt des Tierlebens in dieser großen Genre-Malerei eines afrikanischen Fluss- oder Seeufers noch lange nicht ausgereizt: der vexierbildgeübte Betrachter findet auf einem Papyrus-Stengel noch einen winzigen Riedfrosch (Hyperolius spec.) in der Tagesruheposition, genauso einen fliegende kleine blaue Libelle ... Dieses opulente Artenspektrum kann man zunächst nur auf den Bildern suchen (eine hervorragende spielerische Lernmöglichkeit mit den eigenen oder anderen Kindern!), oder letztlich in einem wertvollen wissenschaftlichen Appendix nachschlagen, wo zu jedem der reproduzierten Gemälde die wichtigsten Pflanzen und Tiere mit den englischen Trivialnamen und den wissenschaftlichen Bezeichnungen aufgelistet sind. Wohlgemerkt, die wichtigsten! Auf unserem Flusspferd-Bild ist noch ein weiteres zoologisches Objekt auszumachen: an einem Papyrus-Stengel sitzt etwas, vielleicht eine Wasserschnecke auf Landgang under eine Insektenlarve – wer weiß.
Die eben erwähnte Auflistung der botanischen und zoologischen „Abbildungsgegenstände” ist gewissermaßen das wissenschaftliche Bildinventar. Bei den Abbildungen selbst finden sich stets kurze Begleittexte, wo der Bildtitel mit dem Entstehungsjahr, das Bildformat (natürlich in Fuß-/Zoll-Maßen und nicht metrisch!) und die Maltechnik vermerkt sind. Darüber hinaus wird mit kurzen, präzisen Angaben über das Artareal des „Titeltieres”, seine ökologische Einnischung, eventuell zu Ernährungsgewohnheiten oder andere charakteristische Details der betreffenden Art informiert. Also schlechthin über das Wichtigste, was dem unkundigen Betrachter den Bildinhalt näher bringt. Im fortlaufenden Text der Kapitael erzählt Carel Pieter weit mehr über die meisten Tiere, bis hin zu ihrem geologischen Alter und über die Wege ihrer Evolution, aber auch vieles von seinen Maler-Studienreisen in die Natur, inklusive dem einen oder anderen Erlebnis dabei.
Der Text ist flüssig, lebendig zu lesen und belehrt den geneigten Leser wohl intensiv, aber „leichtfüßiger”, als das anderen Autoren populärwissenschaftlicher Bücher gelingt. Brest van Kempen ist also nicht nur ein exzellenter Maler, sondern auch ein guter Erzähler und Schriftsteller.Man kommt nun nicht umhin, etwas zum Malstil und zum Malen Können des Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen zu sagen. Also, malen kann er, und er tut es auch Er beherrscht die Tierkörper-Darstellung perfekt, er kennt die charakteristischen Verhaltens- und Bewegungsweisen und versteht es, sie anatomisch sauber untersetzt zu zeichnen. Das Flusspferd hat eben das Maul, wohl gähnend, vielleicht auch wegen der Störung durch den Bildbetrachter leicht drohend geöffnet, und man hat einen phantastischen Einblick in den zähnestarrenden Rachen dieses durchaus mit Recht auch gefürchteten Tieres, das alles andere als ein „harmloser Riese” ist. Die Liebe zum letzten Detail, die Brest van kempen auszeichnet, ist gepaart mit zeichnerischmalerischem Können, und getragen von einer Engelsgeduld, das letzte Detail auch tatsächlich zu malen Dem Künstler ist die branchenübliche Flucht in diffuse Schattierungen fremd – er malt gewissenhaft jede Furche und jeden Abrieb oder Abbruch en den einzelnen Zähnen, und natürlich jedes Haar des Kopfes, der den Bildvordergrund einnimmt. Diese akribische Detailversessenheit setzt sich aber im Dickicht des papyrusdschungels fort, wo wir nicht etwa ein paar Halme vor dunklem Hintergrund „geboten” bekommen, sondern uns Reihe für Reihe in das Stengelgewirr hineinbegeben können, bis der letzte Halm in der Tiefe des Bildes den Blick versperrt, wir aber wohl ahnen können, wie weit es da noch hineingehen mag. Lebhaftes Spiel von Licht und Schatten macht dieses Pflanzengewirr derart plastisch, wie es die damit völlig überforderte Tiefenschärfen-Leistungsfähigkeit auch des besten Kameraobjektives niemals hätte wiedergeben können.
Noch einmal zurück zu den „Bewegungsstudien en gros”, wie wir sie im Sitzen und Fliegen der St. Helena – Astrilden beobachten können: sie überzeugen exzellent von der Artistik des meisters Die „Flughaltung” der abspringenden Weichschildkröte ist genauso richtig, und dazu in dieser Tausendstel-Sekunde gestochen scharf – schärfer, als es normalerweise die schon beschworene Fotografen-Optik hätte festhalten können. Trotzdem befremdet hier das exakte Stehenbleiben des Sekunden-Bruchteils den Blick des Betrachters: So etwas hat man eben auch nur eine Tausendstelsekunde lang gesehen, sollte man es jemals „live” gesehen haben, und nicht ewig, wie man es auf dem Bilde tun kann. Da kommen mir auch viele weitere dramatische Szenen aus de Kaleidoskop des „rigor vitae” des Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen in den Sinn, wo sich zwei Tiere als Jäger und Beute gegenüberstehen, oder wo „es” schon geschehen is und das Beute-Tier im Rachen, in der Umschlingung oder den Klauen des Jägers gerade seinen letzten Atem aushaucht – hier kann das Bild ebenfalls wieder den Moment fixieren, und damit den Horror des „struggle for life” zur Ewigkeit werden lassen, wie es beim Sprung eines Papua-Warans (Varanus salvadorii) nach einem „niedlichen” endemischen Kleinsäuger Neuguineas, einer Nacktshwanz-Ratte (Uromys spec.) geschieht.
Sollte ein bildender Künstler, ein Maler oder Bildhauer, eben diesen oder besser einen anderen Moment in bzw. aus der Sequenz einer solchen Szene darstellen? Kein Geringerer als Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729 – 1781) hat sich bereits seinerzeit anhand der Dramaturgie einer der berühmtesten antiken Skulpturen-Gruppen, der Laokoon-Gruppe aus den Vatikanischen Sammlungen in seinem fundamentalen Essay über „Laokoon oder Über die Grenzen der Malerei und Poesie” von 1766 mit dieser Frage auseinandergesetzt und das seiner Meinung nach Machbare durchaus nicht generell zum obligatorisch Darzustellenden erklärt.
Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen zeigt aber weit häufiger weniger schreckliche Szenen, oft sogar für unser allzu menschlich weiches Gemüt anrührende, z.B. Einen Taggecko (Phelsuma quadriocellata), der sich am herabrinnenden Nektar einer Bananenblüte genüsslich labt, und andere „harmlose” Szenen, wie das Erwachen einer Schaufelfuß-Kröte (Scaphiopus couchi) aus der monatelangen einsetzenden „monsoon season: in der Mojave-Wüste eine kleine Pfütze gebildet haben.
C.P. Brest van Kempen malt altmeisterlich gekonnt auch die schwierigsten Strukturen, so hier die Regentropfen, wie sie rund fallen und aufschlangend platt zerspritzen, und wie sie die Pfütze bilden...
Wasser ist ein von Brest van Kempen geliebtes Element: er malt aus der Wasserchildkröten-Perspektive vom Grunde aus gesehen den an der Wasseroberfläche schwimmenden Frosch bäuchlings, der sein aus der Tiefe kommendes Schicksal nicht erahnt, oder gern auch weite Wasserflächen im Seitenlicht. Die dabei auftretenden Wellen oder Ringe, genauso wie die Strähnen von Wasserfontänen -z.B. Aus dem Maul des bereits ausführlich besprochenen Flusspferdes – liegt er sehr, und verfällt dabei gern in eine jugendstilhafte Ornamentik, die er zuweilen etwas manieristisch einsetzt. Das tut aber seiner Kunst keinen Abbruch, sondern ist als eine sehr persönliche Facette seines Malstils zu sehen.
Sein belgischer Maler-Kollege Carl Brenders hat ihn in seinem Vorwort zu Recht mit den alten flämischen Malern verglichen. Bewusst wendet er sich gelegentlich auch altmeisterlichen Sujets zu, indem er z.B. Einige Stillleben arrangiert und auch malt, wie einen „belebten” Tisch mit vielen Käfern, Blumen, einem Buch, einer Wachskerze, einem Fayence-Blumentopf, in dessen Lache sich ein Wasserkäfer niedergelassen hat – hier sind wir tatsächlich im Flandern des 17./18. Jahrhunderts angekommen! Delikat!
Auch die sakrale Form des Triptychons hat C.P. Brest van Kempen für seine Tiergemälde eingesetzt: ein Triptychon mit Brazza-Meerkatzen (Cercopithecus neglectus): die verschiedenen Szenen aus dem Leben dieser afrikanischen Primaten und natürlich auch aus dem Leben der sie umgebenden Geschöpfe – vom Chameleo cristatus über Atheris hispida, diverse Vögel und Kleinsäuger, hin bis zum westafrikanischen Menschen, auf dessen Dorfleben wir im Mittelbild aus der luftigen Höhe eines mächtigen Schirmbaumes (Musanga cecropioides) hinabblicken können, der dan Triptychon in allen Teilen durchzieht – das ist eine bemerkenswerte Umsetzung dieser klassischen Form in das Genre der Natur- und Tiermalerei! Man ist fast versucht, das Fehlen eines Fußbildes, der Predella, wie sie bei Altären das Triptychon meist noch ergänzt hatten, geradezu zu vermissen: wie „endet” eigentlich eine Brazza-Meerkatze, wenn sie keinen Beutetod in den Klauen einer Raubkatze oder den Fängen eines Adlers erleidet? Das wäre dann eine solche Predella mit einer „Grablegungs-Szene” nicht vorenthalten hätte...
Man könnte noch viel über die äußerst beeindruckende Kunst des Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen berichten – sein opulentes œvre bietet mannigfaltig eine plattform dafür an. Nehmen Sie, liebe Leser dieser Besprechung, doch diesen Band selbst zur Hand, machen Sie sich die Freude, sich selbst mit diesem bemerkenswerten Buch zu beschenken! Ich bin mir sicher, Sie werden es öfters und gern wieder zur hand nehmen, um selber in der oft nahezu mystischen Tiefe der Bilder nach neuen, bislang übersehenen Geheimnissen und Details zu forschen.
Der Band sollte in keiner Bibliothek eines kunstsinnigen Naturfreundes, Herpetologen oder Terrarianers fehlen, und er eignet sich hervorragend, ein prächtiges und nützliches Geschenk zu sein, sei es non eine Liebes- oder Ehrengabe für gleichgesinnte oder auch „naturfern” lebende Freunde und Bekannte. Ich bin mir sicher, dass die Kunst des Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen alle erreicht – nicht nur alle Kinder von 9 bis 90 Jahren, auch die noch jüngeren und die noch älteren.
This is different than any other art book I've seen! It's quite wonderful. Rigor Vitae: Life Unyielding, the Art of Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen enthralled me as soon as I began to read Brest van Kempen's text.
It was a gloomy Tuesday, I had lost my voice and couldn't do my normal work which was phone-heavy, so I decided to tackle this somewhat daunting book, daunting because it has a lot more text than most art books. I've known Carel for years, not well, but affectionately, and his work has always intrigued me as imaginative and iconoclastic for a wildlife artist. I felt as though I was playing hooky from real work as I dove into the gaping jaw of the hippo on the cover.
I quickly discovered the book has to be read three times: once for the text, once for the captions, and once simply to enjoy the imagery.
In his foreword, wildlife artist Carl Brenders places Brest van Kempen in a place by himself in the wildlife art world as one who adds to realism, and does it in a magical way. David J. Wagner, PhD, who writes a more academic introduction, says, Brest van Kempen's perspective, combined with his virtuosic technique and tantalizing imagination, give his paintings a richness and depth that is rare in the world of wildlife art.
Brest van Kempen's list of acknowledgments is long, attesting to his modesty, and I was touched to find my name among the professionals he feels helped him over the years.
Then Brest van Kempen begins his story. It's a story of animals; of a boy-man who loves them; of a naturalist who tries to understand them and their changing environment; and of an artist who poses questions. After an overview of of his ecological stance, which he admits tends toward the existential, the artist says, Trying to present answers invariably results in bad art; our role is to pose questions.While the book is triptych, as a whole it does indeed pose questions about the natural world and the interactions among its many inhabitants.
Each chapter deals with a group of animals: spiders and insects, reptiles and amphibians, birds, and mammals. The information offered by this naturalist is prodigious but is presented engagingly. There is no artist biography per se, but the reader comes away with a sense of how Brest van Kempen became who he is through the stories he tells, like learning lizard husbandry (he says he is particularly fond of lizards) from his first brief catch at age four until he was about to flunk out of college with (or perhaps because of?) a room full of terraria and incubators.
Brest van Kempen may not have been a stellar student in the traditional sense, but his knowledge of the creatures he paints their physical aspects, where they fit into the natural world; their roles in mythology, legend, and history - is impressive. One myth/bit of history he tells is of Zeus who punished Prometheus for stealing fire by sending the vulture Ethon to eat his ever-regenerating liver each morning. Aeschylus told the story in Prometheus Bound. I knew about that, but I didn't know this...In a bit of elegant irony unmatched in twenty-five centuries, the great playwright went for a walk one morning in 456 B.C.E. And was struck fatally in the head by a tortoise released from the feet of an overhead Bearded Vulture.”
Another glimpse of Brest van Kempen's thinking comes in the section on falconry, a sport he loves. Falconry is the art of hunting with predatory birds. The mere keeping of hawks as pets qualifies as little more than abuse. Like all predators, raptors live for the chase. To deprive one of hunting is like forcing a human to live without imagination. His writing is like that, he is addressing one subject falconry and then explodes it with a whole different idea human imagination. Great fun!
We learn more about Brest van Kempen as he tells of encounters with the creatures he wants to study. On a night hike through the scrub of central Senegal, I encountered a small, pallid snake. Taking it for an innocuous worm snake of the family Typhlopidae, I picked it up, zipped it into my vest pocket and continued hiking...The following morning, I pulled the reptile from its prison and positioned it attractively on a flat stone for a snapshot. As I focused the lens, I noticed its odd head shape. Dangling over its lower jaw a long and slender fang was just visible. This was no worm snake, but a mole viper (Atractaspis sp.), a deadly little serpent with a reputation for being ill-tempered. Far more luck than wisdom was with me that day, or perhaps the snake just pitied me.
In the section on frogs, Brest van kempen discusses their role as ecological indicators, taking us from the 1970s, when biologists in North and Central America, Brazil and Australia noticed a marked reduction in a number of species and as a boy he was seeing frogs vanishing from his ponds, to 1995 when a group of Minnesota school students found half of the frogs they caught had missing, deformed, or extra legs. As yet, he says, there are no firm conclusions, but the mutations and reduced populations appear to be results of chemicals in our water supply. This is only one example of the kind of scientific information Brest van Kempen presents, lucidly and interestingly.
Though I never did find out where he went to school or much about his day-to-day life, I came away with a sense of who he is, why he's an artist, and what's important to him.
The second read of this book is is either the art or the captions. I chose the captions. At first I was looking at the images and then reading the captions, but I got distracted. Each caption is a biology lesson, as cientific explanation of what's going on in the painting. So I found myself looking at the painting analytically, which was fine, but not complete. Hence the third read...the pictures. On this read, with the other two processing in my head, I was able to grasp what both Brenders and Wagner had suggested in their writings: Brest van Kempen is a detailed painter, but the depth of his knowledge, the visceral understand of his subjects, and his uncanny artistic imagination set his work apart in the realm of wildlife art.
The reproductions are stunning, the colors rich and vivid if the creature isn't colorful enough, Brest van Kempen adds flowers, leaves, water droplets, or an electric orange background (Violet-green Swallow, page 148-9).
He hardly talks about his art, how he paints, or how he imagines his paintings before he begins. When I look at a Brest van Kempen painting, I see realism surrounded by one huge imagination. Remember the adage: The camera records and the artist selects? Brest van kempen selects. I'd bet a lot on the fact that in every painting the creatures and the setting are accurate, but nothing is photographic. This artist knows his subject so well, he has such a distinct point of view and vivid imagination, that the wildlife paintings he conjures up are true art.
As a science writer--or blogging Internet hack to be more accurate--I attempt to convey the wonder and beauty of the natural world through words and metaphor. But a picture is worth a thousand words as they say. And we primates are, after all, highly visual creatures. There are times when my meager efforts pale in comparison to the visual and artistic mediums: This is one of those times.
If natural wildlife art were part of the classical metric, Mr. Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen would be a candidate for Michelangelo and his life's work in Rigor Vitae: Life Unyielding might adorn the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and line the walls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. His posts about science, politics, the environment, or anything else are all beautifully illustrated with original paintings that add a powerful ingredient to the text:
I had a chance to chat with Carel about his work and feature some of his paintings. So if you'd like to see just a sample, with links to much more, make the jump--and take the kids along with you. This is the kind of good old fashioned brush-to-canvas work that causes the child in all of us to clap our hands at the pretty pictures and ask questions about the underlying science.
DarkSyde (DS): How did you become interested in wildlife art?
Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen (CPBK): I didn't "get interested" as much as fail to stop being interested. All kids like to draw animals--I just took it much more seriously than the rest. I always had an overwhelming desire to be able to do it better, and since childhood have put a ridiculous amount of time and effort into honing my skills. I had the good fortune to grow up in a place where I could hike or ride a horse for days without running into human development, and was able to completely indulge my love for exploring the natural world, from the very start. My profession lets me pursue my two great loves, studying nature and painting. I've got it good.
DS: I don't think I've ever seen a wildlife book with this many masterpiece works of art in it. It's every freaking page, there must be hundreds. This isn't something you did in a few months is it? This is your life's work right? How long did this take you?
CPBK: Thanks. This book does represent my life's work. The earliest piece is an eagle painting I did in '88, when I was 30. Up until that time, I was just finding my way artistically, and none of the paintings I did in my teens and 20s were much good. The book includes my best paintings from '88 through early 2003, when I started writing the text, which took me three years. Of course, a lifetime of drawing, observing, and thinking about nature was also put to use. This book pretty much answers the question, "what have you done with your life?" in totality.
DS: You seem to be unusually ...ummm .. 'brave' when it comes to collecting, handling, and even tasting wildlife: Ten-inch centipedes, giant spiders, a monitor lizard that clamped down on your finger and dragged you around the apartment for fifteen minutes. You described it as 'having you finger caught in a nutcracker lined with thumbtacks' I believe. Have you ever been badly stung, poisoned, or bitten?
CPBK: Go ahead, you can say it..."stupid"...or at least reckless. Yes, I'm guilty. My instinct to get a better look at something often overpowers my common sense. I remember canoeing through some Florida mangrove swamps, and picking up some kind of beautiful marine snail I saw on the ocean floor before it occurred to me that some of those things are dangerously venomous. I'm pretty lucky to have never had a really bad experience (knock on wood), although the menace of wild animals tends to be hugely exaggerated. It's best to play it safe with things you don't know well. That's a lesson I'm still working on getting the hang of.
DS: (referring to "Ascensión--Strawberry Poison Frog") "I take it the color scheme of these frogs is a big advertisement to potential predators saying "Touch me and you die". What are the challenges involved in getting the pigment[s] accurate to render works of art like this?
CPBK: Yep, "aposematic coloring" is the technical term for that advertisement, and it's a really common thing among smaller animals. You simply can't be a good representational painter unless you understand color. Mixing your pigments to achieve the same color that you see on the back of a frog is pretty easy. The real challenge (and fun) comes in using variations of that color to give the thing shape, and to make it look moist or dry, make it look like it's in bright, dim, or dappled light. Then there's the added dimension of using other colors in the rest of the painting to affect the overall mood of the piece and the way the subject(s) and the environment interact.
DS: (referring to "Red River Hogs & Gaboon Viper") I take those hogs better watch the hell out. That snake is highly venomous?
CPBK: Yeah, Gaboon Vipers are really venomous, not to mention the fact that their huge size gives them the ability to really deliver a good dose of venom. A bite from this snake would be bad news indeed for one of the bushpigs...still, my money is on the pigs. This painting gives me a chance to talk about how composition can work. The pig on the right is the main subject, and his weight is centered on an extended forefoot. He looks like he could be moving toward the snake or away; you really can't tell. The sloping snouts of the three pigs form lines that radiate out from the snake, which enhance this effect, as do the diagonal lines formed by the vines and tree root behind the main pig. The overall effect is meant to focus on the pig's ambivalence. He wants to charge the snake, but he's also afraid of it. I painted the snake from drawings I did from life at a zoo. At the time I painted this, I was unable to come up with many materials on the Red River Hogs, but I think I managed to nail them pretty accurately. Knowing how vertebrates are built and how they move is more valuable than having a lot of good reference material. I used two black and white photos from books to work out my pig drawings for this piece. Of course, it would have been nice to have had a lot more information, but those two photos, and some written descriptions, gave me everything I really needed to know.
I like to put interesting incidental animals and plants in my backgrounds. In this painting I went a bit overboard--there are a total of around 30 animals in it.
DarkSyde (DS): Well I wish I could feature more, but it would destroy our bandwidth! In closing, what advice can you provide for talented young artists out there who dream of a a career in art?
CPBK: A couple of things: First of all, don't pay too much attention to what other artists are doing. Too many artists try to emulate the work of others who've had some success, which results in a kind of "echo chamber" that's really boring. Following the latest artistic trends is a sure way of being nothing more than a face in the crowd, and of producing meaningless work.
The second piece of advice is not to be afraid of failure. I used to fear being too ambitious with my work. "Why spend a month on a painting, when you're not sure you can pull it off?" I used to think. Once I realized how much more you learn from spending a month on an ambitious work that fails, my growth as an artist really began.
Several weeks ago, a good friend of mine who is an aviculturist, businessman and art collector, emailed to tell me about a book he had just purchased. Usually reserved, his praise was so effusive that I contacted the publisher immediately to obtain a review copy. A week later, the carefully bubble-wrapped and packed book arrived in the mail; Rigor Vitae: Life Unyielding: The Art of Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen (2006, Eagle Mountain Publishing, Eagle Mountain, Utah).
When I opened the box and began paging through the book, I realized this stunning volume captures a love story in all its sweetness and grace, with all its amusing and sad nuances. It is a love story about the relationship between an artist and his art, a man and nature, an observer and the world. The book opens with introductions written by two of Brest van Kempen's long-time friends and admirers, Carl Brenders and Dr. David J. Wagner, both praising his technical skill and passion before the artist takes center stage when he describes his goals for this book in the first section, 'Affecting Nature';
The body of work contained within this book is by no means a representation of the natural world, but of the relationship between that natural world and a single somewhat peculiar little man, of his response to that natural world as an artist, an American, a human, a mammal.
The remainder of the book is divided into four additional chapters that follow traditional taxonomy. Each chapter is filled with interesting and often amusing personal anecdotes liberally peppered with scientific information that serve to chronicle Brest van Kempen's growing relationship with nature and her denizens. Chapter one, 'Spineless Wonders', introduces us to the invertebrates, such as spiders, snails, grasshoppers, butterflies and moths, and the beetles, and includes several impressive accounts of entomophagy; 'Slithering Towards Gomorrah' focuses on the amphibians and reptiles - the frogs, lizards, turtles and snakes; 'The Song of Icarus' lingers over the birds, and last; 'A Class to Call Home', the smallest chapter in the book, describes some of the mammals such as rodents, bats, the big cats and the primates. The book ends with an inclusive appendix that lists the scientific names for each creature, and even for some of the plants, depicted in each piece.
Accompanying the author's words is a visual smorgasbord of images, and each picture is accompanied by an explanatory caption. There are 137 color plates, 8 black-and-white ink washes and 29 drawings in total. These images are lush and detailed, alive with tiny visual surprises waiting to be discovered, and many of them relate a story that will delight the astute observer. I could have written something about every image in this book for this review, so limiting my presentation here to only a few of these pieces was a challenge that consumed many days: how to choose from such a grand profusion?
Voluminous margins throughout this book are graced with lovely drawings of birds, mammals and invertebrates, adding dimension to the text. One of the first illustrations in this book is a beautifully detailed drawing of a tailless whipscorpion from the order Amblypygi, which Harry Potter fans will immediately recognize as the terrifying yet sympathetic creature that was tortured by "Mad Eye" Moody in his first classroom appearance in the 2005 movie, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (pictured, above right. Click image for much larger view in its own window)
Yet, despite the technical accuracy of the artist's drawings, it is his paintings that will capture your attention, and it is the story in the paintings that will keep your interest. For example, "A Question of Timing -- Double-Crested Basilisk & Blue Caligo," is a rich and detailed portrayal of this sit-and-wait reptilian species as it suddenly leaps after a blue caligo in flight (pictured, left. Click image for a much larger view in its own window). It depicts the unfolding story in that brief moment before the lizard is fully airborne .. will the butterfly escape or will it become a lizard lunch? The basilisk's right foot still touches a thin tree root that dangles down a clay bank overlooking a small creek .. will the lizard land in the water or will it somehow break its inevitable fall to earth? This contrast between movement and tranquility is also reflected in the precarious balance between the motionless, sun-dappled vegetation and the implied movement of the cool water flowing in the creek below -- water that appears so true-to-life that one can almost hear it trickle around leaves and stones.
I truly enjoyed the humor in this book. For example, one of the first paintings in this book, titled "Oviposition" (not pictured), shows a giant ichneumon wasp that has bored a hole through the brick wall of a ground-floor apartment, and pushed her ovipositor across the darkened room, penetrating the belly button of an oversized man who is clutching a can of beer whilst sitting in a worn chair in an alcoholic daze in front of a TV. This painting is made all the more disturbing because it closely resembles the building across the street from my laundromat in Manhattan. Another charming image, "Still Life Self-Destructing -- Common Raven," depicts a mischievous raven standing on a table in the artist's studio, a paintbrush in its beak as it wreaks havoc on a painting of itself (pictured, right. Click image for larger view in its own window).
My favorite medium is watercolor, so I might be somewhat biased in my admiration for the gorgeous "Drunken Hornbill -- Red-knobbed Hornbill" (pictured, left. Click image for larger view in its own window). In this watercolor, an individual hornbill sits on the forest floor, bill partially open, the iridescence and texture of its feathers and beak plainly visible. The bird's transient drunken vulnerability is accentuated by its position such that the audience is located somewhat behind it while the bird stares ahead, apparently unaware of our presence. Under the bird's feet is a delicate rainbow of leaf litter, overlying dried grasses, punctuated with mosses and occasional mushrooms.
As I mentioned earlier, the artist portrays water masterfully. Additionally, there often is a thin, palpable tension in many of his pieces. Both of these qualities are particularly evident in the lovely "Three More Worlds -- Rainbow Trout," where a rainbow trout is visible just beneath the surface of rippling water (pictured, right. Click image for larger view in its own window). But the peacefulness of this cool blue image is disturbed by the reflection of an osprey hovering overhead as it prepares to dive. This juxtaposition of an aerial predator reflected on the water's surface at the bottom of a skyless image is mesmerizing.
As an ornithologist, aviculturist and bird watcher, I am easily distracted and disappointed by inaccuracies in bird paintings, but Brest van Kempen's carefully rendered birds impressed me. Additionally, I am drawn to the suspended dynamism of black-and-white images, both photography and drawings, so I was especially enchanted by the African "Black Heron", Egretta ardesiaca, a black-and-white ink wash (pictured, left. Click image for larger view in its own window). This picture powerfully reveals the details of the bird's dark plumage as it leans, open-winged, over a shallow pool of water, providing a comforting oasis of shade that contrasts with the blinding white sunlight, attracting the fishes below -- fishes that the bird is preparing to dine on.
Once again, it is this startling tension between opposites; dark and light, movement and quiescence, warmth and coolness, that are so attractive in this lovely piece, "Markea neurantha" (pictured, bottom). This dramatic image portrays a pair of nectar-feeding bats suspended in midair as they feed from the dangling flowers of an epiphytic nightshade, blood-filled capillaries clearly visible in their nearly transparent curled wings -- a theme that is repeated by the veins in the plant's much more substantial leaves.
Beyond the obvious technical merits in Brest van Kempen's pieces, the aspect that I love most about his work is its astonishing emotional impact; his consistent ability to capture the fleeting perfection of each moment and his skillful portrayal of the stunning beauty surrounding us that we rarely notice along with the joyful and sweet, yet wistful and brief quality that this sudden recognition imparts. In short, this book is a stunning achievement, a visual celebration of a world that we all will only experience once. As such, this book is food for the hungry soul, comfort for the weary traveler: It is the saga of true love, and like all love stories, you will be compelled to experience it again and again.
With the publication of this rather phenomenal book we are at last privy to not only some of the secrets of nature, but we are also introduced to a very important American artist. This beautifully designed and produced book defies classification: it is not only an artist monograph (though the artworks generously presented and well-reproduced merit comparison with some of the finest monographs on the art shelves of the libraries and bookstores!), it is also an insightful, sensitive, well-written survey of the creatures of nature found wondrous by an artist who seems spiritually bonded to his subjects.
Carel Pieter Brest van Kempen is an American artist of enormous talent. Though some would doubtless classify him as a 'wildlife painter', his paintings range far beyond depictions of the many subjects he elects to 'portraitize'. Van Kampen also happens to be a fine still life artist, a painter of realism so unique that it approaches magical realism or photorealism, a landscape painter of unusual vision, and an observer of the minutiae of the natural world unfortunately oblivious to those of us with less tender eyes. He draws with consummate skill, and his paintings utilize both watercolor and the more demanding gouache medium. The product of his talent is amazing: the concurrent mind that enhances his paintings with the spirit of the creatures is a full of miracle.
After a fine set of introductions by Carl Brenders and Dr. David J. Wagner, Brest van Kempen opens his narrative with a Prologue 'Affecting Nature' with statements such as the following: 'The body of work contained within this book is by no means a representation of the natural world, but of the relationship between that natural world and a single somewhat peculiar little man, of his response to that natural world as an artist, an American, a human, a mammal.' This is the tone of the writing that follows, writing that is simple wisdom to be treasured.
The book is then divided into four sections: 'Spineless Wonders' enters the world of the invertebrates - spiders, snails, moths, butterflies all depicted in the natural state found where Brest van Kempen's travels have taken him; 'Slithering towards Gomorrah' which lingers over reptiles and amphibians - frogs, lizards and others of the broadest spectrum of peacocking color and secretive chameleon state rarely painted; 'The Song of Icarus' surveys birds of both common and exotic types in paintings that use as matrix the land, the water, and the sky; and 'A Class To Call Home', his shortest chapter (!) on mammals from anteaters, bats, shrews, cats and eventually the ape family. And he ends his book with an unusually fine appendix in which he details each of the genus and species of the wildlife he has honored in each of the many paintings in the book.
RIGOR VITAE is a book that will provide amazement and awe of the world of nature, admiration for an artist of enormous talent, entertainment, education, and endless hours of pleasure. The coupled quality of art with the wisdom of a gentle observer makes for a perfect introduction for young people to appreciate the mysteries that remain in this world we seem bent on corrupting. It would be difficult to recommend a finer book of this kind. Well worth the price! Highly recommended.
I am neither a professional zoologist nor an artist; I have, however, studied the beauties of the natural world intensely since early childhood. From my point of view, then, this book is a treasure. I was previously unfamiliar with the artist, but I quickly felt as though he were a friend, sharing his love and respect for the animal kingdom with me. The book features informative and innovative text to accompany the incredibly realistic art work.
I was moved by the beginning chapter, titled "Affecting Nature" because it neither ignores the problems with which the human race has inundated our planet nor does it fall into the all-too-typical mood of pessimism so prominent among many writers dealing with such subject matter. It shows an exhilaratingly positive approach and is an excellent introduction to a most unusual work.
I took delight in the little "surprise" details the artist includes in some of his paintings; it was not until I reached the appendix to the book that I found that he enjoys including them as well! The volume is filled with many such personal touches that make it a delight to read.
This book is much too good to languish on the coffee table. It is an adventure in itself. I recommend it heartily!
This book isn't really about Carel's art ... it's about Carel's mind and the value of remaining open to other interpretations of nature. First let me deal with the art: his technique is superb, his eye infallible, his sense of proportion, balance, color and light is as good as it gets. I've nothing more to add; the rest comes with looking at his paintings. Now let's talk about how Carel sees the world and where his mind takes him. It takes him continually to the far side, it makes him read everything, question everything, and it leads him to flip the already-turned stone one more time. Carel lingers at points others analyze and abandon. With one more look he sees the missed details, and in those details he more often than not makes valuable discoveries.
To appreciate Carel's art, one must be willing to do the same, and to recognize that just as ALL prevailing minds on the globe were certain it was flat when Columbus set forth, hubris and dogma continue to affect our way of thinking. The sad news is we are still wrong about the Earth, and rather frequently. Carel's musings are as much about those prejudices as they are, say, about the retinas of jumping spiders. Through patient contemplation of how anatomy works, he is then able to determine why things happen in nature. And his understanding of the context of animal behavior helps us to see our own mistakes.
I struggled to figure out why Brest van Kempen's art has such an impact on me. At first I was taken by his technique and phenomenal ability and thought that was the answer. But it's not. Then I thought it was his choice of subjects, a glorious array of forgotten or little known, often stunningly beautiful creatures. Certainly that delights and surprises the biologist in me so much that each of his works is an adventure. But here's the secret: instead of merely depicting what something looks like, Carel does his best to climb inside the creature and see the world first through its eyes, then through his own.
Thus, to look at his paintings is to gain a doubly different point of view, and often an unsettling one. Carel was raised in a land of Big Sky, so his perspective is at once microscopic and panoramic. Because he seeks the truth, his art becomes science. What a spellbinding way of publishing insights into the secret lives of animals! Could anyone ask for more? I'm greedy enough to do so. It is tempting to urge Carel to keep on painting, but that would be like asking him to keep on breathing. So here's my request: Carel, please keep on thinking!