WORKS DISCUSSED IN THIS ARTICLE
Abrams, 166 pp., $22.50
Viking, 128 pp., $7.50
Crown, 32 pp., $4.95
New York Graphic Society, 324 pp., $17.50
72 (48 pages of plates) pp., unpriced
December 1, 1975. Oslo. From my hotel room the pedestrians in Karl Johansgate seem to be walking as they do in a Munch picture, at approximately the same pace and without glancing to left or right, but whether they are also silent and grim-looking is impossible to tell in the midnight-dark of mid-morning. I am constantly being struck by scenes that remind me of Munch vignettes, and my discovery of the realistic element in this 'subjective' painter is expanding in several directions. Thus the sightless windows in an old house seem to resemble those in The Red Vine, the sky to evoke the palette of the early Starry Night, and the blank expressions to recall some of Munch's people, though I have yet to see one of his entirely featureless faces—like that of a hold-up man, or guerrilla, with a stocking over the head. Munch-like, too, is the unhopeful sky, which in early afternoon turns a deepening blue, with a squint of cold pink just before the abrupt 'lights out.' An acquaintance with the artist's physical world, and with its psychological effects on the inhabitants, must broaden the understanding of his work, yet Munch is more than a regional painter, the best of his creations being universal by virtue of both themes and artistic mastery.
Review, 3820 words
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