Howard Hodgkins Large Paintings 1984-2002
Dean Gallery, Belford Street, Edinburgh

Munira Mirza

‘I have no desire to be beautiful’ says Howard Hodgkin in a filmed interview showing at the Dean Gallery.

Speaking in his 70th birthday year, one of the most highly regarded contemporary British artists declares ‘what is the point of beauty?’

Without wishing to insult him, Hodgkins paintings are only best described as beautiful. Blinding in colour and vast in size, this collection of over twenty paintings demonstrates the painter’s ability to create visual harmony that harks back to the great impressionists, Monet and Seurat. Like them, Hodgkins is more interested in strong colours rather than line and tone. His paintings often lack a clear subject but never a focus - it is clear where the eye should be drawn.

Hodgkins has been painting since the 1940s and his paintings have been growing in size as each decade passes. He believes the change in size affects the relationship with the viewer, demanding that they move their eyes across the picture and not take a simple snapshot glimpse as they walk across the gallery.

The paintings are exclusively on wood and the majority spill out onto the frame, supposedly unable to contain the intensity of the colours. These paintings do not describe individual scenes but rather the impact they make on the ‘inner eye’. They represent memories of intense feeling, such as the large bold brush strokes of Americana (1999-2002), which imply a world of riches and lusciousness.

‘Seurat’s Bathers’ (1998-2000) is a wonderful updating of an old impressionist subject. Less exact and precise than its nineteenth century antecedents, this painting needs to be focused on for some time before it is clear where the landscape ends and the bathers begin. The feeling is not unlike staring at one of those ‘magic eye’ paintings, as the viewer delights in focusing patiently on the colours and eventually seeing the bodies emerge out of the sea. It is a painting that rewards you for taking the time to engage with it.

There are also more cryptic pieces in the collection, such as ‘Memories of Max’ (1991-1995) and Chez Stamos (1998). Their titles suggest recollections of personal moments and the blurring of paint strokes in these paintings are dizzying, and add a strong sense of movement.

Colour is used to strike familiarity, as in ‘Sunday in Berlin’ (1987-1988), which effectively depicts the grey communist regime through the simple use of red, black, yellow and grey. Or ‘After Vuillard’ (1996-2002), which evokes the colourful variety of shapes and colours in a garden. The pictures grasp the essence of the thing without recreating it. Perhaps this is what Hodgkins means when he says colour is useless except as a function.

It is difficult to find ‘the point’ in Hodgkins paintings, which is no doubt a common reaction when he himself says he does not understand them or their effect. Perhaps their only purpose is to give pleasure. That we recognise them as beautiful should not be taken by Hodgkins as an insult, but as the highest compliment.

Until October 6