Romantic Lutheranism: Friedrich’s Landscapes in Analysis
Article By Alie Feid
Caspar David Friedrich was a 19th century German Romantic artist whose portfolio is predominantly landscapes. His works often carry religious references from his Lutheran background. Ideologically, both Lutheranism and Romanticism are presented in similar manners with their strong connections to nature and the infinite. In an analysis of five of Friedrich’s oil paintings, the symbolism and composition of his paintings will be compared.
The early 16th Century was defined by a movement away from the religious and political dominance of the Roman Catholic Church in Western and Central Europe known as the Protestant Reformation. This movement was catalyzed by the writings of a German monk named Martin Luther who questioned many of the Catholic Church’s defining ideals and practices. Lutheranism is one of the Protestant denominations which emerged from this time, becoming widely popular in Central Europe and Scandinavia. While formed in dissent to Catholicism, Lutheranism did not necessarily stand in polar opposition to Catholicism. In fact, it was not Martin Luther’s original intent to start a new denomination through his writings, but to bring about reform to the Catholic Church; this change could perhaps be described as an evolution rather than a schism. This evolution can be understood as a move away from the materialism and dogma of the Catholic Church towards an emphasis on personal spiritual life. One of the primary changes made by Protestantism was to eliminate the middleman between the common people and God, whereas the Catholic Church believed that individuals require a translator, in the form of a priest or saint, to communicate with God and to guide in the formation of their faith. Amongst Luther’s specific grievances with the Catholic Church during his time was the rampant corruption in church hierarchy resulting in the preferential treatment of the upper class, including the monetization of salvation through indulgences. Luther and others sought a more honest practice of religion, removing the possibility of corruption. Engagement in spirituality, the practice of religion, and a belief in a higher power is a fundamental aspect of human life, and typically is done in pursuit of spiritual and moral truth. The Catholic Church’s corrosion of this search for truth through the introduction of money and status, was understood by Luther and others as an affront to the fundamental teachings of Christ. Lutherans believe that salvation can be achieved through God’s grace alone and that neither one’s actions on Earth nor the sacraments can bring a person closer to or further from God. Other indications of the decrease in emphasis on materialism was the rejection of the belief in transubstantiation--that the communion elements, the body and blood of Christ physically transformed into his flesh and blood upon ingestion--and the downward trend in the usage of religious iconography in hosting spirits. Instead of portraying the Divine as encapsulated in a man-made, finite object, God was starting to be identified with the infinite depth of nature.
In Friedrich’s The Cross in the Mountains (Fig. 1), commissioned for a private Bohemian chapel in Schloss Tetschen, there is no central figure that a viewer could immediately identify as God (Beenken 171). Their [God] representation in the rising sun implies an inherent distance between what is human and what is divine. The way in which this dehumanizes God gives several messages. For one, it serves to make Them seem unreachable and more detached. But, instead of perceiving that distance as negative, it could be a sign of a God that is incorruptible, offering a haven for Their followers. Seeing God in a form made by people implies a reversal of power of the creator and the created and puts those two individuals on the same level. God’s natural representation allows for Their being, which is described as fluid, infinite, and unrestrainable. The Cross in the Mountains (Fig. 1) is a celebration of an intangible God with references to other Lutheran symbols, such as the bottom section that illustrates wheat and grape vines, alluding to communion from its source, untouched by man. In terms of the image of Jesus crucified on the cross, what is seen here is a symbolic scene, not the moment of the Crucifixion itself. Art historian Julian Jason Haladyn wrote: “It is important to stress the distinction being made between the act of rendering in paint an imagined scene of Christ in the Cross and the act of picturing an already rendered-and accordingly pre-interpreted-representation of the Crucifixion” (53). It’s significant because of that human element of interpreting faith. A lone symbol is open to interpretation, whereas an imagined scene has already been judged. The inclusion of the crucifix is unnecessary in the presence of the divine in nature, but for the sake of viewer comfort and understanding of the message, it’s included to make the piece more than a Romantic landscape (Haladyn 54).
While Lutheranism started in the 16th century and influenced art from then on, Romanticism emerged in the early 19th century. It evolved from a period of classical revival that often showed heavy Catholic symbolism and monarchal propaganda, “marked by unperturbed calmness, unity divided into the manifold, plastic compactness, insistence on the present, living form, definiteness, perfection or completeness” (Blankenagel 2). Compositionally, the images were controlled, mathematical, and purposeful. In comparison, Romanticism seemed radical in its obsession with things that are outside of logical comprehension. The Romantics were fascinated with the physical and emotional sublime, and “restless movement, unity without division but in constant flux, picturesque boundlessness in inexhaustible transformation, longing without goal, limit, or aim” (Blankenagel 3). There was often more value placed on the individual instead of the institution, be it the monarchy, Church, or Academy. Nature was often associated with Romantic ideals; it embodied the sublime, the picturesque, the movement, transformation, and lack of institution. Nature was an omnipotent, ever fluctuating being that could be perceived by people but never controlled. The Cross in the Mountains (Fig. 1), a Romantic landscape, serves as an example of the religious practices of Lutheranism in an environment that harnesses its God. The inclusion of the crucifix, as mentioned before, was more of an aesthetic choice instead of a direct depiction of a biblical event. The mountains in this scene, however, are intended to provoke a specific experience of walking up the mountain towards faith (Beenken 17). In this instance, the experience of nature is more highly valued than the widely circulated image of the crucifix and becomes sacred itself.
Unlike The Cross in the Mountains (Fig.1), Friedrich’s The Monk by the Sea (Fig. 2) has a religious human figure religious that isn’t a surrogate for Christ. It also isn’t exclusively symbolic like the crucifix in Figure 1. The person here, a man of faith, stands on the seashore, completely overwhelmed by the vastness of nature, so much so that he can be easily overlooked. Martin Luther in his original teachings spoke of a “Hidden God,” a God who is absent when sought, but very much present throughout the world; felt and not seen. This perception correlates with Figure 2. There is no physical form that God embodies. They do not present themselves to the Monk in a direct line of communication, rather They are immersed in nature. The monk is someone who has devoted his life to seeking God and understanding faith, but God reveals Themselves as a silent, ever-present force.
Even if there wasn’t definite communication between the subject and God, and even if God was not represented as a tangible being, the ability to perceive God in nature and thus grow in faith was something that inspired many Existentialists. The conversation starts with the human perspective and how one is forced to confront concepts one cannot comprehend. For example, The Monk by the Sea (Fig. 1) features a simple landscape, but it is the viewer’s responsibility to determine its meaning; doing so, however, is to eventually consider one’s own existence. That contemplation, “exceeds ‘the ends of our power of judgement’ and in this way represents a form of ‘violence’ against our imagination” (Haladyn 47). The monk represents the viewer; he acknowledges his finite place in an infinite universe. This prompts people into horror vacui, or the fear of “existing within a world that is beyond definition” (Haladyn 52). Being unable to categorize something gives it mystery and allows the viewer to appreciate the sublime.
Friedrich’s Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (Fig. 3) takes a different approach to the idea of Existentialism. Instead of a quiet acceptance of one’s relativity, the man from figure 3 is confrontational toward his place in the universe and his relationship with religion. Nature in this image is far wilder and more fluid than in the previously discussed pieces, but the man, who represents the viewer, doesn’t shy away from their lack of power of the situation that they have found themselves in. He stands between the viewer and the landscape, experiencing their dangerous yet privileged perspective for them. The Rückenfiguren, defined as the subject as viewed from the back, denies the observer the ability to identify him, allowing for anyone to take his place (Haladyn 49).
Pantheism is the correlation of nature and religion in God’s image, or as a direct expression of Them, which is where the ideas of Lutheranism and Romanticism merged. Monastery Graveyard in the Snow (Fig. 4) is a piece that weaves all the afore mentioned concepts. This image shows the ruins of a Gothic cathedral in the dead of winter, with a procession of people walking through remnants of the church door. At first glance, it may be assumed that the church fell into disrepair in nature, that time is an opposing force to faith and creation. However, though the physical walls of the church have been eroded, the ring of trees around the remaining structure serves as a secondary, encompassing barrier; the church wasn’t toppled by nature but instead embraced by it. The two trees in the foreground that frame the sides of the church act as a new entrance. Religion isn’t limited by human imagination but lies in things that are beyond comprehension. The demolition of the physical church represents the end of old, perhaps corrupt Christian practices that cared more for materialism than enlightenment. Even the title Monastery Graveyard directly alludes to the death of old institutions such as monasteries. The placement of the ruins in a winter scene further intensifies that end; “the theme of nearly all the older winter pictures has been less winter itself than life in winter,” and the life pictured here, the line of Monks walking to the ruins, shows the continuation of religion but the end of old practices (Beenken 172). The embodiment of faith that the Monks take on ascends them in their role to act as a surrogate for those experiencing the evolution into Lutheranism; as they walk into nature for enlightenment, so do God’s other followers.
The term “empfindung,” describes “the feeling which is always reaching out towards the infinite and is bounded by no limitations,” and the representation of that feeling in the mood set by nature (Beenken 175). Many of Friedrich’s landscapes harness that boundlessness with the intention of expanding the potential presence of God. One in particular is The Abbey in the Oakwood (Fig.5), a landscape with similar messaging to Monastery Graveyard in the Snow (Fig. 4) in the expansion of a religious space into nature, but also one with a distinct focus on the infinite. Friedrich pictured the ruins of a church surrounded by trees and a barren landscape in a heavy contrast of light and shadow to create an assumed depth. The setting sun barely makes visible the single remaining wall, the parade of people walking through the door and back into nature, and the lone grave marked by a cross. It also allows the viewer the liberty to fill in the unknown themselves and make of the religious experience what they wish. Beenken wrote, “so the romantic contemplator of nature seeks to sink his personality into that of nature, in order to experience and understand from within the landscape, its forms, and its transformations brought about by changes of weather and light, by the seasons and the times of day,” (175). Understanding the landscape is an attempt to understand the divine presence and one’s finite relationship to it.
While the connections between Lutheranism and Romanticism in art are undeniable, they aren’t necessarily dependent on one another. Lutheran elements have been depicted for centuries in styles outside of Romanticism and, likewise, Romanticism has subject matters that aren’t Lutheran or religious at all. Further research would need to be done about the true extent in which the two subjects have historically overlapped, but Friedrich’s portfolio serves as a singular, developed example.
REFERENCES:
Beenken, Hermann. “Caspar David Friedrich.” The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 72, no. 421 (1938): 171–75. http://www.jstor.org/stable/867281.
Blankenagel, John C. “The Dominant Characteristics of German Romanticism.” PMLA 55, no. 1 (1940): 1–10. https://doi.org/10.2307/458420.
Haladyn, Julian Jason. “Friedrich’s ‘Wanderer’: Paradox of the Modern Subject.” RACAR: Revue d’art Canadienne / Canadian Art Review 41, no. 1 (2016): 47–61. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43855855.
Alie Feid is a second-semester Sophomore Studio Art and Art History double-major, with a minor in Arts Leadership & Administration. Originally from Asheville, she hopes to pursue studio art practice or a career in art restoration post-graduation.