A new exhibition reveals a Paul Nash who, while only sometimes brilliant, possessed a modernist vision ahead of his timeby Ben Lewis / March 19, 2010 / Leave a comment
Published in April 2010 issue of Prospect Magazine
We are Making a New World (1918): eerily contemporary
Full of optimism, I enter an exhibition of a British modernist. I imagine a new era dawning, which overturns the consensus of generations of international art historians that British 20th-century art has always been third-rate, following far behind France, Germany and America, and possibly not much ahead of Argentina or Sweden. Francis Bacon has belatedly become recognised as an internationally important painter—who’s next? Perhaps the British surrealist landscape painter Paul Nash (1889-1946), the subject of a comprehensive new exhibition at the Dulwich Picture Gallery.
I am greeted by Nash’s most famous work: an empty first world war battlefield, We are Making a New World (1918). His first major painting, it is a remarkably pared down composition in colour and structure. Muddy green craters and the spiky stumps of blown-apart trees form a pattern into the distance; above the horizon, the blood-red clouds of dawn part for an abrasively white sun. The scene is backlit. Barely a brushstroke has been wasted. The painting has the confidence and urgency born of outrage. It’s mercifully low on sentimentality—none of the mothers and children of Henry Moore, or the church spires of John Piper—and high on horror. In fact, this is one of Britain’s best paintings of the 20th century: our very own Guernica. How appropriate that that seminal war painting of modern Spain—the land of Goya and José de Ribera—is full of people and animals screaming in pain, while ours is about nature.