The Magazine

The Flip Side

Ilana Lewitan, artist of hidden truth and double meaning.

Apr 18, 2011, Vol. 16, No. 30 • By DAVID GELERNTER
Widget tooltip
Single Page Print Larger Text Smaller Text Alerts

Ilana Lewitan is a painter of questions too wide or deep for words, whose originality, intelligence, and painterly virtuosity make her one of the most significant surrealists in decades. Her work is now on show at the prestigious Galerie Noah in Augsburg. Possibly you weren’t planning to stop by Augsburg in the next few weeks, but Mrs. Lewitan’s work is bound to appear in America before long. Later this spring she will have a show in Shanghai; she’s had exhibits in Israel and many in her native Germany. The art world is coming to know her.

‘Altlasten’ (2006)

‘Altlasten’ (2006)

Her paintings are too diffuse for language, like the oppressive feel of a thunderstorm coming on. One recent painting is called simply Nu?—Yiddish for (approximately) Well .  .  . ?—a way to demand an answer without asking a question. Along with all good surrealists, Lewitan paints dream-imagery. Many of her paintings are tense with uneasiness, wariness, watchfulness, like a charged copper sphere that will strike sparks across a gap if you come close. But they are effective because of her fine drawing, structural sense, technique with the brush, and her striking sense of color. She extends (proudly and boldly) the line of distinguished contemporary painting in Germany. Her work resonates with earlier voices, but her own is wholly original—and so is she.

She is a Jew who was born in Munich a generation after the collapse of Nazidom. She and her husband, the psychologist and Die Zeit columnist Louis Lewitan (who was born in France), came to New York to spend their young adulthood in the late 1980s and early ’90s. But they decided to return to Munich to rear their children. Lewitan is trained as an architect and worked for Richard Meier in New York. In 1994, back in Munich, she won first prize in a major competition and was set to move into the frenzied strobe-lit razzle-dazzle of international celebrity architecture. But she decided to be a mother, wife, and painter instead. Her first solo exhibit was in 2002; between 2003 and 2009 she was a student of the eminent painter, sculptor, and intellectual Markus Lüpertz at the Bad Reichenhaller Academy near Salzburg. Today, she and her husband are important actors in the small but astonishingly alive Munich Jewish community. They believe in modern Germany—cautiously.

Her paintings in the Augsburg show tend to be wide, low rectangles, some as much as nine feet across. Most show a group of fragmented figures (humans, dogs, masks, skulls) sketched or drawn in loose, sure strokes and surrounded or filled up by colors that are laid in as carefully as masonry webbing in a gothic vault. They are acrylics with collaged elements, charcoal, and other media. They make a coherent group in mood, shape, and relatively soft-spoken color, but she has recent paintings that are even stronger back at her studio and on her website.

In Expectation (2008), which is in the show, is one meter square and centers on two human-like shapes and a third that suggests a sphinx. Several lines of neat, cursive German script snake backwards across the image like a message in a dream that you can’t quite understand. In the background, warm gray turns gradually to blue; the figures are ochre, pale purple, and rusty pink. “What’s up?” (2007, and not in the show) is a large, upright canvas centering on a doll-like figure that is mainly head and hands. Hands are a Lewitan leitmotif. These hands, and an open mouth, seem (again) to be telling us something ominous that we can’t quite hear. The colors include the triad of bright sky-blue, purple, and rusty orange, which recurs in her paintings. The passage from violet to rust is arresting.

In other recent paintings there are dogs, a scowling skull, an elegantly painted zebra head (above a wonderful passage of murmuring greens and then purples and then whispering, tiptoeing light blues), figures gripped and crushed by interlaced fingers, several brutally sketched, radically exposed female nudes gripped or pinned by unseen forces, and fragmented feet, hands, and masklike faces. The brush strokes are quick and confident, the effect memorable and troubling.

Recent Blog Posts

The Weekly Standard Archives

Browse 19 Years of the Weekly Standard

Old covers