Film
Robin Lutz
begins near the end of his life. Escher, one of the Netherlands鈥檚 most famous artists, and by then in his late 60s, is discovered by California鈥檚 counterculture.
For the life of him he can鈥檛 understand why. Escher鈥檚 hyper-rational, mathematically sophisticated woodcuts aren鈥檛 even art as far as he is concerned. And now a bunch of hippies are zoning out on them. Colouring them. Making them into place mats. Mick Jagger even wants him to design an album cover.
Escher鈥檚 acid reply to Jagger is delivered with relish by actor-broadcaster Stephen Fry, who reads from the artist鈥檚 voluminous correspondence and diaries throughout the documentary.
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English singer-songwriter Graham Nash (of Crosby, Stills & Nash) had a better time of it. When he phoned to say what a great artist he thought Escher was, they got talking. Escher told Nash that he thought his own interest in symmetry, tiling and representing infinity disqualified him from being an artist, in the proper sense. Artists pursue beauty, he mused in his diary: 鈥淧erhaps I only pursue wonder.鈥�
Advances in mathematics, computation and psychology have made nonsense of that distinction. Escher鈥檚 subject was perception. He might not have considered that art, but opinions have moved on there now.
Nash believed that Escher鈥檚 reputation would only grow posthumously. In his good-humoured and increasingly playful documentary, Lutz strongly agrees.
鈥淭he camera is an informed eye here, explaining Escher鈥檚 work, not turning it into visual effects鈥�
Achieving, after a lifetime鈥檚 effort, a satisfying representation of infinity, Escher still berated himself: 鈥淚 am starting to speak a language that is understood by very few,鈥� he wrote. But isn鈥檛 this what true artists do? Aren鈥檛 they supposed to become more like themselves and less like others?
It is interesting to compare him with his close contemporary, the mathematician Kurt G枚del. Both preferred study to self-expression. And both gave themselves a hard time: G枚del believed himself to be lazy; Escher reckoned that he couldn鈥檛 draw. Yet Escher enjoyed a lifetime of fascinated striving. 鈥淚t is,鈥� he once remarked of his career, 鈥渁nd remains, the game of a child.鈥�
Escher is also revealed through photographs, home movies and interviews with two of his children. Clearly, he relished his marriage, family and home, though life wasn鈥檛 always easy. The second world war kept them largely housebound, and they nearly starved to death. Later, his wife Jetta slowly succumbed to dementia. You can call Escher鈥檚 art cold and distant, but the man was never that.
Lutz harnesses the talents of animators and graphic designers to create a film that starts in the real world, but slowly, subtly slides into the phantasmagoric, monochrome world of Escher鈥檚 imagination. Warped perspectives straighten to reveal their secrets. Long, panning shots combine with prints to reveal how tiles mutate into living forms, then back to geometrical figures. The camera is an informed eye here, explaining Escher鈥檚 work, not turning it into visual effects.
Escher believed the only person who could properly film his work was himself 鈥� and that the result would be awfully boring. I hope he is watching this, tucked away in some hidden dimension.
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