As Gerhard Richter sets foot on the polished floor of Marian Goodman’s Gallery in Soho, London, his image shivers and eventually splinters. He has come to silently inaugurate his solo exhibition that will be open to the public until 20th December. The massive installation that marks the entrance into Richter’s abstract world is a construct of seven panes of glass. Entangled and just about seven meters high, this house of cards is a magnet to the crowd that has assembled to welcome the avant-gardist pioneer back in the country’s capital.
The image of grey paintings breaks in the panes. Spreading out on the white walls of the entrance hall, the grey paintings have been part of Richter’s oeuvre since the 1970s. One of them, laconically titled ‘double grey’, is trenched in manifold shades of grey. “Greyis no statement, it evokes neither feelings nor associations,” Richter wrote thirty years ago when he started painting in grey.
In stark contrast to the dazzling colours of Richter’s more recent work, they allude to the frigid atmosphere of the space. My personal guide to the more colourful second room has just turned nine. Konstantin, the son of Richter’s personal assistant, is familiar with the dignified gentleman and his art. “I like these more, they fit these rooms better,” he says pointing upwards. The series ‘Strip’ on the second floor is a convolute of streaks of colour. At a closer range, the contours blur. “If you look at them long enough your head starts to spin.”
But the paintings fascinate not merely due to their huge dimensions and exploding colours. Their deceiving simplicity and dynamism is a product of history. Taken from an old photograph, Richter amplifies a single snippet and mirrors it into its various shades. Then he reconnects the colours under yet another pane of glass. Nearly covering the complete wall, these paintings let reality slip for a moment. The beholder cannot get hold of their deceptive simplicity. The mind does not comprehend. “My pictures are more intelligent than me,” Richter acknowledges.
Sometimes, however, the colours break free and flee their precise boundaries. The series ‘Flow’ back on the ground floor bears witness to these moments. Mature and more discreet colours mark these enamel paintings on, yet again, glass pane. “I think at least one of them will break,” observes Konstantin from my left. The fragility and vulnerability to time and human beings is apparent in the artworks of Richter, who grew up amidst the turmoil of the Second World War. He evokes memories and provokes emotions among all beholders alike.
When in 2007 Richter was commissioned to design a new 115 square metre window for the 800 year old gothic Cologne Cathedral, he created a pattern of 11,000 chromatic squares. The following public dispute led to debates on the future of art and Catholic Church alike. Richter has become a sort of moral conscience for the modernised world. Many had therefore not expected the pre-eminent part of Modern Art to appear at his own exhibition tonight.
Wandering in through the main entrance, he appears more like the beholder than the artist. Squishing through the mingling groups of art specialists, he heads for the second floor of the Victorian-era warehouse. He absent-mindedly shakes a few hands; the days when the crowd made him feel terribly out of place are past. As his bodyguards channel a way through the fans, he finds shelter in the gallerist’s office.
“I don’t necessarily want to be recognised in public,” he admits. But after over fifty years in business, Richter knows about how iconic he and his works have become. When Eric Clapton sold Richter’s ‘AbstraktesBild’ (‘abstract painting’) for $34.7m in 2012, Richter had already become the world’s most expensive living artist. “These prices are lunatic and indecent,” Richter remarks. “On bad days I get the feeling that people don’t actually value the art. They pay millions in a telephone call for a picture they’ve never seen.” He is in a good mood today, although the swarm of wealthy collectors seems to dominate the group of art students. The familiar faces set him at ease. “One day we won’t need pictures anymore, we will just be happy,” Richter infamously remarked twenty years ago. For Richter that day has not yet come, twelve more exhibitions are scheduled for 2014/15. He is busy as ever working on new ideas, “I just love being in my atelier.”
Tonight, though, he is running late for a dinner with intimate friends and colleagues. Small groups have secluded into corners of the exhibition, phone calls are being made. Inaudibly, Gerhard Richter leaves the stage in disguise. Once again he salutes my young guide, before dispersing into London’s dark, anonymous night.
