Portrait of the journalist Sylvia von Harden

Otto Dix was one of the most famous portrait painters in Germany. In the 1920s, he was rarely found at home: clients invited him to paint their portraits all over the country, and he travelled from city to city. Doctors, lawyers, poets, dancers and art dealers wanted a portrait by Dix. Now it is rather difficult to imagine that the doctor really dreamed of his own grotesque image against the background of a gynaecological chair, and the artist Adolf Uzarski accepted his own image as a blue-skinned street ghost or a werewolf on a night street with a smile and understanding. And each of them paid the artist. But that’s how it was. Art critic Irina Kulik spoke about the special art phenomenon in Weimar Germany: any reality, professional or social position of a person was so fragile and unreliable that people preferred to question their own identity in advance, to see themselves as grotesque heroes, devoid of ceremonial qualities.

But the Portrait of Sylvia von Harden is a rare exception. It was not commissioned. Dix ran into Sylvia in the street. He saw her and decided that he must definitely paint her portrait. “I must paint you! I simply must!... You are the representative of an entire epoch!” said Dix. Sylvia von Harden was sincerely perplexed: “So, you want to paint my lacklustre eyes, my ornate ears, my long nose, my thin lips; you want to paint my long hands, my short legs, my big feet—things which can only scare people off and delight noone?” He wanted to paint it all. Because Sylvia von Harden was the epitome of a new woman - independent and passionate. A woman that concerned not with the outward beauty of a woman but rather with her psychological condition. This is still the time of hats, curls, boas and fitted dresses. But this is already the time of women like Sylvia.

Sylvia von Harden wrote a literary column for the monthly Das junge Deutschland (“The young Germany”) from 1918 to 1920, for Die Rote Erde (“The red Earth”) from 1919 to 1923, she wrote poetry and even published it. Seven years after Dix painted this portrait, Sylvia would leave for England as soon as Hitler comes to power. She would work in a factory during the war and write rare articles in émigré publications for Germans like her, who fled their country. Her articles would be broadcast, reprinted and re-read. Of course, this is not the literary fame that Sylvia von Harden, the heroine of Dix’s portrait, dreamed of. But then, in Germany, in the years of ambitious plans and professional courage, Sylvia posed for Dix and became a symbol of the epoch. SIt was so accurate that in the Cabaret film by Bob Fossey, wich was filmed forty years later, immediately after the credits and the “Berlin, 1931” inscription, in the very first scene in the cabaret hall, a spectator appears, whose pose and appearance (up to the monocle) repeats the pose and appearance of Sylvia von Harden.

The Cabaret film looks nostalgic retro, but Sylvia von Harden belongs somewhere here and now — in the 21st century. It is possible that much later, and many years later. A Barbie doll was seated at a toy table in the outfit of Sylvia von Harden, men dressed in plaid shirts, and women in plaid dresses — and are still photographed for social networks as Sylvia von Harden - a cigarette, a cocktail, a monocle.

When the first director of the Pompidou Centre, Jean Cassou, decided to purchase the Portrait of Sylvia for a permanent exhibition, she was already 67 years old. Otto Dix wrote her a letter about it to England. Jean Cassou explained his choice as follows: “I don’t want to acquire paintings by the foreign artists who painted in French manner. I want a German to paint in German manner and an Englishman paint in English manner.” And he chose the Portrait of Sylvia von Harden from all the works by Otto Dix.

Author: Anna Sidelnikova