The most talked-of art attraction in Germany—possibly in all Europe— this winter was the exhibition of Caspar David Friedrich at the Hamburg Kunsthalle, which, as a joint undertaking of the two Germanies, is now on view in Dresden. Held in celebration of the 200th anniversary of Friedrich’s birth, it drew 200,000 spectators in six weeks, a German record surpassed only by the great 1971 Dürer show in Nuremberg.
Friedrich’s landscapes, haunted, melancholy, filled with mysterious overtones like the Grimm fairy tales, are hardly known outside Germany (except by those lucky enough to have seen them at London’s Tate Gallery in 1972). Just why they should suddenly attract mass audiences is puzzling. His subject matter—winter landscapes, misty mountains, graveyards with Gothic ruins, lonely beaches, harbor scenes with sailing ships against the setting sun—is typically romantic. But nature, for Friedrich, is full of religious symbols, so that even the most casual observer senses hidden meanings and implications in his work.




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