Mysteries of the Rectangle: Essays on Painting

by Siri Hustvedt

In Mysteries of the Rectangle, Hustvedt concentrates her narrative gifts on the works of such masters as Francisco Goya, Jan Vermeer, Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin, Gerhard Richter, and Joan Mitchell. Through her own personal experiences, Hustvedt is able to reveal things until now hidden in plain an egglike detail in Vermeer's Woman with a Pearl Necklace and the many hidden self-portraits in Goya's series of drawings, Los Caprichos, as well as in his infamous painting The Third of May. Most importantly, these essays exhibit the passion, thrill, and sheer pleasure of bewilderment a work of art can produce—if you simply take the time to look.

Genres: Art, Essays, Nonfiction, American, History, Criticism

202 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2005

About the author

Hustvedt was born in Northfield, Minnesota. Her father Lloyd Hustvedt was a professor of Scandinavian literature, and her mother Ester Vegan emigrated from Norway at the age of thirty. She holds a B.A. in history from St. Olaf College and a Ph.D. in English from Columbia University; her thesis on Charles Dickens was entitled Figures of Dust: A Reading of Our Mutual Friend.

Hustvedt has mainly made her name as a novelist, but she has also produced a book of poetry, and has had short stories and essays on various subjects published in (among others) The Art of the Essay, 1999, The Best American Short Stories 1990 and 1991, The Paris Review, Yale Review, and Modern Painters.

Like her husband Paul Auster, Hustvedt employs a use of repetitive themes or symbols throughout her work. Most notably the use of certain types of voyeurism, often linking objects of the dead to characters who are relative strangers to the deceased characters (most notable in various facits in her novels The Blindfold and The Enchantment of Lily Dahl) and the exploration of identity. She has also written essays on art history and theory (see "Essay collections") and painting and painters often appear in her fiction, most notably, perhaps, in her novel, What I Loved.

She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband, writer Paul Auster, and their daughter, singer and actress Sophie Auster.

Reviews

[Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am far from an art expert, but I do enjoy a lot of it, and I enjoy it even more if I can read about it in the way that Hustvedt writes about it. Her fiction is full of art and artists, all seemingly authentic, and before this book came out, I'd also admired her essays on art in Yonder: Essays, one on Vermeer and Woman with a Pearl Necklace; another on still-life paintings: Both are reprinted here. Consequently, I was happy to see a whole book by Hustvedt devoted to essays on paintings.

She has a 'good eye' (as the expression goes) and explains what she sees and mulls over in accessible, elucidating ways. Besides original insights (at least they are to me), she seems to have made a few discoveries that have gone unnoticed (or un-commented upon) by anyone else, including seeing Goya's head in his painting, The Third of May. Speaking of Goya, there are two essays about him, and they are both excellent.

I was not familiar with other painters Hustvedt writes of, including Jean-Baptiste-Simeon Chardin and Gerhard Richter, and it's wonderful to have been introduced to them through her eyes.

More than anything, these essays made me to want to see these paintings with my own eyes, and while that may never happen, I feel that I will see any painting I now come across with 'better' eyes.

[Deea · Rating 5 out of 5]

What Siri Hustvedt sees in some works of art never ceases to amaze me. How she interprets visual metaphors, the use of light and shadow, perspective, closeness and distance in paintings, as well as edges of objects and contours is simply amazing. I wish all art had an explanation written by her as she is one of the most erudite writers I've read and delving into essays written by her is a challenging delight.

''I found the inversion of this image very moving. In it, tree and tree reflected are equals, and it made me think again about memory as a reflection of what has been seen and is seen again in the mind. Most of life consists of these reflections, either indelible or dimming.''

She has this unique way of blending information from neurology, psychology, philosophy and art in a very creative, appealing way and she always reaches the most original conclusions about memory and imagination. The way she writes about still lifes made me see them from a different perspective and appreciate them, see and understand the message behind, while I was only admiring them as simple displays of shapes on canvas before.

Siri introduced me to artists I had never heard of before and helped me understand the hidden meanings behind some modern paintings. Although I am sure that I've seen some of the works she is talking about displayed in the Tate Museum, I most certainly did not get the meaning of the paintings and I did not ponder upon them sufficiently so as to let their magic work on me and keep them in memory.

I had not heard of Joan Mitchell before (or if I had, I only had really vague information about her and her work) or Morandi. Not even of Chardin. Yes, consider me a philistine in this respect if you will, but I wonder, how many of us go to art museums and ponder for a good number of minutes (I will not say hours) upon each painting that we see? Well, Siri does and she sees all those details that are lost on the majority of us. We usually (or maybe I should stick to talking only about myself) see a painting, look at it for a bit, we decide whether we like it or not, we try to understand its meaning, but if that eludes us, we won't spend a lot of the time dedicated to that museum or that exhibition to really see all the significant details in order to make sense of the bigger picture and we just pass on to the next one. We might be paying attention to some works more than to others, but we don't (I don't) spend time in art galleries to elucidate mysteries. Again, Siri does (or she did) and she discovered some details that nobody had seen before (in Goya's paintings for instance), not even the professionals that are dedicated to studying these works of art for a living.

''In these last works, the relations between objects and empty space, between solid form and air, between the edge of one thing and another are persistently questioned. Where does one thing begin and another end?'' (about Morandi's cups and bottles)

Going back to Joan Mitchell, if I had seen her paintings and I had not read Siri's essays, I would have considered them really colorful, but I would not have (really) appreciated them or the message they conveyed. I would have probably silently wondered whether she had really been that talented as anyone could have played with colors like that and get a surprising result. Well, what Siri sees in them is surprising and her interpretations make them stay with you, haunt you.

''The effect is a slow rhythm of visual variations that create beats of similarity and difference, seducing the reader into a reverie of possible allusion-to vaporous skies, to mists over grasses, to nearly black bark or dark gray stepping stones.'' (about Joan Mitchell's ''Mooring'').

''And yet, if there's one thing I've understood about art in general, it's that there are thousands of different ways of getting at the world and what we experience as its truths.'' Siri's way is not the only way to interpret these works of art and I know this. It is however a very imaginative and interesting one. She sees beyond appearances and sees paintings as windows of meditation upon life.

[Barb · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book can be read for its content and enjoyed. This book can also be read for its wonderful construction. The text is a bit small, but the layout, the quality of pages and well structured binding make the reading a pleasant physical experience.

Siri Hustvedt's generosity in sharing her interactions with the paintings creates a rewarding intellectual experience as well. Combining personal narrative with critical analysis of a handful of artists' works, the author reminds the reader of the joy to be found in the presence of paintings. The book comes together as a sort of mini-exhibit. The unpleasantness of a crowded museum or poorly exhibited painting fades to the background as the reader is drawn into meditation on the techniques, imagery, color, composition, and artist of each work discussed. The book is primarily a verbal experience, yet I found myself wanting to look at the actual paintings and seek out the images that could not be included. I'll step into my next museum experience with a refreshed interest and enthusiasm because of this book.

[Charlotte · Rating 4 out of 5]

See how fast I can finish a book when it's not very long???

A very good book of essays about painting and painters, written from the viewpoint of someone who does close looking at work and writes clearly what she thinks about it. Not art history or criticism, but true appreciation from a place of curiosity and love.

Essays on Giorgione, Vermeer, Chardin, Goya, Morandi, Joan Mitchell, and Gerhard Richter.

I love the title of this book. I liked the Chardin essay the best, because she has an insight that I never noticed or would have thought of, having to do with the color red. Goya is one of my favorite painters and her close looks at paintings I'd really like to go back to Spain to see was enjoyable. Her theory on Vermeer's Woman with the Pearl Necklace was fascinating, and she saw something in that work I certainly never noticed.

Her ability to look long and hard is enviable. I don't have that kind of attention span any more, if I ever really did. I have to go back to paintings again and again, and I'm always finding something new. She talks about forgetting the figure of the man in Giorgione's The Tempest. I can see that painting vividly in my mind's eye and can't believe anyone could forget that man! But there's plenty of other elements in plenty of other works I do forget.

She says something in the Intro, about a painting happening all at once, unlike a piece of music or a novel. That's true for the viewer, but the time element of painting belongs to the maker. Maybe it should take a really long time for viewer to look at the work to make up for the fact that they can't participate in the making the way the maker does.

[Jane · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a tough one. Pretty hard to use words vis-à-vis paintings. In the author's own words: "...cryptic excess may be responsible for the language people use to talk about seeing art, as if an inanimate thing were endowed with an elusive, almost sacred power. In a culture flooded by facile images that race past us on a screen...pictures so heavily coded, so easily read that they ask nothing of us but our money--looking long and hard at a painting may allow us entry into the enigma of seeing istself, because we must struggle to make sense of the image in front of us." These essays definately help with the "struggle." That being said, I would much rather look at paintings than read about them. Luckily I can do both. Just saw the Gerhard Richter expo at the Musée de l'Art Moderne, which did not make a whole lot of sense to me (does it have to?)... but a pleasure to view interesting art. The last chapter of this book was very helpful. Albeit the chapters on Chardin, Morandi and Still Life were a bit more accessible.

[Ariel · Rating 4 out of 5]

The writer speaks like an artist. Most of her ideas are not new, but her voice is unique. "A painting creates an illusion of an eternal present, a place where my eyes can rest as if the clock has magically stopped ticking."
She talks about her experiences with paintings by Goya, Morandi, Duccio, Giorione, Richter, Joan Mitchell, and more.

[Jeneba Charkey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Looking at art is a very intimate private activity for me and I rarely enjoy visiting a museum or gallery with even some of my closest friends. But reading this book was like strolling arm in arm in complete sync, if not always in agreement, with an intimate friend who knows your heart.

[Bookmuppet · Rating 5 out of 5]

I picked up this book after reading What I Loved. Hustvedt's essays on still life and on Goya make for incredible companion pieces to the parts of the novel that describe Leo's absorption in Chardin's A Glass of Water and a Coffee Pot and his dedication to working on a book about Goya's late work.

But this is not some sort of an explication of the writer's research. This volume of essays, like the novel, conveys the pleasure of giving art your undivided attention to the point of disappearing in seeing (a la Emerson, I guess, in the best sense). Reading Hustvedt's exploration of Goya's Caprichos I was remembering my visit to an exhibit that had some of those works. Thanks to Hustvedt, I filled in some of the empty frames in these largely forgotten memories, though, yes, I was remembering that young girl who walked around a museum more than I could claim to remember the works.

[martha · Rating 4 out of 5]

Full disclosure: I didn’t actually finish this. I ran out of steam, largely because my interests began to separate from what Siri was writing about. Not her fault. Anyway, the 4 or 5 essays that I did read, absolutely awe inspiring. I’ve read a couple of her books by now, but this is often considered the seminal text and I can see why. The sheer power of observation is the beating heart of these essays and it totally transformed my thinking about looking, art, process and composition. Standout to me were her thoughts on Goya and the Impressionists, and still lifes. I couldn’t sum it up…it was accessible and informal yet highly intellectual and reminded me of what engaging critically with art is meant to be about. I even noticed myself observing her behaviours in my own gallery visits.

[Zülal · Rating 4 out of 5]

My art history teacher recommended us this book and it was good and pretty interesting even for people that doesn't know art history at all.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hustvedt's prose is clean and easy to read while delving into interesting and deep analysis of not only the specific artists and paintings she is writing about, but also her own process and experiences of viewing art. She explicitly chooses not to discuss works of art in a clinical and detached way but rather she bravely shares the emotions she experienced from the art. This to me seems a much more authentic way of discussing art – too many critics or experts pretend to be completely unemotional beings while analyzing art which, for humans, is simply not possible. We bring with us to the viewing all of our experiences, biases, and emotions and view the work from this perspective, not from that of an automaton. While I occasionally disagreed with her analysis, this too is not out of the ordinary when interpreting art and I welcomed her ideas. She obviously has done her research very thoroughly and is able to easily reference the scholarship behind her interpretations.

Two things I found unfortunate about the book: while examining the reproduction in the book of Goya’s The Third of May in which she “found” an embedded portrait of Goya, I simply could not make out what she was seeing. I suspect that standing in front of the piece would give me a totally different experience but I was left more bewildered than enlightened. Then again, since our brains are hard-wired to “see” human faces even when there is not one there but rather the vague general shapes found in one, the portrait she “found” may have been a trick of the brain rather than of the artist.

Secondly, she refers to many more paintings than are reproduced in the book which is fine but referring to those that were included would have been nice (i.e. referring to them in the text by figure numbers) since many are not found on the same page as the text in which she is discussing them. I often found myself flipping through the essay to see if a painting she mentioned was reproduced or not. Simple parenthetical references would have smoothed the reading process for me.

Overall this book is well worth the time and an easy read that will leave you enriched. This is my first experience with this author but I hope to read more of her work since she seems to be a genuinely interesting, educated person with unique perspective, a good combination for an author.

[Anda · Rating 5 out of 5]

best art history writing ever. serious.

[Blaire · Rating 4 out of 5]

a great from time to time pick up and read book.

[Gail McConnell]

'I don't think that to mention that to mention love in Chardin’s work is either mystical or unscientific. Touch lies at the heart of all human life. It is our first experience of another person, and the physicality of Chardin’s stroke is evocative of both caresses and touches of reassurances. I am certain that these strokes made by a paintbrush lie at the bottom of Proust’s comment that in Chardin one feels the affection a tablecloth has for a table.’