EDITH KURZWEIL
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ogling, for instance, the undressing of a woman who was about to be
exterminated or otherwise violated; the flashing of alternating images of
sexy Calvin Klein underwear models with Nazi propaganda of beautiful
bodies; and the depiction of nude (Jewish) women next to portraits of
Nazis in uniform. Was the audience more turned on by the near-pornog–
raphy or by the evil they were expected to ponder? A long illustrated
story by Roee Rosen guessed at the thoughts of Eva Braun during her
last sexual intercourse with Hitler just as he was about to kill her and
commit suicide; a damaged set of Hermes, Tiffany, and Chanel gift can–
isters was transposed to a death camp; a row of identical plastic toys,
Alain Sechas's
Enfants C,ites,
each one in its own display box, were
duplicated nearly infinitely by mirrors on both ends of the room and,
upon close view, represented Hitler in the form of pristine, white Easter
bunnies; and so on. Yes, the grandchildren of Hitler's generation have
projected their fears and fantasies onto Auschwitz, but luckily for them,
they had little to fear. In yet another film, they essentially argued for
their "creations"-and tried, unsuccessfully, to convince survivors of the
Holocaust, who angrily dismissed their concepts as blasphemy. The
entire ruckus, however, profited the Jewish Museum, insofar as it called
attention to its existence, in the way Robert Mapplethorpe's bullwhip,
Chris Ofiii 's dung, and Karen Finley's body smeared with chocolate
brought crowds to their respective venues-and enhanced their name
recognition, their celebrity, and their income.
Kokoschka's paintings in the Neue Gallerie, along with those of Egon
Schiele, Gustav Klimt, Paul Klee, and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, impressed
visitors by the quality of the work rather than by hype and gimmickry.
Kokoschka tried to disclose ever more of his subjects' souls, painting
them quickly, paying inordinate attention to their hands as well as to
their facial expressions. While working on illustrations for the Wiener
Werkstatte, he had caught the attention of the architect Adolf Loos,
who advised him to paint portraits of famous artists and critics, wealthy
burghers and writers. And Gustav Klimt, the president of the Viennese
Secession, took a chance by inviting him to take part in the exclusive
kunstschau
(art exhibition). Between
I909
and
I9I4,
Loos recom–
mended this "young wild-man" to paint, for instance, the art historians
Hans Tietze and Erica Tietze-Conrat, and the editor of
Die Fackel,
Karl
Kraus-whom he depicts as a slight-limbed thinker whose crossed legs
give him a somewhat effeminate air. Kokoschka endows Joseph de
Montesquieu, an aristocrat, with an elongated body and the head of a
skeleton; the poet Peter Altenberg seems to be a saint with large eyes
and beard. Alma Mahler, with whom Kokoschka had a difficult love
