Marie-Louise Von Motesiczky: Catalogue Raisonne of the Paintings

Contents

6

9

13

55

73

525

540

546

548

555

560

foreword

acknowledgements

The Life of Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky’s Oeuvre

Catalogue of Paintings

Selection of Drawings

chronology

list of exhibitions

bibliography

index

copyright credits

Foreword

The Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable

Trust was founded by the artist several years

before her death in 1996. A substantial part of

her estate was passed by Motesiczky’s executors

into the care of the Trust with the aim of

achieving two main objectives. Beyond general

charitable purposes and two areas specified

by the artist in the Trust’s governing deed,

the other principal responsibility of the Trust

was to secure Motesiczky’s artistic legacy. The

Trustees viewed this as their first priority and

this present volume represents the fulfilment

of their primary duty towards enhancing the

artist’s reputation. It builds upon the biography

of Motesiczky written by the art historian and

curator Jill Lloyd, which appeared in 2007. Lloyd’s

biography was published during the tour of a

successful centenary exhibition which between

2006 and 2008 travelled to museums in Liverpool,

Frankfurt, Vienna, Passau and Southampton.

When formed, the Trust was originally

composed of five Trustees, Professor Jeremy

Adler, Professor Michael Jaffé (died 13 July 1997),

Richard Karplus, Sean Rainbird and David

Scrase. Two new Trustees, Frances Carey and

Julian Chadwick, were appointed in 2006 in

place of Jeremy Adler and Richard Karplus. The

Trustees’ continuing commitment to the artist

and her memory have enabled Ines Schlenker,

who diligently researched the artist’s life and

work, to complete this magnificent volume.

It offers for the first time a comprehensive

overview of Motesiczky’s paintings and her

most important works on paper. Ines Schlenker

interviewed many of Motesiczky’s family and

friends, who confirmed facts and offered their

recollections and invaluable insights into her

life and work. The author has drawn extensively

upon the artist’s archive, housed at the Trust,

to support her research with documents,

letters and photographs that add greatly to

our knowledge of Motesiczky’s works. This

painstaking approach, which lies at the heart

of any such similar enterprise, has enabled the

author in particular to unearth many hitherto

unknown facts and provide a more accurate

dating for many of Motesiczky’s paintings.

For an artist whose career appeared to be

developing quietly and away from the mainstream,

at least until a group of prominent

exhibitions in London, Manchester and Vienna

late in her career, one learns with some surprise

that Motesiczky participated in more than

forty exhibitions during her long life. Working

from the mid-1920s until her death in 1996

she produced around 340 paintings and over

a thousand works on paper. Moreover, she

created works of great originality and insight at

all stages of her long career and this is perhaps

the more unusual achievement. Her paintings

until the early 1930s, with their elongated

formats and sense of suspended reality,

suggest the early influence of her teacher Max

Beckmann on her formative years. However,

she had found her own voice by the mid-1930s

before leaving Austria for England via a year in

Holland as an exile from the National Socialists.

Fellow exiles such as the writer Elias Canetti, the

art historian Ernst Gombrich, the musicologist

Hans Keller and his artist wife Milein Cosman,

formed enduring friendships with Motesiczky

in the years that followed. In the later part of her

career came perhaps her most moving series of

paintings, profound and unsparing portraits of

her mother as she advanced to high old age and

physical decrepitude. Motesiczky’s insights into

her sitters’ lives made her portraiture unusually

penetrating. Her dutiful care for her mother

meant that the possessions and environment

of their Hampstead home became the focus of

her life and the subject of many still-lifes and

views of the lovingly cultivated garden. After

her mother’s death Motesiczky was able to travel

more, and this too was reflected in her choice

of motifs encountered on her journeys.

Ines Schlenker provides full details of the

origins of all Motesiczky’s paintings, including

those that have come to light since her death.

In addition, as one expects from a catalogue

raisonné, the chronological listing of paintings

is supported by a comprehensive scholarly

apparatus giving exhibition history, bibliography,

index, an introduction to her life and an overview

of her work. All available paintings were

re-photographed for this publication. Where

necessary, paintings underwent conservation

treatment and were reframed.

The Trustees would like to thank Ines

Schlenker for her steadfast, patient and enthusiastic

commitment to this extended project,

which has evolved into what will remain the

standard work on the artist. In completing

this publication the Trustees have relied on the

generous support of numerous institutions

and many individuals. King’s College, London,

provided institutional affiliation for the author

through a post-doctoral fellowship during the

early part of the project. The Trustees would

like to thank Rachel Barker and Sam Hodge

for their sensitive conservation treatment of

individual paintings and Mike Howden for

recreating many of the artist’s own frame

designs or proposing alternatives when these

were not available. The Trustees owe a debt

of gratitude to George Lewis, a friend of the

artist, who was always on hand with advice

and practical help. Two Trust Secretaries in

particular, Chloe Johnson and more recently

Andrew Crosbie, assisted in a multitude of ways

to provide administrative support. The Trustees’

special thanks go to all those involved in the

production of this volume; to Tim Holton at

an early planning stage, and in particular to the

editor Johanna Stephenson and the designer

Philip Lewis who worked tirelessly and with

great commitment to create a publication of

substance and beauty.

It is the Trustees’ hope that this publication

reaches not only those who already know and

value Marie-Louise von Motesiczky’s art, but

also a new audience. While it has the academic

rigour required by this kind of book, its clear

prose and lively detail makes it accessible

to the general reader eager to learn more

about an unusual and fascinating life, and an

accomplished artistic career. All who encounter

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky through these

pages will come to appreciate more a highly

gifted artist whose achievements deserve wide

acknowledgement.

Acknowledgements

In compiling the catalogue raisonné of paintings

by an artist I admired enormously but unfortunately

had never met I had to rely on the help of a large

number of individuals, among them many of the

artist’s friends and relatives. Without their kind

and generous support a book of this nature could

not have been written.

I would particularly like to thank the Trustees

of the Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable

Trust, Frances Carey, Julian Chadwick, Sean

Rainbird and David Scrase, for their unwavering

support and encouragement and their initial trust

in appointing me to the task. I am also grateful to

the German department at King’s College, London,

to which I was attached during the first seven years

of the project. A wonderful team worked together

on the catalogue raisonné, including the brilliant

conservators Rachel Barker, Rosie Freemantle,

Sam Hodge, Mike Howden and Charoulla Salt,

the archivist Louise Ray, the research assistants

Nikki Light and Evi Baniotopoulou and the former

secretary of the Trust, Chloe Johnson. For computer,

database and website advice and practical help I

could rely on Dennis McDermott, Claus Moser,

David Powell, Toby Poynder, Richard Read, Markus

Schlenker and David Yeandle. Andrew Crosbie,

the Trust Secretary, smoothed the often hazardous

way of the catalogue raisonné with good humour

and extraordinary problem-solving skills. George

Lewis supported this project in more ways than

he probably realizes. His invaluable contribution

to the catalogue raisonné cannot be overestimated.

Jill Lloyd, Motesiczky’s biographer, was a supportive

colleague with whom I could share information

and a fascination for Marie-Louise’s paintings.

Many of the above kindly read and commented on

various stages of the book, ironing out numerous

mistakes. Without the spirited and often inspired

work of the photographers Matthew Hollow and

Simon Roberton, the copy editor Eileen Power,

the artistic editor Johanna Stephenson and the

designer Philip Lewis the catalogue raisonné would

not present itself in the splendid way it does.

I am indebted to the following for granting

interviews in person, allowing access to paintings,

answering my questions and assisting with

research: Rosalind Abrams, Eva and Jeremy Adler,

Evelyn Adunka, Barbara Alden, Astrid Altschul-

Junesjö, Carole Angier, Olaf Ansorge, Zsuzsanna

Ardó, Diana Athill, Beryl Atkins, Frederick Baker,

Juliaan Bakker, Georg Baldass, Galia Bar-Or,

Mayen Beckmann, Valentina Barbara Berner,

Wilhelmine Beschorner, Felix Billeter, Michael

Black, Gudrun Boch, Claudia Böse, Monica

Bohm-Duchen, Veronica Bolay, Sheela Bonarjee,

Beatrice von Bormann, Sigrid Bothe, Cheryl Bove,

Jules Breeze, Ursula Brentano, Emil Brix, Ingried

Brugger, Barbara Buenger, Richard Calvocoressi,

John le Carré, Augustus Casely-Hayford, Catherine

Casley, Diana and Peter Clegg, David Cohen, Greg

Colley, Eric Conrad, Peter Conradi, Christie Coutin,

Erica Davies, Andrea Denbeaux, John Denham,

Amy Dickson, Ingrid von der Dollen, Júlia Domán,

Susan Einzig, Walter Elkan, Patrick Elliott, Muriel

Emanuel, Fee Engel, Walter Franz Eybl, Elizabeth

Fallon, Brian Fallon, Silvia Finzi, Hans-Jürgen

Fittkau, Helmut Friedel, Hildegard Fritz-Denneville,

Hubert Gaisbauer, Klaus Gallwitz, Elke Garbbert-

Perton, Gerda Garve, Mary Geraghty, Maria Ghisi,

Walter Gleckner, Ernst Gombrich, Barbara Göpel,

Rüdiger Görner, Mirli and Daniele Grassi, Flavia

Grassi, Sarah Greenberg, Pam Griffin, Lydia Gröbl,

Ken Grundy, Maria Gussago, Margaret Hamy,

Sven Hanuschek, Jenny Harrington, Brian Harris,

Maureen Harris, Beverley Haun, Barbara Heyman,

Susanna Hiegesberger, Klaus Hinrichsen, Franz

Hocheneder, Mary and Robert T. Holtby, Tim

Holton, Thomas Honickel, Vivien Hughes,

Jeannette Jackson, Nicholas Jacobs, Lorenz Jäger,

Patricia Jaffé, Hedwig Jagersberger, Gillian Jason,

Isobel Johnstone, Evamarie Kallir, Jane Kallir,

Mirjam Kann, Richard Karplus, Zipi and Michael

Karplus, Eda Karsten, Barbara Kaulbach, Conny

and Michael Kerman, Maria-Pia Kerman, David

de Keyser, Jocelyn Kingsley, Yukiko Kitamura,

Christian Kloyber, Uta Kohl, Gabriele Kohlbauer-

Fritz, Nicholas Kolarz, Kinga Körmendy, Charlotte

Lane, Mieke and Philip Leembruggen, Christian

Lenz, Henry Lessore, John Lessore, Georgette

Lewinson, Elena López Calatayud, Erika Lorenz,

Eva-Maria Loudon, Patricia Lousada, Lorette

Lugten, Mark Luprecht, Nicolas Lytton, Judith Mac

Colum, Marian Malet, Stephan Mann, Josephine

Del Mar, Helmut Mark, Sandra Martin, Monika

Mayer, Harriet McKay, Herbert Medek, Gregor

Medinger, Gian Carlo Menotti, Eva Michel, Michael

Molnar, Guy Monier, Tim Moreton, Richard

Morphet, Sybille-Karin Moser-Ernst, Erica and

Walter Nessler, Andreas Neufert, Elena Newton,

Elisabeth Nowak-Thaller, Margery Oplatka, Alied

Ottevanger, Kurt Overlack, Beatrice Owen, Ann

Pasternak Slater, Valerie Pearl, Sabine Plakolm-

Forsthuber, Anna Plodeck, Barbara Price, Erica

Propper, Patrick Pye, Trude Rabley, Johannes Rafael,

Hilde Randolph, Andrea Rauter, Claire Rauter,

Peter Rauter, Piers Paul Read, Marjory Reeves, Gaby

Reydon-Nechansky, Jan Reifenberg, Ladislas Rice,

Liz Rideal, Anna-Maria and Henry Rollin, Jörg Roth,

Miriam Rothschild, Anne Rowe, Nancy Salaman,

Karin and Jan Willem Salomonson, Birgit Sander,

Regine Schmidt, Sabine Schulze, Cyril Scurr, Ursula

Seeber, Rudolf Seitz, Jürgen Sild, Josefa Simon, John

A. Simpson, Cassie Sladen, Ada and Julian Sofaer,

Aya Soika, Gerald Sommer, Nicholas Stewart, Ursula

Storch, Ursula Vaughan Williams, Elinor Verdemato,

Peter Verdemato, Jutta Vinzent, Rüdiger Volhard,

Rilana Vorderwülbecke, Alexander de Waal, Victor

de Waal, Kristian Wachinger, Chris Warde-Jones,

Barbara and Stefan Weidle, Julia Weiner, Christiane

Wettke, Tim Wilcox, Lucy Williams, Kathy Winstanley,

Doris Winter, Gordon Winter, Edith Yapou, Yonna

Yapou-Kromholz, Christiane Zeiller, Eva Zernatto

and Rainer Zimmermann. I also must record

my debt of gratitude to the numerous staff at

the libraries and archives consulted and at the

museums and galleries contacted for their expert

advice and help with ektachromes and digital

images. My special thanks go to Jo Bondy, Jantien

and Peter Black, Milein Cosman and Christiane

Rothländer, Karl von Motesiczky’s biographer.

They generously shared their large knowledge of

the artist, her work and family, tirelessly answering

my questions and resolving countless problems.

As always, Shulamith Behr lent me her untiring

support. She first introduced me to the artist and

guided me throughout the project.

I am deeply grateful to my parents, Marianne

and Hans Schlenker, and my friends Sharon Eytan

and Henriette Stuchtey, who accompanied this

project with their unfailing, patient goodwill. Above

all I would like to thank my husband Michael

Schaich for providing the framework and emotional

support that allowed me to work on the catalogue

raisonné. He patiently read and commented on

every stage of the text and is my very best editor.

Our daughter Hannah Schlenker has grown up

with Motesiczky’s paintings and spent many hours

at Chesterford Gardens. Her zest for life and her

laughter often proved contagious and cheered

me on. With love and admiration I dedicate the

catalogue raisonné to Michael and Hannah.

ines schlenker

‘If you could only paint a single good picture in

your lifetime, your life would be worthwhile.’ 1

The Life of Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky

marie-louise von motesiczky was an artist whose life

spanned almost the entire twentieth century. Her works

were produced over a period of seven decades and range

from the first small oil painting, Small Roulette (no. 1),

painted in 1924, when she was only seventeen years old,

to Still-life, Vase of Flowers (no. 331), which she was still

working on in 1996 shortly before her death. Her oeuvre

includes over three hundred paintings, mainly portraits,

self-portraits and still-lifes, and several hundred drawings.

She filled some hundred sketchbooks with studies and

ideas. For a long time, however, Motesiczky did not receive

the attention she deserves, notwithstanding a considerable

number of exhibitions. This was mainly owing to the radical

political changes brought about by National Socialism.

The political developments in Central Europe destroyed her

highly promising career before she had reached full maturity.

Forced into exile, she set about rebuilding her life in England

and became one of the major Austrian painters of the

twentieth century and one of the most important émigré

artists in her new homeland. During her lifetime several

highly successful solo exhibitions, for example at the

Goethe-Institut in London in 1985 and at the Österreichische

Galerie Belvedere in Vienna in 1994, paid tribute to her

outstanding talent. The exhibition tour that marked the

artist’s centenary in 2006 delighted audiences in Liverpool,

Frankfurt am Main, Vienna, Passau and Southampton and

received enthusiastic reviews, confirming her place in

the history of art.

family

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky was descended from a

wealthy aristocratic Jewish family that played a vital role

in the intellectual and artistic circles of Vienna at the turn

of the twentieth century. 2 The large extended clan included

the Auspitz, the Ephrussi, the Gomperz, the Lieben, the

Schey, the Todesco and the Wertheimstein branches.

Although secularized and gradually assimilated into

Viennese society they tended to intermarry, thus creating

a complicated genealogy. The family, which originated in

the provinces of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, made its

enormous fortune in manufacturing and banking. It had

close links to the monarchy, admired German culture and

put great emphasis on a good education. Over the years,

individual family members were elevated to the rank of

nobility. Many male members of the family, such as the

philologist Theodor Gomperz and the philosopher Franz

von Brentano, as well as Robert von Lieben, the inventor

of the amplifying valve, distinguished themselves through

scholarship. Some female family members, often artistically

talented, became famous as hostesses. Josephine von

Wertheimstein, for example, presided over the legendary

salon at the Villa Wertheimstein in Döbling where the

political, commercial and cultural élites of the day met. The

young poet Hugo von Hofmannsthal first presented his

poems to the public there. One of Wertheimstein’s protégés,

the Viennese poet Ferdinand von Saar, became a family

friend, celebrating important occasions in their lives with

poems. Josephine’s sister, Sophie von Todesco, organized

high society events at the splendid Palais Todesco (fig. 1).

Situated opposite the Viennese Hofoper, it was filled with

spectacular pieces of furniture and a celebrated art collection.

Sophie counted painters like Hans Makart and Moritz von

Schwind, composers like Johannes Brahms, Franz Liszt and

Johann Strauss and playwrights like Henrik Ibsen among

her friends. Members of the extended family also became

well-known patrons of art and science and generous

supporters of charities. Leopold von Lieben (fig. 2),

Marie-Louise’s grandfather, and his cousin Rudolf Auspitz,

for example, were among the founders of the Wiener

Musikverein, where the family regularly attended concerts.

Leopold’s brother Adolf Lieben, using part of his inheritance,

created the Ignaz-Lieben-Preis that supported

Fig. 1 Palais Todesco, Vienna, photograph, 1930s (Karl Skowronnek.

Zur Entwicklung der Elektronenverstärkerröhre, Berlin 1931)

14 the life of marie-louise von motesiczky

research in chemistry and physics. From 1901 this ‘Austrian

Nobel Prize’ was awarded annually, honouring the cream

of Austrian natural scientists. 3

Sophie von Todesco’s second daughter, Anna (fig. 3),

Marie-Louise’s grandmother, was born in 1847. The

luxurious, aesthetic atmosphere in which Anna grew up

encouraged her to draw and write poems. She married

Leopold von Lieben (1835–1915), the director of his

own family bank, vice-governor of the Österreichisch-

Ungarische Bank and president of the Austrian stock

exchange. Anna von Lieben’s life, however, also reveals a

darker side of mental illness that ran in the family and was

obscured by their glamorous wealth and social success. 4

Hysterical symptoms had started in her teens and worsened

after her marriage, temporarily vanishing during her

pregnancies (Ilse was born in 1873, Valerie in 1874, Ernst in

1875, Robert in 1878 and Henriette, Marie-Louise’s mother,

in 1882). Anna also suffered from bouts of facial neuralgia

and insomnia. The family called in the young Sigmund

Freud whose treatment consisted of making her talk about

her past traumas under hypnosis. He also supervised

her daily injections of morphine. After several years of

treatment without permanent improvement Freud was

dismissed in 1893. Yet, as one of Sigmund Freud’s earliest

and most important patients, Anna von Lieben was a

crucial inspiration for the creation of psychoanalysis. Freud

called her his ‘Lehrmeisterin’ (mentor). 5 Using the pseudonym

‘Cäcilie M.’ to prevent her from being identified, he

gave her a prominent place in his Studies on Hysteria, 6

acknowledging her as ‘a highly intelligent woman, to

whom I am indebted for much help in gaining an understanding

of hysterical symptoms’. 7 Anna von Lieben died

in 1900 and a collection of her poems was published the

following year. 8

By all accounts, the upbringing of the Lieben children

was privileged but also highly unconventional. After their

marriage in 1871, Anna and Leopold had first lived at the

Palais Todesco. A few years later, in 1874, they, together

with four of his siblings and their families, purchased a large

property at Oppolzergasse 6, that bordered the Ringstraße.

Fig. 2 Leopold von Lieben, photograph, c. 1900

(Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 3 Anna von Lieben, photograph, c. 1870


15

Fig. 4 Henriette von Motesiczky, photograph, early 1900s


Fig. 5 Edmund von Motesiczky, photograph, early 1900s



Fig. 6 Rosina von Motesiczky, photograph, 1879


Fig. 7 Franz von Hauer, photograph, 1880


While the ground floor is to this day occupied by the

famous Café Landtmann, Anna and Leopold moved into

the apartment on the first floor of the building in 1888.

The Burgtheater, directly opposite, provided regular

entertainment for the occupants of the house who loved to

watch the comings and goings of the actors and audiences.

Anna and Leopold’s rooms accommodated an enormous

art collection, that ranged from paintings by Rudolf Alt,

Arnold Böcklin, Friedrich August von Kaulbach, August von

Pettenkofen, Tintoretto, Makart, and Franz von Lenbach,

among them his portraits of Leopold and his children,

to fine pieces of furniture, tapestries and silver. 9 As the

youngest by far, Henriette von Motesiczky (fig. 4) led

a rather lonely life and was often left to her own devices.

Aged eleven she fell fervently in love with Hugo von

Hofmannsthal, who had become friendly with her brothers.

Being considerably older, Hofmannsthal seems to have put

a stop to her adolescent infatuation once he realized how

serious and how easily encouraged she was. 10 Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky remembered her mother as an unusual

woman, a real ‘character’, natural, like a big child, who

loved the countryside, dogs and hunting. 11 According to her

daughter, she was warmhearted and wise yet often impossible,

not noticing how she came across as egotistical. 12 She

enjoyed luxuries big and small and expected to be waited

on. Having been protected by her daughter from the

dangers and disappointments of life even during the

turbulent years of emigration and exile, she appeared

to ‘have never been expelled from paradise’. 13

Motesiczky’s father, Edmund Franz von Motesiczky

Kesseleökeö 14 (fig. 5), was born in Vienna in 1866. Officially

the son of the Hungarian aristocrat Matthias Motesiczky

de Kesseleökeö and his wife Rosina, née Süffert (fig. 6), he

was actually the result of his mother’s relationship with Franz

Ritter von Hauer (1822–99; fig. 7), a distinguished geologist

and director of the Naturhistorisches Museum in Vienna.

It was in the Naturhistorisches Museum that Edmund was

secretly born. While the elderly Matthias Motesiczky appears

to have spent most of his time at his country estate, the two

lovers had built a large house in Kierling to which they

moved – this was just outside Vienna but far enough from

the city to avoid gossip. Edmund was partly brought up

by the family of the well-known conductor Franz Schalk.

In these artistic surroundings Edmund’s musical gifts were

nurtured and he developed into an excellent amateur cellist

who practised six hours a day on his Stradivarius cello.

He made music with Arnold Rosé and Johannes Brahms.

Despite the fact that Edmund studied chemistry at the

University of Vienna, being awarded a doctorate in 1896,

he never practised as a chemist, but devoted his time to

17

hunting and music. Although he had been acknowledged

as a Motesiczky he did not inherit a lot of money and

throughout his life had to make ends meet. Nevertheless

he managed always to appear extremely elegant. Friends

knew about his carelessness with money and his aversion

to any kind of work but admired him all the more for

his charm, his wit and his musical proficiency. Wolfgang

Magg, a fellow cellist who had met Edmund von

Motesiczky before the turn of the century, told Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky in 1966 that he had always been

‘full of appreciation for a genius on the one hand and

a gentleman on the other’. 15

Edmund von Motesiczky was introduced to the

Lieben family by Molly Filtsch, the mistress of Leopold

von Lieben. After his earlier unsuccessful courtship of

Henriette’s sister Ilse, Henriette and Edmund fell in love.

They were, however, forbidden to see each other since

Leopold von Lieben did not consider Edmund a suitable

match, being much older than Henriette, not Jewish and

lacking good prospects. A year later he gave in and the

couple were married in Hinterbrühl on 10 August 1903.

In preparation for the marriage, Edmund renounced

Catholicism on 1 July 1903, joining the Protestant Church

the following day. Henriette also converted to the

Protestant faith. Their son Karl Wolfgang Franz was born

on 27 May 1904, and their daughter Marie Luise Josefine

Alice followed on 24 October 1906. Both children were

christened in the Protestant faith.

childhood

The young family divided its time between three locations.

The winters were spent in the spacious flat at Brahmsplatz 7

in the fourth district of Vienna (fig. 8), into which Henriette

and Edmund had moved soon after their marriage. The

great art collector Count Antoine Seilern (1901–78) was

among their neighbours – he lived at Brahmsplatz 6 until

he left for London in 1939. The hunting season was spent at

the Hungarian estate of Vázsony (fig. 9), acquired by Anna

and Leopold von Lieben after their marriage. A hunting

diary that survives in the Motesiczky estate testifies to both

Edmund’s and Henriette’s game scores, and photographs

show them proudly displaying their impressive quarry

(fig. 11). Family history relates that, later in life, Henriette

remained famous for her robust interest in hunting.

One story goes that, while staying at the family estate in

Fig. 8 View of Brahmsplatz 7, Vienna, postcard, 1912


Fig. 9 The Motesiczky estate at Vázsony with

Karl, Marie-Louise and Edmund von Motesiczky

in the foreground, photograph, before 1910



Hinterbrühl, she would go out to the first-floor balcony

before breakfast and shoot a hare. In 1936 her daughter

drew a portrait of her as a huntswoman: Hunting (p. 534)

shows Henriette’s bulky figure sitting in a boat, aiming her

shotgun at ducks, two of which have already escaped.

Summers were traditionally spent in Hinterbrühl, a

village in the Wienerwald south-west of Vienna that had

become a fashionable rural retreat for well-to-do members

of Viennese society in the nineteenth century. Motesiczky’s

great-great-uncle Moritz Todesco had built Villa Todesco

at Kröpfelsteig 42 on the edge of the village (fig. 10). Yet

the house did not bring much luck to its initiator, as

Motesiczky recounted: ‘In the 1860s, there was an

Englishwoman and her great love, my great-great-uncle.

There was a hunting accident and the Prince Lichtenstein

was wounded. In the house the woman went off with him

and my great-great-uncle said goodbye to the house with

its big drawing room with its English chintz, and my

great-great-grandfather got it.’ 16 The large estate

comprised an imposing drive, an avenue of lime-trees,

fruit and vegetable gardens, meadows and woodland, a

swimming pool, a tennis court and numerous outbuildings

including stables, a gardener’s house, a greenhouse and

a Swiss chalet, the ‘Schweizerhaus’. The main house itself

had twenty rooms and was furnished sumptuously. By the

end of the nineteenth century it had been handed down

to Anna von Lieben whose son Robert installed electric

light when he was only a teenager, using a nearby mill

to generate power. On her parents’ death Henriette von

Motesiczky inherited the estate.

Fig. 11 Henriette and Edmund von Motesiczky posing with two stags,

photograph, before 1910 (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 10 Ludwig Hans Fischer, Villa Todesco at Kröpfelsteig 42, Hinterbrühl,

photograph of watercolour on paper, late nineteenth century


19

When Marie-Louise von Motesiczky was only three

years old the family was struck by tragedy. While on a

hunting outing Edmund suddenly fell ill with a twisted

intestine. He died a few days later, on 12 December 1909,

and was buried at the Döblinger Friedhof. Apart from

a brief engagement to the civil servant K. von Erhard 17

shortly after her husband’s death Henriette did not enter

into any other relationships. For a while she found a close

friend in the fatherly figure of Albert Figdor (1843–1927),

a banker who had amassed one of the largest and most

important private arts-and-crafts collections of its time,

consisting of textiles, furniture, tools, cutlery, jewellery,

glassware and ceramics from medieval times to the nineteenth

century. 18 She also remained part of a large social

circle. All the same, as a widow, Henriette repeatedly

suffered from depression, retreating to her bed for days

and leaving the children to their own devices.

Despite this early loss Motesiczky remembered her

childhood as protected and herself as a self-sufficient and

independent child (figs 12 and 13). Yet the unlimited freedom

her mother allowed her proved to be a burden for, as

Motesiczky recalled, she was neither challenged to achieve

a target nor able to develop her own will and resistance

in the face of adversity. 19 Fortunately, she found a lifelong

friend and ‘second mother’ 20 in Marie Hauptmann, a shoemaker’s

daughter from Bohemia. During her first position

in a family in Vienna, the young Marie Hauptmann had

become pregnant by the son of the house. The child had

been given away and Marie Hauptmann accepted a new

position in the Motesiczky household as Marie-Louise’s

wet-nurse. Marie, whose nickname, ‘Ritschi’, was more

commonly used, spent her life working for and living

with the family. Although she spoke no English, she would

eventually follow the Motesiczky family to England. When

she died in 1954, aged sixty-nine, Elias Canetti called her

‘this best person you have ever known’. 21 With Marie in

Doorway, after 1954 (no. 134), Motesiczky paid a touching

posthumous tribute to this ‘kind, funny, innocent,

constantly working, wonderful woman’ who had given her

life to the Motesiczkys. 22 Her daughter, who kept in touch

with her own mother, is the subject of Hilda, c. 1937 (no. 44).

Within the family Marie-Louise soon became known

as ‘Piz’. This nickname was coined when she had grown

so quickly that a relative compared her height to that of

the Swiss mountain Piz Buin. It stuck with her and was

used by relatives and close friends for the rest of her life.

A few people had their own special names for Marie-Louise.

Ritschi, for example, preferred ‘Wepslein’, while Oskar

Kokoschka would call her ‘Florizel’; she in turn invented

her own series of nicknames: she addressed her mother

as ‘Has’, ‘Zipfi’ or ‘Bulli’ and her brother Karl as ‘Mucki’.

Marie-Louise’s education did not follow any guidelines

but was haphazard, short, of poor quality and lacked

discipline. 23 Henriette von Motesiczky did not take a

great interest in her schooling and was, at first, content

with providing private teachers. One of these ‘completely

impossible private tutors’ 24 made his pupil read the

Nibelungenlied in Old High German for a whole winter.

Only as late as 1916 did Marie-Louise enter a school, the

Öffentliches Mariahilfer Mädchenlyzeum in the sixth

district of Vienna. She stayed for only four years, leaving in

1920, when she was just thirteen. Her school career did not

get off to a promising start. She lagged behind the other

Fig. 12 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky as a child, photograph, early 1910s



children – a fact that, with hindsight, Motesiczky attributed

to the want of tuition rather than her lack of ability. She,

for example, still spelt words out loud. 25 Her final report 26

gives a glimpse of the character of the pupil and hints at

traits of the emerging adult. She scored good marks in all

subjects apart from German language, in which she only

just achieved a pass. Certainly exacerbated by the abrupt

termination of her schooling, Motesiczky’s lack of confidence

when it came to writing remained with her into

later life. She was often insecure about spelling, especially in

English, but also in her native German, and frequently made

mistakes. In contrast, her teachers described her drawing as

‘very good’. It was around this time, aged thirteen, that she

first began to draw and discovered her passion for creating

art herself. Most surprising, however, is the vast number of

lessons she missed in her last year at school, a total of 196.

All of these were ‘excused’, so her mother must have

condoned her lack of scholarly enthusiasm. In the end

Marie-Louise gave up school entirely. She wanted to work

in the local Bördelfabrik, a factory producing shoelaces,

braids and trimmings; the fact that she was not taken on

upset her enormously. Henriette von Motesiczky – always

an extremely liberal parent – did not seem very concerned

by her young daughter’s rejection of formal schooling,

reportedly replying to her daughter’s decision: ‘That does

not matter, then you don’t go to school any more.’ 27

Later Motesiczky admitted that leaving school at such

a young age had been a mistake. For the rest of her life she

would feel inferior when it came to intellectual matters. To

make up for her educational shortcomings, Pauly Baldass,

the granddaughter of the modern architect Otto Wagner,

was employed as a part-time governess. Together they

would often visit the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna,

where the curator Ludwig Baldass gave them informal

lessons in art history. By this time Motesiczky was also

taking private art lessons in the Viennese studio of David

Kohn, where she drew with unusual enthusiasm but

found little artistic guidance. 28 In November 1920 Fanny

Löwenstein, another cousin on the maternal side, was

nominally employed as tutor and companion to Marie-

Louise. During the eighteen months she spent with

the Motesiczky family Fanny Löwenstein, nicknamed

‘Camousine’ in a variation of ‘ma cousine’, became a faithful

friend and a stimulating influence on Marie-Louise. In the

spring of 1922 Fanny married Otto Kallir, a passionate art

collector. He was to play an influential role in the Viennese

art world with his Neue Galerie where he introduced artists

including Egon Schiele to the public.

Fig. 13 Carl Theodor von Blaatz, Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1911,

oil on board, 560 × 377 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

Charitable Trust, London)

21

artistic training

Just after leaving school in 1920 Motesiczky met the person

who would become the most important early influence on

her work: Max Beckmann (1884–1950). The German painter

had been introduced to the Motesiczkys by their relative

Irma Simon. Later in life Motesiczky likened Beckmann’s

arrival in Hinterbrühl to that of a ‘winged Martian’ on

earth, 29 so surprised was the young girl by the presence of

this powerful character who played with a grasshopper and

allowed Motesiczky to stay awake the whole night, going

for walks and playing tennis. As an artist of whose oeuvre

Motesiczky at that time only knew the graphic work, and

as a person of high moral values, tact and humanity,

Beckmann proceeded to change Motesiczky’s world. Even

on that first brief visit, the painter left a strong and lasting

impression on her. He was to become a lifelong friend. Later,

Motesiczky would go further in defining Beckmann’s role in

her life by characterizing her relationship with him as that

of a child with a father, having lost her own so early on. 30

In 1922, however, the sixteen-year-old Motesiczky went

through ‘some difficult personal experiences’ 31 when her

first love turned into ‘a very tragic, strange affair’. 32 For

several years she had been hopelessly in love with her

cousin Witold Schey (fig. 14), some fifteen years her elder,

who, as a friend of her mother, frequently visited the

family and spent a lot of time with the girl, recounting

stories from the First World War in which he had been a

soldier. As Motesiczky recalled afterwards, her mother had

hoped the two would marry. When Witold Schey suddenly

got engaged to Margarete Mayer, he was ordered to stop

visiting. In order to keep the desperate Marie-Louise

away from the wedding and to allow her to recover from

her bitter disappointment she was sent to her aunt Ilse

Leembruggen, her mother’s older sister who had married

the Dutch entrepreneur Willem Leembruggen in 1895 and

settled in the Netherlands.

The few months in The Hague had a profound artistic

effect on Motesiczky. It was here that she discovered the

paintings of Vincent van Gogh, whose strong colours came

as a revelation to her. She later remembered one painting

in particular, The Bridge: ‘one had never seen a light like

this before’. 33 Subsequently she learned more about van

Gogh by reading Julius Meier-Graefe’s 1921 publication,

Vincent, which, back in Vienna, must have served as inspiration

in several instances: Small Roulette, 1924 (no. 1), and Stool,

1926 (no. 10), both demonstrate Motesiczky’s admiration for

van Gogh. The museums in the Netherlands also opened her

Fig. 14 Witold Schey in military uniform,

photograph, 1910s (Motesiczky archive)

eyes to the Dutch school, of which she particularly liked

Jan Steen, Frans Hals and Vermeer. Most importantly,

however, Motesiczky received inspirational artistic training.

Following the example of her cousins, she attended the

private art school of the Czech painter Carola Machotka

in The Hague. 34 It was here that she became addicted

to painting. Her teacher, who ‘was very sensible and let

me draw from nature’, 35 made a strong impression on

Motesiczky and helped shape her future:

In these three months of intensive drawing mainly

in charcoal and pastel I decided that this should

become my life. I owe much to the seriousness with

which C.M. encouraged us to work . . . The first thing

she really praised was a small sketch of a little dirty

street urchin, maybe a five-year-old. I did not think

it much because it had to be done fast and there

was no time to go into details. ‘You see, you have

caught the essence – this is just right.’ I was happy

and thought that was a good way of doing it 36

Towards the end of her stay in the Netherlands

Motesiczky was again optimistically looking into the


future: ‘One thing is certain . . . that these three months

were the beginning of a new life’. 37

On her return to Vienna, Motesiczky was determined

to follow an artistic career although more encouragement

and support was needed to boost her self-confidence and

strengthen her belief in her talent. One person who gave

the assurance she needed was Käthe von Porada, a close

friend of her mother and an ardent admirer of Max

Beckmann. Born in Berlin to a Viennese mother in 1891,

Käthe von Porada had been trying to escape from her

marriage to an Austrian aristocrat when she had met

Max Beckmann and, on falling in love with his work, had

become his patron. Beckmann paid tribute to their friendship

in the portrait Bildnis Käthe von Porada, 1924 (Städel

Museum, Frankfurt am Main, fig. 47). In the same year

Kati, as she was known to the Motesiczky family, wrote the

following encouraging poem for Motesiczky:

You are healthy, and young, and rich, and beautiful,

Often you could go home accompanied!

You possess talent – maybe even genius –

A lot of temperament and some imagination . . .

You are pampered and everybody likes you,

The highest gentlemen of all honour you: . . .

What more do you want?! – Think of point: 1–10

And leave sadness behind! 38

A colourful drawing that shows Motesiczky as an artist,

brandishing her palette, accompanies the poem and testifies

to Porada’s artistic skills. Right up to Porada’s death in 1985

Motesiczky kept in touch with her: she became a wellknown

fashion writer and had relationships with literary

figures such as Gottfried Benn and Albert Paraz. Towards

the end of her life, Porada praised Motesiczky as ‘probably

the wisest woman I know, my only friend’. 39

Crucial support at the beginning of Motesiczky’s

career came also from Heinrich Simon (1880–1941), the

editor-in-chief of the Frankfurter Zeitung and husband of

Irma. Simon was an extraordinarily cultured man. Apart

from playing the piano extremely well, he was also a great

connoisseur and collector of modern art. He counted Max

Beckmann among his favourite artists and published a

monograph on the painter in 1919. The Simons always stayed

with the Motesiczkys when they came to Vienna. On one of

these occasions Heinrich Simon expressed his wish to see

the drawings Marie-Louise had made in the Netherlands.

She obliged and was rewarded with praise: ‘He spoke

seriously with me – like the father I lacked: “Art is a thorny

path. You have to work regularly and use your time well. But

I think you have the right to set out on that path.”’ 40

Simon’s remarks fell on fertile ground. In a statement

entitled Meine Zukunftspläne o. Berufswahl (My Plans for

the Future or Choice of Profession), which probably dates

from around this time, Motesiczky poured out her reasons

for wanting to become an artist while also clearly stating

her awareness of the problems involved:

If I did say now I wanted to be a painter it would

mean to become an artist. This however one cannot

become but only be or not be. Yet I have always

clearly known that the capturing of reality and the

processing of impressions require long-standing

practice and the learning of the means of expression

the highest will-power and concentration. 41

By now determined to pursue an artistic career,

Motesiczky decided to take up Heinrich Simon’s invitation

to come to Frankfurt am Main, where she joined the

Städelschule in 1924. She attended classes in ‘Freie Malerei’

(open class for painting) under Professor Johann Vincenz

Cissarz for about three months. She also, briefly, studied

with Professor Franz Karl Delavilla. In the beginning,

Motesiczky was enthusiastic about the school, working

hard and enjoying the lessons. She did, however, complain

about one of her teachers, who talked a lot and did not

manage to convey much, and resorted to learning from

her fellow students’ mistakes. 42

During her time in Frankfurt, Motesiczky stayed with

Heinrich and Irma Simon in their house at Untermainkai 3

and took part in their famous Friday gatherings, which

brought together a circle of intellectuals who shaped the

cultural scene in the city. Among the regular guests were

the conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler, the writers Rudolf

Binding, Benno Reifenberg and Fritz von Unruh, Fritz

Wichert, the director of the Frankfurter Schule für freie

und angewandte Kunst, Georg Swarzenski, director of

the Städel Museum, the actor Max Pallenberg, and

Max Beckmann. It was in Frankfurt that Motesiczky saw

Beckmann’s paintings for the first time. The impression

his paintings made on her may have contributed to the fact

that her own attempts soon felt rather feeble and came to an

early end: ‘I went away without showing even a line of my

school drawings. The disgrace was great, but I would rather

have died than show something bad. It was the whole story

of a large school – fast, pointless life-drawings, I couldn’t

find my feet there.’ 43 Back in Austria, she spent the summer

in Hinterbrühl and took up oil painting which finally

resulted in works she was happy with. Small Roulette, the

23

first painting that has survived in the Motesiczky estate,

is dated 1924 (no. 1). That autumn she joined the Kunstgewerbeschule

in Vienna, attending classes in drawing

and sculpture led by Professor Adolf Boehm and Professor

Erich Mallina. Unfortunately she did not enjoy her time

there and left after just one term, later commenting briefly:

‘A dusty studio. Life model.’ 44

During her stay in the Netherlands, Motesiczky had

met Mathilde von Kaulbach (1904–86), a daughter of the

Munich-based painter. In a letter to her mother Motesiczky

sang her praises, pointing out that she was ‘as pretty as

a picture’. 45 In 1923 Mathilde von Kaulbach arrived in

Vienna to pursue her singing career. She stayed with the

Motesiczkys at their Brahmsplatz flat and soon became

a close friend. Several decades later she would describe

her relationship with Henriette as that of a mother to her

daughter, while Marie-Louise was like a sister to her. 46

It was Henriette who invented the famous nickname,

adopted by Max Beckmann, by which Mathilde von

Kaulbach, as the artist’s wife and subject of numerous

paintings, would become well known: Quappi – inspired

by the surname’s closeness to Kaulquappe (tadpole). And it

was Marie-Louise who first introduced Quappi to prints by

Max Beckmann, of which she possessed two – the woodcut

Selbstporträt of 1922 (fig. 15) and a lithograph – and

subsequently to the artist himself, when he visited the

Motesiczkys at Brahmsplatz in 1924 (fig. 16). Quappi

became Beckmann’s second wife just one year later, 47 and

Marie-Louise was the first to know the good news. 48 The

close relationship between the newly-weds and Motesiczky

also bore artistic fruit. In 1928 Beckmann painted Zwei

Damen am Fenster, a double portrait of Quappi and

Marie-Louise, that records their friendship (fig. 17). In

1924 he had already drawn a portrait of Motesiczky (fig. 18)

as well as another double portrait (fig. 19).

Between 1925 and 1927 Motesiczky spent long periods of

time, often in the winter, in Paris where she studied at the

Académie de la Grande Chaumière in Montparnasse, an art

school which, unfortunately, she found rather unsatisfactory.

She was accompanied by her Dutch friend and fellow artist

Berthe Edersheim (1901–93) whom she had met during

her stay in the Netherlands. Motesiczky first lodged with

the widow of a general but quickly escaped and moved

to the Hotel Recamier, a small establishment on Place

Saint-Sulpice. In 1926 the two friends rented a studio that

belonged to a Polish dancer who ‘danced by night, but

during the day she slept behind a screen’. 49 They hired

a model, the caretaker who came to light the fire in the

Fig. 15 Max Beckmann, Selbstporträt, 1922,

woodcut on paper, 222 × 154 mm (Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London)

Fig. 16 Max Beckmann with Marie-Louise von Motesiczky (left) and

Mathilde von Kaulbach (right), photograph, 1924 (Motesiczky archive)


Fig. 17 Max Beckmann, Zwei Damen am Fenster,

1928, oil on canvas, 1090 × 850 mm (Saarland

Museum, Saarbrücken)

Fig. 18 Max Beckmann,

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1924,

graphite on paper, 465 × 315 mm

(Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


Fig. 19 Max Beckmann,

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

und Mathilde von Kaulbach, 1924,

lithographic chalk on paper,

465 × 315 mm (Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky Charitable Trust,

London)

25


Fig. 20 Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky as Mondblüte in the

Chinese play Der verwechselte

Bräutigam, performed at the

Hotel Frankfurter Hof on

7 April 1927, photograph


studio, and Motesiczky painted Workman, Paris (no. 12).

When Beckmann saw this portrait he praised it, saying

that at that young age ‘he had not got so far’. 50 He invited

Marie-Louise to join his master-class at the Städelschule

in Frankfurt am Main, where he had held a teaching post

since 1925. Motesiczky took up this offer in the academic

year 1927/8, probably starting after Christmas (figs 20 and

21). Her experiences as Beckmann’s pupil are recorded

in the text Max Beckmann als Lehrer. Erinnerungen einer

Schülerin des Malers. This eloquent tribute and rare

testimonial, written with Elias Canetti’s help and encouragement

some thirty-five years later, gives a detailed

insight into Beckmann’s teaching methods. 51

Motesiczky acknowledged that in her paintings created

in Paris she was already inspired by Beckmann’s work and

unconsciously adopted his style. His influence gave her

great confidence and resulted in works that, in their

treatment of the surface, their dark outlines and static

compositions, convey something of her teacher’s painterly

rigour and strength. 52 Early on, when he was shown one of

her drawings, Beckmann acknowledged this undeniable

influence, remarking: ‘I am astonished that you understand

me so well.’ 53 Yet from the beginning Motesiczky’s paintings

had a softer, more feminine, touch. Shaking off her

teacher’s direct influence, she would develop her own

distinctive style and subject matter over the following

years. Apart from showing her a way of painting that

served as the basis for her own efforts, Beckmann’s main

contribution to Motesiczky’s art was to provide her with

the courage to tackle the task of painting and to persuade

her to take herself seriously as an artist. Motesiczky was

adamant that Beckmann did not attempt to re-create himself

in his students, but rather encouraged them to find their

true identities: ‘He believed that all he could do was to

demonstrate to his pupils what he thought right for himself;

after that it was up to them to find their own way.’ 54

Throughout Beckmann’s life, his appreciation of

Motesiczky’s work was an unfailing source of encouragement

to her. Comments including ‘Thank you for the

photos. Congratulations. Carry on like this. There is a lot of

serious work. You must keep it up!!’ 55 may have led to such

happy and proud statements as: ‘By the way, I showed

Becki photos of my paintings and he was rather pleased –

made progress he said – you know that I am in a good

mood because of it!!’ 56 While she attended his master-class

Beckmann fuelled Motesiczky’s ambition by comparing her

with Paula Modersohn-Becker, ‘the best women painter in

Germany – well, you have every chance of succeeding her

. . . But don’t get a swollen head, you aren’t there yet’. 57 In

1947, when Motesiczky visited Beckmann in Amsterdam

and showed him photos of her recent works, he admired

her independent style and unique ‘dreamlike lyricism’. 58

Taking up his earlier comparison he praised her for almost

having become another Modersohn-Becker, an aim she

would reach in a few years’ time if she worked hard. He

continued to push her. Even the year before his death he

urged her to paint: ‘Damn it Pizchen, you really do possess

a great talent, paint a few good pictures and the world will

become beautiful again’. 59

At Beckmann’s master-class Motesiczky was given the

nickname ‘Motte’. She made a number of lasting friends

among her fellow students, including Theo Garve (1902–87)

and Karl Tratt (1900–1937). Tratt fell passionately in love

with Motesiczky – a feeling that was not reciprocated. In

the summer of 1928 he visited her in Hinterbrühl and they

spent their time painting together. Motesiczky, for example,

worked on Two Girls (no. 19), a painting of a couple of local

girls that is now lost. Knowing that his advances would not

be accepted, Tratt expressed the following dream: ‘I wish

I had a lot of money, then I would marry you and you

could keep two lovers, to the horror of your aunts and

relatives.’ 60 Motesiczky subsequently attempted to help

Tratt financially. She purchased three of his paintings

and introduced him to Käthe von Porada, who became

a patron. Impoverished and ill, Tratt died the day after

his thirty-seventh birthday.

Fig. 21 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky with her fellow pupils Karl Tratt

(left) and Theo Garve (right) on a bench on the bank of the river Main in

front of the Städel in Frankfurt am Main, photograph, 1927/8


27

Right from the start of her artistic career, Motesiczky

struggled with two problems that she would never really

overcome: her reluctance to show her work and her inability

to part with it. Already in 1927, Beckmann had urged her,

probably in vain, to bring pictures with her to Frankfurt so

that they could be shown. 61 He knew that ‘Each clash with

the outside world, and therefore also with criticism, is

educational’. 62 In order to expose her art to public scrutiny

and thus, vitally, enable her to develop successfully, he

repeatedly advised her to sell herself better and exhibit her

work. On one occasion he pressed submission forms into

her hands, saying: ‘You must send in . . . otherwise you

always chase after life.’ 63 Yet Motesiczky seemed content

with creating new paintings rather than spending her time

and energy on trying to promote them and risk the embarrassment

of rejection. For many years her art grew further

removed from public opinion. This reclusiveness was

possible because, throughout her life, she did not depend

on selling her art for a living. She lived comfortably on

the income that the family wealth, albeit drastically

reduced after 1938, provided and was not forced either

to earn money through her art or to take up a paid job.

Motesiczky’s attitude to exhibiting her work would change

with her growing confidence as an artist, as a critic

remarked in 1944: ‘Marie-Louise Motesicky is one of those

who prefer not to exhibit before they are sure that they have

something to show.’ 64 During her life, Motesiczky would

show her work in solo exhibitions at fifteen venues, and

would also participate in over twenty group shows. This

scant public exposure might seem unusual for a career that

spanned seven decades. Yet, considering her aversion to

the exposure of her art, these exhibitions prove her strong,

if often surpressed, urge to gain acknowledgement as an

artist. Comments such as ‘external success was always

unimportant to her’ 65 are misconceived.

As well as having an aversion to exhibiting her paintings

Motesiczky found it extremely difficult to part with them.

This reluctance to sell may be explained by her own observation

that the paintings were like children to her. In her

diary of 1955 she made the following plea: ‘God send me

children even if they are only paintings’. 66 There are

numerous anecdotes recounting how prospective buyers

tried to humour Motesiczky in order to make her agree to

a sale. Generally, she would sell a painting only to an individual

she liked. It could sometimes take months or even

years for her to make up her mind. Once she had resolved

to part with a painting, she might request an unusual

method of payment (such as a pair of handmade shoes) or

even decide to give it as a gift. Occasionally she refused to

sell for reasons that were probably associated with the work

of art itself. When, after a visit to her house in 1986, the

conductor André Previn expressed an interest in purchasing

Birthday, 1962 (no. 184), Motesiczky was unwilling to let him

have the still-life. It can only be assumed that the painting

possessed for her a special sentimental value that made

her want to keep it. Her reluctance to sell was keenly felt by

hopeful admirers. While the actor Alec Guinness admitted

that he would ‘hanker for a painting by Marie Louise von

Motesiczky’, 67 the artist toyed with the idea of painting his

portrait. 68 In his diary Alec Guinness described a subsequent

visit to Chesterford Gardens:

In afternoon collected Alan Bennett and we went

to Madame Marie-Louise M—’s flat to look at her

paintings. On the whole liked them very much.

And her. Couldn’t very well discuss prices in front of

Alan – and indeed wasn’t very sure if she was willing

to sell. The one I liked most was of an Italian girl’s

head [probably Spanish Girl, 1928, no. 21] but she said

that belonged to someone in Paris. The portraits of

her mother are marvellous but I’m sure she wouldn’t

part with . . . We were there for an hour and a half

and I think the poor old lady got a bit fatigued – she

began to relapse into German phrases. 69

Yet, eventually, for reasons unknown neither the purchase

nor the portrait were carried out.

Following her studies under Beckmann, Motesiczky

decided to continue her education in Berlin. For the

academic years 1928/9 and 1929/30 she was enrolled in the

Studien-Atelier für Malerei und Plastik Robert Erdmann in

Charlottenburg, where she studied life drawing. According

to Max Beckmann she struggled with her new life: ‘Poor

Pizchen is very desperate about Berlin and has to fight

hard. – Nevertheless it’s good for her.’ 70 Motesiczky had

particular difficulties in coming to terms with the practical

aspects of her independent lifestyle: ‘I am going to die,

housework, housework, housework!!’ 71 Apart from the

burdensome chores, Motesiczky had to contend with

doubts about her own artistic ability, which she fought

with a brave tenacity:

Think how hard it is to paint good pictures, to make

progress, to become someone, think of the women

who are singers, only one in a hundred succeeds.

And the women artists!! Every hundred years one of

them makes it!! Therefore it is hard because even if


you are nothing special you need strength and

perseverance to produce reasonably good works . . .

The funny thing is that, although life has so far

proved itself as an interesting yet rather dubious

dame, I still expect miracles (in general) or as they

say so charmingly here, I want to light my cigarettes

on the stars. 72

By chance, she bumped into the Austrian painter

Wolfgang Paalen (1905–59) whom she knew from Paris.

To Motesiczky’s horror he was now making abstract

paintings which were being shown at the Galerie Flechtheim

in Berlin. 73 She would meet Paalen again in 1956, on a trip

to Mexico: he had settled there and had become a wellknown

Surrealist painter. Together, they undertook trips

in his jeep and explored the local villages and forests.

Motesiczky was charmed by Paalen, who confessed to

having been in love with her when he was young. 74 Now

his feelings were rekindled and he even toyed with the idea

of proposing to Motesiczky. 75 Unsure about how to react,

she seems to have delayed her response. When Paalen

committed suicide soon afterwards, Elias Canetti blamed

her lack of sympathy for his death. 76

early career

While living in Berlin, Motesiczky started a relationship

with the fellow artist and illustrator Siegfried Sebba

(1897–1975; fig. 22), whom she had first encountered in

Heinrich Simon’s circle when he was working for the

Frankfurter Zeitung. The affair must have lasted several

years but, since none of the numerous letters by Sebba

in the artist’s estate is dated, it is impossible to be precise.

Knowing that her mother did not approve of Sebba, who

was Jewish but neither aristocratic nor wealthy, Motesiczky

kept the relationship secret. Only occasionally do her

letters contain references to him, but these hint at her utter

happiness. 77 Sebba was always extremely appreciative of

Motesiczky’s work, encouraging her not to be distracted

and praising her talent: ‘Don’t be sad and restless because

of work and all. If I was as naturally gifted for painting as

you are, I would be much happier.’ 78 In the early years of

their relationship Motesiczky was pregnant with Sebba’s

child at least once but felt unable to have the baby and

decided on an abortion. 79 It is unclear when the affair

turned into a friendship, but in 1934 they were still

discussing leaving Europe for the United States. Motesiczky,

on travelling there, made enquiries about their possible

emigration. By then Sebba had already left Nazi Germany

and gone into exile. In 1932, in order to improve his

financial position, Sebba had accepted a post as stage

designer at the Hessisches Landestheater in Darmstadt

where his sets, which included that for André Gide’s Oedipus,

were critically acclaimed. After the National Socialist

seizure of power he fled to Basle, leaving all his works

behind in his Berlin studio. He moved to Stockholm the

following year and worked there in a theatre. He was also

in contact with Motesiczky’s brother Karl (fig. 23), who

himself had emigrated to Norway and attempted to help

Sebba to get work in Oslo. By the autumn of 1935 Sebba

seemed to have given up hope of making a living in

Europe. He paid a farewell visit to Motesiczky in Vienna

and, in the spring of the following year, finally left for

Palestine. There he became a well-known artist, creating

works such as Sheep-shearing, 1947 (Tel Aviv Museum of

Art, Tel Aviv), which became ‘the most popular painting

of modern Israel’. 80 For the rest of her life, Motesiczky

appears to have felt a lingering sadness about the end

of her relationship with Siegfried Sebba. They met

again in 1968 when he had moved back to Germany,

and Motesiczky travelled to Israel to see a retrospective

exhibition of his work in 1994. She subsequently provided

the funds to make a video of his work.

Motesiczky’s relationship with Sebba was not the only

one she had in the 1920s and 1930s. As a beautiful young

woman she had many admirers, generally very well

educated, sometimes older men. Most of her suitors were

Fig. 22 Siegfried Sebba, photograph, c. 1930


29

‘unsuitable’ for they were either married or deemed socially

unacceptable (as in the case of Siegfried Sebba). Some, like

Karl Tratt, found their feelings unrequited, yet several men

managed to capture her heart. In the mid-1920s she was

in love with Christoph Bernoulli (1897–1981), the Swiss art

historian, writer and publisher. They had met in Frankfurt

where Bernoulli, who worked for the Frankfurter Zeitung,

was part of the Simon circle. Their relationship ended in

1926 when he married. In 1930 Motesiczky befriended the

American architecture student Paul Montgomery Doering,

who rented the small flat at Brahmsplatz 7 which the

Motesiczkys owned. It was situated on the fourth floor,

above their own flat. How long their relationship lasted

is not known. Even the Austrian novelist Heimito von

Doderer (1896–1966), a friend of her brother Karl, was

drawn to Marie-Louise. Karl von Motesiczky had first

met Doderer in 1924 and soon supported his career both

financially and by arranging public readings of his work.

Doderer in turn dedicated a poem to Marie-Louise, probably

written during a visit to Hinterbrühl in September 1928.

In the first line he enigmatically refers to an amorous

approach that, after some initial resistance, might have

been successful:

Fig. 23 Karl von Motesiczky with his cello, photograph, c. 1940


Lively Memory

(for marialouise von motesiczky)

The trembling birch forest, rejecting-granting girl!

the farm stood brown against the sky and the snow

tongues white on the mountain,

the boy ran, stumbling, in fears and joys,

the work of creation shone in the sun,

the summits divided the clouds, the wind carried

gossamer. 81

The German philosopher Ernst Bloch (1885–1977) also

appears to have been close to Motesiczky, as towards

the end of his life he admitted to a mutual friend, the art

historian and journalist Benno Reifenberg, that ‘we almost

married’. 82 While no details are known about Motesiczky’s

friendship with Bloch, another important early relationship,

though shrouded in secret, is typical of the artist’s

later choice of men. In 1925 she met the Hungarian Baron

Lajos Hatvany (1880–1961), also known as Ludwig Deutsch,

a sophisticated writer (fig. 44). Hatvany was also the

extremely wealthy owner of a sugar factory and a generous

patron of the arts who counted Thomas Mann among his

friends. His opposition to the Horthy regime in Hungary

forced him into a ten-year political exile, part of which he

spent in Vienna. Being considerably older than Motesiczky,

he was already married to the sculptor and writer Christa

Winsloe when they met. Both correspondence and meetings

therefore had to be conducted with the utmost secrecy and

Hatvany always used his nickname, Laczi. While staying in

the Hermesvilla in Vienna he wrote the following characterization

of his relationship with Motesiczky: ‘you are my

beloved excess, necessary luxury, – more than I deserve.

My happiness (marriage) is perfect – and still I miss you,

something is missing when you are gone. In my wife I have

everything, – you are the surplus, – I miss the surplus.’ 83

Hatvany intensely disliked his time in exile, although he

moved in social circles appropriate to his origin, belonging

for example to the famous Viennese salon of Eugenie

Schwarzwald. He later confessed: ‘With the exception of

a few highlights, which your modesty prohibits me from

describing, I think with horror of my Viennese years. The

exile was a great disease’. 84 The affair ended in 1927 when

Hatvany voluntarily returned to Hungary. He was subsequently

imprisoned and, upon his release, was prohibited

from appearing in public and writing for newspapers. He

emigrated to England in 1938, spent the Second World War

in Oxford and returned to Hungary after the war.


Motesiczky commemorated their relationship in Still-life

with Tulips, 1926 (no. 11), in which a book bears the inscription

‘Laczi’, presumably referring to one of his publications

Motesiczky was currently reading.

Numerous letters in the artist’s estate bear witness to

another love affair in the mid-1930s that also had to be

conducted in secret. This time Motesiczky chose her

cousin Herbert Schey, the twin brother of Witold Schey,

with whom she had fallen in love unhappily as a teenager.

In order to keep the affair from his wife, Herbert Schey

destroyed all of Motesiczky’s letters as he read them.

Numerous letters by him, signed off with ‘#’ in imitation

of his initial, survive in the artist’s estate. They indicate that

the relationship must have started in early 1937. One letter

contains the following declaration of love: ‘You are really

a sweet and rare being. I . . . am foolish enough to give it

to you in black and white: that maybe I have never been so

truly in love with someone as I now feel for you.’ 85 Despite

all attempts at keeping their relationship secret, Henriette

von Motesiczky, who often invited Herbert Schey – sometimes

with his wife – to her home, seems to have had her

suspicions yet did not interfere. In May 1938, just a few

weeks after Motesiczky’s departure from her native country,

Herbert Schey and his wife emigrated to Brussels, moving

on to the United States, where they settled.

The 1930s, however, had still more personal turbulence

in store. In the early years of the decade, her family’s

history of consulting psychoanalysts finally caught up

with Motesiczky. Probably from 1932 until at least 1936 she

underwent psychoanalytical treatment with the Freudian

analyst Paul Federn, whom she later described as one of

her mentors. The reason for this is unknown, but may be

related to her struggle to combine her love life and her

familial duties with her efforts to establish herself as an

artist. Like her brother Karl, who had ample experience of

psychiatrists, Marie-Louise felt obliged to keep her therapy

a secret from her mother and turned to Kees Leembruggen,

a Dutch relative, for financial help with the fees. Although a

need for psychoanalytical help ran in the family, this appears

to have been Motesiczky’s only encounter. Later in life she

shared Elias Canetti’s dislike of psychoanalysis, calling its

practitioners a ‘presumptuous and self-confident gang’ of

‘devils’. 86 Her feelings are vividly expressed in the sinister

painting Psychoanalyst, 1962 (no. 183).

Against this background, it was probably a bold step,

when, in April 1933, Motesiczky ventured the first public

display of her paintings. She showed two works, The

Balcony, 1929 (no. 30), and an unidentified still-life, in the

‘Frühjahrsausstellung des Hagenbundes’ in her home city.

Founded in 1900, the Hagenbund was a Viennese artists’

association midway between the conservative Künstlerhaus

and the breakaway Secession. In the 1920s, the Hagenbund

enjoyed the reputation of being the most modern avantgarde

movement in Vienna. 87 Women, at first completely

rejected as members, were later occasionally accepted as

associate members. Motesiczky exhibited as one of the

guests the Hagenbund allowed to join their shows.

Although her participation in this exhibition is not well

known and not mentioned in later reviews, it left a lasting

mark on the artist as her first public exposure. Motesiczky

later maintained that, appalled by a devastating review,

she subsequently refused to show her works in her native

country. However, the contemporary reviewers of the

Hagenbund exhibition were not as critical as Motesiczky

claims. The critic of the Neues Wiener Journal, for example,

ignored all works by younger artists (with the exception

of one small painting) by summarily dismissing them. 88

The Reichspost published the article that probably stayed

in Motesiczky’s memory, for here she was accused of

‘leaving herself wide open in format and composition and

precariously approaching kitsch’. 89 Yet this negative view

was counterbalanced by a positive one in the Neues Wiener

Abendblatt, which singled out her works: ‘We should further

add laudably . . . M. L. Motesiecky’. 90 It is not known

whether she chose to ignore the praise and focus on the

rebuke or whether she had been unaware of the positive

reception by a large number of visitors. In any case, she

stuck resolutely to her decision and did not exhibit in

Austria for over thirty years. Her next exhibition, in 1939,

was to take place in the relative anonymity of The Hague,

after she was forced to leave her homeland.

These first reviews reveal confusion about the correct

spelling of the artist’s name, which would last all her life.

Now the convention is to spell her name Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, but various versions of both her Christian

names and her surname were used throughout her lifetime.

Variations of her first names range from the original

‘Marie Luise’ on her certificate of baptism to ‘Marie Louise’,

‘Marialouise’ 91 and ‘Marieluise’. 92 By far the greatest problem

was presented by her surname, which must have been difficult

to pronounce, let alone spell, a problem that became

particularly acute after her emigration to England. While

most often the ‘z’ is omitted, one comes across a number

of other, sometimes bizarre, misspellings. Some resorted

to spelling it ‘Moteschitzky’, 93 presumably in imitation of

its pronunciation. Motesiczky herself did not use the

31

aristocratic ‘von’ and even left out the hyphen between

her Christian names.

In the 1930s Motesiczky devoted most of her time

to painting. She worked either in the Viennese flat or in

Hinterbrühl, where she had her own studio in one of the

outbuildings. A substantial amount of time was spent

travelling, visiting, for example the United States, Spain,

Italy and, in 1937, the World Fair in Paris. She also occasionally

saw the Beckmanns. During these relatively quiet

and productive years the Motesiczky family found a new

friend, the Austrian painter Oskar Kokoschka (1886–1980).

According to the composer Gian Carlo Menotti, who,

together with his friend and fellow-musician Samuel

Barber rented a flat from the Motesiczkys in the winter of

1933/4, Kokoschka had painted a portrait of Henriette von

Motesiczky in the nude which she kept in her bedroom. 94

Menotti would have been familiar with Henriette von

Motesiczky’s bedroom, as her ornate dressing table

became an inspiration for, and features prominently in,

his first major work, the opera Amelia al Ballo (Amelia

goes to the Ball), which had its world première at the

Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1937 and made its

composer famous overnight. Kokoschka’s painting,

unfortunately, has not been identified and may be lost.

The friendship between the Kokoschkas and the

Motesiczkys proved durable and was resumed when

Kokoschka, together with his wife Olda, met the

Motesiczkys again in England.

By 1935 the financial situation of the Motesiczky family

became precarious. Nine years earlier they had lost half

their fortune when, amid the general economic decline,

the family bank Auspitz, Lieben & Co. crashed, costing

Henriette von Motesiczky an estimated 20,000 Schillings a

year in income. 95 Now Henk de Waal, the Dutch relative who

was looking after their money, was warning them urgently

to cut back their expenditure. 96 For a number of years the

family had spent more than the interest earned on their

capital which was, therefore, dwindling. In 1933, for

example, they had needed a sum total of 122,525 Schillings

while their income had only amounted to about 60,000

Schillings. The three members of the family appear to

have enjoyed a relatively grand lifestyle, keeping the flat

on Brahmsplatz as well as the estate in Hinterbrühl, paying

for a number of staff, travelling frequently, giving expensive

presents and occasionally purchasing paintings such as

one by Max Beckmann, bought for 1,061 Schillings in 1933.

Records show, for example, that in the twelve months

between October 1929 and September 1930 Marie-Louise

spent 3,530 Marks on clothes, while needing only 22 Marks

to purchase paint. 97 In 1933 she received an annual

allowance of 9,108 Schillings. Karl, who at the time was

living in Denmark and had been undergoing costly

psychoanalytic treatment with the controversial analyst

Wilhelm Reich for at least two years, needed 17,614

Schillings and was told to economize drastically. Henriette

proved to be a shrewd businesswoman. By saving on the

running of her Viennese household and limiting Karl’s

expenses to 7,098 Schillings she reached the necessary

target and spent only 85,100 Schillings in 1934. 98 Karl’s

belt-tightening, however, was not entirely voluntary.

Presumably on behalf of her mother, Marie-Louise wrote

a letter to Reich asking him to complete Karl’s analysis as

soon as a satisfying conclusion could be reached. With his

health restored Karl was then expected to start earning his

living. 99 Still more measures had to be taken in 1935 and

the family, having dismissed Henk de Waal, turned to Rein

Bakker, a lawyer from The Hague, for advice. He suggested

leaving the country for a few years to save on tax and

again urged Karl to break away from Reich. 100 Following

Bakker’s advice, and to protect Marie-Louise from Karl’s

extravagance, Ilse Leembruggen – who was a well-known

benefactress – started some time before the war to pay

a small monthly amount to Motesiczky. When Motesiczky

had to flee to England she wrote to Bakker suggesting

that the payments stop, ‘since Tante Ilse now surely had

to help so many people in more urgent need’. 101

into exile

Motesiczky’s world was turned upside down in March

1938 when the National Socialists marched into Austria.

Although uninterested in and uninformed about politics,

she had been instinctively aware of the imminent threat

for some time. One episode that illustrated the impending

disaster particularly stood out in her memory. While

playing tennis, which she loved but was not very good at,

in summer 1937, the uncanny shouts of ‘Sieg Heil’ from

Austrian Nazis frightened her. As was the case with many

assimilated Jews in Germany and Austria, the rise of the

National Socialist party in neighbouring Germany had

made her aware of her Jewish roots for the first time –

something that had never mattered in her life before. She

was panic-stricken at the Anschluß on 12 March 1938 and

abruptly decided to leave the country the following day

with her mother. They travelled on their Czech passports,

acquired at the end of the First World War when all subjects


of the Austro-Hungarian Empire were allowed to choose

their nationality.

Not knowing how long their enforced absence from

home would be, they went first to the Netherlands, where

they could count on Ilse Leembruggen’s help and make use

of their Dutch bank account. After moving several times,

renting rooms at the Pension Zonnetij and the Hotel Pays-

Bas in Amsterdam for a while, they eventually went to

stay in a boarding house in Hilversum where Karl visited

them in the autumn. While Henriette von Motesiczky ‘felt

very lost in the new Dutch surroundings’, 102 her daughter

carried on painting, creating works such as Self-portrait

with Red Hat (no. 47), which pays tribute to an unidentified

lover left behind, and Still-life with Sheep (no. 48), arranged

on an ironing-board. Socially, they lived a rather secluded

life, meeting friends only occasionally.

Among the few people with whom they maintained

regular contact were Max and Quappi Beckmann, who had

emigrated to Amsterdam after his work had been included

in the infamous Munich exhibition of ‘degenerate’ art in

1937. One day, when the couple visited the Motesiczkys,

they enjoyed an outing together. In return, Motesiczky

called on the Beckmanns, who had set up home in an old

tobacco warehouse in the centre of the city. On her birthday

in 1938 Beckmann gave her a drawing of a beach scene

that is still in the artist’s estate (fig. 24). Being aware of the

dire economic conditions under which the couple had to

live, Motesiczky tried to help improve their situation.

Towards the end of her life she revealed that Beckmann

had been so desperate that he was toying with the idea of

commiting suicide – refraining from it only for Quappi’s

sake. 103 She turned to her aunt, suggesting that Ilse support

the Beckmanns financially by purchasing works of art.

Eventually, three paintings entered the Leembruggen

collection. The several hundred guilders paid for them

relieved the most immediate pressure of poverty. 104 These

transactions, which continued even after Ilse Leembruggen

had returned from the transit camp of Westerbork where

she was sent several times for brief periods, marked the

beginning of a friendship between the Beckmanns and Ilse

Leembruggen, whom Beckmann refers to simply as ‘Tante

Ilse’ in his diaries of the time. 105 Motesiczky’s concern for

her teacher’s wellbeing continued even after she had left

the Netherlands. Towards the end of the war her fear for

his safety is evident in her diary, as she notes that she

harboured ‘desperate thoughts about B. [Beckmann]’. 106

When, in June 1945, she finally learned that the Beckmanns

were well, she noted triumphantly ‘Beckmann is alive!’ 107

and proceeded to send him parcels of painting equipment.

108 She visited him in Amsterdam as soon as it was

possible. As a token of his gratitude Beckmann included

Motesiczky in one of his works. The reclining figure in

Apollo, 1942, is reputedly modelled on her, and after

Quappi’s death she inherited the painting (fig. 25).

Marie-Louise’s brother Karl declined to join his mother

and sister in exile. He had led a rather eventful life, if not

always a happy one. His sister, to whom he was very close,

remembered him as gifted and searching, wanting to

understand everything. 109 His eager restlessness is exemplified

by his frequent change in studies. After his Matura

Karl, who, like his father, was an excellent cellist, began

reading law at the University of Vienna. From November

1925 he studied medicine at the University of Heidelberg,

continuing in Vienna in the autumn of 1926. The following

May he returned to Heidelberg, first enrolling as a student

of medicine, then reverting to law and, from December

1927, settling on theology. In autumn 1929 he moved to

Marburg and, in April 1931, to Berlin to pursue his theological

studies further. In the German capital he came into contact

with the Viennese psychoanalyst and communist Wilhelm

Reich (1897–1957), who treated him from September 1932

for his lack of self-esteem and sexual shyness. Apart from

being Reich’s patient, he also became his financier, student

and collaborator in the sexual-politics movement. After

the National Socialist seizure of power Reich and Karl von

Motesiczky first fled to Vienna and, in April 1933, went into

Fig. 24 Max Beckmann, Strandszene, 1938, graphite on paper,

laid down on card, 185 × 228 mm, signed bottom right: ‘Meinem lieben

Pizchen Motesiczky zum 24. Okt. 38 Amsterdam von Beckmann’

(Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London)

33

exile in Denmark. From there, Karl followed Reich to

Oslo in October 1934. It was here that he met his girlfriend

Aagot, a Norwegian, with whom he probably lived from

the end of 1936 until his return to Vienna. After years of

feeling rejected by the opposite sex Karl had now finally

found brief happiness. He wrote poems and articles on

sexual-political matters, some under the pseudonym

‘Teschitz’, and in 1935 published a book, Religionsstreit in

Deutschland, in which he analysed the struggle of the

Christian Church in Germany against National Socialist

attacks on its autonomy. Finding it difficult to cope with

Reich’s increasingly exotic ideas, Karl finally broke with

him in summer 1937 and returned to Vienna to study

medicine. His sister was relieved to have him home since

she felt that Reich had brutally exploited her brother. 110

After the Anschluß, Karl von Motesiczky decided to stay

on in Austria in order to save the Hinterbrühl estate

from falling into the hands of the Nazis and as an act

of resistance.

Once his mother and sister had left for Amsterdam,

Karl von Motesiczky packed up Marie-Louise’s paintings

from the 1920s and 1930s, an estimated forty works. 111 With

the help of Otto Kallir he found a courier and despatched

the large crate to the Netherlands. During the war the

paintings were stored in a wool factory in The Hague

belonging to relatives. Karl’s work ensured that, apart from

a few works of art that could not be located after the war

(and two Beckmann drawings that had also been hidden), 112

the majority of Motesiczky’s early oeuvre survived. The

successful transfer of the works of art, however, proved to be

only a brief respite from the concerns of exile. The months

in Holland were an anxious time for the Motesiczky women,

full of discussions about the future and their eventual

destination. They were considering going to Paris, and

Marie-Louise visited the French capital to investigate the

possibility of settling there. Other options were England

or Switzerland. Karl urged them in vain to come back to

Vienna for a holiday.

Worries about the future were interrupted by a welcome

distraction when Motesiczky had a chance to show thirtytwo

of her paintings in her first solo exhibition, arranged

by Rein Bakker, by now a family friend. The exhibition,

‘Tentoonstelling van werken door Marie Louise

Motesiczky’ at Esher Surrey Art Galleries in The Hague,

opened its doors to the public on 7 January 1939. It stayed

open for three weeks and, to Motesiczky’s great surprise,

attracted much attention and was favourably received by

the press. One critic called her ‘a fresh and fascinating talent’

Fig. 25 Max Beckmann, Apollo,

1942, oil on canvas, 695 × 895 mm


Charitable Trust, currently on loan

to the Scottish National Gallery of

Modern Art, Edinburgh)


and praised the paintings as ‘intelligent and amusing’. 113

Several others remarked on the sad fact that, due to the

Anschluß, the artist was prevented from showing this exhibition

in her native country. 114 A photograph of the private

view that survives in the artist’s estate (fig. 26) shows a large

group of guests gathered around Motesiczky, who seems

slightly overwhelmed by all the attention. Her nervousness

was somewhat allayed when her dog, Poli, relieved

herself in the exhibition, which Motesiczky took as a

sign of good luck. 115 Karl, immensely proud of his sister’s

achievement, had wanted to attend the opening but could

not make it. In 1985 she recounted that, for the grand

occasion, she wore an unusual, modern hat:

The next day, I heard that there was something

about me in the newspaper. My first thought was:

probably about the hat which I was wearing. The

fact that the pictures might be reviewed and even

sold did not enter my head. The exhibition was a

great success in the press, and I did not notice that

nothing was sold. 116

Shortly after the opening of the exhibition, Motesiczky

and her mother must have decided to emigrate to England.

For the journey they were joined by the indefatigable Marie.

They travelled via Switzerland and stayed for a month with

their friend the psychoanalyst Trudi Boller-Schwing in

Fig. 26 Group photograph

at the opening of the

exhibition ‘Tentoonstelling

van werken door Marie

Louise Motesiczky’ at

Esher Surrey Art Galleries,

The Hague, 7 January 1939


35

Zürich, arriving in London in February. One painting of

1940, The Travellers (no. 50), refers directly to the experience

of exile by recording her recent crossing of the Channel. In

a wooden barge that drifts helplessly on a stormy sea, four

vulnerable passengers huddle together. Their flight must

have been sudden since they were clearly not able to dress

properly or bring many belongings, apart from a mirror

and a large sausage. As the painting originates from the

artist’s own experience of exile, the passengers have been

interpreted as members of the Motesiczky household:

her wet-nurse, her mother, her brother or uncle and

the artist herself. Yet the generalized title succeeds in

depersonalizing the four evacuees and allows Motesiczky

to express the universal emotions excited by a sudden

and enforced journey into exile.

first years in england

Once in England, Motesiczky, her mother and Marie

first lived in a hotel in Sloane Square and then in a flat at

Marble Arch. Probably from July 1939 they rented rooms in

a house at 76 Adelaide Road in Hampstead, north London,

belonging to Marie Seidler, an opera singer who had

emigrated to England from Vienna. Karl managed to pack

up a substantial proportion of the contents of the Viennese

house, including many pieces of furniture, plates, cutlery,

linen and artworks, which he sent on to London in three

large containers. The Austrian authorities prohibited the

transfer of only one painting, a German old master painting

of St Christopher and the Devil which they wanted

to acquire for a museum. 117 When in 1940 the German air

raids started to devastate the capital the Motesiczkys moved

to Amersham in Buckinghamshire, north-west of London.

Only a short train journey away, Amersham lies in the

beautiful countryside of the Chiltern hills. Elias Canetti

described the place as ‘a sort of idyll’, 118 albeit in a state

of war, where many emigrants from continental Europe

as well as evacuees from London lived at that time.

Motesiczky later conceded that, despite the war, ‘although

it sounds crazy, this, to some extent, was really a very nice

time’. 119 She moved in circles of fellow refugees intent

on upholding cultural and intellectual standards even

during the state of emergency of the war.

Around this time Motesiczky started a relationship

that was to last for the rest of her life. In 1939, while living

in London, she had met the writer Elias Canetti who, with

his wife Veza, had emigrated to England in January that

year. 120 Born in Rustschuk (Rousse), Bulgaria, in 1905,

Canetti had just achieved critical acclaim in Vienna with

his first novel, Die Blendung, when he was forced to leave

Austria. Although they had mutual acquaintances, such

as Motesiczky’s relative Fritz Schey, 121 their paths had

never actually crossed in Vienna. Yet Canetti must have

been aware of Motesiczky’s place in Viennese society.

Motesiczky and Canetti possessed a mutual friend in Anna

Mahler (1904–88), the Viennese sculptor and daughter of

Gustav and Alma Mahler. Canetti stayed in Anna’s studio

at 31 Hyde Park Gardens before he moved to Hampstead

and thus became a neighbour of Motesiczky while she was

living in Adelaide Road. During this time Anna Mahler

created a portrait bust of Motesiczky which, unfortunately,

was irreparably damaged and no longer exists.

Details of the early months of the friendship between

the painter and the writer are not known, and it seems

that an intimate relationship started only when, on the

recommendation of Motesiczky, the Canettis also moved

to Amersham in autumn 1941. They found lodgings with

Gordon Milburn, a retired Anglican priest, and his wife

who lived in a house called ‘Durris’ in Stubbs Wood,

where Motesiczky had stayed some months earlier. Father

Milburn was to inspire the work of both the Canettis as

well as of Motesiczky. In Party in the Blitz, the fourth part

of his autobiography covering his years in England, Elias

Canetti devoted a whole chapter to the idiosyncrasies of

Fig. 27 ‘Cornerways’, the Motesiczkys’ home in Amersham, view from

the garden, photograph, early 1940s (Motesiczky archive)


his landlord. 122 Veza Canetti bitingly caricatured the couple

in her short story Toogoods oder das Licht, characterizing

them as mean and riddled with double standards. 123 While

the Canettis present an ambivalent if not downright

negative picture of Gordon Milburn, Motesiczky is more

lenient. Her portrait Father Milburn, painted in 1958 (no.

154), shows the by then aged priest as a quiet authority

whose earnest seriousness is palpable.

In 1941 the Motesiczkys acquired a three-bedroom

house at 86 Chestnut Lane, Amersham, using money from

the Dutch bank account. 124 ‘Cornerways’ (fig. 27), not far

from Stubbs Wood and reached by a shortcut, possessed

a large garden in which the family kept chickens and grew

vegetables. Since Canetti’s room at the Milburns’ was not

big enough for all their possessions, Motesiczky offered to

give a home to his substantial library of almost two thousand

books. Several photographs, taken in the early 1940s in

the large living room-cum-studio in ‘Cornerways’, show

Motesiczky and her mother, the Canettis and Marie posing

in front of Canetti’s books, which filled a whole wall, and

Motesiczky’s paintings (fig. 28). Probably for her birthday in

1942, Canetti gave Motesiczky the manuscript of a collection

of aphorisms. Held together by a yellow cord, these pages

contain distillations of his recent thoughts on the war,

God, his contemporaries, books, love and death. 125

The blossoming relationship between Motesiczky and

Canetti was to be artistically productive for both sides,

moving between extreme closeness and dramatic discord.

The ambivalent character of the relationship is evident in

the following remarks: while Motesiczky called Canetti her

‘personal catastrophe’, 126 at the same time she counted him

among her ‘Hauptgötter’ (main gods), the three people who

had the strongest influence on and were most important

in her life, besides her mother and Max Beckmann. 127 She

saw herself faced with the problem: ‘completely without

C. world makes no sense – with C endless torment.’ 128 All

through her life Motesiczky suffered from the fact that,

despite their intimate friendship, she was never allowed to

play a prominent role in Canetti’s life. His habit of isolating

her socially, his reluctance to introduce her to his friends

or go out together often caused bitter arguments and made

Motesiczky doubt his feelings. In public as well as in some

of the correspondence 129 they used the impersonal ‘Sie’.

Privately, however, they invented nicknames. While

Motesiczky called Canetti ‘Pio’ (thus honouring him as

the author of the book depicted in Orchid, 1958, no. 153),

Canetti used either ‘Muli’, if he talked to her as a woman

or his girlfriend, or ‘Mulo’ if he addressed Motesiczky the

Fig. 28 Elias Canetti and Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

in her studio at ‘Cornerways’, Amersham, photograph, early 1940s


37

painter. From the start, the relationship was complicated

by the fact that Canetti was married. As the photographs

show, Motesiczky was at first on good terms with Veza

Canetti. In fact Veza must have been fond of Motesiczky,

as is clear from her dedication of a text so far unpublished:

‘My novel “The Response” is dedicated to the painter

Marie-Luise Motesizky. The soft magic that emanates from

her has given me an idea for a figure and her refinement

has tamed my wildness and determined the figures and

the music of my book.’ 130 Yet the initial goodwill soon

turned into mutual dislike. In an undated drawing Motesiczky

portrays Veza Canetti as a queen whose hardened expression

does not bode well for her subjects (fig. 29).

Unlike the ups and downs of the relationship, the

mutual professional support turned out to be unwavering.

Despite their different metiers, each was unreservedly

convinced of the other’s talent. They gave one another the

help that was needed to enable or facilitate the creation of

a work. During the first years of exile, when Canetti, who

refused to write articles for money, 131 was unable to earn

a living, Motesiczky’s financial support was crucial to his

survival. Her assistance lasted for several decades, even

though the amounts of money were often relatively small

and did not allow Canetti to work free of financial worries

for long. Her intellectual contribution to Canetti’s work,

although at first glance not immediately obvious, must also

not be underestimated. They talked about work in progress

or just completed; they discussed the public reception of

their work, celebrated their successes or comforted each

other if the reaction had been less favourable. Sometimes

Fig. 29 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Veza Canetti, undated,

black chalk on paper, 440 × 570 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


Motesiczky was directly involved in the creative progress:

some of her dreams, which she told Canetti, found their

way into his writing. His growing literary success, which

followed the publication of Masse und Macht in 1960, was a

source of happiness and pride to Motesiczky and confirmed

her belief in his gift. Canetti, in turn, acknowledged that

she had contributed much to his work, with which she

‘will be linked as long as human beings are around’. 132

Similarly, Canetti’s influence on Motesiczky’s work

cannot be overestimated, although, according to

Motesiczky, he did not really know a great deal about

painting. 133 Crucially, Canetti believed wholeheartedly in

Motesiczky’s paintings and frequently expressed his admiration:

‘You are a very great painter and, whether you want it

or not, the world will come to know it. Every picture that

you will paint will enter the history of painting.’ 134 Apart

from her mother, Canetti was Motesiczky’s most important

interlocutor and critic, although she was aware that he

often praised her work too much. He also encouraged

friends and acquaintances to visit her exhibitions and

used his growing fame to draw attention to her work. His

letters are full of encouragement and admonishing advice

to create new pictures. Motesiczky later admitted that

she hardly ever painted a picture without eagerly looking

forward to the moment when she could show it to

Canetti. 135 He received several paintings as presents, for

example the enigmatic early Self-portrait with Red Hat, 1938

(no. 47), the pensive and more mature Self-portrait with

Pears, 1965 (no. 202), and the touching Mother with a Straw,

1962 (no. 186). Apart from arranging several commissions

for Motesiczky he commissioned paintings from her

himself – not all of which were carried out.

As well as Veza and Elias Canetti, Motesiczky frequently

saw a number of other friends in Amersham in the 1940s.

Among them were Olda and Oskar Kokoschka (fig. 30), who

had arrived in England in October 1938. After a brief stay in

Polperro, Cornwall, they returned to London. Kokoschka,

who had already enjoyed a successful career before being

forced into exile, has been repeatedly identified as a

major shaping force on Motesiczky’s later works. Unlike

Beckmann, who actually taught Motesiczky and whose

direct influence on her early works cannot be overlooked,

Kokoschka never formally instructed her. She was certainly

familiar with his work and even possessed several examples

of it. In 1940 he painted a portrait of her wearing a straw

hat. Keeping the original (fig. 31), he presented a signed

copy of the portrait to the sitter’s mother (fig. 83).

Motesiczky’s estate also includes a framed watercolour


Fig. 30 Olda and Oskar Kokoschka in Venice, photograph, 1948


Fig. 31 Oskar Kokoschka, Marie-Louise, 1940, watercolour on paper,

465 × 375 mm (Fondation Oskar Kokoschka, Vevey)

39

still-life of a vase of flowers by Kokoschka. He personalized

the drawing by adding the small figure of an Italian greyhound

– a breed that the Motesiczkys kept for many years

(fig. 32). During the war he also entrusted Motesiczky with

the three fans he had once painted for his former lover,

Alma Mahler (who was the cousin of Henriette von

Motesiczky’s sister-in-law). 136

Kokoschka was generally allowed to see Motesiczky’s

latest work or, a very rare privilege, even work in progress,

and he made no secret of his views on her paintings. It is

likely that she took at least some of his comments to heart,

although it is difficult to establish their real impact. Later

in life she counted Kokoschka among the four people who

had meant most to her, alongside her mother, Beckmann

and Canetti. 137 She recalled that, upon meeting Kokoschka

again in London before the war, she had not been aware

of how lucky she was to know him and to be ‘adopted’ by

him. 138 However, while she loved Kokoschka’s dazzling,

fascinating personality and valued his sense of humour, 139

she considered his influence on her painting to be limited,

conceding only that he had loosened up her style. It would

have been unwise to follow him further since she considered

his pupils to be pale imitations of their teacher,

something to which she definitely did not aspire. 140 More

importantly his criticism, always frank yet sometimes

harsh, hurt Motesiczky deeply, as her diary entry on

8 May 1945 shows: ‘It is peace . . . Kokoschkas appear. O.K.

is awful with my painting of mother.’ 141 A few weeks later

Kokoschka called another painting, Dorothy (no. 74), ‘hopeless’.

142 When it was forthcoming, however, his praise for

her work was eagerly taken up. Motesiczky remembered

one instance when he came into her studio, saw a painting

Fig. 32 Oskar Kokoschka, Flowers with

Porcelain Dog, 1950s, watercolour on paper,

580 × 480 mm (private collection, Austria)


on which she still intended to do work and exclaimed:

‘Don’t touch it!’ Motesiczky followed his advice, conceding

that she probably would have ruined the picture had she

continued to paint. 143

During a period when she was furious about

Kokoschka’s rejection of one of her paintings she made

a ‘drawing Olda, K, I’ 144 which is probably identical to

Kokoschka Fishing for Two Nudes (fig. 33). It shows Kokoschka

standing among the reeds trying to catch the two nudes in

the water with a fishing rod. The nudes are his wife Olda,

standing, and Motesiczky, swimming vigorously in the

water as if trying to get away. The humorous composition

probably refers to another dimension of their relationship:

in the early 1940s Kokoschka appears to have had his eye

on Motesiczky. Not succeeding, he tried to arrange a

match for her. 145 His intended partner for her was Michael

Croft, later Lord Croft, who had been his first English

patron. Croft was only twenty-two when Kokoschka

painted his portrait in 1938/9 (private collection, fig. 178).

Croft apparently proposed to Motesiczky, who refused

to marry him. 146 The reason for her lack of interest is not

documented, but is likely to have been the blossoming

relationship with Elias Canetti.

In 1951 Motesiczky painted a triple portrait that paid

tribute to another aspect of her acquaintance with the

Kokoschkas, her friendship with Olda. Two Women and

a Shadow (no. 109) shows Olda and Marie-Louise trying

to have a private conversation while Oskar Kokoschka,

represented by a silhouetted dark profile, prevents any

confidences from being exchanged by appearing to listen

in. Paintings such as Two Women and a Shadow may have

inspired the author Iris Murdoch in her description of the

Fig. 33 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

Kokoschka Fishing for Two Nudes, 1945,

charcoal and pastel on paper, 510 × 380 mm

(Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable

Trust, London)

41

remodelled interior of a formerly musty and old-fashioned

house in the novel The Book and the Brotherhood, first

published in 1987: ‘The drawing room . . . was now painted

a glowing aquamarine adorned with a huge scarlet abstract

by de Kooning over the fireplace and two colourful

conversation pieces by Kokoschka and Motesiczky.’ 147

Despite her continuing acquaintance with fellow

émigré artists such as Kokoschka, Motesiczky had, as an

exile, discarded the professional networks that might have

helped her art reach a wider audience. Nevertheless, she

managed to have her work shown regularly in her adopted

country. Although not interested in politics, during the

war she participated in several exhibitions in London

which had a political dimension and more or less openly

took a stance against the National Socialist regime and

its consequences. In July 1941 she showed a self-portrait

at the ‘Exhibition of Contemporary Continental Art.

Paintings, Water-Colours, Sculptures’ at the Leger Gallery

that comprised works by Martin Bloch, Georges Braque,

Giorgio de Chirico, Hugo Dachinger, Raoul Dufy, Georg

Ehrlich, Max Ernst, Oskar Kokoschka, Anna Mahler, André

Lhote, Pablo Picasso and Fred Uhlmann. The following

year a portrait was included in the ‘Exhibition of Works

by Allied Artists’ at the R.B.A. Galleries. In April 1944 she

participated in ‘AIA 1944. Artists’ International Association

Members’ Exhibition’ at the R.B.A. Galleries. The previous

year she had become a member of the Artists’ International

Association. Founded in 1933, the Association demonstrated

against all forms of Fascism and strove to forge a link

between artist and public by organizing conferences and

lectures and staging exhibitions. In order to reach as large

an audience as possible, some shows were arranged in

underground stations or factory canteens while others

travelled around the country.

Towards the end of 1944 the Czechoslovak Institute in

London staged an ‘Exhibition of Painting and Sculpture by

Marie Louise Motesicky and Mary Duras’. This two-woman

exhibition brought together the paintings of Motesiczky

and the sculptures of Mary Duras. Born in Vienna in 1898,

Duras had emigrated to England, now also lived in

Amersham and was a friend of both Canetti and Motesiczky.

Motesiczky showed twenty-eight paintings, portraits, selfportraits,

still-lifes, figure compositions and landscapes.

Among Duras’ works was a portrait head of Motesiczky

(fig. 34). The exhibition catalogue contained a foreword

by Jan Masaryk, Foreign Minister of the London-based

Czechoslovak government in exile, which repeated some

ideas that Elias Canetti had already voiced in a review of

Motesiczky’s work. The short text provides a fascinating

insight into Canetti’s views of Motesiczky’s paintings:

We meet an artist of the same rank [as Mary Duras]

but of a different kind in the painter Marie Louise

Motešicky. Her art is dominated by one passion,

usually and very wrongly, styled masculine: the search

for truth. Her portraits have an intensity and vitality

that have become rare to-day. Each human being in

her eyes is unique and original, and yet something

very round and full. She does not despise, she does

not praise, she makes her task as difficult as possible.

With some of these portraits one feels reminded

of the great Dutch painters, and nobody need be

ashamed for this. The spirit of this art is European; its

culture is that of the modern French school. A palette

of so much taste can have accomplished itself only

in France. But there is a third element, that directly

moves one’s heart and that appears most convincing

in her still-lives: a distinctness and force deriving

Fig. 34 Mary Duras,

Marie Louise, undated,

painted plaster,

height 320 mm

(private collection)


from another, less sophisticated world. It takes time

to find out what it really is, for it has been completely

transformed into modern ways of expression.

However, it is undoubtedly the world of Slavic folkart.

There is a sense for bright and comic things as

those have, who know the life of peasants. It is the

essentially joyful of her art. Truth, that succeeds in

portraying man with such intensity, is not only of

the soul: it is the truth of the colours that love one

another. 148

The exhibition was favourably reviewed. The art critic

Eric Newton, a fellow resident of Amersham and a painter

himself, expressed his admiration for Motesiczky’s work

in an article which appeared in the Sunday Times. 149 He

subsequently purchased Still-life with Pansies, 1942 (no. 56),

intending it as a present for his mother, and continued to

sing Motesiczky’s praises when he reviewed her exhibition

at the Beaux Arts Gallery in 1960. The critic Edith Yapou

counted the show at the Czechoslovak Institute among the

‘outstanding events in the yearly array of London exhibitions’.

150 While Motesiczky’s works were still on display,

Kokoschka approached John Rothenstein, then director of

the Tate Gallery, enquiring if a painting from the exhibition

might be accepted by the Tate. This attempt to further

Motesiczky’s cause was probably undertaken without her

knowledge. Kokoschka made use of his acquaintance

with Rothenstein, who had already expressed his wish to

incorporate works by Kokoschka in the Tate’s collection.

Rothenstein initially welcomed the idea of acquiring a

Motesiczky painting and, having visited the exhibition,

made a selection of five possible works. 151 The offer was

eventually declined by the Tate’s Trustees and it would be

another forty-two years before the first three paintings by

Motesiczky entered the Tate collection, in 1986.

In the course of the war, communication with

Motesiczky’s brother had become increasingly difficult.

After his mother and sister had left Austria Karl von

Motesiczky looked after the family properties, especially the

estate in Hinterbrühl. When the villa, which had been built

on a spring, causing subsidence, had to be pulled down in

1939, the family had already become accustomed to living

in the smaller ‘Schweizerhaus’. Karl now spent most of his

time there, planting an orchard in the grounds. At weekends

his anti-fascist and Jewish friends would meet in the relative

safety of Hinterbrühl. Some found shelter there for several

months. In the autumn of 1939 he founded a resistance

group with friends. Three years later, in summer 1942,

they helped two Jewish couples from Poland escape to

Switzerland. The group, however, was denounced. Karl

von Motesiczky and his co-conspirator Ella Lingens were

arrested by the Gestapo on 13 October 1942 and sent to

Auschwitz four months later. Karl kept his spirits up for a

while by asking for his cello to be sent to him, but he fell ill

shortly afterwards and died on 25 June 1943 in the prisoners’

infirmary. In 1980 he was awarded the Israeli title of

‘Righteous Among the Nations’, which honours people who

risked their lives to save Jews from the Nazis. Ella Lingens,

who made herself useful as a doctor, survived the Holocaust.

Although Motesiczky learned of Karl’s death via a letter

from Irene Carlin, a Swiss relative, in October 1943, she

later claimed he had died just a few weeks before the end

of the war which would have made his loss even more

futile since it could almost have been avoided. Marie-

Louise had always been Karl’s confidante and ally since he

had not been close to his mother and often felt misunderstood

by her. For the rest of her life she felt guilty for not

having been able to save him. 152 In After the Ball, 1949 (no.

87), she pays a touching tribute to her brother. She depicts

him with his Norwegian girlfriend Aagot after a fancy

dress ball in Vienna. Although both are exhausted from

the evening’s entertainment they tenderly and protectively

hold each other in a moment of brief happiness.

At the end of the war Motesiczky decided to go back

to London. She first stayed at 139 Maida Vale. At around

the same time as Canetti moved from ‘Durris’ to 187 Maida

Vale in 1948, she moved into a flat on the second floor at

14 Compayne Gardens in West Hampstead, which she

shared with her friends Georgette Lewinson and Julia

Altschulova. From 1951 to early 1957 Elias Canetti also had

a room in the flat, where he often worked. He was in the

habit of writing through the night and catching up on his

sleep in the morning, and Motesiczky had to be careful to

avoid any noise in order not to disturb his rest. Although

initially she was very happy to share her day-to-day life

with Canetti after she had waited so long, in the end

living together proved to be too difficult. She suffered

from Canetti’s moods and felt socially isolated, ‘in solitary

confinement as it were’. 153 To the apparent relief of both,

Canetti vacated his room, agreeing on a trial period of

living apart.

At about the same time Motesiczky’s artistic career

took a turn for the better. The early 1950s finally brought

more opportunities to show her work. Following the good

reception of her 1939 Dutch exhibition, Motesiczky had two

solo exhibitions in the Netherlands in 1952. In February

43

Kunstzaal Van Lier in Amsterdam showed a selection of

twenty-five paintings that went on to Kunstzaal Plaats, The

Hague, in March. Both exhibitions were a great success,

with artists, critics and the public united in their praise for

‘a fascinating painter’ 154 and her work of ‘rare quality’. 155

Her expressionism was termed ‘gay, honest, problemless’ 156

or ‘lyrical and soft’. 157 Several reviewers singled out her

portraits, which would not easily find their equals in our

time. 158 One critic, quoting a young Dutch painter, simply

exclaimed: ‘That such good painting still exists in our

days makes one feel much happier.’ 159 By chance, a Max

Beckmann exhibition at the Stedelijk Museum had just

finished, which led critics to compare Motesiczky’s work

with that of her teacher, concluding, however, that

Motesiczky had arrived at her own personal style that was

a softer version of added warmth and humanity. 160 The

final seal of Dutch approval was the purchase of Finchley

Road at Night, 1952 (no. 110), by the Stedelijk Museum

of Modern Art, Amsterdam.

At the time of her two solo exhibitions in the

Netherlands Motesiczky had also talked about her struggle

to gain recognition in her adopted country: ‘I myself have

exhibited a few times in London, but in spite of positive

reviews, e.g. by Eric Newton, I have not had much success.

It is a very difficult scene for foreigners.’ 161 Unfortunately

this statement proved to be true over the following few

years. In September 1953 she learned that the famous

Cork Street gallery Roland, Browse and Delbanco, which

dominated sales of contemporary British art to museums

throughout the country during the 1950s and 1960s, was

planning an unusual show for the following month. The

gallery had occasionally shown individual works by

Motesiczky within the previous few years. The exhibition,

entitled ‘The Renaissance of the Fish. Paintings from the

17th to the 20th Century’, was to celebrate an unconventional

and not easily marketable subject matter: fish

still-lifes. Having completed Lobster (no. 119) a few months

earlier, Motesiczky thought of submitting it. She was,

however, doubtful whether a lobster would be considered a

fish and decided to quickly paint a still-life of undisputable

fish, Still-life with Fishes (no. 122). Although both paintings

were initially accepted for the exhibition, only Lobster was

finally listed in the exhibition catalogue.

Motesiczky had more success the following year, when,

thanks to the mediation of her relative Gretl Rupé, the

Städtische Galerie in Munich put on an exhibition of

works by the Bavarian painter Erna Dinklage (1895–1991)

and Motesiczky. The opening was packed with old and

new admirers of her work, among them Ludwig Baldass,

by then director of the Gemäldegalerie at the Kunsthistorisches

Museum in Vienna; Eberhard Hanfstaengl,

director general of the Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen;

Günther Freiherr von Pechmann, director

of the Porzellanmanufaktur in Berlin and of the Neue

Sammlung in Munich, who was enthusiastic about the

paintings; and the Russian writer Fedor Stepun, who had

been a friend of her brother Karl and praised her paintings

as ‘essential’. 162 The thirty-four paintings shown by

Motesiczky, most of them new, received praise for their

stylistic unity. 163 In 1955 the Kunstverein für die Rheinlande

und Westfalen in Düsseldorf put on an exhibition of

Motesiczky’s paintings. It coincided with a memorial exhibition

for the Düsseldorf painter Heinz May (1878–1954)

and exhibitions of sculptures and drawings by Curt

Beckmann (1901–70) and Hans van Breek (1906–93), the

brother of Arno Breker.

Despite her success abroad and the difficulties in

gaining artistic recognition in London, in the mid-1950s

Motesiczky decided to stay in the country that had offered

her refuge. After nearly twenty years of living in England

and having been naturalized as a British citizen in 1948, 164

she finally severed her links with Austria in summer 1956.

She sold the family estate in Hinterbrühl to Hermann

Gmeiner, the founder of the SOS-Kinderdorf movement,

who proceeded to build another of his villages for

orphaned and homeless children on the site (fig. 35).

Motesiczky was willing to part with her property for a price

that did not reflect its true market value in order to give

the children a permanent new home and a stable environment,

and to honour her brother ‘who loved children and

justice’. 165 Once the Hinterbrühl complex was fully established

Gmeiner wrote to Motesiczky acknowledging her

contribution in enabling the creation of the ‘largest and

most beautiful European SOS-Kinderdorf’, whose model

character for villages all over the world was invaluable. 166

In 1961 Henriette and Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

erected a monument to Karl in the grounds of the

Kinderdorf (fig. 36). Its inscription reads: ‘Für die selbstlose

Hilfe, die er schuldlos Verfolgten gewährte, erlitt er den

Tod’ (He perished for the selfless help he granted to the

innocently persecuted). 167 Motesiczky had always dreamed

of keeping a studio in Hinterbrühl, and later often regretted

not having done so and painting the children. 168 She also

continued to wonder about the pictures she could create

in her home city: ‘Vienna is so stimulating for me from an

artistic point of view, I have so many ideas – this has to do


Fig. 35 SOS-Kinderdorf in Hinterbrühl, photograph, 1960s


Fig. 36 Karl von Motesiczky’s memorial stone at the SOS-Kinderdorf

in Hinterbrühl, photograph, 1960s (Motesiczky archive)

with the memories of my youth . . . and nevertheless I think

that I could one day paint my best pictures here’. 169 After the

war, she maintained the habit of visiting Vienna regularly,

usually twice a year, in spring and in autumn.

hampstead

Since Marie’s death in 1954 the domestic arrangements

for Henriette von Motesiczky, living in Amersham with

hired help, had been somewhat unsatisfactory. In 1958,

Motesiczky, travelling to Austria, finally found a carer and

housekeeper who would bring stability to her mother’s life

as well as the culinary delights of her homeland. Maria

Pauzenberger (1912–98) joined the household at the end of

April and was soon known simply as ‘Bauzen’. She became

famous for her Viennese specialities, of which in particular

her Apfelstrudel was a much-loved delicacy. Bauzen looked

after Henriette von Motesiczky for the rest of her life.

After Henriette’s death in 1978 she married and moved

away, occasionally visiting Marie-Louise, who painted

her portrait in 1990 (no. 309).

In the late 1950s, with her mother getting steadily

older and frailer, Motesiczky had to find a new solution

to their way of living. After a long house hunt, she found

a property in Chesterford Gardens in Hampstead in 1959.

She had to spend almost a year, in which she did not get

much painting done, making extensive alterations to the

house. In spring 1960, she moved into her new home

with her mother. The house, a substantial semi-detached,

three-storey Edwardian red-brick building on one of

Hampstead’s quiet roads not far from the village centre,

provided more than ample living space. Soon two small

rooms on the top floor were rented out to the Berlin-born

Edith Loewenberg, a friend of Erika Mann. The communal

living area for the Motesiczkys was on the ground floor,

while Motesiczky’s bedroom on the first floor looked out

over a large garden with mature trees and beautiful flowerbeds.

The large adjacent studio (fig. 37), facing the road,

provided wonderful northern light and plenty of space to

set up arrangements for a still-life or comfortably instal a

sitter. Elias Canetti moved into a large room on the second

floor that overlooked the garden and housed part of his

library (fig. 38). He loved the house and the garden, which

he called ‘a little paradise’, 170 and especially valued ‘the

fantastic Biedermeier peace’ 171 of life there which enabled

him to hide from the world and work undisturbed.

In a scaled-down version of her childhood custom,

Motesiczky again enjoyed the use of two homes: the large

family house in Chesterford Gardens and the house in

Amersham which was kept on and where they, especially

Henriette, often spent the summer months. In the mid-

1970s Motesiczky finally sold the Amersham property,

having rented it out for several years. To visitors, the house

in Chesterford Gardens, with its old Viennese furniture, its

collection of art and artefacts, its Viennese cooking and,

above all, its Austrian inhabitants with their native dialect

who maintained a traditional way of life, seemed like a

relic from a lost world, an Austrian island in an English sea.

Beatrice Owen, a friend whose portrait Motesiczky painted

in 1973 (no. 244), found in the house ‘the atmosphere of

45

central Europe, the elegance and style that was totally

natural, the values with which I had grown up . . . it was

a magical household then, always full of the most gifted

people of their time, who could forget their fame in

M-L’s company and inspire each other’. 172

Over the years Hampstead had provided a home for

many refugees from Europe, so Motesiczky became part

of a lively intellectual and artistic community. A very

close friend was the fellow artist Milein Cosman, born in

Düsseldorf in 1921. Her husband, the musicologist Hans

Keller (1919–85), often provided a sounding-board for

arguments on the nature of art. The couple are depicted

in Studio with Nude Model, 1970 (no. 239), practising their

respective professions. The modern architect Godfrey

Samuel (1904–82), who shared Motesiczky’s interest in

music, art and travel, was the perfect companion for

numerous concerts, visits to museums and holidays.

She took enormous pleasure in her friendship with this

‘gentleman in the truest sense of the word’ 173 whose

portrait she painted in 1976/7 (no. 256). Motesiczky also

knew many of her fellow artists in exile, such as the

painters Jacob Bauernfreund (or Bornfriend) and Hilde

Goldschmidt and the sculptors Siegfried Charoux and

Georg Ehrlich. Yet, with the exception of Milein Cosman,

she only occasionally sought their company.

Outside her immediate Hampstead circle Motesiczky

kept up a number of longstanding friendships, for example

with the composers Samuel Barber (1910–81) and Gian Carlo

Menotti (1911–2007), the actor Ernst Ginsberg (1904–64) 174

and the Renaissance scholar Paul Oskar Kristeller

(1905–99), all of which had begun during her years in

Austria. The German philosopher Theodor W. Adorno

(1903–69) was also a friend. They presumably knew each

other through Motesiczky’s relative Gretel Karplus

(1902–93), who had met Adorno in 1923 and married

him in 1937. In 1935 Adorno wrote appreciatively to the

composer Ernst Krenek: ‘By the way do you know Marie-

Louise von Metesitzky? She is rather unusual and if

you have not met her, I would be happy to arrange it.’ 175

Motesiczky’s friendship with the Adornos endured. In

March 1961, for example, they met again in Paris. They

finally decided to dispense with the formal ‘Sie’ and


Motesiczky’s studio in

Chesterford Gardens,

photograph, 1995



Fig. 38 Elias Canetti at his desk in

Chesterford Gardens, photograph, 1963

(Foto Archiv, Carl Hanser Verlag, Munich)

solemnly agreed to call each other ‘Du’. 176 Later that year

they holidayed together in the Swiss resort of Sils Maria.

Motesiczky enjoyed the reunion, writing home: ‘Adorno

always has something nice to say, for example that I have

a wonderful profile or that I have the nature of a young

girl without being backward. This, of course, contributes

to my relaxation!’ 177

For a few years in the early 1960s it finally seemed that

Motesiczky had overcome her reluctance to show and

sell her paintings. She found a dealer in Helen Lessore

(1907–94), who owned the well-known Beaux Arts Gallery

in Bruton Place in London and was an artist herself. Under

Helen Lessore’s directorship the Beaux Arts Gallery had

become famous for presenting young artists to a wider

audience, as well as showing work of the ‘older, under-rated

and half-forgotten, or the artist appreciated abroad, but not

yet in London’. 178 The first category probably included

Francis Bacon, one of the most important artists with whom

Helen Lessore was associated as dealer, albeit briefly. The

second category certainly included Motesiczky. Lessore

staged a solo exhibition for Motesiczky in 1960 and included

her work in several group shows. Among them was an

exhibition of the gallery’s regulars in 1963, which presented

Mother with a Straw, 1962 (no. 186), and one of the final

shows in 1964 before the gallery closed down, entitled ‘Last

Anthology’, where Motesiczky’s paintings hung alongside

those of Craigie Aitchison, Frank Auerbach, David Bomberg,

Heinz Koppel, Leon Kossoff, Walter Sickert and Euan Uglow.

Although she did not find the experience of dealing with a

commercial gallery especially daunting, Motesiczky was still

hesitant when it came to giving up pictures. When in 1965

the gallery was forced to close its doors for financial reasons

she was not overly disappointed, although she worried about

‘never again being able to join in the art scene’. 179

Personal concerns, however, soon took the upper hand.

When Veza Canetti died in 1963, Motesiczky hoped that she

would finally be able to become Elias Canetti’s wife. Yet, just

like her vain longing for Canetti’s child, Motesiczky’s wish

to marry was never realized, as he never proposed. The last

few years before Veza’s death had been characterized by

Motesiczky’s growing aversion to and jealousy of her rival,

whom she saw as the reason for most of her problems

with Canetti. Another source of discomfort was Canetti’s

unjustified and almost obsessive jealousy of Motesiczky’s

male acquaintances and his mission to control her activities.

Milein Cosman, for example, recounts the story of a

walk in Holland Park during which the women repeatedly

noticed a strange rustling behind the bushes. Motesiczky

was unconcerned, remarking: ‘That is probably Canetti!’ 180

Paradoxically, Motesiczky seems to have come to terms

with Canetti’s female friends. She knew, for example, of

Friedl Benedikt (1916–53), the young author who was

Canetti’s pupil and mistress. When Benedikt died in April

1953 Motesiczky received a call from Paris with the sad

47

news, which she related to Canetti when, shortly afterwards,

he phoned from Scotland. 181

The author Iris Murdoch (1919–99) also had a liaison

with Canetti in the early 1950s and it lasted several years. 182

Motesiczky and Murdoch presumably met during that time

and were linked by a bond of friendship and goodwill for

the rest of their lives. On leaving St Anne’s College, Oxford,

to dedicate herself to full-time writing in 1963, Murdoch

commissioned Motesiczky to paint her portrait as a parting

gift to the college. She chose Motesiczky as an artist she

personally admired and thought undervalued in this

country. With this commission she hoped to help increase

Motesiczky’s reputation and make her more familiar to

a wider audience: ‘I admire her work very much & think

she is not well enough known in England.’ 183 Iris Murdoch,

completed the following year (no. 193), shows the wellknown

author with an absent, dreamlike expression on her

face and a slightly windblown air about her. The reception

of the portrait was ambiguous: some viewers felt it did not

do justice to the sitter. However, when Murdoch saw the

finished portrait, which lacks idealization and does not dwell

on her feminine qualities, she found it uncannily accurate,

noting in her diary: ‘I think it is wonderful, terrible, so sad

and frightening, me with the demons. How did she know?’ 184

The first success in Motesiczky’s native country came

in May 1966 when the Wiener Secession staged a large

solo exhibition. Plans for a Viennese exhibition had been

discussed for some time. Three years earlier the Österreichische

Galerie in Schloß Belvedere had been about to

stage an exhibition of her work when government subsidies

were drastically cut and the project had to be put on

hold. 185 Now, Motesiczky had managed to interest another

extremely prestigious venue in her work. A catalogue was

produced that included illustrations, some in colour, of

most of the fifty-two works shown. Benno Reifenberg

contributed a thoughtful essay about her work with which

Motesiczky, usually wary of comments on her pictures,

was very pleased. 186 The exhibition, opened by Heimito

von Doderer, 187 attracted a substantial number of visitors.

The guest book contains enthusiastic comments like

‘Wonderful paintings as one sadly sees so rarely’, often

singling out the portraits which were considered ‘masterly’.

Other visitors praised the enchanting poetry and honesty

of ‘these strong and pure paintings in which the inexpressible

can always be imagined’. 188 Further publicity came

from Elias Canetti, who was awarded the Dichterpreis

der Stadt Wien on 16 May. He was more than happy to

use his increased fame to draw everyone’s attention to

Motesiczky’s exhibition, which included two portraits

of him (Conversation in the Library, 1950, no. 103, and Elias

Canetti, 1960, no. 165).

The exhibition was also well received by the critics,

who called it ‘a fascinating surprise’ 189 and mused that

Motesiczky, ‘had everything been as it should, should long

ago have been acknowledged as one of our most important

women artists’. 190 Another reviewer praised the artistic

consistency of Motesiczky, ‘who has hardly changed at all,

but become constantly refined’. 191 Several critics picked up

on her stylistic link with Beckmann. 192 While one journalist

considered Motesiczky to be standing ‘in the shadow of the

master’, 193 most, following Reifenberg’s analysis, concluded

that she ‘did not submit to the power and greatness of the

master, but has conquered her own view of the world – and

her own style’. 194 One critic even went so far as to praise their

relationship as exemplary: ‘This meeting with Beckmann . . .

influenced . . . the artist’s work and stance in such a fruitful

way . . . that one could not imagine more ideally in any

similarly close teacher-pupil-relationship.’ 195

Apart from critical acclaim, the exhibition also brought

about the acquisition of works by Motesiczky by several

public Austrian collections. The Österreichische Galerie

Belvedere bought a small portrait, Frau Ziegler, 1938

(no. 45), for 20,000 Schillings. Towards the end of her life

Motesiczky recollected that ‘the Belvedere bought the very

smallest painting for such a tiny sum that I straight away

lost it in a telephone box. The first money I had earned . . .

at sixty.’ 196 The Neue Galerie der Stadt Linz (now Lentos

Kunstmuseum, Linz) purchased Self-portrait with Pears, 1965

(no. 202), for 19,000 Schillings, the Kulturamt der Stadt

Wien acquired Elias Canetti (no. 165), passing it on to the

Historisches Museum der Stadt Wien (now the Wien

Museum). The exhibition subsequently travelled to the

Neue Galerie der Stadt Linz in December 1966 and, in

October 1967 was shown at the Galerie Günther Franke

in Munich. At the start of this leg of the tour Canetti

predicted: ‘You will become the great German portraitist’,

and praised the group of recent works as ‘the best . . . you

have created so far’. 197 At least with the exhibition in

Munich he would be proved right. The following lines

written by Henriette von Motesiczky to Käthe von Porada

neatly sum up the Munich success: ‘Piz had an exhibition

in Munich, wonderful reviews and also sales. She was very

pleased. She could have sold even more, but she finds it

hard or impossible to part with some paintings.’ 198 Long

after the end of the exhibition Günther Franke received a

request from a client wanting to commission a portrait from


Motesiczky. 199 From 27 October to 24 November 1968 the

exhibition, now consisting of seventy works, was shown

at the Kunsthalle in Bremen. Motesiczky was devastated

about one review that, once again, highlighted her stylistic

debt to Beckmann, and ignored her claims to original

work. 200 Quappi tried to console her by pointing out that

‘Max did not believe in you in vain, don’t forget that!’ 201

Several critics wrote appreciatively and, all in all, the

Bremen exhibition seems to have been a success.

The same catalogue was used for all four venues

although the paintings shown varied slightly, often incorporating

her most recent works. Motesiczky had been

rather nervous at the opening of the Viennese exhibition

but her anxiety diminished during the course of the tour.

Before the opening in Munich she announced to Benno

Reifenberg: ‘I am (maybe without reason) more confident

than in Vienna – maybe because I am working rather

well at the moment but maybe also because since Vienna

I have somewhat got used to the frightening state of

“exhibiting”.’ 202 Yet, a little while later, during the Bremen

exhibition, she confessed to Theo Garve to still feeling

‘even significantly smaller than usual’. 203

Her oeuvre during this period was dominated by a

singular series of works, her ‘mother paintings’. The 1960s

and 1970s witnessed an ever-closer bond between daughter

and ageing mother. Yet over the years the burden of looking

after Henriette von Motesiczky became increasingly

restricting and, at times, even imprisoning. Caring for her

weakening mother and making sure that she was able to

enjoy the two things she liked best – doing nothing and

eating well 204 – often prevented Motesiczky from painting.

On an emotional level, she felt obliged always to present

a brave and happy face in order to guarantee her mother’s

good health – a task that sometimes overwhelmed her. 205

In autumn 1977 she pleaded in her diary: ‘Mother unfortunately

often very difficult. Patience, patience, I must love

her as long as she is there. Strength, strength oh please

strength for the new year’. 206 One way of combining her

duty of caring for her mother and carrying on with her

work was to use Henriette as a model. Her mother became

one of her favourite subjects. Over the years Motesiczky

produced a series of beautiful and moving images, chronicling

her mother’s descent into extreme old age. Together

with her portraits and self-portraits these striking and truthful

paintings are among the best of her artistic oeuvre. The

Sunday Times art critic Marina Vaizey called the mother

paintings ‘surely one of the most moving series of portraits

to be produced in the post-war period’, 207 and the eminent

art historian Ernst Gombrich compared them with the work

of Albrecht Dürer, who had immortalized his mother in

works of similar detachment. 208 In a frank and unflattering

manner, which has been taken as a ‘violation of the divine

Fourth Commandment: “Thou Shalt Honor Thy Father

and Thy Mother!”’, 209 they capture the gradual, harrowing

decline towards death, combining the deep affection of

a daughter who shared almost all her life with her mother

with a penetrating power of observation. Motesiczky

adopts a distanced objectivity and inexorable clarity in her

mother pictures that are paired with the affirmation of

personal dignity and love for her subject matter. Referring

to From Night into Day, 1975 (no. 251), the art critic Robert

Clark asked the rhetorical question: ‘What other living

painter anywhere has produced so poignantly simple and

delicately alive an image of mortality?’ 210

Despite the large number of portrait paintings, not to

mention numerous sketches and drawings, Motesiczky

always felt there were even more expressions on her

mother’s face to be recorded. When Henriette von

Motesiczky died on 8 June 1978, aged ninety-six, she

had not quite finished with her task. 211 Just a few hours

before her death Motesiczky had repeatedly read one

of her mother’s own poems to her. Entitled ‘Ein Traum’

(‘A Dream’) and written in 1955, it is dedicated to Max

Beckmann, who so profoundly influenced her daughter’s

art. Motesiczky felt as if her mother’s ‘own words had

given her “a blessing”’ 212 on her journey towards death

by acknowledging her daughter’s chosen profession.

The death of her mother must have hit Motesiczky

hard. Having spent the greatest part of her life under the

same roof, she now missed her companion. With The

Greenhouse, painted in 1979 (no. 266), she created a memorial

to her late mother. Surrounded by her Italian greyhounds

she is seen raking leaves in the garden while the setting

sun is reflected in the window of the greenhouse. Still-life

with Asters, 1985 (no. 281), also pays tribute to Henriette von

Motesiczky. Depicting her mother’s now empty chair at the

dining table, Motesiczky expresses the loneliness of which

she had become acutely aware. As a final celebration she

produced forty memorial books containing photographs,

samples of her mother’s poems and drawings and images

of her own paintings. These were given to friends and

family members on the occasion of what would have

been Henriette’s hundredth birthday in 1982.

Despite her sadness over the loss of her mother,

Motesiczky eventually managed to relish the positive

consequences. According to relatives she seemed

49

rejuvenated after her mother’s death, travelling a great

deal and enjoying her new-found freedom. 213 In her diary

she likens her tentative explorations to ‘the first steps of

a newborn alone in the world’. 214 She also had substantial

work done on the house to adapt it to her new circumstances.

Keeping only her studio on the first floor she

moved downstairs to occupy the whole of the ground

floor; the rest of the house was turned into separate

accommodation for lodgers. The room Canetti had usually

stayed in now became a guest room, 215 reflecting the

dramatic deterioration in Motesiczky’s relationship with him

that had dominated the final years of her mother’s life.

In 1973 Motesiczky suffered her most bitter disappointment

when she learned, via friends and relatives, of Elias

Canetti’s second marriage. Until then, Canetti, who now

spent a lot of time in Zürich but regularly visited London,

had managed to keep secret from Motesiczky his relationship

with the conservator Hera Buschor, their marriage and

the subsequent birth of their daughter Johanna in 1972.

Feeling betrayed and unable to recover from this new

slight, she broke off all contact with Canetti. Henriette von

Motesiczky banned him from the house. Tentative attempts

at rekindling the friendship were made only after a break,

when it was possible to re-establish it on a brotherly basis. 216

In time Motesiczky conceded that Canetti had to live his

new, independent life as a husband and father: ‘Slowly, very

slowly the scales come down for you, your wife and the little

child and my pan is too light’. 217 An undated drawing shows

him weighing up his options, balancing two women on

large scales (fig. 39). Motesiczky’s unfailing belief in Canetti’s

professional ability survived her affront and was finally

vindicated in 1981 when he was awarded the Nobel Prize for

Literature. From the $180,000 he received as prize money

he repaid some of the debts incurred over the years when he

had been dependent on her financial support. Motesiczky

received numerous congratulatory letters on Canetti’s

success from friends and relatives, who were keen to point

out her contribution:

Three cheers for your friend Canetti! I think the

Nobel Prize Committee should do as they do in

hockey: credit not only the player who finally shoots

the puck into the goal, but give an ‘assist’ to the team

mate who feeds the puck to the scorer. You deserve

such a credit – and indeed an accolade! 218

By contrast, her own artistic career had been flagging

for a while. During the 1970s Motesiczky had not been

able to take much part in the contemporary art scene. She

participated in just two group exhibitions. ‘Hampstead in

the Thirties. A Committed Decade’ at the Camden Arts

Centre, London, in 1974, included two paintings that illustrate

both Motesiczky’s work and personal experience at

the time of her emigration and arrival in Hampstead: Selfportrait

with Red Hat, 1938 (no. 47), and The Travellers, 1940

(no. 50). ‘Portraits Today’, an exhibition of the Contemporary

Portrait Society held at the Qantas Gallery, London, in 1975,

presented the recently finished portrait of Gordon Winter

(no. 252) to the public. Motesiczky also twice attempted to

show her work at the Royal Academy. In 1977 she submitted

the portrait of Godfrey Samuel (no. 256), of which she was

extremely proud, for the Summer Exhibition, under the

title A Friend of the Royal Academy. After hoping in vain,

Motesiczky indignantly noted in her diary: ‘Royal Acad.

rejected’. 219 She overcame her disappointment in the early

1980s, probably in 1981, and sent two paintings, Countess

with Plum, 1944 (no. 65), and Alexander de Waal, 1981 (no.

272), to the Summer Exhibition. Yet again, the paintings

were not accepted.

The previous year, however, the exhibition ‘Max

Beckmanns Frankfurter Schüler 1925–1933’ had finally

introduced Motesiczky to the public as a Beckmann pupil,

while also acknowledging her as an artist in her own right.

It was held at the Kommunale Galerie im Refektorium des

Karmeliterklosters in Frankfurt am Main and, for the first

time, brought together almost all of Beckmann’s pupils

at the Städelschule: Carla Brill, Inge Dinand, Theo Garve,

Georg Heck, Walter Hergenhahn, Anna Krüger, Leo

Maillet, Hella Mandt, Friedrich Wilhelm Meyer, Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, Alfred Nungesser and Karl Tratt.

On the whole, Beckmann’s pupils had remained obscure,

belonging to the so-called lost generation in Germany,

whose career was cut off by Hitler’s rise to power. The

exhibition, which was intended to celebrate Beckmann

as an ‘outstanding stimulator of young talent’, 220 received

‘an outstandingly strong response from the Frankfurt

population’, reaching visitor figures that were well above

average. 221 Motesiczky showed fourteen paintings, spanning

the whole of her career.

Her long-awaited artistic breakthrough in Britain came

a few years later, with the major solo exhibition at the

Goethe-Institut in London in 1985 entitled ‘Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky. Paintings Vienna 1925 – London 1985’.

Initiated by the Viennese author and former cultural affairs

correspondent in London for the Frankfurter Allgemeine

Zeitung, Hilde Spiel (1911–90), and steadfastly supported by

the institute’s director, Günter Coenen, the show assembled


seventy-three paintings from numerous public and private and Larry Berryman attested to its ‘staying power’. 226

collections or in the artist’s possession. The sizeable

Motesiczky received enthusiastic letters of appreciation

catalogue contained introductions to Motesiczky’s work from visitors to the exhibition. One admirer, for example,

by Günter Busch, the former director of the Kunsthalle wrote gratefully: ‘I am an ordinary Englishwoman aged 58

Bremen; Richard Calvocoressi, then a curator at the Tate who occasionally visits art exhibitions, and your paintings

Gallery and until 2007 the director of the Scottish National meant more to me than I think any other painting ever has.

Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh; and Ernst Gombrich I think they would be just as important to other ordinary

who greatly admired her paintings. Like Motesiczky,

folk . . . I can’t thank you enough for the experience you

Gombrich had left Vienna to settle in England before the have given me by your works.’ 227 Elias Canetti was ecstatic

war. He had been introduced to the artist by his sister Dea, about the success of the exhibition:

a violinist and the wife of John Forsdyke, director of the

It is simply wonderful, the pictures themselves have

British Museum from 1936 to 1950, who had been a

their effect, late, but still in time, the painter Mulo

musician friend of Karl von Motesiczky in Vienna. In his

has been recognized and acknowledged. I am very

introduction Gombrich particularly praised Motesiczky’s

happy to have lived to see that, although I always

artistic independence that made her ‘incapable of adopting

knew it and there was never a second, whatever else

an “ism”’ or ‘striking a pose’. 222 In addition, as if to put

happened between us, that I lost faith in your painting.

You always knew that and some of my power of

an end to the discussion about Beckmann’s influence on

Motesiczky’s work, he stated: ‘What she owes to her admired

faith has passed into the painter. But all that is not

teacher, therefore, is not so much a style, let alone a manner,

so important now, because now there are the pictures

as a moral outlook, an approach to the vocation of art.’ 223

and will never disappear again. There are few things

The exhibition achieved universal critical acclaim.

that seem so just . . . The painter Mulo exists and

A number of major British newspapers, as well as

now will always exist! I don’t think it has ever

several continental ones, published glowing reviews of

happened before: that a painter was discovered at 80

the exhibition. Marina Vaizey hailed Motesiczky as ‘a

when still alive. Even the process itself is unique. 228

dazzling talent’ who had been ‘unveiled late in life’. 224

John Russell Taylor called her work a ‘blinding revelation’, 225

Fig. 39 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Canetti with Two Women on Scales,

undated, brush, ink, black chalk and pastel on paper, 180 × 270 mm


Motesiczky herself at first did not realize the impact

the reviews had. In retrospect, she called the triumph of

the exhibition simply a ‘fairytale’. 229

Although the artistic recognition that followed the

exhibition at the Goethe-Institut came relatively late in life,

Motesiczky felt no bitterness but only intense pleasure and

satisfaction. Not having expected such a response, she was

all the more overwhelmed by the power of the positive

reviews. 230 The exhibition’s success also enabled her to sell

a number of paintings. Several were purchased by private

collectors. Three works representing the early and late

period of her oeuvre, View from the Window, Vienna, 1925

(no. 4), Still-life with Sheep, 1938 (no. 48), and From Night into

Day, 1975 (no. 251), entered the collection of the Tate Gallery,

London. They were presented to the public as recent acquisitions

in 1986. ‘Marie-Louise von Motesiczky. Paintings

Vienna 1925 – London 1985’ travelled to the Fitzwilliam

Museum in Cambridge. This second venue was arranged

with the help of Peter Black, 231 a young art historian who,

in the 1980s, lived in the artist’s house in Chesterford

Gardens. He was a fervent admirer of Motesiczky’s painting

and worked hard to help it gain prominence, showing her

works at two small exhibitions in 1989 and 1991 in London

51

and Cambridge and mediating in a substantial number

of sales to private collectors. He is now married to one

of Motesiczky’s Dutch relatives.

Motesiczky’s growing fame was certainly also due to

the interest that began to develop in the 1980s in the artists

who had fled Nazi-occupied Europe. Increasingly, exhibitions

were staged to present the work of these exiled artists

to a wider public. Three paintings by Motesiczky, Model,

Vienna, 1930 (no. 33), Frau Seidler, 1940 (no. 51), and Mother

and Child, c. 1954 (no. 133), for example, were shown in the

exhibition ‘Kunst im Exil in Großbritannien 1933–1945’,

held at the Orangery of Schloß Charlottenburg, Berlin,

in early 1986 and subsequently at the Städtische Galerie in

Oberhausen, the Historisches Museum der Stadt Wien and

the Camden Arts Centre, London. At the last of these it was

titled ‘Art in Exile in Great Britain 1933–1945’ and incorporated

an additional body of works that were of more direct

relevance to the location. It celebrated the ‘considerable

contribution to the cultural and political life of Camden’ 232

that these artists had made. The exhibition had a lasting

influence, especially in Germany and Austria, where the

art of emigrants had been ignored for a long time.

The growing public awareness of exile art in Great

Britain, the new home of so many displaced artists, also

led to the exhibition ‘Emigré Artists’ at the John Denham

Gallery, London, in 1987. It brought together seventy-eight

works by thirty-eight artists who had been forced by the

National Socialists to leave their native countries. In the

introduction to the catalogue John Denham acknowledged

that many of the artists, among them Jankel Adler, Martin

Bloch, Jacob Bornfriend, Milein Cosman, Hugo Dachinger,

Georg Ehrlich, Hans Feibusch, Paul Hamann, Erich Kahn,

Walter Nessler, Kurt Schwitters, Arthur Segal and Fred

Uhlmann, had so far been ‘seriously neglected’ or even

‘virtually forgotten’. 233 Motesiczky, who had shared this

fate for the greatest part of her life, showed two paintings,

Still-life with Scales, 1929 (no. 28), and Still-life with Gong,

1941 (no. 53).

As well as having entered the canon of exile artists,

Motesiczky was by now also firmly acknowledged as a

London painter. In 1986 Camden Arts Centre, just down

the road from Chesterford Gardens, staged an exhibition

that followed on from the 1974 show of local artists and

was called ‘Hampstead Artists 1946–1986’. Motesiczky’s

work was represented by an early portrait of her mother,

Reclining Woman with Pipe, 1954 (no. 129).

As late as 1992, an exhibition in Berlin for the first

time linked Motesiczky with Jewishness. The large-scale

presentation, ‘Jüdische Lebenswelten. Jüdisches Denken

und Glauben, Leben und Arbeiten in den Kulturen der Welt’,

at the Martin-Gropius-Bau gave an overview of Jewish life

and thinking around the world. It included Conversation in

the Library, 1950 (no. 103), Motesiczky’s portrait of two Jewish

intellectuals, fellow emigrants and friends, the poet and

anthropologist Franz Baermann Steiner (1909–52) and the

writer Elias Canetti (1905–94). Until now, Motesiczky’s

Jewish origins had never been considered in connection

with her oeuvre. Depicting no subject matter that could be

termed specifically either Jewish or Christian, the paintings

themselves bear no witness to the religious beliefs of their

creator. The themes of expulsion and flight, traditionally

associated with Jews and other victims of Nazi terror, are

expressed indirectly and transported to a non-specific level,

as for example in The Travellers, 1940 (no. 50). Motesiczky

had become aware of her Jewish roots only through

the racial policies of the National Socialists. In the years

immediately before her emigration, the term ‘Jude’ (Jew) in

reference to Motesiczky, her friends and relatives, entered

her correspondence only occasionally in a semi-comic,

mocking tone. The experience of the Second World War

and the Holocaust had changed this nonchalant attitude and

led to an awareness of shared identity. When, for example,

on a visit to Vienna in 1958, Motesiczky encountered a

complete stranger, she managed to create an immediate

understanding by asking: ‘Are you a Jew? – Yes, he said –

Me too, I said – and contact was established’. 234 Despite

this instant affiliation, Motesiczky, who did not believe in

God and had no faith in an afterlife, was not a religious

person. Over the years she increasingly accepted her

Jewish heritage, refraining, however, from adopting its

religious rites. Her contribution of two guineas towards

six trees for the Tuttnauer Memorial Forest in Israel in

1966 should probably be seen as a token gesture of goodwill

towards the State of Israel rather than a political or

religious statement. 235

final years

Her growing reputation as a painter, instigated by the

exhibition at the Goethe-Institut, caused Motesiczky to

consider her artistic legacy in the last years of her life.

She summed up her thoughts in the following letter:

I had my first true success late, when I was 80. This

however does not mean that my name is established –

that I can ask for high prices – you have to have many


exhibitions, there should be a book etc. I will not live

to see this anyway. My oeuvre is small, I gave a lot of

time to my mother. Every picture counts . . . All that

matters to me is that what I attempted with all my

strength in sixty years does not disappear and that also

‘the image’ of my mother in the broader sense survives.

The paintings are meaningless if they cannot be shown

. . . I want to make sure that the paintings continue to

live, also physically – that people can see them – that

they don’t disappear in kitchens, ante-rooms, cellars and

finally in flea markets. Unfortunately, museums are

the only place where they can be safe. I don’t need to

live to see that, but I would like to secure their future

like other people want that for their children. 236

After consultations with many friends, relatives and

strangers and the birth and subsequent dismissal of various

ideas, this train of thought eventually led to the setting

up of the Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust

in 1992. The Trust’s main aim is to further the education of

the public in the fine arts and to look after Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky’s artistic and personal legacy by familiarizing a

wider audience with her work. Motesiczky nominated five

trustees, Jeremy Adler (Professor of German, King’s College,

London), Michael Jaffé (Director, Fitzwilliam Museum,

Cambridge, 1923–97), her relative Richard Karplus, Sean

Rainbird (Curator, Tate Gallery, London, now Director of

the Staatsgalerie Stuttgart), and David Scrase (Assistant

Director, Collections, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge),

to oversee the Trust’s work, and she made over to it her

house with its contents, including her paintings, drawings,

sketchbooks, letters, diaries, photographs and books, as

well as sufficient funds to finance it. In 2006 Jeremy Adler

and Richard Karplus were replaced by Frances Carey (Head

of National Programmes at the British Museum) and the

solicitor Julian Chadwick. The Trust was thus in a position

to carry out the work Motesiczky wished, to research her

life and work and to preserve her paintings. It would not

have been possible to write her biography or compile a

catalogue raisonné of her paintings while she was still

alive since she obstructed all efforts to gain information.

She was, however, happy for this work to be carried out

after her death.

Two years before she died, Motesiczky experienced

a final triumph in her native Austria: the Österreichische

Galerie Belvedere in Vienna held a retrospective exhibition

of her work, organized by Peter Black, in spring 1994. Fifty

works, mainly paintings but also a few drawings, from

seven decades were shown, spanning her entire career.

The accompanying catalogue, which sold out completely,

brought together two earlier essays on Motesiczky by Ernst

Gombrich (in German translation) and Benno Reifenberg,

with Jeremy Adler’s fresh appraisal of her paintings entitled

‘Kunst als Feier’. Reviewers expressed unanimous relief

that, finally, this artist had come home and received the

recognition she deserved. Since the honour of a solo exhibition

at the Belvedere is only rarely bestowed on living

artists, the show was seen as an act of reparation. 237 In the

wake of the exhibition, the Österreichische Galerie also

purchased Self-portrait with Comb, 1926 (no. 13), for 300,000

Schillings, its second Motesiczky painting. Motesiczky

received several congratulatory letters marking the importance

of this acquisition: ‘Paintings, unlike books (as you

said) need a physical home to survive; yours have got it now

– and what a one, one of the best in the world. So, you too,

dear Marie-Louise, will never die.’ 238 The exhibition went

on to be shown at the Manchester City Art Galleries later

in the year.

By the time of this exhibition the artist had already

established her reputation as an important Austrian painter

of the twentieth century. In recognition of her achievement

she was awarded the Österreichisches Ehrenkreuz

für Wissenschaft und Kunst I. Klasse on 19 September

1994. 239 The following year six of her paintings were

included in the exhibition ‘Neue Sachlichkeit. Österreich

1918–1938’ at the Kunstforum Bank Austria in Vienna as

a matter of course. Her natural place in the canon of

Austrian art has since been repeatedly confirmed, for

example by the inclusion of Elias Canetti, 1960 (no. 165), in

the exhibition ‘Blickwechsel und Einblick. Künstlerinnen

in Österreich’ at the Historisches Museum der Stadt Wien,

and the selection of five of her paintings for the exhibition

‘Jahrhundert der Frauen. Vom Impressionismus zur

Gegenwart. Österreich 1870 bis heute’ at the Kunstforum,

both in 1999.

Motesiczky suffered badly from shingles in 1990. Yet,

amid the pain and preoccupation with the fate of her work,

her will to paint and her painterly interest remained undiminished

and she picked up a brush whenever possible. In

her last decade or so she preferred still-life painting, mainly

using flowers from her own garden. The last painting she

was working on was Still-life, Vase of Flowers, 1996 (no. 331).

It still stood on her easel when she died on 10 June 1996.

A memorial meeting was held at the Tate Gallery on 24

October 1996. Her ashes were buried in the family grave

on the Döblinger Friedhof in Vienna on 28 October 1997.

53

‘It is wonderful to have such a gift’ 240

Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky’s

Oeuvre

the young motesiczky grew up surrounded by her

family’s traditional art collection, which revealed the influence

of the fashionable historicism of the nineteenth century.

Her great-grandparents acquired works of art by Makart and

commissioned Lenbach to paint their portraits. Motesiczky,

however, started to break this mould by admiring the

avant-garde works of Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele and

Oskar Kokoschka, whose paintings she collected on

postcards. Her trip to the Netherlands in 1922 introduced

her to Jan Steen, Frans Hals and Vermeer and opened

her eyes to the paintings of Vincent van Gogh. Shortly

afterwards Max Beckmann and his work entered her life.

By the time Motesiczky started out on a professional

painting career she had already encountered the main

stylistic influences that were to shape her work – with the

exception of Oskar Kokoschka, whose art she got to know

intimately only in England.

In her choice of Beckmann as artistic model Motesiczky

is unique among her fellow Austrian artists of the 1920s

and 1930s. In retrospect, she admitted that among the

conservative tastes of her social circle this must have

seemed rather extravagant: ‘among my mother’s friends,

admirers of Hofmannsthal, I would have been hard put

to it to find one who was not horrified by Beckmann’s

early drawings, and certainly nobody would have

considered his paintings anything but perfectly hideous.’ 241

Motesiczky was therefore at the cutting edge of modern

art when her paintings were first exhibited in 1933.

Yet, despite being under the spell of her teacher,

Motesiczky was aware of another major problem:

‘It was certainly no easy matter to maintain even a spark

of independence.’ 242 Early on Lajos Hatvany warned her

of Beckmann’s overbearing influence: ‘The mannerism of

Beckmann is certainly harmful to you artistically. Remember

what the old Jew tells you, who, in fact, rather likes B.!’ 243

In a radio interview in 1987 Motesiczky confirmed that her

work, especially of the 1920s, owes much to Beckmann and

that, even late in life, the catalogue raisonné of his paintings

served as an extraordinary inspiration if ever she ran dry

(the bird in Sheela Bonarjee, 1964, no. 190, for example, was

modelled after one in Beckmann’s 1940 painting Die M wen,

fig. 147). She emphasized, however, that she considered

her oeuvre to be independent and of her own style, which

in turn she described as more lyrical and colourful than

her teacher’s. 244

Nevertheless, most reviewers of Motesiczky’s art refer to

Max Beckmann as her formative and main stylistic influence.

Yet, while occasionally her painting is dismissed as an

‘emasculated reminder’ 245 of Beckmann’s, there seems to be

general agreement that ‘any sense of direct indebtedness

soon fades’ 246 and that, in her lighter touch, there is no

slavish devotion to her teacher’s model. Since throughout

her career Motesiczky never followed an ‘ism’ or a temporary

fashion, it is acknowledged that she succeeded in

finding an artistic identity by settling on her own subject

matter and evolving a painterly idiom for herself. To a

lesser degree this realization of painterly influence and

kinship yet independence also refers to Oskar Kokoschka

as the other key figure for Motesiczky’s oeuvre, under

whose tutelage her brushwork became progressively freer.

Ernst Gombrich succinctly did away with the whole question

of epigonism by demanding that ‘we must not look for

imitations [of Beckmann and Kokoschka] in her oeuvre, but

at the most for emulations’. 247 In a similar vein the critic

Edith Hoffmann (née Yapou) characterized Motesiczky’s

debt to ‘two leaders of expressionism’ in the following way:

‘Her capacity to model with paint, to build up a composition,

bold, in big shapes, plastic and clear, is due to

Beckmann’s teaching, while her gayer, softer colours, and

her tendency to turn portraits into symbolic compositions

is influenced by Kokoschka.’ 248 Erhard Göpel, a friend of

Beckmann and, as the co-author of the catalogue raisonné

of his paintings, an expert on his work, also praised

Motesiczky’s success in proving her independence: ‘It must

have been difficult to defend yourself against such a strong

influence as that of Beckmann and to arrive at your own

style. Come to think of it, you are the only pupil of

Beckmann who managed to assimilate the influence and

to stay an independent artist, and that means a lot.’ 249

drawings and sketchbooks

The result of this tension was an oeuvre, created over a

period of more than seven decades, that comprises several

hundred oil paintings, numerous drawings and around a

hundred sketchbooks, as well as a clay relief of a kneeling

nude (now lost) and a painted cupboard that stood in

Motesiczky’s dining room. Probably least known, even to

admirers of her art, is the considerable body of drawings

that survives almost exclusively in the archive of the

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust. She was

always reluctant to admit to being able to draw, although

she had in fact been doing it all her life. Unfortunately

the drawings were never dated by the artist and therefore,

unless they refer to a particular painting, are often difficult

to allocate to a specific period. In addition, with the exception

of some extraordinary works such as At the Opera, 1920s

(p. 527), Self-portrait Playing Darts, late 1920s (p. 528), Siesta,

1933 (p. 530), Erna Wohl in the Bath, 1934 (p. 530), Portrait Frau

L., 1934 (p. 532), Aunts, Sketching, 1934 (p. 533), and Hunting,

1936 (p. 534), most of the early drawings, completed before

her arrival in England, appear lost. Judging by the surviving

examples, however, Motesiczky carried out her drawings,

which vary greatly in size, in many different media,

including chalk, charcoal, pastel and pencil, as well as,

occasionally, watercolour, felt-tip pen and ballpoint pen.

The subject matter of the drawings also covers a great

range, comprising cows, monkeys and other animals,

figurative scenes that are difficult to decipher and might

stem from dreams, landscapes such as her immediate

surroundings or impressions gained on holiday, selfportraits

and many portraits. Apart from a large number

of drawings of her mother, her favourite model, there are

portraits of unidentified sitters as well as several studies for

finished portraits. Motesiczky valued portrait drawings for

giving her a chance to try her hand at a person’s features,

but she also employed them as an aide-mémoire in the

absence of the model. Many drawings are preparatory

sketches for paintings – not all of which were ultimately

carried out. They often show her experimenting with

different elements of a composition, for example moving

around and replacing the objects of a still-life or the human

subjects of a figural scene. In most cases there is one

drawing linked with one particular painting, yet occasionally

56

marie-louise von motesiczky ’ s oeuvre

Motesiczky created a substantial number of drawings,

especially for portraits of her mother. From Night into Day,

1975 (no. 251), seems to have held a special fascination for

Motesiczky since there are more drawings for it than

for any other painting, plus a whole sketchbook.

The surviving sketchbooks almost span Motesiczky’s

entire career, although almost certainly some early ones

are lost. They vary enormously in size, quality and origin.

In many cases Motesiczky drew on only a few pages, usually

at the beginning and end, leaving most of the sketchbook

empty. In just a few instances the whole sketchbook has been

filled. The sketches are often very rough and were probably

carried out quickly. Like the drawings, the sketchbooks

use a variety of media. Motesiczky usually employed a soft

pencil, but she also used ink, felt-tip pen, ballpoint pen and

watercolour on a few pages. She frequently recorded ideas

for figural compositions, such as variations on a swimming

pool or street scenes. She also liked to sketch the

immediate view that presented itself to her, capturing the

countryside, parks, urban neighbourhoods or the view

from a window. Other pages contain portraits (often just

the head, sometimes whole figures – mainly unidentified

and not related to paintings), animals (dogs, pigs, monkeys,

donkeys, peacocks, snakes, cows, deer, pelicans), flowers,

still-lifes and nudes. A few sheets carry notes of the colours

Motesiczky intended to use in a worked-up version of

the sketch. Sometimes the sketches are interspersed with

personal notes, phone numbers and abandoned drafts

of letters. Rarely is a page torn out.

paintings

The most important body of work in Motesiczky’s oeuvre

is certainly her oil paintings. In total 337 paintings are

known. For a working life that lasted over seven decades

this might seem a relatively small output. Motesiczky was

a slow worker, 250 and although she worked continuously

throughout her life, usually concentrating on one painting

at a time, there were long periods of inactivity where she

did not get much work done. Apart from personal problems

with Canetti, it was mainly her mother, the worries

connected with her well-being and the running of the

household, that restricted her freedom and kept her from

the studio. Motesiczky acknowledged that she devoted

herself to her mother while never experiencing it as a

sacrifice: looking after her mother was always more important

to her than preparing an exhibition. Therefore, she

admitted, many chances might have been missed since it

was not possible to do everything with the same intensity. 251

Besides, being privileged enough not to have to earn a

living, she was never under economic pressure to paint

more pictures in order to make money. Taking her profession

very seriously, she was happiest when she was not

distracted by her surroundings and able to paint in peace.

Usually she based her paintings on a charcoal underdrawing,

laid directly on the primed canvas; towards the end of her

career she sometimes employed pastel, chalk or charcoal

on top of the paint. A rare example of her use of other

materials can be seen in Still-life Christmas Mail, 1988

(no. 294). She also produced five paintings and one drawing

on hardboard. Apart from completed or almost completed

canvases her estate also contained ten canvases that show

only an underdrawing, as well as twenty that are probably

finished but were not attached to a stretcher.

Many of Motesiczky’s paintings remained unframed

during her lifetime. If paintings were framed, she preferred

simple wooden frames that defined a clear boundary

without ‘painting the picture further’. 252 She chose colours

that did not occur in the picture, often a light grey. As if to

make up for the lack of a frame, Motesiczky employed a

stylistic device in a number of still-lifes and portraits incorporating

the frame in the picture. Usually on two sides, the

top and one side, she painted solid blocks of colour, giving

the image firm support. Self-portrait in Black, 1959 (no. 159),

with its two distinct black borders, is the most striking

example. In Nude, 1931 (no. 36), and Self-portrait with Red

Hat, 1938 (no. 47), the black lines, although thinner, are no

less effective in anchoring the figure. In some paintings

Motesiczky experimented with different colours, positions

and lengths of the two-part frame (for example, Dwarf,

1928, no. 22; Hilda, c. 1937, no. 44; Chemists Shop, 1964,

no. 196; and Mother in Green Dressing Gown, 1975, no. 250).

In a simplified version, the border runs along just one

side, as for example in Small Roulette, 1924 (no. 1), where

she first tried out this idea, Fr ulein Engelhardt, 1926/7

(no. 15), Frau Saaler, c. 1942 (no. 60), and Frau Litwin, 1952

(no. 115). In a further variation, Motesiczky dissolves the

strict border, incorporating it as part of the composition,

for example a window (Still-life with Tulips, 1926, no. 11, and

Portrait of a Russian Student, 1927, no. 16), the back of a sofa

(Dorothy, 1945, no. 74) or a door-frame (Marie in Doorway,

after 1954, no. 134).

The paintings are usually medium-sized. There are a

few exceptions among the figural paintings, which tend to

be larger. The Old Song, 1959 (no. 158), is by far the biggest

canvas Motesiczky ever used. The elongated vertical format

57

of some earlier works, including View from the Window,

Vienna, 1925 (no. 4), View of Vienna, 1925 (no. 3), and Summer

Landscape, 1926 (no. 14), which was inspired by Beckmann,

was not repeated later. Some late still-lifes, such as Still-life

with Lemon, 1980 (no. 268), were painted on a particularly

intimate scale.

On a practical level, Motesiczky tackled the problem of

making an inventory of her paintings only late in life. For

the first decades of her artistic career there are only

disparate records and no consistent lists. In 1985 she hired

a part-time secretary, Barbara Price, who prepared the first

comprehensive set of index cards for the paintings.

Compiled with great care and to the best of the artist’s

knowledge, they nevertheless contain a number of

mistakes. 253 The majority of Motesiczky’s paintings have

been neither signed nor dated. So, according to Barbara

Price, some dates had to be arrived at by guessing. Even

earlier on, in numerous instances Motesiczky had dated

her paintings incorrectly. Having completed a picture she

would not automatically sign and date it. So it could be

decades later that the need finally arose, perhaps in

connection with an exhibition or at the request of a buyer.

It is not surprising that she sometimes assigned a work to

the wrong year. In one instance, when asked to sign and

change a small detail of the composition she took the

opportunity to overpaint a substantial part of the original.

Sheela Bonarjee, 1964 (no. 190), now sports a totally new

background, painted in the 1980s. It is also incorrectly

dated 1969. As a consequence of these peculiarities, a

substantial number of paintings in Motesiczky’s oeuvre

cannot be matched to a specific year with any certainty.

The catalogue raisonné therefore contains time spans for

several paintings where even a stylistic analysis did not

allow greater precision. In a number of cases, however,

mistakes in dating paintings have been rectified by crossreferencing

information from the archive.

For her paintings Motesiczky preferred to use understated

titles that often fail to explain the content of the

picture. Although The Balcony, 1929 (no. 30), might from its

title be a landscape, it is in fact a self-portrait in the nude.

Another painting, created in 1940, depicts four people in a

boat (no. 50). Knowing the artist’s biography, it is immediately

clear that the subject matter is her enforced crossing

of the Channel into exile. However, its unspecific title, The

Travellers, opens up the field for different interpretations. 254

The title of a double portrait, Evelyn and Friend, painted in

1980 (no. 270), obscures the fact that Evelyn’s companion

is the artist herself.

Throughout her life, Motesiczky used various signatures

for her work. She sometimes put only her name or

the date, but usually used a combination, employing

several variations of her first name and surname, ranging

from ‘Marie Louise’, ‘marie louise’ and ‘marie louise.

m.’ to ‘motesiczky’, ‘M. Motesiczky’, ‘m. motesiczky’

and ‘M.L. Motesiczky’. At times she used only her initials,

signing ‘MM’, ‘M.M.’, ‘MLM’ or ‘M.L.M.’. In an attempt to

make her name more memorable to a potential purchasing

public, she experimented with shortening it to ‘Motesi’

(Still-life with Clematis, 1948, no. 82) or, omitting the ‘z’,

simplifying it to ‘Motesicky’. This version, by no means

easier to pronounce, was originally used for Still-life with

Gong, 1941 (no. 53), Countess with Plum, 1944 (no. 65), and

Three Heads, 1944 (no. 69), although later overpainted

and the missing letter inserted.

The most difficult task, however, is to establish the

often complicated provenance of numerous works.

Motesiczky often gave paintings away, then changed her

mind and wanted them back. Sometimes she kept them

for signing or refused to return paintings to their rightful

owners after they had been shown in an exhibition.

Occasionally she re-used a canvas, overpainting the unsuccessful

earlier image. In the absence of documentation

it is often impossible to give the exact dates when paintings

passed from one owner to another. Equally, some (temporary)

owners may have been omitted from this account.

Furthermore, it has not been possible physically to locate

every painting. While a few were lost during the artist’s

lifetime, some current owners could not be found and

one painting, Portrait, American Model, 1965 (no. 199), was

destroyed in a house fire in 2003. On the other hand, it

seems that Motesiczky did not dispose of paintings with

which she was not happy. Several unfinished, apparently

abandoned works have come to light in the course of

research for the catalogue raisonné.

artistic identity

Apart from a comparatively small number of paintings

that have been shown repeatedly in major exhibitions,

Motesiczky’s oeuvre seems not to have been as exposed to

the public as it might have been. Being forced into exile

early in her career brought with it the loss of professional

networks that she struggled to rebuild in a foreign country.

Natural reticence, a tendency to dither, an inability to make

decisions and an inborn demand for respect that stemmed

from her aristocratic upbringing made it even more difficult

58


for her to assert herself professionally. All in all, despite her

aversion to public exposure and her reluctance to sell her

paintings, she managed to show her work in a substantial

number of both solo and group exhibitions yet still

remained relatively obscure. Her art never followed the

current fashion and probably failed to touch the right nerve

in her adopted country, where German Expressionism and

Neue Sachlichkeit were neither understood nor liked,

and never had a great following. Even Max Beckmann

and Oskar Kokoschka, long recognized as leading artists

of the twentieth century in their home countries, struggled

to gain artistic recognition in Great Britain. Failed attempts

to mount exhibitions abroad, for example in New York in

the 1960s, can probably also be attributed to the lack of

interest in figurative art in the post-war period when

abstract paintings dominated the international art scene.

Even in her native Austria, where her social and artistic

networks had all but disappeared, she experienced

difficulties in gaining recognition for several decades.

Despite being an outsider in both her home and her

adopted country, Motesiczky never gave up believing in

her work and kept the hope of eventually being recognized.

She often worried about the success of an individual painting,

especially while working on it, and she occasionally

experienced periods of hopelessness. Friends, who were

equally convinced of Motesiczky’s talent, would usually try

to cheer her up. While Miriam Rothschild simply enthused:

‘You are such a fantastically gifted creature’, 255 Quappi

Beckmann conjured up her late husband’s good judgement:

‘don’t despair or rather don’t doubt yourself – it is not true

– it [lack of success] is not up to your pictures!! Remember

what Becki told you!!’ 256 Elias Canetti resorted to pointing

out the importance of Motesiczky’s pictures ‘without

which I can not even imagine my life’. 257 Yet, ultimately,

Motesiczky, against the odds, harboured no doubts about

the quality of her oeuvre: ‘I know that my things are now

worth nothing. (although I believe in my painting more

than ever.)’ 258

Coming to terms with the negative effects emigration

had had on her work, she was aware that one does not

necessarily work best under the best conditions and

that the experience of exile is not entirely negative. She

appreciated London as a sanctuary of human individuality

and especially liked ‘the reticence of English life’:

The artist is left alone with himself. Sometimes too

much. He has to learn to use his imagination; he

needs more perhaps here than elsewhere. I shall never

be English enough to fall in love with quarries or old

tree trunks, but London for me contains everything.

And the exotic English faces: marvellous eccentric

old ladies and a whole race of quixotic gentlemen –

a sanctuary of human individuality, intricate and

inexhaustible. 259

Apart from Britain being a treasure trove for models,

Motesiczky especially liked the country’s beautiful parks

and museums. 260 In the 1980s she described her still being

in England in a matter-of-fact, non-sentimental way: ‘I am

simply here . . . The language really is a disadvantage for

me. But an émigré . . . in the sense that I have experienced

an injustice – [I am] not at all.’ 261 Besides, she had become

a firm part of a community of fellow emigrants who made

her feel at home: ‘Here in Hampstead we are an absolutely

German speaking island. You would not realize that you

are in England at all.’ 262

Her struggle for recognition as an artist was not helped

by the relatively small amount of public exposure of her

work within her lifetime. This resulted in a lack of artistic

guidance through contemporary, impartial outside criticism.

There were plenty of comments on her paintings

from her mother, Canetti, some family members and

friends. Yet these remarks often were too well-meaning,

encouraging and sometimes effusive to give her an independent

opinion that might have changed her work. More

exposure to criticism and increased confrontation with

contemporary artists, whom she often failed to understand,

would probably have caused Motesiczky’s art to develop

differently. As it was, she came to terms with this fundamentally

lonely existence. Her art was allowed to develop

independently; she relied on the sense of culture and

identity that she had brought with her. In retrospect she

summed up the lack of confrontation in her painting:

‘Isolation is a word. It sounds sad, but it can also be something

very beautiful. Whether the isolation is good or bad

only becomes clear much later.’ 263 Being forced into exile

did, however, change her outlook on life. Before, she had

been concerned only with painting beautiful pictures,

but the experience of exile made her focus less on herself.

Probably as a consequence of her reclusive creative

existence, Motesiczky did not leave any theoretical

statements about the principles of her art other than a

categorical rejection of abstract art. In her diaries and

letters she rarely commented on individual paintings,

mainly discussing their progress or lack thereof, occasionally

expressing her satisfaction at a successful completion.

59

This gives even more weight to the few self-revelatory

remarks in which she expressed her primary concern with

the narrative structure of her pictures. She once explained

her method as follows: ‘I usually have to paint after nature

– but in the course of a picture I have to be able to invent

freely. Then a story can evolve … stories inspire the

eyes.’ 264 Oskar Kokoschka particularly admired this gift.

‘You can still tell stories!’, he praised her. 265 While she is

once quoted as saying: ‘Everything figurative, beyond the

portrait, is for me a story’, 266 she later extended this to

portraits. 267 Guided by her overriding interest in human

character, Motesiczky always saw the figure as suggestive

of drama. 268 Beyond that, it is especially the still-lifes that

she uses in a masterly way to tell a story. Objects act as

reminders of absent friends or lost family members: in

Still-life with Tulips, 1926 (no. 11), a book is inscribed with

the name of a secret lover. The book that features in

Orchid, 1958 (no. 153), is a reference to her relationship with

Elias Canetti. Still-life with Photo, 1930 (no. 34), is full of

reminders of a world about to crumble. In Still-life with

Sheep, 1938 (no. 48), this world has already disintegrated

and needs to be reassembled. The empty chairs in Still-life

with Asters, 1985 (no. 281), emphasize the artist’s loneliness

after her mother’s death. Conceiving a narrative was thus

at the heart of her creative process.

subject matter

Motesiczky’s artistic world revolves around a limited

number of subjects: landscapes, self-portraits, portraits,

among which the series of her mother are the most

striking, and still-lifes. The latter play a special role in her

oeuvre. They form a large group of works that Motesiczky

produced throughout her career. Combining a momentous

tranquillity with a gentle brilliance, they are also filled

with charm and poetry. Generally, the still-lifes show

Motesiczky’s domestic surroundings and personal belongings.

While they occasionally focus on individual objects

(for example Still-life with Fish, 1982, no. 277), they usually

present a combination of items. Although carefully

arranged, these compositions often seem to record a

casual scene that the artist came across by chance. Many

of the objects depicted in the still-lifes have survived in the

artist’s estate. Amazingly, the toy roulette of the first stilllife,

Small Roulette, 1924 (no. 1), although slightly warped,

was still in the artist’s possession at her death. For the

more recent still-lifes, she used flowers from her own

garden which she arranged in vases in colourful bunches.

Significantly, the spatial relations of many still-lifes are

unclear and undefined – Motesiczky frequently uses a

crooked perspective and overlaps parts (the most obvious

spatial manipulation, however, occurs not in a still-life but

in Studio with Nude Model, 1970, no. 239). Several still-lifes

such as Irises and Peonies, 1945 (no. 72), present an extraordinarily

narrow view. Others, including Still-life, Red Rose,

1961 (no. 176), are seen from an extremely close viewpoint

which elevates the objects to a monumental scale.

Landscapes, although painted only occasionally, also

run through Motesiczky’s career like a red thread. They

were often inspired by one of her frequent trips abroad.

Her visit to a bullring in Madrid in 1927 is recorded in

Bullght, 1928 (no. 20). A holiday in North Wales during the

Second World War resulted in Pier Llandudno, 1944 (no. 64).

A visit to relatives who had settled in Portugal produced

a rare seascape, Cascais, 1954 (no. 127). Her long trip to

Mexico in the 1950s inspired several paintings, among

them Yucatan, Mexico, 1956 (no. 145). Kitzb hel, 1958 (no. 155),

is a souvenir of a skiing trip to the Austrian resort with

friends. A particularly striking view over the Bay of Tunis

led to the creation of Tunisian Landscape, 1964 (no. 197).

Mountains and Orange Trees in Mallorca, 1989/91 (no. 307),

is a reminder of one of her last holidays. Apart from her

travels, she drew her inspiration from her familiar

surroundings. Kr pfelsteig, Hinterbr hl, 1927 (no. 17), and

View from the Window, Vienna, 1925 (no. 4), define the main

localities of her childhood and young adulthood. Regents

Park, 1951 (no. 108), Finchley Road at Night, 1952 (no. 110),

and Golders Hill Park, 1981 (no. 274), mark the small area

in north London in which her later life was based. Other

outdoor scenes, usually including figures, take place in her

own Hampstead garden. 269 She usually relied on sketches

done in situ when it came to preparing landscapes, but

sometimes resorted to photographs as aides-mémoire in

the creative process. She often took her camera with her

on trips 270 and occasionally based a landscape painting on

a photograph. Haystacks, c. 1958 (no. 156), for example, may

have been inspired by a photograph and Mountains and

Orange Trees in Mallorca, 1989/91, was based on a series

of photographs taken during a recent holiday. One paintsmeared

photograph that survived in the estate must have

been the direct model for The Two Lakes, c. 1988 (no. 296).

Deeply interested in, and fascinated by, human beings

and their relationships, Motesiczky’s main subject is the

portrait. Her portraits, of which she painted a large

number, are generally considered to be her best and

strongest works. 271 For Ernst Gombrich, ‘Motesiczky’s

60


portraits are marked by the sensitive empathy which

enables her to convey the presence of the sitter without

resorting to caricature or expressionist distortion’. 272 They

are painted with a psychological insight that seeks an inner

truth yet does not lack a ‘mischievous chuckle’. 273 Critics

have repeatedly compared her portraits with works by

Rembrandt in terms of seriousness and humanity. 274

Indeed, she admired and was inspired by Rembrandt: ‘No

one has ever died for a portrait by Rembrandt (yet some

might have lived for it, me for example, ha, ha)’. 275

Like Rembrandt, Motesiczky never sought to flatter

the sitter. Her portraits refrain from beautification and

idealization and instead attempt tenderly to penetrate the

true character of the person portrayed. She consistently

employed statuesque poses and the half-length format. She

focused on the model’s head, which she rendered in detail,

while often treating the rest of the body and the clothes

summarily; the surroundings stay undefined and are merely

hinted at in many instances. She also liked to create some

interest, without diverting attention from the sitter, for

example by dividing the background into two distinct

halves behind the sitter’s head (Portrait of a Russian Student,

1927, no. 16; Model, Vienna, 1929, no. 27; Model, Vienna, 1930,

no. 32; or Coloured Model, c. 1956, no. 148). Since Motesiczky

preferred to have already or to establish a personal relationship

with her models, she paid particular attention to

emphasizing the sitter’s characteristic personality as she

understood it. In several instances she depicted her subject

with defining objects which were invented. The actress

Ray Litvin, whom Motesiczky painted in 1952 (Frau Litwin,

no. 115), for example, is shown holding a cigarette although

she was not a smoker. Similarly, Maureen Fallon, the subject

of Portrait Maureen, 1977/8 (no. 258), did not play the trombone,

but Motesiczky felt the instrument best expressed

her personality. Sometimes, for example in Portrait of

Elizabeth, 1990 (no. 308), sensing that part of a painting

could not be carried out satisfactorily, Motesiczky tried to

disguise the troublesome area by adding a piece of fabric

that, like a curtain, gently smoothes over the edges. 276

While Motesiczky chose to work with life models, she

painted some portraits from memory. For several others

she used photographs as aides-mémoire. This solitary

method suited her aversion to being watched at work or to

anyone seeing a painting before it was finished. In the last

decades of her life she increasingly relied on photographs.

Usually, she took a whole series of photographs (for

example for the portraits of Victor de Waal, 1979, no. 260;

Elizabeth Tollinton, 1990, no. 308; Jeremy Adler, 1992/4,

no. 319; and Mitzi Rafael, 1988, no. 290), showing the model

in different poses and guises, so that she could continue

working in the absence of the sitter. For her portraits of

Elias Canetti, she had to resort almost exclusively to photographs

because he declined to sit. The posthumous portrait

of Marie, Marie in Doorway, after 1954 (no. 134), was also

based on a photograph. Individual photographs sometimes

even seem to have inspired paintings. Those showing her

elderly mother taking a slow walk along a garden path

appear to have led to the creation of The Way, 1967 (no. 216).

A substantial number of Motesiczky’s sitters remain

unidentified. In the 1920s and early 1930s she tended to

use anonymous, probably paid, models. Due to high unemployment

there was a good market for models into which

Motesiczky could easily tap. 277 Identities stay hidden in

generic titles such as Model, Vienna, 1929 and 1930 (nos 27,

32 and 33), and Nude, 1931 (no. 36). Only occasionally do

the titles of early portraits hint at the sitter’s social group

(Apache, 1926, no. 9) or particular occupation (The Undertaker,

1925, no. 2). After her move to Britain Motesiczky’s

portraits became more frequent. She painted the portraits

of those close to her, Marie (Girl by the Fire, 1941, no. 52),

her landlady (Frau Seidler, 1940, no. 51), her landlord (Father

Milburn, 1958, no. 154), a neighbour (Old Woman, Amersham,

1942, no. 59), her relatives (Countess with Plum, 1944, no. 65)

and friends (Portrait Ludwig Baldass, 1957, no. 151).

Henriette von Motesiczky, of course, was the subject of

a whole series of portraits. She was constantly available and

also willing to sit. Yet Motesiczky still chose other models

who remain anonymous (Portrait of a Smiling Lady, 1944,

no. 67, or Indian Mother with Child, 1945, no. 76). Having

exhausted her immediate surroundings and encountering

problems finding suitable models, later she even turned to

strangers. In her search for new faces she spoke to people

she passed on the street or found sitting on a park bench

and whose looks she found interesting, and asked them

to sit for a portrait. This approach produced portraits such

as Sheela Bonarjee, 1964 (no. 190), and Lorette as Painter,

1968 (no. 220). She also managed to convince some of her

lodgers to become models (Man with Green Scarf, 1975,

no. 249). A few poignant portraits are memorials to

deceased loved ones. After the Ball, painted in 1949 (no. 87),

commemorates Karl von Motesiczky who had perished

in Auschwitz in 1943. Marie in Doorway, after 1954 (no. 134),

is a posthumous tribute to her dear friend and ‘second

mother’, Marie Hauptmann.

Although Motesiczky did not seek commissions, she was

aware of the importance of portraiture for her development

61

as an artist. She was frequently asked by friends, relatives

and strangers to make portraits, yet felt able to take up only

a few commissions: ‘I must and want to paint more people

– but I think it should not be portrait commissions but

people I ask – that is the limit of what I can bear.’ 278 Over

the years, however, starting in the 1950s, she carried out

several portrait commissions – not always to the full satisfaction

of the patron. As happened with Iris Murdoch, 1964

(no. 193), several resulted in disapproval, even rejection, of

the paintings. Her detached objectivity allowed the viewer

an insight into aspects of the sitter’s personality that he/she

might not be willing to disclose. In 1954, for example, she

was commissioned to paint the portrait of Ursula Vaughan

Williams (1911–2007), the young wife of the composer

Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872–1958), a friend of Elias

Canetti (no. 132). Motesiczky portrays the sitter seated in an

armchair, her gaze directed towards the floor. Although the

portrait was first accepted, it was returned to the artist in

1958. According to its current owner, the Vaughan Williams

had been dissatisfied with the fact that the sitter, a lively

and vivacious person, was portrayed in a pose that, they

felt, did not accurately convey her beauty and character.

Several decades later Baron Philippe de Rothschild (1902–

88) commissioned Motesiczky to paint his portrait. After

staying with him at Mouton Rothschild in France for a few

weeks in spring 1986 Motesiczky created a striking likeness

(no. 287). Yet it soon became clear that the Baron, who had

seen only an illustration of the portrait, neither intended

to accept nor was prepared to pay for it. Portrait Philippe de

Rothschild subsequently found its way into the collection of

the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. Another commission

the following year proved equally disappointing. On the

recommendation of Ernst Gombrich, Motesiczky was

invited by the Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain

and Ireland to paint a portrait of Cyril Frederick Scurr,

one of the Association’s former presidents (no. 288). The

finished work, however, did not meet the approval of

the patrons since, according to the sitter, ‘the style of the

portrait was not suitable to hang at the Association in the

gallery of presidential portraits at their headquarters’. 279

Portrait of the Anaesthetist Dr Cyril Scurr is now in a private

collection.

Yet, despite these bad experiences, Motesiczky carried

on accepting commissions, always agonizing about her

ability to capture adequately the personality of the individual

portrayed. Some of the sitters were eminent figures, for

example the journalist Benno Reifenberg, 1968 (no. 218),

the zoologist Miriam Rothschild, 1968/9 (no. 224), Victor de

Waal, the Dean of Canterbury, 1979 (no. 260), and Robert

T. Holtby, the Dean of Chichester, 1987 (no. 289). One of

her favourite subjects was Elias Canetti, who also commissioned

a number of paintings over the years, including

one of Veza which was not carried out. 280 He repeatedly

expressed a wish for a portrait of himself, which

Motesiczky granted several times in the course of her

life. Elias Canetti, 1960 (no. 165), for example is now in

the collection of the Wien Museum. In 1990 Canetti

approached Motesiczky with the following words:

Again and again I am asked for a portrait, even by

artists who are not too bad. I always decline, for

two reasons, first because I think of the very best

portraitist who knows me as well as nobody else, but

then also because I cannot sit. I therefore commission

you to paint a portrait of E.C. from memory. I believe

that could turn out extremely well. 281

Motesiczky took up the challenge, using a press photograph

as model. The finished work, however, did not find

favour with Canetti and Portrait Elias Canetti, 1992 (no. 315),

now belongs to the National Portrait Gallery in London.

While some portraits of Canetti entered public collections,

several remained in the possession of the artist.

Study of Canetti Reading, c. 1945 (no. 78), and Canetti, London,

1965 (no. 200), show the author involved in what must be

one of his favourite activities, reading – as does Self-portrait

with Canetti, 1960s (no. 237). Here, however, the emphasis

is on the almost palpable estrangement of the two protagonists

who occupy different parts of the composition and

appear not to be interacting. This, presumably, has to be

read as a comment on the current state of their relationship.

Another work that may be interpreted as a double

portrait of the painter and the author goes to even greater

lengths to display the problems Motesiczky had with their

relationship. Nude with a Rat and Books, painted in the

early 1970s (no. 246), shows a female nude (Motesiczky)

reclining on a low bed. A rat (Canetti) is positioned

between her drawn-up legs, totally engrossed in reading a

book and a newspaper propped up against the nude’s torso.

Robbed of any space to move and any chance of attracting

the rat’s attention, her face has taken on a resigned, longsuffering

expression while the rat, preoccupied with itself,

is seemingly unaware of her plight. The different hopes

and expectations which characterized the relationship are

revealed in another, earlier painting in which Motesiczky

had already unsuccessfully attempted to incorporate

Canetti into her family. In the Garden, 1948 (no. 81), whose

62


German title is Familienbild, brings together the artist,

her aunt Ilse Leembruggen and Canetti in a sunlit outdoor

setting. Yet Canetti’s frowning looks, detached stance

and disapproving attitude suggest that he did not feel

comfortable at being thus appropriated.

In a few, rare cases Motesiczky went beyond the mere

depiction of the individual by placing it in a social context.

In Conversation in the Library, 1950 (no. 103), two scholars,

Franz Baermann Steiner and Elias Canetti, conduct a heated

discussion. The young couple Lo and Lilly, painted in 1951

(no. 107), enjoy a meal together. Mother and Child, c. 1954

(no. 133), shows the artist’s friend Georgette Lewinson as

a new mother, playing with her baby son. These double

and triple portraits, however, remain the exception in

her oeuvre.

An equally small but distinct group of works that stand

out among the figural compositions are the so-called

‘fantasy paintings’. In an oeuvre that is otherwise firmly

based in reality, these magical, sometimes uncanny

pictures seem to originate in the realm of fairytale, fantasy

or vision. Set in a mysterious imaginary world, their cryptic

symbolism can be difficult to decipher but nevertheless

succeeds in captivating the viewer. The majority of these

‘fantasy paintings’, in which critics perceived a kinship

with Max Beckmann, 282 date from the 1950s and 1960s. By

this time a mature artist, Motesiczky had long found the

style and subject matter that suited her and now felt able

to explore further:

For many years I have worked almost exclusively from

nature because I did not dare to render the wealth

and the uniqueness which moved me, without looking

at it. But it has always been a complicated process to

transform reality, to reveal it through colour, so that

one can grasp it at all. Now I feel I have come far

enough even to paint dreams. 283

Among these paintings inspired by dreams is Morning in

the Garden, 1943 (no. 61), in which two women wearing

nightclothes play an enigmatic, almost surreal ball game.

In The Magic Fish, 1956 (no. 146), a scantily clad woman is

engaged in a grotesque, seemingly fateful battle with a

flying fish. Parting, 1957 (no. 149), presents an eclectic group

of human beings and disembodied angels in a strange

gathering around a crystal ball. These often playful scenes

can border on caricature, as in Confrontation in the Forest,

c. 1970 (no. 240), which shows the artist’s defence against

lesbian advances, or in Swimming Pool, 1967 (no. 210), in

which comical characters populate a pool by the sea. In

imitation of the biblical David playing the harp before King

Saul, The Old Song, 1959 (no. 158), depicts an old woman,

Henriette von Motesiczky, reclining in bed while listening

to a white-haired, ermine-cloaked ‘rhapsodian’ playing a

harp at her bedside. A tousled bird, reminiscent of a heraldic

eagle, appears to disturb the rendition. Apart from biographical

allusions which are difficult to decipher, The Old Song

conjures up the universal image of the loneliness of old

age. Hilde Spiel called the painting a ‘grandiose allegorical

composition’. 284 Similarly, several of Motesiczky’s ‘fantasy

paintings’ can be read as allegories. Swimming Pool has

connotations of a Fountain of Youth and The Travellers,

1940 (no. 50), can be seen as a Ship of Fools. As numerous

small sketches show, Motesiczky possessed a wealth of

further ideas for fantastical paintings which were never

carried out.

Perhaps following in the footsteps of Rembrandt and

van Gogh, Motesiczky also created a large number of selfportraits

during her long career. Apart from many sketches

and drawings, numerous paintings present the artist to

the viewer. They are generally considered to be among the

best works in her oeuvre, simply ‘perfect pictures’. 285 One

admiring critic compared them to the other outstanding

series: ‘The self-portraits are no less moving than the

portraits of the mother.’ 286 In the self-portraits Motesiczky

carefully confronts her own reality. She tentatively investigates

various aspects of her personality, her beauty, her age,

her profession, her relationships, and extracts powerful

images which capture her current state of mind and the

circumstances in which she finds herself. The self-portraits

are an outstanding record of self-observation and form

a chronicle of her life.

In one series of self-portraits, Motesiczky focuses on

herself as a woman. These paintings exude an uncompromising

sense of reality and faint melancholy, while at the

same time depicting a woman who is aware of her charms.

The graceful, youthful face with its characteristic slightly

open lips and large, questioning eyes hardly changes and

remains easily recognizable over the years. Her attitude

to life and her outward circumstances, however, change

as the years advance. Self-portrait with Comb, 1926 (no. 13),

shows the young Motesiczky at her daily toilet, holding a

comb and a little hand mirror. Pale and fragile, she appears

only shyly to confront her own image. In contrast, the

drawing Self-portrait Playing Darts, late 1920s (p. 528),

depicts a more self-confident Motesiczky as an energetic

sportswoman who looks at ease in her felt slippers and

untidy surroundings. A self-assured if somewhat defiant

63

woman faces the viewer also in Self-portrait with Straw Hat,

1937 (no. 42), and in Self-portrait with Red Hat, 1938 (no. 47),

Motesiczky reaches the climax of her elegance, beauty and

confidence despite the recent personal upheaval of leaving

her home country. In the full knowledge of her enchanting

good looks she coquettishly includes the profile of a recent

lover. The experience of the London Blitz and the start of

a complicated love affair with a married man cause Selfportrait

in Green, 1942 (no. 55), to take on the air of startled

anxiety and alarm. A sense of resignation characterizes

Three Heads, 1944 (no. 69), which shows Motesiczky as

a weary housewife going about her domestic chores. In

Self-portrait with Veil, 1955 (no. 142), Motesiczky, slightly

worried, honestly assesses her by now mature face. As a

concession to her concern about her thinning, fine hair,

a veil protectively envelopes her head, enabling her to hide.

The middle-aged woman in Self-portrait in Black, 1959 (no.

159), dressed in elegant clothes, appears ready for a night

out. Yet her face wears a mixture of sadness and desolation

that does not bode well. Motesiczky’s tranquil disillusionment

has progressed further in Self-portrait with Pears, 1965

(no. 202), in which, faced with the onset of old age and

loneliness, she seems to be pondering the nature, or even

the loss, of beauty. The Last Self-portrait, 1993 (no. 322),

however, is a final triumph of defiance. Beautifully made

up, the artist movingly portrays herself adopting a regal

posture while her sparse hair, now white, is covered by a

hat. The aristocratic aloofness of the grand figure conveys

the ultimate victory over concepts of age and beauty.

Several of the self-portraits also reveal Motesiczky’s

fascination with her own reflection. She repeatedly

explored this motif in photography, taking pictures of

herself in a mirror or a shop window or posing for others

with a mirror (fig. 40). Motesiczky often included the

mirrors in her self-portraits as a ‘symbol of a thoughtful

search to find the truth behind appearance’. 287 Far from

being a symbol of female vanity in these works, the mirrors

should be seen as the tool that enabled her to carry out the

painting. In some works such as Self-portrait with Comb,

1926 (no. 13), At the Dressmakers, 1930 (no. 35), or Self-portrait

with Mirror, c. 1985 (no. 284), the mirror is a mere accessory.

In others, however, the mirror becomes an integral part of

the composition since the artist is seen only as a reflection

in it. In Self-portrait with Mirror, 1949 (no. 85), and Selfportrait

with Pears, 1965 (no. 202), Motesiczky presents

the image she actually saw when producing the work.

By taking up the position of an onlooker and distancing

herself from her image she objectifies and legitimizes

the scrutiny of herself that would otherwise be considered

vanity. Self-portrait in Mirror Looking Left, 1940s (no. 91),

again shows only Motesiczky’s mirror-image. Yet, curiously,

she disguises the likeness by avoiding a frontal view,

instead depicting her profile. This alienation is taken a

step further in Self-portrait in Mirror, Yellow Roses, c. 1976

(no. 255), which at first glance seems to be a still-life. The

small mirror allows a partial view of her face, an eye,

the nose and part of the mouth, which appears younger

than her age would suggest. In her penchant for mirrors

Motesiczky may have been inspired by Max Beckmann

who also frequently depicted them. Yet, in contrast to

Self-portrait with Comb or At the Dressmakers, his mirrors

only occasionally show no reflection.

Another, very small group of self-portraits presents

Motesiczky in her profession as an artist. Motesiczky

tackled this traditional subject matter very rarely. Only

a handful of paintings testify to her being a painter. In

Self-portrait in Blue, 1964 (no. 195), she balances an open

sketchbook in her lap and holds a pink crayon which she

uses for drawing. The lack of professional attire that might

give rise to doubts about her seriousness as a draughtswoman

is rectified in Self-portrait with Palette, 1960 (no.

168), which unmistakably characterizes her as a painter

with all the attributes of the trade. Wearing an artist’s

smock and a cap and holding a large palette, she stands

by the easel and is in the process of painting a bird. This

creature, on the other hand, refers to another fruit of

Motesiczky’s artistic labours, The Old Song, 1959 (no. 158),

in which it figures prominently. In contrast, Lorette in

the Studio, 1968 (no. 219), presents a scene in a crowded

studio where two painters are in the process of painting a

model. Here, however, the model takes centre stage while

Motesiczky, sitting at her easel, is only partially visible.

Finally, in Hampstead Garden, c. 1970 (no. 242), Motesiczky

and her easel are almost completely hidden by a row of

bushes while the girl on the space-hopper, on whose

picture she is working, occupies the foreground.

A number of further self-portraits highlight Motesiczky’s

relationships with a select number of close friends, for

example Oskar Kokoschka (Two Women and a Shadow, 1951,

no. 109) and Elias Canetti (In the Garden, 1948, no. 81, and

Self-portrait with Canetti, 1960s, no. 237). Perhaps surprisingly,

apart from The Short Trip, 1965 (no. 204), in which the

artist herself is hardly recognizable, there are no paintings

showing Motesiczky together with her mother. She had

once, in the early stages of the conception of The Old Song,

considered such a composition, but she soon discarded the

64


Fig. 40 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky photographing her reflection in

a window, photograph, 1963 (Motesiczky archive)

65

idea. Many sketches and drawings also record ideas for

compositions that unite the two women. However, they

were never carried out as paintings and Motesiczky

instead concentrated on portraits of her mother alone.

The portraits of Henriette von Motesiczky play a unique

role in Motesiczky’s oeuvre. It is generally agreed that they

must be counted among the very best examples of portraiture.

For one admirer, this series of paintings is ‘the

most original, deepest and most coherent contribution

among your paintings to the art of the twentieth century’. 288

He further confessed to ‘know no other cycle of works

in the history of modern painting in this field that is so

innovative, tackled with such courage and solved with such

artistic mastery’. 289 Elias Canetti once told Motesiczky that

the legendary series of mother portraits ‘is your greatest,

truest work … for whose sake your painting will always

survive’. 290 Motesiczky herself considered the paintings of

her mother her most important achievement and wanted

to make sure they did not disappear from public view

after her death.

Motesiczky’s paintings of her mother are characterized

by penetrating sympathy for her model and unbiased

observation. They go beyond the portrait by summing up

a main part of Motesiczky’s life and testifying to the lasting

and loving relationship between mother and daughter.

Apart from the portraits in oil there are an enormous

number of sketches and drawings in which she attempted

to record her mother’s every pose, expression and idiosyncrasy.

The series was created over a period of fifty years,

with the earliest, Henriette von Motesiczky – Portrait No. 1,

dating from 1929 (no. 29) and the last painted posthumously

(The Greenhouse, 1979, no. 266). The majority of these

portraits were created in the 1960s and 1970s when mother

and daughter shared a house. Motesiczky combined her

duty of looking after her ailing mother and the necessity

to create new works by using her as a frequent model.

The portraits of Henriette von Motesiczky allow a rare

glimpse of her personal circumstances and predilections.

Throughout her life, Henriette had been extremely fond

of the countryside, revelling in outdoor activities such as

riding and hunting. An early drawing, Hunting, 1936 (p. 534),

shows her indulging in her passion. She was, however,

equally partial to taking rests, even when younger, as

several portraits prove. In Henriette von Motesiczky – Portrait

No. 1, 1929, she typically reclines in bed. In another early

drawing, the intimate Siesta, 1933 (p. 530), she takes an

afternoon nap. With her advancing years, Henriette found

it increasingly difficult to move around unaided. In the

later portraits she is therefore presented in a limited

number of activities in her immediate surroundings. Many

of these paintings depict her spending a large part of her

life in bed. In several others she sits comfortably in a chair,

following another masculine passion, smoking a pipe, as

in the statuesque Henriette von Motesiczky, 1959 (no. 160),

or partaking of small meals (Henriette von Motesiczky with

Dog and Flowers, 1967, no. 213, and Mother in Green Dressing

Gown, 1975, no. 250). She was mainly confined to enjoying

the tranquillity of her own garden, where she took a little

exercise and went for short walks, depicted in The Way,

1967 (no. 216), or Mother in the Garden, 1975 (no. 248). In The

Short Trip, 1965 (no. 204), she is seen driving an invalid car,

of which, over the years, she possessed several models.

Henriette, who was actually notorious among the residents

of Hampstead for her dangerous driving, is here taking

a brief ride on her lawn. She also liked to help out in the

garden, performing little tasks like weeding or raking

leaves (The Greenhouse, 1979). Henriette M., 1961 (no. 177), in

which she forlornly looks out of the window that appears

to be closing in on her, sums up the old woman’s sadness

at the restrictions in her freedom.

Some of the portraits were painted with a specific story

in mind. The most striking example is The Old Song, 1959,

which speaks not only of Henriette’s passionate curiosity

for news of the outside world but also of the personal

tragedy of the harpist’s failed marriage – represented by

the ugly bird, the husband, who spoils the music. In many

portraits Henriette is accompanied by one of her beloved

Italian greyhounds, of which she had three over the years,

named Franzi, Bubi and Maxi. The faithful dogs attempt to

join in every activity, taking exercise in the garden, begging

for food, and slipping under the duvet to take a nap.

The series of mother paintings is most outstanding

for its ‘extraordinary love of truth and a tendency to exaggerate

all that embodies the opposite of general concepts

of beauty’. 291 With her affectionate mercilessness and

unsparing, often brutal honesty Motesiczky makes no

attempts to hide her mother’s less than ideal figure and

lack of conventional beauty. She even highlights her

shortcomings, including the lack of hair to which she had

grown accustomed. Henriette had in fact lost her hair very

early on and over the years employed various means of

disguising this. Her use of a turban is documented in

Portrait with Turban, 1946 (no. 80). Several portraits show

her wearing a wig, for example Reclining Woman with Pipe,

1954 (no. 129), Henriette von Motesiczky, 1959, and Henriette

M., 1961. In The Old Song, 1959, Henriette von Motesiczky,

66


now in her seventies, has a balding head with only a few

grey wisps of hair left. In her old age she no longer bothered

to hide her baldness when sitting for a portrait. In

Mother with Baton, 1977 (no. 257), her remaining hair is held

together in a thin, short ponytail. Here, and in several

other portraits, the indication of a slight moustache

suggests the growth of unwanted hair.

Accompanying Henriette von Motesiczky’s final years,

the mother portraits are the extremely moving record of

physical decline into extreme old age. In her final years

the formerly rather robust Henriette became ‘thin . . . like

a ghost’. 292 Despite her ailments she showed immense

courage. Motesiczky praised her: ‘So brave, like a soldier.

Never ever a complaint.’ 293 The late portraits, such as

From Night into Day, 1975 (no. 251), and Mother with Baton,

manage to convey the fragility of the emaciated body,

highlighting arms that are thin like sticks and emphasizing

the now even more pronounced characteristic facial

features of a bulbous nose and large, dark sunken eyes.

Mother in Bed, c. 1977/8 (no. 259), executed in the last year of

Henriette’s life, shows her noticeably near death. Devoid of

hair she conveys a strangely asexual quality. Omitting any

paraphernalia Motesiczky focuses on the familiar face in

the knowledge that she is painting her for one last time.

67

Notes

1 Motesiczky 1985, p. 11.

2 Motesiczky’s biography is based on material from the

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London,

whose archives contain the artist’s writings, letters,

photographs, drawings and paintings. On the Lieben

family see: Arnbom 2003, pp. 177–208; Die Liebens,

exh. cat. 2004, passim.

3 Prohibited by the Nazis, the Ignaz-Lieben-Preis was last

awarded in 1937. In 2004 it was reinstated by the American

businessman Alfred Bader who was born in Vienna.

4 On Anna von Lieben’s role in the creation of

psychoanalysis see for example Swales 1986.

5 Freud 1986, p. 243.

6 Freud/Breuer 1978, pp. 127 f., 134 f., 248–55.

7 Ibid., p. 135.

8 Lieben 1901.

9 Arnbom 2003, p. 189.

10 Henriette von Motesiczky included an account of this

brief relationship in her unpublished typescript

Erinnerungen, dated October 1966: Motesiczky archive.

11 Zeitreisen, Radio Bremen 2, 13 July 1991.

12 Zeitgenossen, Südwestfunk 2, 2 August 1987.

13 ‘nie aus dem Paradies ausgetrieben worden ist’:

Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.

14 The information on Edmund von Motesiczky has been

taken from Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986; Peter

Swales to his colleagues, 8 January 1980: copy in the

Motesiczky archive; Gaugusch 2004, p. 233.

15 ‘voll Anerkennung für ein Genie auf der einen Seite

und Gentleman auf der anderen’: Wolfgang J. Magg

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 29 November 1966:

Motesiczky archive.

16 Undated manuscript by Marie-Louise von Motesiczky:

Motesiczky archive.

17 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,

13 March 1954; undated autobiographical typescript by

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky: Motesiczky archive.

18 His collection is documented in Falke 1930.


20 ‘zweite Mutter’: Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.

21 ‘dieser beste Mensch, den Du je gekannt hast’: Elias

Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 6 September

1987: Motesiczky archive.

22 ‘gütige, lustige, unschuldige, ständig arbeitende,

wunderbare Frau’: Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.


24 ‘ganz unmögliche Hauslehrer’: Zeitgenossen,

Südwestfunk 2, 2 August 1987.

25 Ibid.

26 Jahreszeugnis Öffentliches Mariahilfer Mädchenlyzeum,

Linke Wienzeile 4, Vienna: Motesiczky archive.

27 ‘Das macht nichts, dann geh halt nicht mehr in die

Schule.’: Zeitgenossen, Südwestfunk 2, 2 August 1987.

28 Motesiczky 1985, p. 11; Zeitgenossen, Südwestfunk 2,

2 August 1987.


30 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Sophie Brentano,

undated: Motesiczky archive.


32 ‘eine sehr tragische, sonderbare Sache’: Menschenbilder,

Ö1, 23 February 1986.

33 ‘hat man halt noch nie gesehen gehabt, so ein Licht’:

Zeitgenossen, Südwestfunk 2, 2 August 1987. Motesiczky

probably refers to Bridge at Arles (Pont de Langlois), 1888,

which is now in the Kröller-Müller Museum in Otterlo.



36 ‘In diesen 3 Monaten intensiven Zeichnens vor allen in

Kohle und Pastell beschloss ich dass dies mein Leben

werden soll. Dem Ernst mit dem C.M. uns zur Arbeit

anhielt … habe ich viel zu verdanken Die erste Sache

dies sie wirklich lobte war eine Skitze von einem kleinen

dreckigen Gassen Bübchen so ein 5 Jahriger etwas. Ich

dachte es sei nicht viel, weil es so schnell gehen musste

und keine Zeit war es auzuführen. Siehst du da hast

Du das wesentliche getroffen das ist gerade gut. Ich

freute mich und dacht aber so kann man’s auch

machen’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry

for 14 November 1980: Motesiczky archive.

37 ‘Eines ist sicher . . . daß diese 3 Monate ein Anfang

waren zu einem neuen Leben’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Henriette von Motesiczky, [26 June 1922]:

Motesiczky archive.

38 Du bist gesund, und jung, und reich, und schön,

Begleitet könnt’st Du oft nach Hause gehn!

Du hast Talent – vielleicht sogar Genie –

Viel Temp’rament und etwas Phantasie . . .

Du wirst verwöhnt und jeder hat Dich gern,

Es huld’gen Dir die allerhöchten Herrn: . . .

Was willst Du mehr?! – Denk an Punkt: 1–10

Und lass die Traurigkeit im Winkel stehn!

A photograph of the poem, which is now part of

a private collection, is in the Motesiczky archive.

39 ‘wohl die klügste Frau, die ich kenne, meine einzige

Freundin’: Käthe von Porada to Peter Zingler, 24 April

1974: Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen, Max

Beckmann Archiv, Munich.


41 ‘Wenn ich nun sagen würde ich will Malerin werden so

würde das heißen Künstlerin werden. Dieses kann man

aber nie werden sondern nur sein o. nicht sein. Doch

daß das Erfassen der Erscheinung u. das Verarbeiten

der Eindrücke jahrelange Übung u. das erlernen

des Ausdrucksvermögens höchste Willenskraft u.

Konzentration erfordert ist mir immer völlig klar

gewesen.’: undated, handwritten note by Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky: Motesiczky archive.

42 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von

Motesiczky, [1924]: Motesiczky archive.


44 Ibid., p. 11.

45 ‘bildhübsch’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette

von Motesiczky, [8 July 1922]: Motesiczky archive.

46 Quappi Beckmann to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

14 February 1951: Motesiczky archive.

47 Beckmann 2000, pp. 9 f., 12.



50 Ibid.

51 Max Beckmann als Lehrer was first given as a lecture at

the annual meeting of the Max Beckmann Gesellschaft

in Murnau in 1963 and subsequently published in the

Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Motesiczky 1964) and,

in English translation, as Motesiczky 1984.



54 Ibid., p. 51.

55 ‘Dank für die Photos. Alle Achtung. Nur so weiter. Es

ist viel ernsthafte Arbeit darin. Nur jetzt Stange halten!!’:

Max Beckmann to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

12 February [1926], reprinted in Beckmann 1994, p. 31.

56 ‘Im übrigen habe ich dem Becki Photos von meinen

Sachen gezeigt u. er war ganz zufrieden – hab

Fortschritte gemacht sagt er – Du weisst dass ich darüber

guter Laune bin!!’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Henriette von Motesiczky, 17 March 1930 (postmark):

Motesiczky archive.


58 ‘traumhafte Lyrik’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias

Canetti, 14 August 1947 (postmark): Motesiczky archive.

59 ‘Verflucht noch mal Pizchen, Sie haben doch wirklich ein

schönes Talent, malen Sie ein paar gute Bilder und die

Welt wird wieder schön’: Max Beckmann to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 15 January 1949, reprinted in Beckmann

1996, pp. 237 f.

60 ‘Ich wünschte ich hätte viel Geld, dann würde ich Sie

heiraten und Sie dürften sich 2 Geliebte halten zum

Entsetzen aller Ihrer Tanten und Verwandten.’:

Karl Tratt to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 30 May 1933:

Motesiczky archive.

61 ‘Das Bild finde ich recht interessant. Bringen Sie’s

doch mit, wenn’s geht, damit Sie’s nächstes Jahr mit

ausstellen können.’: Max Beckmann to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, end September 1927, reprinted in

Beckmann 1994, p. 100.

62 ‘Erzieherisch ist jede Reibung mit der Aussenwelt, daher

auch die mit der Kritik’: Max Beckmann. Über den Wert

der Kritik (Eine Rundfrage an die Künstler), 1912, quoted

in Göpel/Göpel 1976, vol. 2, p. 3.

63 ‘Sie müssen einschicken . . . sonst laufen Sie immer

hinterm Leben nach.’: Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February

1986.

64 Yapou 1944.

65 ‘Der äußere Erfolg war ihr immer unwichtig’:

Anonymous [Victor Matejka] 1966.

66 ‘Gott schick mir Kinder wenn’s auch nur Bilder sind’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 6 February


68

67 Alec Guinness to Anne Kaufman-Schneider, 19 August

1986, kindly made available by Piers Paul Read.

68 Linda de Vriess to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

16 November [1986]: Motesiczky archive.

69 Alec Guinness, diary entry for 4 June 1987, kindly made

available by Piers Paul Read.

70 ‘Das arme Pizchen ist sehr verzweifelt über Berlin und

hat schwer zu kämpfen. – Trotzdem ist es gut für Sie.’:

Max Beckmann to Quappi Beckmann, 27 November

1928, reprinted in Beckmann 1994, p. 133.

71 ‘ich gehe zugrund, Haushalt, Haushalt, Haushalt!!’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von

Motesiczky, [1928/9]: Motesiczky archive.

72 ‘Denke nur wie schwer es ist gute Bilder zu malen,

Fortschritte zu mach etwas zu werden, denke an die

Sängerinnen von 100 wird eine etwas u die Malerinnen!!

Alle 100 Jahre wird aus einer etwas!! Darum ist es schwer

denn selbst wenn man nichts besonderes ist braucht das

Kraft u. Ausdauer halbwegs gute Arbeiten zu machen . . .

Das merkwürdige ist das, obwohl sich das Leben bisher

als eine interessante aber recht zweifelhafte Dame

erwiesen hat, ich noch immer das Wunder (im algemeinen)

erwarte oder wie man hier so schön sagt mir

die Zigaretten an den Sternen anzünden möchte.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von

Motesiczky, [1928/9]: Motesiczky archive.




4 May 1956: Motesiczky archive.

75 Wolfgang Paalen to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

7 January 1958: Motesiczky archive.

76 Hanuschek 2005, p. 433.



78 ‘Sei nicht traurig u. unruhig, wegen Arbeit u. so. Wenn

ich so gute Anlage von Natur zum Malen hätte, wie Sie,

wäre ich fröhlicher.’: Siegfried Sebba to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, [1929]: Motesiczky archive.

79 In connection with a pregnancy she must have consulted

the eminent gynaecologist Professor Bernhard Zondek

whose invoice for 500 Marks, dated 15 April 1929,

survived in the artist’s estate. Motesiczky’s correspondence

with Siegfried Sebba and Irma Simon also hints

at an abortion.

80 ‘das populärste Bild des modernen Israel’: Gabler 1981,

p. 70.

81 Lebhafte Erinnerung (für Marialouise von Motesiczky)

Der erschauernde Birkenwald, abweisend-gewährendes

Mädchen!

der Hof stand gegen den Himmel braun und die

Schneezungen weiss am Berg,

der Knabe lief stolpernd in Ängsten und Freuden,

in Sonne erstrahlte das Schöpfungswerk,

die Gipfel zerteilten die Wolken, der Wind trug

Altweiberfädchen.


82 ‘beinahe hätten wir uns geheiratet’: Benno Reifenberg

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 22 November 1965:

Motesiczky archive.

83 ‘du bist mir lieber Überfluss, notwendiger Luxus, – mehr

als mir zukommt. Mein Glück (ehelich) ist vollkommen –

und doch fehlst Du, es fehlt was, wenn Du weg bist. Ich

habe an meiner Frau alles, – Du bist das Mehr, – mir

fehlt das Mehr.’: Lajos Hatvany to Marie-Louise von


84 ‘Mit Ausnahme einiger Lichtpunkte, die zu beschreiben

mir Deine Bescheidenheit verbietet, denke ich mit

Schaudern an die Wiener Jahre. Das Exil war eine

grosse Krankheit’: Lajos Hatvany to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 17 September 1929: Motesiczky archive.

85 ‘Du bist wirklich ein süßes und seltenes Wesen. Ich . . .

bin dumm genug, es Dir schwarz auf weiß zu geben:

daß ich vielleicht nie noch so ehrlich in jemanden

verliebt war wie ich es jetzt für Dich empfinde.’: Herbert

Schey to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 6 August 1937:

Motesiczky archive.

86 ‘anmassenden u. selbstsicheren Bande’, ‘Teufeln’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,

[after 1945]: Motesiczky archive.

87 On the Hagenbund see Die verlorene Moderne,

exh. cat. 1993.

88 Born 1933.

89 ‘während Maria Motesiczky sich im Format und in der

Komposition Blößen gibt und sich bedenklich dem

Kitsche nähert’: tr. 1933.

90 ‘Noch wären rühmlich anzureihen . . . M. L. Motesiecky’:

F. 1933.

91 Heimito von Doderer: Lebhafte Erinnerung, poem,

dated 1928: Motesiczky archive.

92 Elias Canetti to Viktor Matejka, 14 October 1967:

Dokumentationsarchiv des österreichischen

Widerstandes, Vienna, Nr. 18861/22. I thank Christiane

Rothländer for this information.

93 Ibid.

94 Jill Lloyd in conversation with Gian Carlo Menotti,

23 June 2002: Motesiczky archive.

95 Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 25 October 1926: Motesiczky archive.

96 Henk de Waal to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

12 March 1935: Motesiczky archive.

97 Motesiczky archive.


99 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Wilhelm Reich, [1934]:

Motesiczky archive.

100 R.V. Bakker to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 14 March


101 ‘denn Tante Ilse hätte jetzt sicher so vielen Menschen

zu helfen die es mehr brauchen’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Sophie Brentano, undated: Motesiczky

archive.




104 This episode is recounted in numerous undated letters

from Motesiczky to Sophie Brentano (Motesiczky

archive), see also Beckmann 2000, p. 29.

105 Beckmann 1979.

106 ‘verzweifelte Gedanken an B.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 23 February 1945: Motesiczky archive.

107 ‘Beckmann lebt!’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary

entry for 22 June 1945: Motesiczky archive.

108 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entries for 3, 7 and

10 August 1945: Motesiczky archive.

109 Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986. On Karl von

Motesiczky see Christiane Rothländer, especially 2004a.

110 ‘bis aufs äußerste ausgebeutet’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, undated autobiographical typescript:

Motesiczky archive.

111 Adunka 1994.



113 Veth 1939.

114 A.d.B. 1939; Anonymous [1939].

115 Handwritten note by Marie-Louise von Motesiczky on

Veth 1939: Motesiczky archive.


117 Karl von Motesiczky to Henriette von Motesiczky,

[October 1938]: Motesiczky archive. The painting is

probably identical with Versuchung eines Heiligen of the

Danubian School, which was confiscated after Karl von

Motesiczky’s arrest. It was sold at an auction at the

Dorotheum, Vienna, on 19 October 1943 for RM 14,300.

In 1949, when the painting was in the possession of the

Bayerische Staatsgemäldesammlungen in Munich,

Henriette von Motesiczky tracked it down (I thank

Evelyn Adunka for this information). It was subsequently

returned to her.

118 Canetti 2005a, p. 25.

119 ‘das war dann eigentlich zum Teil eine sehr schöne

Zeit, so verrückt das klingt’: transcript of a BBC radio

programme, 1988, details unknown: Motesiczky archive.

120 See Hanuschek 2005 and Schlenker 2005 for more

information on the relationship between Canetti and

Motesiczky.

121 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

28 November 1974: Motesiczky archive.

122 Canetti 2005a, pp. 32–47.

123 Canetti 2001, pp. 197–204.


125 Elias Canetti’s Aufzeichnungen für Marie-Louise were

published in 2005 by Hanser Verlag (with an afterword

by Jeremy Adler).

126 ‘persönliche Katastrophe’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Sophie Brentano, 8 November 1974:

Motesiczky archive.

127 Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986. See also

Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, p. 173.

128 ‘ganz ohne C. Welt ohne Sinn – mit C endlose

Quälerei.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry

for summer 1977: Motesiczky archive.

129 To be published soon by Hanser Verlag.

130 ‘Mein Roman “The Response” ist der Malerin Marie-

Luise Motesizky gewidmet. Denn der leise Zauber, der

von ihr ausgeht, hat mich zu einer Figur angeregt und

ihre Feinheit hat meine Wildheit gebändigt und die

Figuren und die Musik meines Buches bestimmt.’:

undated note by Veza Canetti: Motesiczky archive.


[after 1977]: Motesiczky archive.

132 ‘verbunden sein wirst solange es Menschen gibt’:

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1956]:

Motesiczky archive.


134 ‘Du bist ein sehr grosser Maler und ob Du es willst oder

nicht, die Welt wird es erfahren. Jedes Bild, das Du noch

malst, wird in die Geschichte der Malerei eingehen.’:

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 20 July



136 Henriette von Motesiczky to Käthe von Porada,



138 ‘adoptiert’: Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.

139 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg,

17 January 1964: Deutsches Literaturarchiv, Marbach,

Estate Benno Reifenberg.


141 ‘Es ist Frieden . . . Kokoschkas erscheinen. O.K. ist

scheusslich mit meinem Bild v. Mutter.’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, diary entry for 8 May 1945: Motesiczky

archive.

142 ‘hoffnungslos’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary


143 ‘Nicht anrühren!’: Zeitgenossen, Südwestfunk 2,

2 August 1987.

144 ‘Zeichnung Olda, K, ich’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 25 June 1945: Motesiczky archive.

145 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [1940s]:

Motesiczky archive.

146 Interview with Georgette Lewinson, 15 May 2000.

147 Murdoch 1988, pp. 536 f.

148 Elias Canetti, handwritten note, [1944]: Motesiczky

archive.

149 Newton 1944.

150 Yapou 1944.

69

151 John Rothenstein to Oskar Kokoschka, 16 October 1944:

Motesiczky archive.



153 ‘quasi in Einzelhaft’: Renée Cushman to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 27 February 1957: Motesiczky archive.

154 Engelman 1952.

155 Veth 1952.

156 Braat 1952.

157 ‘lyrisch en zacht’: Prange 1952.

158 Filarski 1952a.

159 Braat 1952.

160 M.B. 1952; see also Buys 1952, Filarski 1952a,

Gruyter 1952, Prange 1952.

161 Anonymous 1952a.

162 ‘essenziell’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias

Canetti, 22 August 1954: Motesiczky archive.

163 Carwin 1954.

164 Certificate of Naturalization for Marie Louise

Motesiczky known as Motesiczka, dated 17 April 1948:

Motesiczky archive.

165 ‘der Kinder und Gerechtigkeit liebte’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Sophie Brentano, undated: Motesiczky

archive.

166 ‘größtes und schönstes europäisches SOS-Kinderdorf’:

Hermann Gmeiner to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


167 The inscription is based on the dedication of a book

by Bruno Seidel, a friend of Karl von Motesiczky

(Industrialismus und Kapitalismus. Sozialethische und

institutionelle Wandlungen einer Wirtschaftsform,

Meisenheim/Glan 1955): ‘Für die selbstlose Hilfe, die er

Verfolgten gewährte, erlitt er im Konzentrationslager

Auschwitz selbst den Tod.’

168 Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.

169 ‘Wien ist so anregend für mich malerisch mir fallen so

viele Dinge ein – das hängt mit Jugenderinnerungen

zusammen . . . und trotzdem könnt ich mir denken dass

ich hier meine besten Bilder malen könnte einmal’:



170 ‘ein kleines Paradies’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 27 July 1963: Motesiczky archive.

171 ‘die phantastische Biedermeier-Ruhe’: Elias Canetti to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 24 February 1965:

Motesiczky archive.

172 Beatrice Owen to Jill Lloyd, 21 July 2000 (original in

capitals): Motesiczky archive.

173 Peter Verdemato to Ines Schlenker (e-mail), 9 July 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

174 In his autobiography Ernst Ginsberg recalls the hospitality

of the Motesiczky women when, in 1933, he arrived in

Vienna as a poor emigrant: Ginsberg 1965, pp. 135 f.

175 ‘Kennen Sie eigentlich Marie-Louise von Metesitzky?

Sie ist durchaus ungewöhnlich und sollten Sie ihr

noch nicht begegnet sein, so möchte ich das gern

arrangieren.’: Theodor W. Adorno to Ernst Krenek,

29 April 1935: Rogge 1974, p. 80.

176 Entry of 16 March 1961: ‘feierliches Du mit Piz’: Adorno.

Eine Bildmonographie, 2003, p. 255.

177 ‘Der Adorno weiss mir immer etwas nettes zu sagen

z.B. dass ich ein wunderbares Profil habe oder dass ich

das Wesen eines jungen Mädchens habe ohne dabei

zurückgeblieben zu sein. Trägt natürlich zur Erholung

bei!’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von

Motesiczky, 13 August 1961: Motesiczky archive.

178 Helen Lessore, exh. cat. 1994, p. 3.

179 ‘nie mehr mitspielen kann im Kunstbetrieb’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 25 June 1964:

Motesiczky archive.

180 ‘Das ist wahrscheinlich der Canetti!’: interview with

Milein Cosman, 9 December 2004.

181 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for

3 April 1953: Motesiczky archive.

182 On the relationship between Murdoch and Canetti

see Conradi 2001, pp. 405–33 and Hanuschek 2005,

pp. 402–4. See Schlenker 2001 for more on the portrait

of Iris Murdoch.

183 Iris Murdoch to the Principal of St Anne’s College, Oxford,

25 June [1963]: personal file, St Anne’s College, Oxford.

184 Iris Murdoch, unpublished diary entry for 16 February

[1964], kindly made available by Peter Conradi.

185 Fritz Novotny, Österreichische Galerie, Schloß Belvedere,

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 15 June 1963 and

19 December 1963: Motesiczky archive.


1 September 1967: Deutsches Literaturarchiv, Marbach,


187 Fleischer 1996, p. 528.

188 ‘Wunderbare Malerei, wie man sie leider so selten

sieht’; ‘Portraits meisterhaft!’; ‘Die Könnerschaft ist

bewundernswert! Besonders im Porträt!’; ‘Die Poesie

der Bilder entzückt’; ‘keine “Falschmünzerei”’; ‘diese

starke und reine Malerei, in der das Unaussprechliche

immer zu ahnen ist’: guest book for the exhibition

‘Marie-Louise Motesiczky’ at the Wiener Secession in

May 1966: Motesiczky archive.

189 ‘Eine fesselnde Überraschung’: b. 1966.

190 ‘hätte längst, ginge es immer mit rechten Dingen zu,

als eine unserer bedeutendsten Malerinnen gewürdigt

werden müssen’: Spiel 1966.

191 ‘die sich fast nie geändert, aber dauernd verfeinert hat’:

Vogel 1966b.

192 For example BA 1966, Baum 1966, Freundlich 1966 and

K.S. 1966.

193 ‘Im Schatten des Meisters’: K.S. 1966.

194 ‘Der Gewalt und Größe des Meisters nicht erlegen zu

sein, sich eine eigene Weltsicht – und eine eigene

Handschrift – erobert zu haben’: Freundlich 1966.

195 ‘Diese Begegnung mit Beckmann . . . prägte . . . in

einem derart fruchtbaren Maß Werk und Haltung der . . .

Malerin, wie man es sich idealer bei einem ähnlich

engen Lehrer-Schüler-Verhältnis kaum vorstellen

kann.’: Baum 1966.

196 ‘das Belvedere hat das allerkleinste Bild gekauft um

so eine kleine Summe, daß ich sie sofort in einer

Telefonzelle verloren hab’. Mein erstes verdientes

Geld . . . mit sechzig.’: Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, p. 173.

197 ‘Du wirst der grosse deutsche Porträtist werden’, ‘das

Beste . . . was Du bis jetzt gemacht hast’: Elias Canetti

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1 October 1967:

Motesiczky archive.

198 ‘Piz hatte eine Ausstellung in München, wunderbare

Kritiken und auch Verkäufe. Sie war sehr zufrieden. Sie

hätte auch noch mehr verkaufen können, aber sie trennt

sich von manchen Bildern so schwer oder garnicht.’:

Henriette von Motesiczky to Käthe von Porada,


199 Theo Garve to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [after

November 1968]: Motesiczky archive.

200 d.w. 1968.

201 ‘Max hat nicht umsonst an Dich geglaubt, vergiss das

nicht!’: Quappi Beckmann to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 6 January 1969: Motesiczky archive.

202 ‘Ich bin (vielleicht zu unrecht) zuversichtlicher wie in

Wien – vielleicht weil ich ganz gut arbeite die letzte

Zeit aber vielleicht auch weil ich mich seit Wien an

den beängstigenden Zustand der “Ausstellerei” etwas

gewöhnt habe.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Benno Reifenberg, 1 September 1967: Deutsches

Literaturarchiv, Marbach, Estate Benno Reifenberg.

203 ‘noch bedeutend kleiner als sonst’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky to Theo Garve, 23 November 1968:

Motesiczky archive.




205 Ibid.

206 ‘Mutter leider oft sehr schwierig Geduld Geduld ich

muss sie lieben so lange sie da ist. Kräfte, Kräfte oh bitte

Kräfte für das neue Jahr’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for autumn 1977: Motesiczky archive.

207 Vaizey 1985.

208 Gombrich 1985, p. 7.

209 ‘Verstoß gegen das göttliche Vierte Gebot: “Du sollst

Vater und Mutter ehren!”’: Ernst Jahoda to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 1 July 1986: Motesiczky archive.

210 Clark 1994.

211 Zeitgenossen, Südwestfunk 2, 2 August 1987; Tate Gallery,

1996, p. 504.

212 ‘eigenen Worte habe ihr “den Segen” gegeben’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for spring 1978:

Motesiczky archive.

213 Interview with Victor de Waal, 23 January 2002.

214 ‘Die ersten Schritte eines Neugeborenen allein auf der

Welt’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for

summer 1978: Motesiczky archive.

215 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Quappi Beckmann,




217 ‘Langsam, ganz langsam senkt sich die Waage mit Ihnen

und der Frau und dem Kindchen und meine Schale ist

zu leicht’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,

November [1973]: Motesiczky archive.

218 Allerton Cushman to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


219 ‘Royal Acad. abgelehnt’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for summer 1977: Motesiczky archive.

220 ‘hervorragender Anreger junger Talente’: Vogt 1980,

unpaginated.

221 ‘eine außerordentlich starke Resonanz bei der Frankfurter

Bevölkerung’: Kurt Lotz, Magistrat der Stadt Frankfurt,

Amt für Wissenschaft und Kunst, to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 18 December 1980: Motesiczky archive.

222 Gombrich 1985, p. 6.

223 Ibid., p. 7.

224 Vaizey 1985.

225 Taylor 1985.

226 Berryman 1985.

227 José Eckhard to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

19 July 1986: Motesiczky archive.

228 ‘Es ist einfach wunderbar, die Bilder selbst haben ihre

Wirkung getan, spät, aber noch zur Zeit, ist der Maler

Mulo erkannt und anerkannt worden. Ich bin sehr

glücklich, das noch zu erleben, gewusst habe ich’s immer

und in keiner Sekunde, was immer sonst zwischen uns

geschah, habe ich den Glauben an Ihre Malerei verloren.

Sie haben es immer gewusst und etwas von meiner

Glaubenskraft ist auch auf den Maler übergegangen.

Aber das alles ist nicht mehr so wichtig, denn jetzt sind

die Bilder da und werden nie mehr verschwinden. Es gibt

wenige Dinge, die so gerecht erscheinen . . . Der Maler

Mulo existiert und wird nun immer existieren! Ich glaube

nicht, dass das je vorher schon passiert ist: dass ein

Maler mit 80 noch zu Lebzeiten entdeckt wurde. Es ist

also auch als Vorgang etwas Einzigartiges.’: Elias Canetti

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1 January 1986:

Motesiczky archive.

229 ‘Märchen’: Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.


231 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Simon Jervis,


232 Dobson 1986, unpaginated.

233 Emigré Artists, exh. cat. 1987, unpaginated.

234 ‘Sie sind Jude? – Ja – sagt er – ich auch – sage ich – und

70 notes

der Kontakt ist hergestellt’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Elias Canetti, 19 March 1958: Motesiczky archive.

235 Motesiczky archive. I am grateful to Jeremy Adler for his

comments on Motesiczky’s attitude to Judaism.

236 ‘Ich hatte spat, mit 80 meinen ersten wirklichen Erfolg.

Das heisst aber nicht dass mein Name gefestigt ist – dass

ich wirkliche Preise habe – man muss viele Ausstellungen

habe ein Buch müsste existieren u.s.w. da werde ich so

wie so nicht mehr erleben. Mein Euvre ist klein, ich gab

viel Zeit meiner Mutter. Jedes Bild zählt . . . Es geht mir

einzig darum dass das was ich mit aller meiner Kraft in

60 Jahren versucht hab nicht verschwindet und ach “das

Bild” im übertragenen Sinne – meiner Mutter bleibt.

Die Bilder sind sinnlos wenn sie nicht gezeigt werden

können . . . Es geht mir darum das die Bilder weiter

leben, auch körperlich – das Menschen sie sehen können

– dass sie nicht verschwinden in Küchen Vorzimmern

Kellern schliesslich auf Trödelmarkten. Leider sind

Museen das einzige wo sie sicher sein können. Ich

brauche das nicht zu erleben, aber ich wollte dass ihre

Zukunft gesichert ist wie andere Leute es für ihre Kinder

wollen.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Kurt Noll,

[1987?]: Motesiczky archive.

237 Kruntorad 1994.

238 Carole Angier to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,



240 ‘es ist wunderbar, eine solche Gabe zu haben’: Elias

Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1 September



242 Ibid.

243 ‘Künstlerisch schadet Dir der manirierte Beckmann

ganz sicher. Lass Dir das vom alten Juden, – der im

übrigen B. recht gern hat! – sagen.’: Lajos Hatvany

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1929]: Motesiczky

archive.


245 Mullaly 1960.

246 Taylor 1985.

247 Gombrich 1985, p. 7.

248 Hoffmann 1949, p. 67.

249 ‘Es muss schwer gewesen sein, sich eines so starken

Einflusses wie dem von Beckmann zu erwehren und

zu einer eigenen Form zu kommen. Wenn ich es

recht überlege, so sind Sie die einzige Schülerin von

Beckmann, der es gelungen ist, den Einfluss zu

verarbeiten und eine selbständige Künstlerin zu bleiben,

und das will viel sagen.’: Erhard Göpel to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 13 May 1966: Motesiczky archive.

250 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 22 August


251 Menschenbilder, Ö1, 23 February 1986.

252 ‘das Bild weiter malt’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Benno Reifenberg, 11 January 1969; see also Jan Willem

Salomonson to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 6 August


253 Interview with Barbara Price, 22 January 2004.

254 Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 193 already remarked

on this.

255 Miriam Lane [Rothschild] to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, [spring 1969]: Motesiczky archive.

256 ‘Also nun sei nicht verzweifelt oder vielmehr zweifle

nicht an Dir selber – es ist nicht wahr – es liegt nicht an

Deinen Bildern!! Denke daran was Becki Dir sagte!!’:

Quappi Beckmann to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


257 ‘ohne die ich mir das Leben überhaupt nicht vorstellen

kann’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


258 ‘Ich weiss doch dass meine Sachen jetzt nichts wert

sind. (obwohl ich mehr an’s malen glaube denn je.)’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Sophie Brentano,

[c. 1977]: Motesiczky archive.

259 Hoffmann 1949, p. 67.

260 ‘Die Parks sind so schön! und die Museen after all’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Theo Garve, 7 February

1966: kindly made available by Gerda Garve.

261 ‘Ich bin halt da . . . Die Sprache ist schon ein Nachteil

für mich. Aber Emigrant . . . in dem Sinn, daß mir hier

irgendein Unrecht geschehen ist – überhaupt nicht.’:


262 ‘Wir sind hier in Hampstead eine absolut deutsch

sprechende Insel Sie würden überhaupt nicht merken

dass Sie in England sind.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Theo Garve, 7 February 1966: kindly made available

by Gerda Garve.


264 ‘Ich muss nach der Natur malen meistens jedenfalls –

aber im Verlauf des Bildes muss ich frei erfinden

können Da kann noch eine Geschichte entstehen . . .

Geschichten beflügeln die Augen.’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, diary entry for 18 October 1980:

Motesiczky archive.

265 ‘Sie können noch Geschichten erzählen!’: Anonymous

[Victor Matejka] 1966.

266 Hodin 1961/2, p. 19.

267 Anonymous [Victor Matejka] 1966.

268 Black 1996.

269 See for example Morning in the Garden, 1943 (no. 61),

In the Garden, 1948 (no. 81), Garden in the Summer, 1960

(no. 169), Hampstead Garden, c. 1970 (no. 242), and

The Greenhouse, 1979 (no. 266).

270 Michael Karplus to Ines Schlenker (e-mail), 15 July 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

271 See for example Newton 1944, Hart 1966, Helfgott 1966.

272 Gombrich 1985, p. 7.

273 Newton 1944.

274 Ibid.; Hodin 1961/2, p. 21.

275 ‘Für ein Rembrandt Porträt ist noch nie jemand

gestorben (gelebt mag wer dafür haben, ich z.B. ha, ha)’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 10

November 1980: Motesiczky archive.

276 See also Apples from Hinterbrühl, 1955 (no. 137).

277 Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 175.

278 ‘ich muss u. will mehr Menschen malen – aber ich

glaube es sollen nicht Porträtaufträge sein sondern

Menschen die ich auffordere – das ist gerade die

Grenze von was ich ertragen kann.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 4 May 1957: Motesiczky

archive.

279 Cyril Scurr to Ines Schlenker, 31 March 2000:

Motesiczky archive.



281 ‘Ich werde immer wieder um ein Porträt gebeten, auch

von nicht ganz schlechten Künstlern. Ich lehne immer

ab, aus zwei Gründen, einmal weil ich an den allerbesten

Porträtisten denke, der mich so gut kennt wie niemand

anderer, aber dann auch, weil ich nicht sitzen kann. Ich

gebe Ihnen also den Auftrag, aus der Erinnerung ein

Porträt von E.C. zu malen. Ich glaube, das könnte

besonders gut werden.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise


282 Taylor 1985.

283 Quoted in Hodin 1961/2, p. 19.

284 ‘großartigen allegorischen Komposition’: Spiel 1966.

285 ‘vollkommene Bilder’: Tassié 1966.

286 ‘Die Selbstbildnisse sind nicht weniger ergreifend als

die Mutterbilder.’: Anonymous [Victor Matejka] 1966.

287 Borzello 1998, p. 140.

288 ‘der originellste, tiefste und einheitlichste Beitrag

Deiner Malerei zur Kunst des 20. Jahrhunderts’: Daniele

Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 8: Motesiczky archive.

289 ‘kenne in der Geschichte der modernen Malerei auf

diesem Gebiet kein weiteres so neues, so mutig in

Angriff genommenes und künstlerisch so wohl gelöstes

Kapitel’: ibid., p. 9: Motesiczky archive.

290 ‘Dein grösstes, eigentlichstes Werk ist . . . um derentwillen

Deine Malerei immer bestehen bleiben wird’:

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


291 ‘phantastischen Wahrheitsliebe und einem Hang zur

Übersteigerung dessen, was das Gegenteil allgemeiner

Schönheitsbegriffe darstellt’: b. 1966.

292 ‘Mager . . . wie ein Geistchen’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for winter 1977: Motesiczky

archive.

293 ‘So tapfer, wie ein Soldat. Keine Klage nie aber auch nie.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for winter 1977:

Motesiczky archive.

71

Catalogue of Paintings

Notes on the Catalogue Raisonné

The artist’s estate held at the Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky Charitable Trust in London

formed the basis for work on the catalogue

raisonné. Motesiczky herself had put together

a card index and several folders of photographs

of her work which, in the course of preparing

the present publication, could be amended and

corrected. During the process of establishing the

current whereabouts of some works, several so

far unrecorded paintings and drawings came to

light, and a few recorded works could not be

found. The archive of the Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky Charitable Trust, mainly collected

by the artist and added to after her death, was

the chief source for compiling the provenance,

exhibition history and bibliography of the

paintings while the additional archives and

libraries listed in the Bibliography were

consulted for further information.

Every attempt has been made to gather and

verify as much information as possible about

the paintings. The following three works,

however, did not warrant a separate entry. Too

little is known about a portrait of Gian Carlo

Menotti, which Motesiczky painted in 1933/4

and gave to the sitter who, in 2002, was unable

to locate it. One painting, showing a deer in

a park, was virtually ‘disowned’ by Motesiczky.

She gave it to friends on condition that it was

never shown to anybody. Finally, it was not

possible to gather information on a painting,

probably a portrait of Maria Pauzenberger,

which is in a private collection in France.

catalogue number

The works are numbered chronologically

by year. Works that were impossible to date

follow on from the last dated painting.

title

With few exceptions, the artist herself gave her

pictures the English titles, and corrections have

been made only in a few instances where the

title was factually misleading or grammatically

incorrect. Most of the German titles are also

by Motesiczky herself, in some cases given

to the painting when it went on exhibition

in a German-speaking country. Occasionally,

if Motesiczky chose only a German title, it

has been translated into English here. Some

paintings, including the unstretched canvases,

which Motesiczky never exhibited or inventorized,

have now been given descriptive

titles. With the exception of those drawings

exhibited during Motesiczky’s lifetime, most

loose works on paper bear descriptive titles

not given by the artist. Drawings made in

sketchbooks are left untitled.

date

The dates used by Motesiczky have generally

been kept, unless incorrect. The artist did

not keep records of her production and

would sometimes, years later, sign and date

a work when the year she had painted it had

slipped her mind. Documents in the archive

and testimonies of contemporaries have

often helped to establish the correct date.

Where possible, undated paintings have been

allocated an approximate time of creation,

such as 1960s or c. 1970, based on the motif,

style or technique, clues given by the support

of the painting or documentary evidence.

In a few instances, when it proved impossible

to determine the date, the work has been

left undated.

medium/size

In the vast majority of cases Motesiczky used

oil on canvas. The dimensions of the works

are given in mm, height before width. In

some cases, when it was impossible to access

the back of a framed picture to get the exact

measurements of the stretcher, the image was

measured from the front and ‘sight’ measurements

are provided (in the case of drawings,

the image was measured up to the mount).

signature

Motesiczky did not consistently sign her

paintings. The signatures vary greatly

throughout her career. Some were added

long after the creation of the work, others

were altered. Where possible to decipher,

the original version is also given.

verso

Very few works have an image on the back.

Generally in oil, its subject matter is indicated.

owner

Unless wishing to stay anonymous, the

current owner is named. In the case of public

collections the work’s inventory or accession

number is given in brackets. Name changes

of museums and galleries have been noted. If

the current location of a painting is unknown,

the last known owner is mentioned in the

provenance. Academic degrees are omitted.

description of work

Apart from the visual inspection of the painting,

the description of the work is based on the

available archival and published material

as well as interviews with contemporaries.

It aims to provide information about the

work’s creation, interpretation and reception.

Motesiczky’s idiosyncratic spelling has been

kept in the original German whereas minor

corrections have been introduced in the

English translation to render the text more

easily readable.

74

provenance

The provenance of some of Motesiczky’s

paintings is complicated. In several cases the

facts are disputed. The artist had a tendency

to take back works she had given away or sold

and not return them to their former owners.

She also did not keep consistent records.

Where possible, dates of purchases or gifts

have been established.

sources

This section contains archival sources that

provide additional information about the

painting.

exhibitions

The exhibitions are listed chronologically and

identified by place and year (full information

is provided in the List of Exhibitions on p. 546).

This is followed by the number under which

the work was exhibited, if known, and a reference

to the work’s illustration in the exhibition

catalogue. A colour illustration is indicated

by ‘(col.)’. Differing titles or dates used in the

exhibition catalogue are also listed. In the

case of exhibitions without accompanying

catalogues the majority of works shown

could be identified with the help of exhibition

reviews, archival documents such as letters and

lists, and labels on the backs of the paintings.

bibliography

This section lists the published material

on the individual work. It attempts to be as

comprehensive as possible. Books, essays and

articles are ordered chronologically by year

and alphabetically within a year and referred

to by the author’s surname and the year of

publication (full information is provided in

the Bibliography on p. 548). Details of the

references and illustrations follow: ‘n.p.’

indicates that the publication does not have

page numbers, ‘(col.)’ a colour illustration.

Illustrations are referred to by page numbers

(plate or fig. numbers are given only when no

page number was available). In some instances,

when, for example, working from black-andwhite

photocopies and in cases where the

original source could not be located, errors

may have occurred. Differing titles used are

given in brackets. Sometimes, when the

painting is not referred to by title in the text,

its identity has had to be established from

the context.

75

1

Small Roulette

Kleines Roulette

1924

Oil on canvas, 398 × 503 mm

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London

Small Roulette demonstrates Motesiczky’s

admiration for Vincent van Gogh, whose works

she had first seen on a trip to the Netherlands

in 1922. She subsequently eagerly read about

him in Julius Meier-Graefe’s 1921 publication

Vincent. Together with Stool, 1926 (no. 10),

perhaps an even more marked tribute to van

Gogh, Small Roulette shows the strong artistic

influence of the Dutch painter on the young

artist before she came under Max Beckmann’s

spell when visiting his master-class in

Frankfurt in 1927/8.

Motesiczky depicts a detail of a wooden

chair with a straw seat and a curved back.

Placed on a carefully executed parquet floor,

the chair stands out as a solid object against

a wall with a sweeping green floral pattern. A

folded white cloth is draped across the corner

of the seat of the chair, slightly disturbed by

the miniature roulette (which incidentally

survived in the artist’s estate). A red coral

necklace, probably the one Motesiczky is

wearing in At the Dressmaker’s, 1930 (no. 35),

lies next to the roulette, its curved shapes

echoing the pattern on the wall.

This very early work already uses a device

Motesiczky was to employ throughout her

career: the black border, here marking the

right side of the composition. It reappears,

for example, in Mrs Bolter, 1986 (no. 285), and

again, on two sides, in Nude, 1931 (no. 36),

Self-portrait with Red Hat, 1938 (no. 47), and

Self-portrait in Black, 1959 (no. 159). Curiously,

Motesiczky did not get the perspective quite

right in Small Roulette. While the legs of the

chair are not straight but wonderfully alive,

its left edge does not align with the back, the

mistake being hidden by the cloth and the

roulette. In addition, the floorboards, which

are not continued up to the left edge of the

painting, do not form a consistent line where

they meet the wall.

bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, p. 25; Schlenker 2006a, pp. 16–19,

illus. p. 17 (col.); Lloyd 2007, p. 54.

77

2

The Undertaker

1925



This empathetic portrait shows the head of

an unknown Austrian undertaker. Wearing the

contemporary uniform consisting of a black

cape and a pointed hat, known as a Dreispitz,

he is posing in front of a grey curtain. No hair

is visible under his hat or on his clean-shaven

face. Under slightly raised eyebrows, large and

soulful eyes, hooded yet open wide, gaze into

the distance. Two deep lines run from the nose

down towards his chin which is prominent,

rounded and marked by a dimple. In its

simple formality and austerity this portrayal

is eminently appropriate for the sombre

profession of the sitter.

exhibition

Liverpool 2006, ex catalogue.

78

3

View of Vienna

Blick aus dem Fenster

1925


Signed (top right): M. Motesiczky 1925.

Walter Elkan, London

Similar to View from the Window, Vienna, 1925

(no. 4), this is a view from the artist’s window.

Here, on a misty and overcast day, Motesiczky

is painting the scene from her bedroom in the

family flat on the fourth floor of Brahmsplatz 7.

The interior and exterior spaces are sharply

divided by the starkly contrasting dark window

frame, painted black by the artist and her

brother Karl in emulation of the colour scheme

in a friend’s flat, and much to the annoyance

of their mother. White cushions and a richly

patterned, heavy blanket in red and various

shades of silver, strategically placed to

draughtproof the window, mark the splendid

decoration of the interior. The outside is

rather more austere. Through the window the

façades and roofs of the houses opposite can

be glimpsed, with the cupola of the Johann-

Strauss-Theater, a well-known venue for light

opera which Motesiczky sometimes attended

in the mid-1920s, crowning the view. The

overall cold silvery colour scheme suggests

this might be a winter scene, which in fact it

is not. Motesiczky described her intentions in

the following words: ‘I wanted to capture the

foggy dampness, to paint the cold damp feeling.

I applied the colour rather thickly, putting heaps

on the palette as in other early pictures.’ 1

note

1 Quoted in Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 501.

provenance

Artist; Walter Elkan (purchased 1986).

bibliography

Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 501; Lloyd 2007, pp. 208 f.

79

4

View from the Window, Vienna

Blick aus dem Fenster, Wien

1925


Tate, London (T04849)

This view of wintry Vienna was painted from

the artist’s studio, situated above the family’s

fourth-floor apartment on the Brahmsplatz.

The north-facing room looks onto a jumble

of closely interlocking roofs, façades and inner

courtyards leading up to the focal point of the

painting: the cupola of the Johann-Strauss-

Theater, famous for its performances of light

opera that the artist recalled attending in

the mid-1920s. The familiar roof-top scene,

refreshed and slightly alienated through the

snow, quietly evokes the city’s charms in

winter. This transformation inspired Motesiczky

to apply a straightforward approach of recording

the view: ‘I was very concerned to give exactly

the impression of what I saw there. There was

hardly any change or invention involved in

making the subject into a nice picture.’ 1 The

artist painted another version of the same view

from a floor below (View of Vienna, 1925, no. 3).

Despite its wintry setting, the colour scheme of

yellow, pink and brown in this painting creates

a much warmer overall effect. The painting

gives the perfect illusion of being a ‘window

to the world’, which it literally depicts. The

window pane on the right, the strip of yellow

curtain on the left and the snow-covered

balustrade at the bottom provide small clues to

the actual interior surroundings of the artist.

sources from the archive of

the marie-louise von motesiczky

charitable trust

Richard Morphet, Tate Gallery, London, to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, [1986]: ‘Your works in the Tate are

causing much interest & enjoyment to visitors.’

Elinor Verdemato to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

23 March 1988: ‘Eigentlich möchte ich Dir heute nur

gratulieren, denn von Peter hörte ich, daß Du 3

Bilder nun in der Tate hängen hast. Das ist doch

einfach grossartig und so schön daß Du es erlebst!’

note

1 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Sean Rainbird,

27 November 1987, quoted in Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 501.

provenance

Artist; Ilse Leembruggen (before 1948); artist (gift after Ilse

Leembruggen’s death in 1961); Tate Gallery (presented by

the artist in 1986).

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 3, illus. p. 18 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 3,

illus. p. 18 (col.); London 1986c; Vienna 1994, no. 11, illus. (col.),

shown as Blick aus dem Fenster, c. 1935; Manchester 1994,

no. 10, dated c. 1935; Liverpool 2006, no. 3, illus. p. 51 (col.);

Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 3, illus. p. 51 (col.); Vienna 2007,

no. 3, illus. p. 51 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 3, illus. p. 51 (col.);

Southampton 2007, no. 3, illus. p. 51 (col.).

bibliography

Tate Gallery, 1986, n.p.; Vann 1987, p. 15; Fallon 1996, illus. n.p.;

Tate Gallery, 1996, pp. 500–502, illus. p. 501; Vorderwülbecke

1999, pp. 54 f.n., 56 f.n., illus. p. 109 (View from the Window);

Phillips 2001, p. 31; Michel 2003, p. 50, illus. Abb. 60 (col.)

(c. 1935); Foster 2004, p. 143, illus. p. 143 (col.); Lloyd 2004,

p. 212 (dated 1926); López Calatayud 2005, p. 25; Behr 2006,

p. 561, illus. p. 560 (col.); R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.); Orth 2006,

n.p.; Schlenker 2006b, pp. 204 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 50;

Schlenker 2006d, p. 260; Vinzent 2006, pp. 159 f., illus. p. 382;

Lloyd 2007, pp. 55, 207, 267 f.n.

80

81

5

Hinterbrühl, Glasshouse

1925



Set among the outbuildings of the

Motesiczkys’ large estate in Hinterbrühl,

near Vienna, nestled the glasshouse (fig. 41).

It was squeezed between the white-washed

wall of one building and the low roof of

another, whose long metal chimney juts out

in the foreground. The complex of buildings is

surrounded by forest. A single telegraph pole,

eerily bare of wires as in Street in Hinterbrühl,

1925 (no. 7), provides the connection to the

outside world. The triangular roof of the

glasshouse is covered by numerous individual

wooden shutters, all closed against the sun,

so barring a view of the inside. Motesiczky

carefully observes how the sunlight, falling

through the holes of the metal roof, casts a

light pattern on the glasshouse. In the lower

right corner of the painting the wooden borders

of outdoor flowerbeds can be glimpsed.

Fig. 41 The glasshouse in Hinterbrühl (left) with flowerbeds and

a painted crucifix, photograph, 1920s (Motesiczky archive)

82

6

Still-life with Coffee Pot

Stilleben mit Kaffeekanne

1925


Dated (bottom right): 1925


In this early still-life, Motesiczky used a technique

that she employed only in a few works

from the mid-1920s (see for example Hanni,

Hinterbrühl, 1925, no. 8) in which the paint is

applied in thick swirls of impasto. This was

soon abandoned for a less heavily worked style.

Here, the artist chose a slightly raised perspective

to capture the corner of a marble-topped

chest of drawers, which is placed against a

brown wall, the top drawer with its knob just

visible. A seemingly accidental collection of

objects is gathered on its surface: a pink cloth

or shawl, a blue cup, a saucer holding a pot

with a cactus-like plant, probably a tillandsia,

some of whose long spiky leaves touch the

wall, and, at the front, a white coffee pot and a

Semmel, a simple Austrian bread roll decorated

with the pattern of a star. The combination

and arbitrary placement of items, probably of

a personal nature, suggest that we might be

looking at the artist’s dressing-table, captured

at breakfast time.

exhibitions

Cambridge 1986, ex catalogue; Liverpool 2006, no. 1, illus.

p. 47 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 1, illus. p. 47 (col.);

Vienna 2007, no. 1, illus. p. 47 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 1, illus.

p. 47 (col.); Southampton 2007, no. 1, illus. p. 47 (col.).

bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, pp. 22, 25, illus. n.p. (two details, col.);

Sander 2006, pp. 126 f.; Lloyd 2007, p. 55.

83

7

Street in Hinterbrühl

Straße, Hinterbrühl

1925



Private collection, London

During the nineteenth century Hinterbrühl,

a village in the Wienerwald south-west of

Vienna, became a fashionable rural retreat for

the wealthy Viennese. Many magnificent villas

were erected, among them the Villa Todesco,

built by Moritz Todesco, Motesiczky’s greatgreat-uncle.

The artist spent the summers of

her childhood and youth here and during the

winters the Motesiczkys lived at the family

home in Vienna.

This painting shows the Parkstraße which

runs parallel to the Hauptstraße, the main

thoroughfare of the village, and leads to the

tram station. The tree-lined street, empty of

people, rapidly takes the eye to the centre of

the picture. Between the trees one glimpses

a house, a wooden fence and several telegraph

poles. In her nineties the artist recalled how

for weeks she had taken her handcart to the

same spot at half-past four every day and

painted the lime trees as she experienced

them. ‘I even counted the leaves. And I thought

to myself, what you find so beautiful belongs

to you. Therefore you must paint it as it is.’ 1

The resulting image, however, with its strangely

empty road, leaden sky and stylized leaves, is

not naturalistic. The telegraph poles stand

isolated and useless without their connecting

wires. The whole scene has an air of expectancy

that borders on the enigmatic and was

described by one critic as ‘a sort of Expressionist

Surrealism’. 2 Motesiczky may have known Max

Beckmann’s street scene Blühende Akazie, 1925

(fig. 42), which adopts a comparable viewpoint

and depicts a strikingly similar atmosphere.



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 8 July [1925]:

‘Der Sommer vergeht so geschwind alles läuf einem

durch die Finger wenn man nur mehr festhalten

könnte. Aber das ist nich wesentlich – ich arbeite (ein

Landschaft) u sehe u gehe fiel im Dorf herum. Die

fertigen Bilder liegen dort auf der Gasse herum u man

muß sich nur die Mühe nehmen sie zu malen. So ein

Sommer ist eine schöne Sache! vielleicht die schönste

Jahreszeit! Bäume mit tausend Blättern, weisse

Zäune große Kastanienblätter (wibrierende Stille,

Urwaldähnliche Üppigkeit) das müßte man alles

mal machen.’

notes

1 ‘Ich habe sogar die Blätter gezählt. Und ich habe mir

gedacht, was du so schön findest, das gehört dir. Deshalb

mußt du es so malen, wie es ist.’: Moser 1992, p. 176.

2 Helfgott 1966.

provenance

Artist; Louise Rupé (c. 1930); artist (not returned after 1985

exhibition); Eva and Jeremy Adler (loan in 1989, later gift).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939; Vienna 1966, no. 1, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 1,

illus.; Munich 1967, no. 1, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 1, illus.;


illus. p. 17 (col.); Vienna 1994, no. 1, illus. (col.), shown as

Straße in der Hinterbrühl; Liverpool 2006, no. 2, illus. p. 49

(col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 2, illus. p. 49 (col.).

bibliography

Helfgott 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Vogel 1966a, n.p.

(Straße in der Hinterbrühl); Vogel 1966b, n.p. (Straße in der

Hinterbrühl); Gaisbauer 1986, n.p.; Moser 1992, p. 176, illus.

p. 118; Adler 1994, p. 18 (Straße in Hinterbrühl); Black 1994, p. 9;

Melchart 1994, n.p. (Straße in der Hinterbrühl); Schmidt 1994a,

p. 6 (Straße in der Hinterbrühl); Anonymous [ Jeremy Adler]

1996, n.p.; Michel 2003, pp. 16 f., illus. Abb. 7 (col.) (Straße in

der Hinterbrühl); Black 2006, p. 57 (Street, Hinterbrühl); Lloyd

2006, pp. 36, 39 (Straße in Hinterbrühl); Schlenker 2006c, p. 48;

Schlenker 2006d, p. 254; Vinzent 2006, p. 161 (Straße in der

Hinterbrühl); Lloyd 2007, p. 55.

Fig. 42 Max Beckmann, Blühende Akazie, 1925,

oil on canvas, 550 × 450 mm (private collection, Germany)

84

85

8

Hanni, Hinterbrühl

1925




Hanni, whose surname is unknown, was

probably a local girl from Hinterbrühl. The

fact that the painting has also been referred

to as ‘Arbeiterin/Junge Farbige’ (female worker/

young black woman) suggests that she may

have worked in the local Bördelfabrik, a factory

producing shoelaces, braids and trimmings.

It is said that when Motesiczky left school at

the age of thirteen she intended to work there.

Placed on a chair directly in front of a wall

decorated with an arrow-like pattern on a

green-beige wallpaper, the young girl, with her

long, thin neck projecting from a bony chest

and her large black eyes gazing guardedly at

the viewer, appears vulnerable and ill at ease.

Apart from the curiously shaped hairstyle and

the little red earring – the only adornment in

an otherwise starkly bare painting – the girl’s

slightly foreign looks are most noticeable. It is

unlikely that Hanni was a young black woman,

as the term ‘Junge Farbige’ suggests. She may,

however, have been a gypsy girl. Motesiczky’s

tendency to ‘exoticize’ the sitter is more apparent

in Apache, painted in the following year (no. 9).

There, even the title suggests the ‘otherness’

of the sitter and obscures his probable local

origin.

Hanni, Hinterbrühl was probably among the

paintings which the artist’s brother, Karl von

Motesiczky, sent on to the Netherlands from

Vienna in 1938. During the war it was stored

in a factory belonging to the artist’s Dutch

relatives. It was located again in 1954 and, with

the other works that survived the war in this

way, was sent over to England.

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 1, illus. p. 65; Manchester 1994, no. 1.

bibliography

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 31, illus. p. 65 (Hanni); López

Calatayud 2005, p. 22 (Portrait of Hanni Hinterbrühl), illus. n.p.

(two details, col.); Lloyd 2006, pp. 36, 39, illus. p. 39 (col.).

86

9

Apache

1926


Dated (bottom left): 1926


Like Hanni, Hinterbrühl, 1925 (no. 8), this

half-length portrait of an unnamed young

man probably depicts a local inhabitant of

Hinterbrühl whom the artist imbued with

exoticized features. In front of a gleaming

white background, on which the shadow

stands out dramatically, Motesiczky portrays

a haggard face with prominent cheekbones.

On the one hand, the almond-shaped, slightly

slanting eyes, the black hair and the receding

forehead give the sitter a foreign air that might

be reminiscent of a Native American or an

inhabitant of the Mediterranean; a document

in the artist’s estate lists this painting as

‘Spanier’ (Spaniard). On the other hand, ‘apache’

was a term widely used in Paris in the 1920s

that referred to a type of young male, ‘the ideal

of a true ruffian’, living in one of the French

capital’s poorer districts outside the city. He

did not have a regular job and lived off stolen

goods or prostitution. Typically, an apache

would wear a peaked cap, a short belted jacket

and a garish neckerchief. His hair would be

smoothed down with pomade. At the weekend,

apaches would congregate and visit fairs and

dances, inventing an ‘Apache Dance’. 1

Motesiczky, who lived in Paris for a few

months in 1926 (and, as has been suggested,

could have painted the portrait there), was

probably aware of this meaning of apache. The

young man’s clothing, especially the colourful

yellow scarf with a red border, as well as his

hairstyle conform to the above description.

One detail, however, firmly locates him in his

Austrian surroundings: the blue jacket sports

what probably is a stag-horn button, habitually

used for the Austrian traditional costume.

Apache was probably among the paintings

which the artist’s brother, Karl von Motesiczky,

sent on to the Netherlands from Vienna in

1938. During the war it was stored in a factory

belonging to the artist’s Dutch relatives. It was

located again in 1954 and, with the other works

that survived the war in this way, was sent over

to England.

note

1 Max Beckmann and Paris, exh. cat. 1998, p. 170.

exhibitions

Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 4, illus. p. 53 (col.); Vienna

2007, no. 4, illus. p. 53 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 4, illus. p. 53

(col.); Southampton 2007, no. 4, illus. p. 53 (col.).

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 18, illus. Abb. 14 (col.); López Calatayud

2005, pp. 14, 25; Schlenker 2006c, p. 52; Lloyd 2007,

pp. 55, 147.

87

10

Stool

Stockerl

1926


Signed (bottom right): 1926 Motesiczky; dated (bottom left): 1925


This still-life, probably painted in Paris, comes

close to being an intimate portrait of a chair.

Placed against the wall next to a piece of

furniture stands a simple wooden stool with

a straw seat. A pink shawl, with a pattern of

darker flowers, is draped across it and a tiny

metal frying pan is placed next to the shawl.

The heads of two pink carnations lie scattered

on the floor.

It is tempting to juxtapose Stool with

Vincent van Gogh’s depiction of chairs, especially

Van Gogh’s Chair (fig. 43). Motesiczky had

admired van Gogh since she first encountered

his pictures in the Netherlands as a young girl.

In the mid-1980s, looking back on her life,

Motesiczky sought to emphasize how much

his work had influenced her:

In 1922 I had my first experience of Van

Gogh when I saw his pictures in a room

in The Hague – it was unforgettably

wonderful – The Bridge and others – so

much light … I was given Meier Graefe’s

book to read. This and some other things

decoded it all. I thought: if you could only

paint a single good picture in your lifetime,

your life would be worthwhile. I also started

to look at the Dutch school a great deal –

Jan Steen and Frans Hals, and Vermeer.

This happy time lasted four months.

Holland is a wonderful country if you want

to be a painter. It was difficult to return to

Vienna after ecstasy like that. How and

what should I learn? It was Van Gogh’s

sun which in the cold Hague spring was

a revelation to me. 1

Four years after her stay in the Netherlands,

Motesiczky had already met Max Beckmann

and seen a number of his paintings. Yet it is

van Gogh’s chair and his use of light that seem

to have stimulated Motesiczky here. A copy of

Julius Meier-Graefe’s book Vincent (published

in 1921), which includes an illustration of

Van Gogh’s Chair, is in the artist’s estate. Van

Gogh’s and Motesiczky’s chairs are similarly

positioned and both hold personal belongings

of their absent owners: in van Gogh’s case,

the male paraphernalia of smoking (a pipe

and some tobacco), and, in Motesiczky’s case,

female symbols of beauty (a shawl) and duty

(a kitchen implement). While no object in van

Gogh’s painting throws a shadow, Motesiczky

carefully explores the play of light and shadow

in all its detail as if to record faithfully what

had initially most impressed her in his art.

Stool was probably among the paintings

which the artist’s brother, Karl von Motesiczky,

sent on to the Netherlands from Vienna in

1938. During the war it was stored in a factory

belonging to the artist’s Dutch relatives. It

was located again in 1954 and, with the other

works that survived the war in this way, was

subsequently sent over to England.

Fig. 43 Vincent van Gogh, Van Gogh’s Chair, 1888,

oil on canvas, 918 × 730 mm (National Gallery, London)

note


exhibitions

Liverpool 2006, no. 7, illus. p. 59 (col.); Frankfurt am Main

2006, no. 7, illus. p. 59 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 7, illus. p. 59

(col.); Passau 2007, no. 7, illus. p. 59 (col.); Southampton 2007,

no. 7, illus. p. 59 (col.).

bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, pp. 8, 12, 14, 18, 25, illus. n.p. (full

and numerous details, col.); Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

exh. booklet 2006, illus. n.p. (col.); Sander 2006, pp. 126 f.

88

89

11

Still-life with Tulips

Stilleben mit Tulpen

1926




This early emblematic and autobiographical

still-life is believed to have been painted in

the artist’s room at the Hotel Recamier, 3 Place

Saint Sulpice, in Paris. A light blue table, the

surface of which is tilted towards the viewer,

is shown in front of a brown wall (perhaps a

shuttered window or the back of a painting)

and a grey curtain. On the table are a bowl

containing three potted pink tulips resting on

a large, slim booklet and a couple of smaller

books, one bearing the inscription ‘Laczi’.

Two apples arranged on top of these books

complete the composition. None of the books

bears a title and only one shows an enigmatic

trace of its identity.

‘Laczi’ was Motesiczky’s nickname for

Baron Lajos Hatvany (1880–1961), also known

as Ludwig Deutsch (fig. 44). The proprietor of

a sugar factory, a socialist, a well-known author

Fig. 44 Lajos Hatvany, photograph, undated

(Petőfi Irodalmi Múzeum, Budapest)

and erudite patron of the arts, especially

literature, he came from one of the most

prominent and wealthy Jewish families in

Hungary and counted Thomas Mann and

Arthur Koestler among his friends. During

the regency of Admiral Horthy (1920–44) he

went into exile in Vienna, from where he

opposed the Horthy regime. Although Hatvany

belonged to the famous Viennese salon of

Eugenie Schwarzwald and continued to write,

he later expressed his intense dislike of his

time in exile: ‘With the exception of a few

highlights, which your modesty prohibits me

from describing, I think with horror of my

Viennese years. The exile was a great disease,

I have been cured by prison.’ 1

Motesiczky befriended Hatvany during

his lengthy political exile. Letters and diaries

suggest that the first of their infrequent and

secret meetings took place in 1925, when

Hatvany and his wife Christa Winsloe, a sculptor

and writer, stayed at the Hermesvilla in Vienna.

In 1927, Hatvany felt it safe to return to

Hungary where he was immediately arrested

and sent to prison. Upon his release nine

months later, he was prohibited from appearing

in public and writing for newspapers and

instead concentrated on literary activities.

He emigrated to England in 1938, spent the

Second World War in Oxford and returned

to Hungary after the war. After their years of

intimate friendship Motesiczky and Hatvany

kept in touch via letters and occasional visits.

In 1925/6 Motesiczky recorded reading one

of Hatvany’s publications, perhaps the fictional

academic journal Die Wissenschaft des Nicht

Wissenswerten of 1908 or Das verwundete Land,

an investigation of Hungary’s recent past,

published in 1921. The latter is probably the

work depicted here. The young artist cleverly

disguises her reverence for the considerably

older, established figure. The true identity of

‘Laczi’ has remained hidden until very recently.

A similar, though less discreet, homage is paid

to Elias Canetti in Orchid, 1958 (no. 153).

note

1 ‘Mit Ausnahme einiger Lichtpunkte, die zu beschreiben

mir Deine Bescheidenheit verbietet, denke ich mit

Schaudern an die Wiener Jahre. Das Exil war eine grosse

Krankheit, ich bin durch das Gefaengnis kuriert.’: Lajos

Hatvany to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 17 September


exhibitions


illus. p. 20 (col.); Vienna 1994, no. 2, illus. (col.); Manchester

1994, no. 3; Vienna 1995, no. 44, p. 307, illus. p. 141 (col.);


2006, no. 6, illus. p. 57 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 6, illus. p. 57

(col.); Passau 2007, no. 6, illus. p. 57 (col.); Southampton 2007,

no. 6, illus. p. 57 (col.).

bibliography

Black 1994, p. 3; Schmidt 1994a, p. 7; Neue Sachlichkeit, exh.

cat. 1995, illus. p. 141 (col.); Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 32, illus.

p. 71; Phillips 2001, illus. p. 32; Michel 2003, pp. 17–19, 37, 57,

illus. Abb. 10 (col.); López Calatayud 2005, pp. 14, 25, illus.

n.p. (two details, col.); Behr 2006, p. 561; Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 126 f.;

Schlenker 2006c, p. 56; Lloyd 2007, pp. 58 f., 159.

90

91

12

Workman, Paris

Arbeiter, Paris

1926


Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky 1926

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust,

on permanent loan to the Scottish National Gallery

of Modern Art, Edinburgh

This full-length portrait of an unnamed French

worker was painted in Paris where Motesiczky

spent the winter months between 1925 and

1927 studying at the Académie de la Grande

Chaumière in Montparnasse. The setting is

the studio Motesiczky rented with her Dutch

friend and fellow artist Berthe Edersheim

(1901–93). It belonged to a Polish dancer who

‘danced by night, but during the day she slept

behind a screen’. 1 The sitter is believed to have

been the caretaker who, every morning, came

to light the fire in the studio. Judging from the

look on his face, his reaction to being asked to

sit for his portrait was probably mild astonishment

and amusement. Seated on a chair on a

raised platform, he is smiling to himself. His

sensible clothes, heavy shoes and brown cap do

not seem at odds with the modest surroundings,

and his statuesque and awkwardly formal

posture suggests that he is unused to being a

model. The simplicity of the flat surfaces and

the unobtrusive background of the plain white

wall echo the atmosphere of the sparsely

furnished studio. Only a small cupboard is

partially visible on the left and another, just

discernible, can be glimpsed behind the sitter’s

chair. The only relief from this austerity is the

colourful scarf draped over the back of the

chair that, as family tradition has it, belonged

to the artist and was produced by the Wiener

Werkstätte.

This painting was the first of Motesiczky’s

works that Max Beckmann was allowed to see

back in Vienna. She later remembered that

‘His reaction was very positive. He said that

at my age he had not got so far. It was a fine

simple statement, almost like the comment

of an older colleague.’ 2 After seeing this work,

Beckmann suggested that Motesiczky attend

his master-class at the Städelschule in

Frankfurt, an invitation she took up in the

academic year 1927/8. With Workman, Paris she

seems to have anticipated her future teacher’s

advice to students who tackled over-ambitious

compositions: ‘Amusing. But try and suppress

these things for a time; they will come out all

the more strongly later. For the present you

should paint labourers.’ 3



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, notebook entry for 5 May

1985: ‘Als ich den Arbeiter in Paris malte, war ich 20

Jahre alt. Es war das erste Arbeit, die Beckmann von

mir sah . . . Er war erstaunt und erfreut.’

notes


2 Ibid.


provenance

Artist; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust; lent

to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art (2008).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939; London 1985, no. 6, illus. p. 65; Cambridge

1986, no. 6, illus. p. 65; Vienna 1994, no. 3, illus. (col.);

Manchester 1994, no. 2; Vienna 1995, no. 45, pp. 137, 307, illus.

p. 142 (col.); Liverpool 2006, no. 8, illus. p. 61 (col.); Frankfurt

am Main 2006, no. 8, illus. p. 61 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 8,

illus. p. 61 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 8, illus. p. 61 (col.);


bibliography

A.d.B. 1939, n.p.; Anonymous [1939], n.p.; Gruyter 1939, n.p.;

Veth 1939, n.p.; Motesiczky 1984, p. 50; Berryman 1985, p. 628;

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 60; Motesiczky 1985, p. 12; Gaisbauer

1986, n.p.; Winterbottom 1986, p. 11; Anonymous 1994b, illus.

n.p. (detail); Anonymous 1994j, illus. p. 14; Black 1994, pp. 3 f.,

6 f.; Cohen 1994, p. 93; Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 166

(Französischer Arbeiter); Schmidt 1994a, p. 6; Neue Sachlichkeit,

exh. cat. 1995, illus. p. 142 (col.); Tabor 1995, n.p. (Arbeiter);

Anonymous 1996b, n.p.; Anonymous [Jeremy Adler] 1996,

n.p.; Black 1996, n.p. (Paris Workman); Fellner/Nagler 1996,

p. 14; Black 1997, p. 992; Aus der Meisterklasse Max Beckmanns,

exh. cat. 2000, p. 58 (Arbeiter); Dollen 2000, p. 235; Phillips

2001, p. 30; Schmied 2002, illus. p. 97; Michel 2003, pp. 19 f.,

illus. Abb. 15 (col.); Lloyd 2004, p. 212; López Calatayud 2005,

pp. 11 f.n., 14; Davies 2006b, n.p.; R. Gries 2006, n.p. (Arbeiter);

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p., illus. n.p.

(col.) (Workman in Paris); Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker

2006c, p. 60; Schlenker 2006d, p. 254; Vinzent 2006, p. 161;

Lloyd 2007, pp. 57 f., 65, illus. fig. 13 (col.); Wiesauer 2007,

n.p. (Arbeiter).

92

93

13

Self-portrait with Comb

Selbstporträt mit Kamm

1926



Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna (9094)

This touching self-portrait of the 20-year-old

artist shows the external features for which

Motesiczky was known among her friends

and acquaintances: the big, questioning,

somewhat sad eyes, the piercing gaze, the long

limbs – features that the painting especially

emphasizes. Painted in Vienna the year before

Motesiczky joined Max Beckmann’s masterclass

at the Städelschule in Frankfurt, her

future teacher nevertheless provided both

direct and indirect inspiration for the painting.

On a visit to the Louvre with Motesiczky,

Beckmann had talked appreciatively about

El Greco’s portrait of St Louis, King of France,

and a Page (fig. 46). Motesiczky remembered

this recommendation and modelled her first,

austere and revealingly mannered self-portrait

on the work of both painters. While the general

posture and the gracefully elongated hands are

taken from the Spanish master, Beckmann’s

range of colours has been adopted, along with

the unusually tall and narrow format he used,

for example in his 1924 Bildnis Käthe von Porada

(fig. 47), portraying a friend of the Motesiczky

family. Motesiczky depicts herself at the intimate

daily task of combing her long reddish-blonde

hair (see fig. 45). In one hand she holds a comb

and in the other a little hand mirror. Pale and

fragile, she is sitting upright on a chair in a

poised and strangely elongated pose. Pausing

for a moment, she shyly and questioningly

confronts her own image. This is a traditional

posture for self-portraits and, despite the lack

of painterly accessories, it is not difficult to

imagine the comb and mirror replaced by a

brush and palette in an obvious statement of

the sitter’s profession.



charitable trust

Gretl Rupé to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 15 September

1968: ‘Sei beruhigt, Louisje hat nie daran gedacht daß

Du ihr Dein frühes Selbstbildnis … schenken würdest.

Sie hat nur einmal gesagt: “ach wenn ich es noch

einmal für eine gewisse Zeit geliehen bekäme.” Ich

Fig. 45 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky at her dressing table,

photograph, c. 1920 (Motesiczky archive)

verstehe Dich sehr gut, daß Du Dich nicht davon

trennen kannst, nachdem Du Dich schon von den

anderen Selbstbildnissen hast trennen müssen!’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 7: ‘Man betrachte

das “Selbstporträt mit Kamm” von 1926 mit den

drohend vor Dir aufgetürmten 20 Jahren Deiner

Jugend – Du jedoch thronst so hyperlanglinig über

Deinem Zugeständnis gegenüber Alter und

Geschlecht, bereits ganz in Beschlag genommen von

einer Betrachtung, die, nach Senkung des Spiegels,

nicht nur den eigenen Formen gilt. Die Komposition

ist ausgeglichen in ihrer auf- und absteigenden

Bewegung, fließend und elliptisch mit dem einzigen

schneidenden Akzent des sägeförmigen Kammes.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Gerbert Frodl,

Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna, 26 April 1994:

‘I am so pleased to accept your offer to purchase the

“Self Portrait with Comb” for OS 300,000. I am proud

to know that the painting will be enjoyed as part of the

permanent collection of the Belvedere. Regarding the

possible gift or loan of a larger collection of my works

to be exhibited at the Belvedere, it was extremely

helpful to hear from Dr Schmidt about the pictures

Fig. 46 El Greco, St Louis, King of France, and a Page, 1590–97,

oil on canvas, 1200 × 960 mm (Musée du Louvre, Paris)

94

95

that would be of most interest to the Museum. It will

take me a bit of time to select the proper collection

and decide upon the appropriate conditions for their

exhibition. As soon as I have decided on a specific

proposal, I will write to you again. In the meantime,

if you have any further ideas that you would like me to

take into consideration, I would appreciate to receive

them from you.’

Carole Angier to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 22 August

1994: ‘congratulations on your permanent

Belvedere exhibition – and on your decoration by the

Austrian government!! Paintings, unlike books (as you

said) need a physical home to survive; yours have got

it now – and what a one, one of the best in the world.

So, you too, dear Marie-Louise, will never die.’

Inge Miller-Aichholz to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

22 October 1995: ‘Gestern hörte ich, dass die Österr.

Galerie im Belvedere fertig und wieder sehenswert

geworden ist. dein Bild hängt auch dort.’

provenance


Leembruggen’s death in 1961); Österreichische Galerie

Belvedere (purchased 1994).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, no. 6; London 1960, no. 1, shown as

Self-portrait; Vienna 1966, no. 2, illus., shown as Frühes

Selbstportrait; Linz 1966, no. 2, illus., shown as Frühes

Selbstportrait; Munich 1967, no. 2, illus., shown as Frühes

Selbstportrait; Bremen 1968, no. 2, illus., shown as Frühes

Selbstportrait; Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 70, illus., shown

as Frühes Selbstbildnis; London 1985, no. 7, illus. p. 21 (col.);

Cambridge 1986, no. 7, illus. p. 21 (col.); Vienna 1994, no. 4,

illus. on cover (detail, col.) and in the catalogue (col.); Vienna

1999a, p. 104, illus. p. 105 (col.); Vienna 2004a, illus. p. 313

(col.); Klosterneuburg 2006, illus. p. 213 (col.); Frankfurt am

Main 2006, no. 5, illus. p. 55 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 5, illus.

p. 55 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 5, illus. p. 55 (col.).

bibliography

Anonymous [1939], n.p.; Gruyter 1939, n.p.; Anonymous

[Eric Newton] 1960, n.p.; BA 1966, n.p. (Frühes Selbstbildnis);

Kraft 1966, n.p.; Pack 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.

(Selbstportrait); Reifenberg 1966b, p. 16, illus. p. 16

(Selbstporträt); Spiel 1966, n.p.; Tassié 1966, n.p. (Frühes

Selbstporträt); Albrecht 1968, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Motesiczky

1984, p. 50, illus. p. 51 (Self-portrait); Anonymous 1985, n.p.;

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 60; f.th. 1985, illus. n.p.; Feaver 1985, n.p.;

Gombrich 1985, p. 6; Taylor 1985, n.p.; Spiel 1987, illus. after

p. 154 (col.) (plate 2); Adler 1994, p. 18 (Selbstbildnis mit Kamm);

Adunka 1994, illus. p. 20 (detail); Baker 1994, illus. p. 11;

Black 1994, pp. 4, 6, illus. p. 5; Cohen 1994, p. 94, illus. p. 94;

G.F. 1994, n.p.; Koch 1994, illus. p. 98; Kruntorad 1994, n.p.,

illus. n.p.; Kulturjournal, Radio Bremen 2, 21 February 1994,

transcript p. 2; Melchart 1994, illus. n.p. (col.); Packer 1994,

n.p.; Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 166, illus. p. 166 (col.);

Schmidt 1994a, p. 6; Schmidt 1994b, illus. n.p.; Wagner 1994,

n.p.; Neue Sachlichkeit, exh. cat. 1995, p. 137, illus. p. 136;

Anonymous [Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Black 1996, n.p.;

Cohen 1996a, n.p., illus. n.p.; Cohen 1996c, illus. p. 62;

Österreichische Galerie Belvedere 1996, p. 40, illus. p. 41;

Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 501; Walsh 1996a, pp. 57 f.; Walsh 1996b,

illus. p. 38; Black 1997, p. 992; Kunst des 20. Jahrhunderts, 1997,

p. 118, illus. p. 118; Das Jahrhundert der Frauen, exh. cat. 1999,

p. 138, illus. p. 138; Neufert 1999, illus. p. 183; Vorderwülbecke

1999, pp. 33, 38, 54, 56 f.n., illus. p. 74; Phillips 2001, p. 30;

Michel 2003, pp. 19 f.n., 21, 30, 40, 46, 58, 61 f., illus. Abb. 18

(col.); Lloyd 2004, p. 212; López Calatayud 2005, p. 14; McNeill

2005, illus. on cover (col.); Breidecker 2006a, n.p.; calendar

2006, published by the Österreichische Galerie Belvedere,

Vienna, illus. n.p. (February) (col.); Crüwell 2006c, n.p., illus.

n.p. (col.); B. Gries 2006, n.p.; Huther 2006a, n.p.; Huther

2006b, n.p.; Kneller 2006, n.p.; Orth 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006,

pp. 120 f.; Schlenker 2006b, pp. 206 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 54;

Schlenker 2006d, pp. 254, 261; Weiner 2006, n.p.; Lloyd 2007,

pp. 58 (Self-portrait with a Comb), 217; Michel 2007, p. 117,

illus. p. 116 (col.); Spiegler 2007, n.p.; Wiesauer 2007, n.p.

Fig. 47 Max Beckmann, Bildnis Käthe von Porada, 1924,

oil on canvas, 1200 × 430 mm (Städel Museum,

Frankfurt am Main)

96

14

Summer Landscape

Sommerlandschaft

1926


Dated (bottom left): 1936 (overpainted)


This lively, sun-filled pastoral scene was

painted at Hinterbrühl, the Motesiczky family’s

summer retreat in the Wienerwald near

Vienna. The beautifully balanced composition

is divided into two sections of almost equal

size: the fields in the lower half of the picture

and the majestic trees in front of a bright

blue sky above. Three figures are involved in

haymaking: the two in the foreground are

building haystacks while one in the middle

distance seems to be cutting the grass with

an invisible scythe. In the background, behind

a row of trees, a horse-drawn cart with a load

of white sacks is driving along an avenue on

top of a little hill. The painting succinctly

captures the atmosphere of a rural idyll

during an undisturbed long, lazy summer in

the countryside, which Motesiczky so often

enjoyed. The hot weather – no cloud is

dulling the sky – promises a good hay harvest.

Although in her early career Motesiczky,

under the influence of Beckmann, frequently

used a vertical format (see for example Selfportrait

with Comb, 1926, no. 13), this particularly

tall and narrow example is unique.



charitable trust

Michael Jaffé, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18 July 1986: ‘You may like

to know that Derek Hill came this morning; and he

shares my great admiration for your latest masterpiece

in portraiture. He liked a number of other things,

including a tall landscape which we were unable to

include in the hang for lack of space in our Gallery’

exhibitions

The Hague 1939; London 1985, no. 4, illus. p. 19 (col.), dated

1925; Cambridge 1986, no. 4, illus. p. 19 (col.), dated 1925.

bibliography

Anonymous [1939], n.p.; Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 166;

Schmidt 1994a, p. 6; Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 31 f., illus. p. 69;

Lloyd 2006, pp. 36, 39, illus. p. 38 (col.).

97

15

Fräulein Engelhardt

1926/7


Signed (bottom right): 1926 Motesiczky


Some time after the death of the artist’s father

in 1909, her mother Henriette von Motesiczky

employed an elderly Viennese lady called

Fräulein Engelhardt as a companion. In spring

1910, for example, Henriette von Motesiczky

and Fräulein Engelhardt travelled to Rome

together. Fräulein Engelhardt also kept

Henriette company when at home in Vienna

and Hinterbrühl. The artist remembered an

incident when Fräulein Engelhardt sat on an

unsafe straw armchair which collapsed; she

could not disentangle herself and, helplessly

startled yet also slightly amused, she cried:

‘I can’t get out of it’. 1

In her portrait, Fräulein Engelhardt is

safely placed on a solid reddish-brown leather

armchair with a high back. The table in front

of her, on which she is resting her arms, is

covered by a pink tablecloth. Pointing to a

small sprig of withered leaves on the table with

one forefinger of her wrinkled and arthritic

hands, she gazes pensively at the little still-life

in front of her. Yet, the half-closed eyelids

reveal nothing but dark and empty voids.

Detached from the strictly scraped-back grey

hair, this seemingly unseeing face gives the

impression of an impenetrable wooden mask.

Despite the year on the painting, Fräulein

Engelhardt has always been dated 1927 – the

only exception being the exhibition in 1939. It

is impossible to decide whether, as in several

other cases, Motesiczky added the signature

much later and incorrectly, or whether more

recent exhibitions made a mistake.

note

1 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, undated:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, no. 15, dated 1926; London 1985, no. 9, illus.

p. 65, dated 1927; Cambridge 1986, no. 9, illus. p. 65, dated

1927; Dublin 1988, no. 1, shown as Ms Engelhardt, 1927;

Manchester 1994, no. 5, dated 1927; Liverpool 2006, no. 9,

illus. p. 63 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 9, illus. p. 63

(col.); Vienna 2007, no. 9, illus. p. 63 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 9,

illus. p. 63 (col.); Southampton 2007, no. 9, illus. p. 63 (col.).

bibliography


Veth 1939, n.p.; Winterbottom 1986, p. 11; Vann 1987, illus.

p. 14 (two details, 1 b/w, 1 col.); Fallon 1988, illus. n.p.; Pyle

1988, n.p.; Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 33 f., illus. p. 77; Dollen

2000, pp. 119, 235, illus. p. 232 (col.); Dollen 2002, pp. 1744 f.,

illus. p. 1744 (col.); Michel 2003, pp. 19 f.n., 22, 30, illus.

Abb. 21 (col.); López Calatayud 2005, p. 32; Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 62; Sternburg 2006, n.p.

98

16

Portrait of a Russian Student

Porträt eines russischen Studenten

1927



The sitter for this portrait, which was probably

painted in Paris, is an unknown Russian

student whom the artist may have met through

her brother Karl who was, at the time, in

contact with Russian scholars like the writer

Fedor Stepun (1884–1965). Stiff, upright, and

formally dressed in white shirt and grey suit,

the sitter is positioned in front of a wall whose

yellowish-green paper seems to match the

colour of his outfit. The pink centres of the

light green circles are echoed by the pink

curtain on the right and by the lips of the sitter.

His thin figure supports a large head, crowned

by carefully combed blonde hair and bearing

an emaciated, serious look accentuated by

his pointed chin, hollow cheeks, a long,

straight nose and uncomfortably staring,

almond-shaped eyes (not unlike those of the

contemporary portraits Apache, 1926, no. 9, and

Hanni, Hinterbrühl, 1925, no. 8). A pronounced

artery on his forehead seems to testify to his

nervousness. His hands make curious movements

as if in the process of gesticulating

or just not knowing what to do. As in Model,

Vienna, 1929 and 1930 (nos 27 and 32), the background

is divided into two sections, the two

walls of a room, one lit by the light streaming

in from the window on the right, the other in

shadow, with the corner placed just behind

the sitter’s head.

The picture has been extended by about

4 cm both at the bottom and at the right side,

at an unknown date. Although Motesiczky

made the effort to continue the image, she

did not entirely succeed. The enlargement

of the trouser legs at the bottom does not fit

precisely. On the right, the area beyond the

pink curtain, which probably denotes a

window, has not been completed, especially

in the bottom right corner, where bare canvas

shows through.

exhibitions

Cambridge 1986, ex catalogue; Frankfurt am Main 2006,

no. 11, illus. p. 67 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 11, illus. p. 67 (col.);

Passau 2007, no. 11, illus. p. 67 (col.); Southampton 2007,

no. 11, illus. p. 67 (col.).

bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, p. 14 (Portrait of a Prussian Student);

Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 66.

99

17

Kröpfelsteig, Hinterbrühl

1927




Kröpfelsteigstraße 42, at the end of the street

leading out of the village, was the address of

the large Motesiczky family estate in Hinterbrühl

(fig. 10). Built by Moritz Todesco, brother of the

artist’s maternal great-grandfather, the grand

Villa Todesco with its eighteen rooms stood

in vast grounds, complete with tennis court,

swimming pool, greenhouse and stables. In

this sunlit landscape Motesiczky depicts the

road that runs around the boundary of the

estate and gently winds up the hill to the

neighbouring village of Weissenbach. On the

left a short section of outer wall and screening

bushes can be glimpsed. The canvas is dominated

by the dense bank of foliage in varying

shades of green that makes up the forest on

the other side of the quiet country lane,

topped by the wooded foothills of the Kleiner

Anninger. Trees with thick foliage throw

delicate shadows on the empty road, while

the telegraph poles along the pavement are

bereft of wires and shadows and seem to

float above the ground.

In 1956, Motesiczky, who by then had

created a life for herself in England, sold the

grounds at the Kröpfelsteig (the villa had been

pulled down in the 1930s). An SOS-Kinderdorf

now occupies the site.

Kröpfelsteig, Hinterbrühl was probably

among the paintings which the artist’s

brother, Karl von Motesiczky, sent on to the

Netherlands from Vienna in 1938. During the

war it was stored in a factory belonging to the

artist’s Dutch relatives, located again in 1954

and, with the other works that survived the

war in this way, sent over to England.

exhibitions





2006, no. 10, illus. p. 65 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 10, illus.


bibliography

Moser 1992, p. 176; Schmidt 1994a, illus. p. 4; Michel 2003,

p. 16, illus. Abb. 8 (col.); Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh.

booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 128 f.; Schlenker 2006c,

p. 64.

100

101

18

Model in Frankfurt

Porträt Frau Ansberg, Frankfurt

c. 1927/8

Oil on canvas, 367 × 216 mm (sight)

Private collection, the Netherlands

Motesiczky chose an unusually tall and

narrow format for this portrait of her cleaner

in Frankfurt. It was painted around the time

when Motesiczky attended Max Beckmann’s

master-class at the Städelschule in 1927/8.

It is not clear whether the name of the sitter,

Frau Ansberg, is correct or, as Peter Black has

suggested, was simply made up by the artist

for an exhibition in 1994.

The austere and restrained mood of the

portrait is accentuated by the sitter’s sombre

black dress, her dark hair severely combed

back, her dark eyes and earrings. The firmly

closed straight mouth provides a faint touch

of colour. This freshening effect, however, is

counterbalanced by the furrowed forehead

which gives the face an expression that hovers

between disapproval and sorrow. As in Dwarf,

1928 (no. 22), Frau Ansberg’s slightly upturned

nose leaves the long and narrow nostrils clearly

visible. The sitter’s lengthened neck, which adds

an aura of haughtiness to the portrait, might

have been determined by the unusual format

of the canvas. Peter Black has highlighted the

influence that Egyptian mummy portraits may

have had on Model in Frankfurt. Motesiczky

would have been familiar with this kind of

depiction, as one was displayed in the family

residence and Vienna had a good collection.

According to the current owners of Model

in Frankfurt, Motesiczky herself did not like

the painting.



charitable trust

Jan Willem Salomonson to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

6 August 1992: ‘Ich verstehe nicht recht, wieso es

möglich war, dasz soviel Zeit verflosz ehe ich mich

dazu entschieden habe dir mit groszer Wärme zu

danken für das frühe, von uns beiden hoch geschätzte

Frankfurter Bildnis, das du uns mit liebenswürdiger

Grossmut – entgegen unserer auf Ankauf hinzielenden,

und auch so schon recht unbescheidenen Absicht –

einfach geschenkt hast! Vielleicht erklärt sich meine

zögerhafte Reaktion aus dem heimlichen Wunsch

erst noch sehen zu können wie das überaus feine,

vornehme und ausdrucksvolle Bildchen aus seinem

neuen, gleich in Auftrag gegebenen “Fenster” herausschaut.

Dazu brauchte es freilich einige Zeit, aber

glücklicherweise nicht viel und so steht dein Werk

heute bereits vor uns in einem hübschen Rahmen.

Dieser ist keineswegs einer solchen Art dasz du zu

befürchten brauchst, dasz er – wie du es selbst

ausdrückst – das Bild “weiter malt”. Er hat (und erfüllt

wie ich glaube) blosz die Aufgabe, dein gemaltes Bild

zu “verstehen”. Bereits während der kurzen Zeit, seit

Karins Londoner Reise, die das Bild bei uns verbringt,

spüre ich wie intensiv und häufig wir es betrachten

und nach mancher Lektüre und jedem Museumsbesuch

von neuem, und mit anderen Interessen,

ins Auge fassen.’

provenance

Artist; Karin and Jan Willem Salomonson (gift 1992).

exhibition

Vienna 1994, no. 6, illus. (col.).

bibliography

Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 501 (Portrait of Frau Ansberg,

Frankfurt, c. 1926/27); Lloyd 2007, p. 67.

102

19

Two Girls

Zwei Mädchen

1928



Artist (lost)

This painting, now lost, was made in

Hinterbrühl, the Motesiczkys’ summer retreat

near Vienna, after the artist had attended

Max Beckmann’s master-class in Frankfurt

for a year. In its unusual oblong shape and

the austerity of the composition it clearly

shows her teacher’s influence and also bears

a close resemblance to Motesiczky’s At the

Dressmaker’s, 1930 (no. 35). Sadly, only a blackand-white

photograph survives of this work

showing two adolescent girls in a bare room.

One girl sits on a simple, narrow chaise longue

that projects into the picture plane with

extreme foreshortening. One leg stretched

out, the other tucked under it, she is naked

apart from a shift. Curiously, her head, which

appears too large and adult, does not fit

her body. Only the back of the second girl,

standing behind the chaise longue, is visible.

Half-dressed in a camisole, skirt and shoes,

she is looking at herself in a little mirror on the

back wall. She raises one hand as if arranging

her hair, which is tied back in a long ponytail.

Family tradition has it that one of the girls

in the picture was Anna Beschorner, the

sister of Hans Beschorner, the Motesiczkys’

Hinterbrühl chauffeur. In the summer of 1928

the painter Karl Tratt, a friend and fellow

Beckmann student, visited Motesiczky in

Hinterbrühl. It is said that he declined to paint

from these models since Motesiczky had

already done it. She, however, apparently did

not like the painting for its obvious debt to

Max Beckmann’s work. The date in the lower

right corner of the painting is incorrect and

was probably added later.

bibliography

Michel 2003, pp. 28, 40, illus. Abb. 24; Lloyd 2007, p. 67.

103

20

Bullfight

Stierkampf

1928




In summer 1927 Motesiczky travelled in

Spain, visiting Seville, Granada and Madrid.

She was accompanied by relatives from

the Netherlands, Rak and Henk de Waal.

Motesiczky must have been fascinated by

the bullfights they attended during her visit.

A collection of postcards and photographs

of bullfights in the artist’s estate testify to her

lasting interest in bullfighting (fig. 48). Of one

she saw in El Puerto de Santa Maria, north of

Cadiz, she wrote excitedly to her mother:

Despite the bad bulls and bullfighters it

was really very strange and exciting. –

Sadly the bulls had more in common with

cows than with wild beasts and therefore

had to be enraged in a very cruel manner.

The spears that are plunged into the

bull’s back were filled with some sort of

fireworks which then began to burn and

make a bang in the bull’s back. One of

the bullfighters was wounded and thrown

in the air by the bull and further other

quaint sensations. The whole thing had

something of a dangerous Lustmord with

musical accompaniment. Nothing for

the faint-hearted. 1

The bullring shown in this painting is probably

the Plaza de Toros in Madrid, which the artist

must have visited. From her place on the

shady, cooler and more expensive side of the

arena, the artist shows an unusual, distorted

view of the circular bullring. In the late afternoon

the sun is very low, casting long shadows

and bringing out the triangular crenellations

on the roof. The audience fills the seats, waving

red and yellows flags. The focus of attention

is the drama unfolding in the bottom right

corner where, in the first phase of a traditional

bullfight, a mounted picador provokes the bull

in order to weaken him, plunging his first

banderilla into the beast’s shoulders. Two toreros

on foot, their colourful capes ready, wait to

join the fight once the bull is weaker still.

Fig. 48 Bullfight at the Plaza de Toros in Madrid,

postcard, 1920s (Motesiczky archive)

note

1 ‘Es war trotz der schlechten Stiere u. Stierkämpfer doch

sehr merkwürdig u. aufregend. – Leider hatten die Stiere

mehr Ähnlichkeit mit Kühen als mit wilden Bestien u.

mussten daher auf sehr grausame Art in Wut gebracht

werden. Es wurden in den Spiessen die man dem Stier in

den Rücken bort eine Art Feuerwerk getan welches dann

im Rücken des Stieres zu brennen u zu knallen begann.

Einer der Stierkämpfer wurde verwundet u. von dem Stier

in die Luft geworfen u. noch andere nette Sensationen.

Das ganze hatte etwas von gefährlichem Lustmord mit

Musikbegleitung. Nichts für zarte Nerven.’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky to Henriette von Motesiczky, [1927]:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, shown as Arena; Cambridge 1986, ex

catalogue; Liverpool 2006, no. 12, illus. p. 69 (col.); Frankfurt




bibliography

A.d.B. 1939, n.p.; Michel 2003, p. 44, illus. Abb. 50 (col.);

Lloyd 2006, pp. 38, 41; Sander 2006, pp. 128 f.; Schlenker

2006c, p. 68; Schlenker 2006d, p. 254; Lloyd 2007, p. 74;

Wiesauer 2007, n.p.

104

105

21

Spanish Girl

Spanierin

1928


Private collection, Switzerland

Sixty years after the creation of Spanish Girl

Motesiczky called the portrait ‘maybe (?) the

best head I have ever painted (and which we

rescued)’. 1 The portrait was among the paintings

the artist’s brother Karl von Motesiczky

sent on from Austria when she and her mother

had already left for the Netherlands. The sitter

is not in fact a native of Spain but a local

peasant girl from Mödling, a little town in the

Wienerwald south-west of Vienna close to the

village of Hinterbrühl where the Motesiczkys

habitually spent their summers. She is wearing

a Spanish head-dress which Motesiczky

brought back from her trip to Spain in 1927.

Apart from the alienating disguise and

exoticizing title (employed for example also

in Apache, 1926, no. 9), Motesiczky treats her

model straightforwardly and unsentimentally.

Large, dark eyes and marked black eyebrows

stand out in a face of placid and calm

immobility, in which one critic detected

a ‘sensuous assurance’. 2



charitable trust

Ursula Brentano to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

26 September 1969: ‘The “Spanish girl” from an Austrian

village, which Sophie has is so heart-rending in feeling,

understanding and you are a “super master” in colours,

well you are just an artist a true true one worth so much,

Pizchen, remember and realize this. You must paint.

You must, the world needs you, and you can surely

help us to think, reflect, and also you can aid in

calming and easing people; all this I’ve felt at times

through your pictures.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milli [Kann?],

3 November 1988: ‘Etwa 40 Jahre habe ich, erst ein zwei

Bilder dann schliesslich 5 meiner besten Bilder Soph

zur Verfügung gestellt, wie eine Schwester, weil sie

die Bilder lieb gehabt hat und sie gut behandelt hat.

Schliesslich hat sie die Bilder gekauft für einen kleinen

Preis auf anraten von Percy … Diese Bilder sind das

Beste und zwar ein Viertel des Besten was ich in 60

Jahren Arbeit leisten konnte. Ich war eingeschrenkt

durch Mutter und C. und konnte nicht mer leisten.

Noch dazu sind die zwei wichtigsten Bilder von Mutter

– das grosse Portrat und der kurze Weg darunter …

die Spanierin (vielleicht (?) der beste Kopf den ich je

gemalt habe (und die wir retteten))’

notes

1 ‘vielleicht (?) der beste Kopf den ich je gemalt habe (und

die wir retteten)’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milli

[Kann?], 3 November 1988: Motesiczky archive.

2 Berryman 1985.

provenance

Artist; Sophie Brentano (purchased at 1967 exhibition);

Ursula Brentano (inherited).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939; London 1960, no. 2, dated 1926; Vienna 1966,

no. 3, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 3, illus.; Munich 1967, no. 3, illus.;

Bremen 1968, no. 3, illus.; London 1985, no. 10, illus. p. 23

(col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 10, illus. p. 23 (col.); Liverpool

2006, ex catalogue; Frankfurt am Main 2006, ex catalogue,

shown as Spanisches Mädchen; Vienna 2007, ex catalogue,

shown as Spanisches Mädchen; Passau 2007, ex catalogue;

Southampton 2007, ex catalogue.

bibliography

Veth 1939, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; d.w. 1968, n.p.;

Berryman 1985, p. 628; f.th. 1985, n.p.; Schmidt 1994a, p. 6;

Zimmermann 1994, illus. p. 131 (col.) (Spanisches Mädchen);

Michel 2003, p. 44, illus. Abb. 51 (col.) (Spanisches Mädchen);

López Calatayud 2005, p. 25; Black 2006, p. 57; Lloyd 2006,

pp. 38, 41, illus. p. 41 (col.) (Spanisches Mädchen); Schlenker

2006d, p. 254 (Spanisches Mädchen); Vinzent 2006, p. 159;

Lloyd 2007, pp. 67, 74, illus. fig. 15 (col.).

106

22

Dwarf

Zwerg, Hinterbrühl

1928



The sitter for this stern and magnificent halflength

portrait is believed to have been Karl

Mader or Moder, an inhabitant of Hinterbrühl,

the village in the Wienerwald south-west of

Vienna where the Motesiczky family regularly

spent their summers. Locals remember his

small stature, somewhat deformed hands and

speech difficulties. Among the various tasks

he carried out around the village were roadsweeping

and looking after animals. 1 The

simple, stylized planar construction of the

background is continued in the figure itself.

While the depiction of the clothes is not very

detailed, Motesiczky concentrates on the

sitter’s hands and face. Seated on a chair with

only the upper part of his body visible, thus

merely suggesting the continuation of stocky

legs, the dwarf has a commanding presence.

His chubby hands are resting on a walking

stick. The face, tilted slightly upwards, is dominated

by his sceptical expression. A marked

frown produces a wrinkle on his forehead,

already enlarged by a receding hairline. Red

cheeks and a light brown moustache surround

a prominent upturned nose with flared nostrils.

The circular white form intersected by a black

line behind the dwarf might be the back of

the chair or, as has been suggested, the sitter’s

straw hat with a black ribbon, hung on the

back of the chair. At once subdued and proudly

untamed, Motesiczky succeeds in expressing

a compassionate, subtle interest in the sitter.

Critics have praised Motesiczky’s ‘sensitive gift

for observation’ 2 and described this painting as

‘the artist’s most human portrait to that date’. 3

notes

1 Walter Gleckner to Ines Schlenker, 27 June 2007:

Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘sensible Beobachtungsgabe’: Sterk 1966, p. 25.

3 Black 1994, p. 6.

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, no. 4, illus., shown as Zwerg; Linz 1966, no. 4,

illus., shown as Zwerg; Munich 1967, no. 4, illus., shown as

Zwerg; Bremen 1968, no. 4, illus., shown as Zwerg; London

1985, no. 11, illus. p. 67; Cambridge 1986, no. 11, illus. p. 67;

Dublin 1988, no. 3; Vienna 1994, no. 7, illus. (col.); Manchester


Vienna 1999b, no. 126, p. 138 (Porträt eines Zwerges), illus.





bibliography

Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Helfgott 1966, n.p., illus. n.p.; Muschik

1966, n.p.; Pack 1966, n.p. (Zwerg); Reifenberg 1966a, n.p. (Der

Zwerg); Spiel 1966, n.p. (Zwerg); Sterk 1966, p. 25; Berryman

1985, p. 628; Feaver 1985, n.p.; Pyle 1988, n.p.; Black 1994,

p. 6; Tabor 1995, n.p. (Zwerg); Black 1997, p. 992 (The Dwarf);

Phillips 2001, p. 30; Michel 2003, p. 37, illus. Abb. 43 (col.);

López Calatayud 2005, pp. 25, 30–32; Black 2006, p. 57; Sander

2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 70; Sternburg 2006, n.p.;

Lloyd 2007, p. 67; Michel 2007, pp. 117 f.

107

23

Still-life with Monkey on Garden Bench

Stilleben mit Affe

1928




Painted at the family’s summer retreat in

Hinterbrühl, this still-life employs an unusual

prop, a stuffed toy monkey, sitting on a

wooden garden bench next to a striped cushion

on which pink and white roses are placed. The

bench’s four individual slats, on which the metal

armrest casts a marked shadow, dominate the

simple composition. With the palms of one

paw and the opposite foot turned towards the

viewer, the little monkey seems to be trying

to establish a connection. According to the

painting’s current owners, relatives of the

artist, the scene was painted in full daylight.

Due to the dominating hues of brown it is,

however, curiously dark, and only the three

roses provide a summery splash of colour.

provenance

Artist; Louise Rupé (c. 1930); Karin and Jan Willem

Salomonson (inherited).

exhibitions

Vienna 2007, no. 15, illus. p. 75 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 15,

illus. p. 75 (col.).

bibliography

Schlenker 2006c, p. 74.

108

24

Portrait Karl von Motesiczky

Porträt Karl von Motesiczky

1928



The artist’s elder brother Karl von Motesiczky,

born in 1904, studied law in Vienna (1924–8),

philosophy in Heidelberg (1928–30) and theology

in Marburg and Berlin (1930–33) before following

the communist and psychoanalyst Wilhelm

Reich into exile in Oslo. During his time in

Germany Karl von Motesiczky was active in

the socialist students’ movement, giving

speeches at gatherings and writing for leftwing

journals. He also developed a lasting

interest in Communism. In this portrait,

which manages to convey both his seriousness

as a scholar and his political affiliation, Karl

von Motesiczky is engrossed in reading Das

Kapital by Karl Marx (the title is incorrectly

spelt with a ‘C’).

Marie-Louise and Karl von Motesiczky

enjoyed a close relationship full of warmth

and admiration for each other throughout

their lives. Over the years, the nature of their

relationship changed, as an undated drawing

of Karl von Motesiczky as St Christopher,

holding a staff and carrying a child on his back,

suggests (fig. 49); this was presumably painted

after the artist learned of her brother’s ceaseless

assistance for his Jewish friends and his

subsequent death in Auschwitz in 1943. In the

1920s the artist characterized her brother as

a politically interested intellectual with an

unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but the

later drawing shows him as a saintly saviour

of lives.

exhibitions

Vienna 2004b, illus. p. 30 (col.), shown as Karl Motesiczky;




bibliography

Rothländer 2000, illus. p. 9; Rothländer 2004a, p. 90, illus.

p. 91; Lloyd 2006, pp. 34 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 72; Wiesauer

2007, n.p.

Fig. 49 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Karl as St Christopher, undated, charcoal and pastel on

paper, 280 × 425 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London)

109

25

Still-life with Cigarettes

1928



Private collection, Amsterdam

This still-life seems to be arranged on the

armrest of a brownish-red studded leather

armchair, placed against a wall. Draped over

the armrest are a white cloth with a red cloth

on top, part of which reaches up the wall.

A piece of thick board or wood provides a

table for the objects: a white vase with a handle

holding a compact bunch of pinkish-white and

red chrysanthemums and dahlias and a small,

precariously balanced pile of four cigarettes

that jut out over the edge of the board.

provenance

Artist; Anna Leembruggen (purchased at 1939 exhibition);

Mirjam Kann.

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, no. 12; Liverpool 2006, no. 31, illus. p. 107

(col.), dated 1938/39, not shown.

bibliography

A.d.B. 1939, n.p.

110

26

Portrait of Young Man in Red Cap

c. 1928



This portrait of an unknown young man

was probably painted in Paris. Although he

apparently wears Western clothes, a brown

jacket over a shirt, his head is adorned with a

red cap reminiscent of a fez, the traditional felt

headgear in the Islamic countries of northern

Africa. Its golden tassle falls over his left ear.

His black hair and dark brown eyes seem to

underline his non-European origin. The

uniform beige background gives no further

clues as to his personal circumstances.

111

27

Model, Vienna

Modell in Wien

1929


Signed (top left): 1929 Motesiczky


The unidentified sitter whom Motesiczky used

in at least two portraits (see Model, Vienna, 1930,

no. 32) was probably a professional model.

Employing a limited range of colours – grey,

black, light brown and beige – Motesiczky

produced a severe study of a young woman’s

head characterized by a round, flat face and

short black hair, curling at the back of her neck.

Her marked black eyebrows and dark eyes

contrast sharply with her light complexion. She

appears to be absent-minded and uninvolved

in her present occupation. Noticeably, as in the

other portrait of this model, the background is

divided into two halves of differing shades of

grey. In contrast to Model, Vienna, 1930, here,

with the light coming in from the right, the

lighter grey appears on the left.

112

28

Still-life with Scales

Stilleben mit Obst und Waage

1929




Motesiczky presents a close-up view of an

arrangement of objects on a small table. The

background and the front edge of the table

in the foreground are a deep black colour,

providing a natural frame for the setting.

The exact centre of the still-life is taken up by

a pair of kitchen scales with a large clock-like

face, its one pointer indicating the weight of

the napkins placed on the tray. The scales are

standing on a white plate, surrounded by fruit

(presumably peaches and apricots) glowing

yellow, orange and red in the light that streams

in from the right. The half-full bottle of red

wine to the right of the plate has a matching

wrapping around its neck, and the wine is

reflected on the napkins behind the plate.

With this still-life Motesiczky created a serene

and balanced work.

exhibitions

London 1987, no. 49, illus.; Dublin 1988, no. 4; Vienna 2007,



bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 37, illus. Abb. 42 (col.); López Calatayud 2005,

pp. 8 f., 12, 15, 19, 23, 25 f., illus. n.p. (full and numerous

details, col.); Lloyd 2007, p. 202; Melchart 2007, illus. n.p.

(Stilleben).

113

29

Henriette von Motesiczky – Portrait No. 1

Henriette von Motesiczky – Porträt Nr. 1

1929



The first portrait of the artist’s mother in oil is

an intimate study, showing a large, matronly,

dark-haired figure in her late forties. Henriette

von Motesiczky is, characteristically, reclining

in bed, something that, according to many

observers, she did frequently (fig. 50) – the

pastel Siesta, 1933 (p. 530), shows her enjoying

an afternoon nap. In 1938 for example, Herbert

Schey reported to his cousin Marie-Louise:

‘Yesterday I visited your mother for ¾ hour,

she was of course lying in bed.’ 1 At around

the time of the portrait’s creation Henriette,

not untypically, described how an emotional

anxiety made her retreat to bed for a week: ‘I am

now feeling a little better (i.e. my suffering was

only spiritual). I could not bring myself to do

anything for 8 days, I lay in bed from 2 in the

afternoon until the following day and was then

so tired and exhausted, like a dress, that lies in

a suitcase for 8 days.’ 2 This habit of retreating to

bed was started by Anna von Lieben, Henriette

von Motesiczky’s mother, whose treatment the

young Sigmund Freud had taken over in 1888

and recorded in Studies on Hysteria (where he

refers to Anna von Lieben as ‘Cäcilie M.’).

The portrait was probably painted in the

Motesiczky villa in Hinterbrühl where the

family habitually spent the summer. The sitter’s

bare arms indeed suggest hot weather, while

the angle of the light streaming in from the

left indicates late morning or early afternoon.

The portrait utilizes a subdued range of grey,

beige and pink tones, focusing on Henriette

von Motesiczky’s head which is supported by

a strong right arm. In contrast to the flat metal

uprights of the bedhead, the figure stands out

as almost three-dimensional, emphasized by

the sculptural fleshiness of her limbs and the

stark shadows. Her rosy cheeks and general

healthy glow contradict her sad expression

and the soulful dark eyes.

Fig. 50 Henriette von Motesiczky in bed, photograph, 1920s (Motesiczky archive)

notes

1 ‘Gestern war ich auf ¾ Stunden bei Deiner Mutter, sie

lag natürlich im Bett.’: Herbert Schey to Marie-Louise


2 ‘Mir geht es nun auch wieder schon etwas besser (das

heißt mein Leiden war nur seelisch) Ich konnte mich

durch 8 Tage zu nichts bringen, lag von 2 Uhr Nachmittags

bis zum nechsten Tag im Bett und war dann so müde u.

zerschlagen, wie ein Kleid, das eben 8 Tage im Koffer liegt.’:

Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

18 January [late 1920s]: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Vienna 2004b, illus. p. 29 (col.), shown as Henriette v.

Motesiczky; Liverpool 2006, no. 17, illus. p. 79 (col.); Frankfurt




bibliography


(Erstes Bild der Mutter); Kneller 2006, n.p.; Lloyd 2006, pp. 40

f.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander

2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, pp. 78, 88, 168; Schlenker

2006d, p. 255; illus. in Times Literary Supplement, 22 September

2006, p. 32 (col.); Lloyd 2007, p. 81; Wiesauer 2007, n.p.

114

115

30

The Balcony

Akt auf dem Balkon

1929


Signed (bottom left): 1929 Motesiczky


Together with an unidentified still-life, The

Balcony was the first painting Motesiczky

exhibited publicly, in 1933. Although the

sunbathing girl on the pink chaise longue is

in fact the artist herself (fig. 51), the painting

bears a neutral title that does not indicate

the model’s identity. The scene takes place

in the Villa Todesco in Hinterbrühl (fig. 52),

the village in the Wienerwald, south-west of

Vienna, where the Motesiczky family regularly

spent their summers. The artist’s room at the

villa opened onto a balcony overlooking the

garden, the hills and forests that belonged to

the large estate. With the help of an enormous

standing mirror that the artist placed on the

balcony, the work was created in the open air.

Unable to paint herself in the nude in a lying

position, the artist put together the individual

body parts on the canvas after viewing them

separately. The resulting body, with its elongated

and twisted legs, echoed by the folds of the

yellow scarf draped over the edge of the chaise

longue, stiff breasts and somewhat awkward

posture, has a slightly unreal, doll-like quality.

Extremely bright sunlight, from which the

artist is forced to shield her eyes, picks out

the figure on the pink chaise longue and the

balustrade with its pronounced heart-shaped

woodwork. The fact that the artist is not alone

but nevertheless safe from view is indicated

by the white kite bobbing around in the sky

behind the balcony. A similar flying object,

this time a balloon, graces the sky in Max

Beckmann’s Landschaft mit Luftballon, 1917

(fig. 53), a painting with which Motesiczky

may have been familiar.

Fig. 53 Max Beckmann, Landschaft mit Luftballon, 1917,

oil on canvas, 755 × 1005 mm (Museum Ludwig, Cologne)

Fig. 51 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky lying on a

chaise longue on the balcony of the Villa Todesco,

photograph, late 1920s (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 52 Villa Todesco, view from the garden, photograph,

early 1900s (Motesickzy archive)

provenance

Artist; Ladislas Rice (purchased 1989).

exhibitions

Vienna 1933, no. 63, shown as Balkon; The Hague 1939;

London 1985, no. 12, illus. p. 26 (col.); Vienna 1994, no. 8,

illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 7; Vienna 1999b, no. 129,

p. 139 (Der Balkon), illus. p. 154 (col.); Frankfurt am Main

2000; Liverpool 2006, no. 18, illus. p. 81 (col.).

bibliography

A.d.B. 1939, n.p.; Veth 1939, n.p.; Feaver 1985, n.p.; Plakolm-

Forsthuber 1994, pp. 175–7, illus. p. 176 (col.) (Der Balkon);

Neue Sachlichkeit, exh. cat. 1995, p. 139; Smithson 1999, n.p.;

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 56 f.n., illus. p. 113; Michel 2003,

pp. 49 (Akt am Balkon), 61, 63 f., illus. Abb. 91 (col.); Lloyd 2006,

pp. 38, 40 f., 43; Schlenker 2006c, p. 80; Schlenker 2006d,

p. 255; Lloyd 2007, pp. 74 f., illus. fig. 17 (col.).

116

117

31

People on a Train

Late 1920s



For this scene of two people on a train, left

unstretched by the artist and only recently put

on a stretcher, Motesiczky chose a narrow view

of the carriage’s interior. The foreground is

occupied by a white-haired, elegantly dressed

gentleman reading a newspaper. Behind him

a lady in a white coat, a brown hat perching

on top of her hair, glances out of the window.

118

32

Model, Vienna

Modell in Wien

1930



Painted the year after Model, Vienna, 1929 (no.

27), Motesiczky here recognizably depicts the

same unknown model characterized by a flat,

round face, dark eyes and eyebrows, and a

hairstyle with a side parting, smoothed back

hair and curls at the neck. Even the colour

scheme of grey and beige is similar to the

earlier version. In the 1929 painting we saw

only her head, but here we are presented with

a more comprehensive view of the model.

Seated with the upper part of her body bare, she

attempts with one arm to cover her stomach

protectively while the other, her hand resting

on her shoulder, ineffectively tries to shield

her breasts. The model appears to find the

situation awkward, a feeling that the shy

beginnings of a smile might want to overcome.

As in the other portrait of this model,

the background is divided into two halves of

differing shades of grey. In contrast to Model,

Vienna, 1929, here, with the light coming in

from the left, the lighter grey appears on

the right.

119

33

Model, Vienna

Modell in Wien

1930




According to the inscription on the back of the

canvas, ‘1. Akt’, this is the first nude Motesiczky

painted. While she had portrayed a semi-nude

that year, Model, Vienna (no. 32), this certainly

is the oldest surviving depiction of a complete

nude other than herself (see The Balcony, 1929,

no. 30). The model, probably a woman called

Distler whom Motesiczky found at the Academy

in Vienna, is reclining in a bed on her side,

propped up on a pillow. Motesiczky presents

a full frontal view of the elegantly curved, slim

body, adorned with a coral necklace. Only her

legs are covered from the knees down by a

duvet. Although her round face, severe hairstyle

and dark eyes are reminiscent of the

unidentified model who posed for the two

other portraits of Model, Vienna, 1929 (no. 27) and

1930 (no. 32), it is not possible to determine if

the same model was actually used for all three

paintings. The window in the background is

surrounded by the large leaves of a lime tree,

which the Motesiczkys had in their flat, among

which the back view of an unknown man

provides a mysterious presence. Motesiczky

leaves unexplained the reason for his being in

the room, as well as his relationship with the

model, thus creating a certain tension that

adds a secretive layer of meaning to the work.

Fig. 54 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky and friend in her studio

in Paris with Model, Vienna on the floor behind the easel,


exhibitions

The Hague 1939; Berlin 1986, illus. p. 144, shown as Akt;

Oberhausen 1986, probably shown as Akt; Vienna 1986,

shown as Akt; Liverpool 2006, ex catalogue; Frankfurt am

Main 2006, ex catalogue.

bibliography

Veth 1939, n.p.; López Calatayud 2005, p. 25.

120

121

34

Still-life with Photo

Stilleben mit Photographie

1930




This still-life of seemingly haphazardly gathered

and wittily arranged personal objects in precarious

balance combines memories of carefree

summers in the country and a certain nostalgia

for a lost way of life. Working in the garden of

the family’s estate in Hinterbrühl, Motesiczky

gathered objects from inside the Villa Todesco,

by now closed up, which were suitable for

being painted in bright sunshine. From the

‘English corner’ of the drawing room she

selected a stool with a floral chintz cover (as

real flowers would have wilted in the sun).

Propped against the wall on the brightly

coloured cushion is a sepia photograph in a

golden frame, crowning the arrangement. A

graceful little wickerwork footrest sits underneath

the stool, a tennis ball balanced on top

of it. Distinct, dark shadows give shape and

solidity to the fragile equilibrium of the objects.

In the world economic crisis of the late

1920s the members of the Motesiczky family

lost substantial parts of their immense fortune.

They subsequently had to cut back dramatically

and went to live in the smaller Swiss chalet

on the estate. The villa, with its notoriously

uneven floors caused by the underground

stream on which it was built, had to be pulled

down in the 1930s. The family’s apparent security

was finally crushed in 1938 when the artist

and her mother were forced to flee the country.

The photograph is based loosely on a family

photograph from the 1860s, showing relatives

on her mother’s side who, sadly, cannot be

identified from the photograph. Alongside two

round vignettes of individual family members

this group photograph was proudly displayed

in the salon of the Villa Todesco, installed on

an elaborate wooden panel (fig. 55). Motesiczky

simplified the photograph by leaving out

several ancestors in the painted version.

Still-life with Photo had a special meaning

for the artist’s mother Henriette von Motesiczky,

who bought it from the exhibition at the Beaux

Arts Gallery in January 1960 for £ 94.10.0. In

an undated (and probably much later) poem

about the painting – included in the book of

Henriette von Motesiczky’s poems and

drawings that the artist created in memory

of her mother for friends and relatives in the

early 1980s – she had expressed her admiration

for the painting and nostalgia for the lost

world and the deception it held, captured by

the image:

Family Portrait

The hot bright rays of sun

The deep shadows of that time,

You could paint them in a picture

Now captured for eternity.

And you have forgotten nothing in it,

The picture of the people on the wall

How they all sat there like that,

Maybe that no one felt anything.

The old thick garden stool

Where tired feet used to rest,

What the picture means to me, only you

can judge

It captures the high spirits of youth.

Carefree living, laughter and some tears

When the tennis ball flew past

A scrap of colourful chintz could draw

it together

Into a world that perhaps betrayed us 1

Motesiczky was pleased with this painting and,

rather uncharacteristically, praised it: ‘every

inch of canvas has the right amount of colour,

thickness, transparency. There’s a great certainty.

That little stool has something terribly delicate

about it, and the shadows are very assured.’ 2



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated manuscript: ‘In

“Still Life with Photo” (1930), every inch of canvas has

the right amount of colour, thickness, transparency.

There’s a great certainty. That little stool has something

terribly delicate about it, and the shadows are

very assured. This was in the family summer house,

Villa Todesco, south of Vienna. In the 1860s, there was

an Englishwoman and her great love, my great-greatuncle.

There was a hunting accident and the Prince

Fig. 55 Interior view of the salon at the Villa Todesco,

Hinterbrühl, with a display of family photographs,

photograph, undated (Motesiczky archive)

Lichtenstein was wounded. In the house the woman

went off with him and my great-great-uncle said goodbye

to the house with its big drawing room with its

English chintz, and my great-great-grandfather got it.

Around the time the picture was painted, there came

a tremendous fashion in Austria for things Victorian.

The seeds were already there in me. The Villa’s walls

were covered in real green chintz. I loved all these

things. The photograph is of my relations of the

1860s. Much later, my mother wrote a poem about

the painting, with a line, “When that little tennis ball

and a little bit of chintz could still reassemble a world

which perhaps betrayed us.”’

notes

1 Familienbild

Die heissen lichten Sonnenstrahlen

Die tiefen Schatten jener Zeit,

Du könntest auf ein Bild sie mahlen

Nun eingefangen für die Ewigkeit.

Und nichts hast Du darauf vergessen,

Das Bild der Menschen an der Wand

Wie sie so alle dort gesessen,

Vielleicht das keiner was empfand.

Den alten dicken Gartenschemel

Wo müde Fusse einst geruht,

Was mir das Bild ist, kannst nur Du ermessen

Es liegt darin der Jugend Übermuth.

Sorgloses Leben, Lachen und ein Weinen

Wenn jener Tennisball vorüber flog

122

Ein Stückchen bunten Gins konnt’s noch vereinen

Zu einer Welt die uns vielleicht betrog


2 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated manuscript:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Henriette von Motesiczky (purchased 1960); artist

(inherited 1978).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939; London 1960, no. 3, shown as Still life with

photograph, 1928; Vienna 1966, no. 5, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 5,



illus. p. 24 (col.); London 1994, no. 56, illus. p. 27; Vienna 1994,

no. 9, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 8; Vienna 1995, no. 46,

p. 308, illus. p. 143 (col.); Vienna 1999b, no. 128, p. 138, illus.

p. 152 (col.); Vienna 2004b, illus. on cover (detail, col., mirror

image), also exh. poster; Liverpool 2006, no. 21, illus. p. 87

(col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 21, illus. p. 87 (col.); Vienna



bibliography

Veth 1939, n.p.; Hodin 1966, illus. p. 47; Muschik 1966, n.p.;

Pack 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p. (Stilleben mit Photo);

Spiel 1966, n.p. (dated 1928); Winterbottom 1986, p. 11; Vann

1987, p. 16, illus. p. 1 (col.); Adler 1994, p. 18 (Stilleben mit

Photo); Black 1994, p. 9; G.F. 1994, n.p.; Salzburger Nachrichten,

9 April 1994, illus.; Tabor 1995, n.p.; Michel 2003, pp. 34, 49,

illus. Abb. 41 (col.); Lloyd 2004, pp. 205 f., illus. p. 204 (col.,

mirror image); illus. on cover of Die Gemeinde. Offizielles Organ

der Israelitischen Kultusgemeinde Wien, no. 568, November 2004

(detail, col., mirror image); Behr 2006, p. 561; R. Gries 2006,

n.p.; Held 2006, n.p.; Lloyd 2006, pp. 23–5, 28–31; Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.); Sander

2006, pp. 126 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 86; Lloyd 2007, pp. 1, 7,

10, 17, 80, illus. fig. 1 (col.).

123

35

At the Dressmaker’s

Bei der Schneiderin

1930



The Syndics of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (PD.55–1993)

Writing from Paris in spring 1930, Motesiczky

reports happily on her achievements: ‘By the

way, I showed Becki [Max Beckmann] photos

of my paintings and he was rather pleased –

made progress he said – you know that I am

in a good mood because of it!! Also, the dressmaker

picture is now finished, thank God, and

when I come to Berlin I can start afresh.’ 1

Painted two years after attending Max

Beckmann’s master-class in Frankfurt, this fulllength

self-portrait still reveals the influence

of her teacher. Beckmann’s 1928 painting

Garderobe (fig. 56) bears a particularly close

resemblance in subject matter, style and

composition. Yet, while Beckmann depicts a

coquettish and provocative model, Motesiczky

characterizes herself as more reserved and

sceptical. Standing in front of a small dressing

area, an alcove in the room that can be separated

by a curtain, Motesiczky is trying on a

new white dress. She tentatively raises her left

arm. This seemingly unfinished movement

appears to be caught by a flash photograph, an

impression that is enhanced by the darkness of

the heavy shadows she casts and the surprised

expression on her face. The dressmaker, kneeling

beside her, is putting the finishing touches

to the skirt. A few cut-off pieces of fabric are

scattered on the floor. In an awkward attempt

at mirror-writing on the wall, letters spell out

the word ‘Salon’ in the top right corner.

Motesiczky gave a detailed account of the

painting’s conception:

I was secure in myself and in Beckmann’s

style. Of course, when one is young, one has

a lot of confidence that things will go well;

one doesn’t know how difficult it is. It is so

wonderful to have movement and stillness in

a picture. This painting … has a static movement.

As I stood with one arm held up, I didn’t

think ‘how marvellous’, but ‘that will do’. I

started in front of a mirror and undressed a bit

and thought ‘the arm like that is very nice and

now I make the little coral chain’. Beckmann

once said he loved Slavonic faces with high

cheek bones and eyes slanted upwards.

I looked into the mirror so long that at a

certain angle, the eyes really seemed slanted

upwards. Recently a friend, whose judgement

I value, said: ‘This picture is a simple statement

of youth.’ That made me very happy.

I think that unconsciously I was presenting

myself to the world. I didn’t take it as a case

study of a visit to the dressmaker; it is much

too final for that. 2

Visits to the dressmaker had always been part

of the artist’s life. Her annual expenditure on

clothes was extremely high, reaching 3,530

Marks in the period from October 1929 to

September 1930 out of a total 5,691 Marks she

had at her disposal – only 22 Marks were spent

on paint. While one might argue that such

scenes were typically female subject matter,

exploring themes of beauty and vanity, it

seems inappropriate to limit Motesiczky’s

version in such a way. The obligatory hand

mirror, hung on a nail on the wall, is not

being used to check the appearance of the

new garment. The fact that it also does not

show any reflection (Motesiczky used a similar

device in Self-portrait with Comb, 1926, no. 13)

hints at its relative unimportance and, on a

practical level, relegates it to a status of mere

accessory. In a less literal sense the mirror

must be read as a medium of self-reflection and

introspection – here, however, momentarily

unused.

In the memorial album for Henriette von

Motesiczky, the artist contrasts this painting with

the following poem of her mother’s, written in

May 1970 and entitled ‘Dem Andenken von

R.H.’ (‘In Memory of R.H.’). It commemorates

the late seamstress, who probably worked for

the dressmaker Kobermann based in the centre

of Vienna, whom Motesiczky patronized:

A bit of ash is

still there from the hands

that sewed this dress,

stitch by stitch

But then came the

grim reaper who

Fig. 56 Max Beckmann, Garderobe, 1928, oil on canvas,

810 × 605 mm (private collection)

mows down all life.

We would have the right

to be sad

Yet we laugh like

a small child

Because we are so far

from the truth. 3

The painting may also have inspired the writer

Iris Murdoch (1919–99), who knew Motesiczky

through their mutual friend Elias Canetti and

later commissioned a portrait from her (Iris

Murdoch, 1964, no. 193). According to Peter

Conradi, Murdoch’s biographer, the profession

of the character Nina, a dressmaker, in the novel

Flight from the Enchanter, published in 1956,

might have been suggested by this painting.

While Nina is a half-rhyme for the author’s wife

Veza, Elias Canetti himself can be detected in

the character of the mysterious Mischa Fox. 4

At the Dressmaker’s makes a brief but

anonymous appearance in the novel The Next

Big Thing by the English writer Anita Brookner,

124

125

who must have come across it during the

exhibition ‘Painting the Century. 101 Portrait

Masterpieces 1900–2000’ at the National

Portrait Gallery, London, in 2000. She describes

it as ‘an arresting image … of a dressmaker

pinning the skirt of an impassive client …

(black hair, dark eyes, prominent crimson

mouth, and bad-tempered expression)’. 5

The poet Christine McNeill was recently

inspired by the painting to write the following

lines:

At a Dressmaker’s, 1938

(after marie-louise von motesiczky)

The pins slide into the fabric

like bees into flowers.

I trust her knowledge of how it will look:

how my youth will fit into its classic lines.

Something in my belly melts at the thought

of a ballroom floor. In the mirror

I see chandelier lights

through an open door.

Last night he named all that was visible:

the moons of Jupiter, Cassiopeia, the Plough.

He offered me a cigarette.

Berlin, Vienna, Budapest …

Why have you raised your arm?

the dressmaker asks.

He talked about playing the saxophone.

Described its sound leaping over buildings.

I stared at my cigarette.

How strange that at the point of nearing the end

it glowed so fiercely.

We stood in the dark:

I wanted chiffon, silk –

the thumbprint of fireworks on my swirling skirt.

I drop my arm. Go over the scene in my head.

Look into the mirror.

See the bleached light of an oil-lamp

on the hands of a nun.

With each gunshot outside

her finger points at the name of a saint in a book.

In an adjacent bar

people dance to midday jazz.

The sound of the saxophone jumps over ruined

buildings:

Berlin, Vienna, Budapest.

As each pin slides into the fabric

a door inside me shuts.

But the dressmaker says

it will look so fabulous. 6

The painting has a curious, still somewhat

unclear provenance. According to a statement

from the Beaux Arts Gallery, dated 10 February

1960, it was sold to Sophie Brentano, the artist’s

cousin, for £ 210.0.0 on 7 January 1960. By the

time of the exhibition in 1966 it was no longer

listed as being in a private collection and may

have been back in the artist’s possession.

Having offered the painting to the Städel in

Frankfurt, which declined it, Motesiczky lent it

to the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge after

her solo exhibition there in 1986 and, happy

with the display, offered it as a gift, together

with the portrait of Philippe de Rothschild,

painted in 1986 (no. 287).



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Klaus Gallwitz,

Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt am Main, undated:

‘Nun möchte ich an Sie lieber Dr Gallwitz eine Frage

stellen. Als Sie vor Jahren bei uns im Haus in London

waren haben Sie ein frühes Bild von mir gesehen. “Bei

der Schneiderin” Ich erinnere mich noch genau dass

Sie das Bild ich möchte sagen beinahe jubelnd mit

beiden Händen an die Wand hielten, denn wir waren

im Wohnzimmer und es war keine Staffelei vorhanden.

Es besteht für mich kein Zweifel dass es Ihnen

gefallen hat. Waren Sie bereit dieses Bild in das Staedel

aufzunehmen und an eine Stelle zu hängen an die es

hingehört, ohne jede Kosten … In dem Bild “bei der

Schneiderin” habe ich als ich es malte nicht an mich

sondern nur gedacht: ein schönes Bild zu malen. Aber

unbewusst und das ist mir jetzt erst klar geworden

habe ich alles was ich mit 26 Jahren war, dem

Beschauer dargeboten’







include in the hang for lack of space in our Gallery;

and he liked the small Still Life with Strawberries 1982.

For that I could pass on to him the price from the list

which Michael Black has supplied. I should not be at

all surprised if there were not other sales of those

works which you are prepared to let go. Please keep

us in touch with the Phillipe de Rothschild portrait.

I think that of the many, many things which I admire

in the exhibition, that portrait and the early picture

of the dressmaker’s fitting are my favourites.’


Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18 November 1988: ‘I was

very pleased to get your letter of 4 th November, with its

very generous offer to lend At the Dressmaker or Still

Life with Photo. I have discussed this offer with David

Scrase, and we should be delighted to show here on

loan from you At the Dressmaker, an early masterpiece

of your painting which we both particularly admire. It

would be a great pleasure to have it here at least during

my remaining period as Director, which comes to an

end at the end of September 1990.’

Michael Jaffé, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, to Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, 19 January 1989: ‘You proposed

that the Fitzwilliam should have one of the wonderful

series of your mother, the still life with a photograph,

and a landscape besides At the Dressmaker, which we

hope may come to us soon to join Baron Philippe de

Rothschild which is already on our walls. We look

forward to displaying At the dressmaker … As to

bringing At the dressmaker here soon, I am telling

David Scrase to arrange collection at the first opportunity

that may be convenient to you, now that I have

your word that you do not require insurance here’

W.F. Northam, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 10 February 1989: ‘The

Museum’s Syndics, when they met recently, were

delighted to accept your most generous offer to let us

have on loan your painting At the Dressmaker, which

was greatly admired by all those present. The Syndics

noted that the loan is for the remaining period of

Professor Jaffe’s Directorship. We shall be both pleased

and honoured to be able to show such a masterpiece.’

126

Michael Jaffé, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, to Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, 22 January 1990: ‘The Syndics at

their meeting on 22 January joined me in expressing

delight that the loan of your early masterpiece At the

Dressmaker is to continue here. You are most generous

in this decision. I am happier that it is not to leave

when I leave at the end of September.’

David Scrase, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 10 July 1993: ‘I am utterly

delighted at your generosity in giving us your two

pictures; they look so well here and I was so worried

that they might not have stayed – but now they will!

And we shall always have a bit of each end of Marie-

Louise’s career – I can not thank you sufficiently.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Simon Jervis, Fitzwilliam

Museum, Cambridge, 13 July 1993: ‘As you know

Professor Jaffé persuaded me to lend to the Fitzwilliam

Museum two of my paintings, At the dressmaker and

the portrait Phillip de Rothschild after the exhibition

of my works in Cambridge in 1985 arranged through

the good services of Peter Black. I have been happy

with the way they are displayed in the Fitzwilliam and

have decided to offer them as a gift if the Syndicate

will accept them. It would give me great pleasure to

know that my work will remain publicly accessible

and visited.’

Simon Jervis, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, to Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, 23 July 1993: ‘The Syndics at their

meeting here on 19 th July were delighted to be offered

your impressive paintings At the Dressmaker’s and

Philippe de Rothschild as gifts to the Museum. They

accepted most gratefully and have asked me to convey

their thanks to you. I too am delighted by your

generosity; it is wonderful that these paintings will

now be part of our permanent collection.’

sources from the fitzwilliam museum,

cambridge, collection david scrase

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to David Scrase, Fitzwilliam

Museum, Cambridge, 11 July 1993: ‘This is just to tell that

I would like to make a present to the Fitzwilliam with

“The Dressmaker” and “Rothschild” and to thank you

for your incurigement’

notes

1 ‘Im übrigen habe ich dem Becki Photos von meinen

Sachen gezeigt u. er war ganz zufrieden – hab Fortschritte

gemacht sagt er – Du weisst dass ich darüber guter Laune

bin!! Auch das Schneiderinnenbild ist jetzt Gott sei Dank

fertig u. wenn ich nach Berlin komm kann ich frisch

anfangen.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von

Motesiczky, 17 March 1930 (postmark): Motesiczky archive.


Motesiczky archive.

3 Ein bischen Asche ist

noch da von den Händen

die dieses Kleid,

Stich für Stich genäht

Dann aber kam der

Sensenmann, der all

das Leben nieder meht.

Wir hätten das Recht

betrübt zu sein

Doch lachen wir wie

ein kleines Kind

Weil wir so weit

von der Waheit sind.


4 Conradi 2001, pp. 389 f.

5 Brookner 2003, pp. 108 f. I thank Yukiko Kitamura for

this reference.

6 McNeill 2005, pp. 11 f.

provenance

Artist; Sophie Brentano (purchased at 1960 exhibition); artist

(probably not returned after 1966–8 exhibitions); Fitzwilliam

Museum (on loan since 1989, presented by the artist in 1993).

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 4, dated 1929; London 1964, no. 19, dated

1929; Vienna 1966, no. 6, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 6, illus.; Munich

1967, no. 6, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 6, illus.; London 1985,

no. 14, illus. p. 25 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 14, illus. p. 25

(col.); Vienna 1994, no. 10, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 9,

illus. on cover; Vienna 1995, no. 49, p. 308, illus. p. 147 (col.);

Vienna 1999b, no. 127, p. 138, illus. p. 151 (col.); London 2000,

no. 1930, p. 116, illus. p. 117 (col.); Liverpool 2006, no. 20, illus.

p. 85 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 20, illus. p. 85 (col.);



bibliography

Hart 1966, n.p.; Muschik 1966, n.p.; Pack 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg

1966a, n.p.; illus. in Süddeutsche Zeitung, 4 October 1967;

Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Berryman 1985, p. 628; Taylor 1985, n.p., illus.

n.p.; Gaisbauer 1986, n.p.; Fallon 1987, n.p.; Vann 1987, p. 14,

illus. p. 16 (col.); Fallon 1988, n.p.; Adler 1994, p. 18; Black 1994,

illus. on cover; Fitzwilliam Museum, 1994, illus. p. 35; G.F.

1994, n.p.; Kruntorad 1994, n.p.; Packer 1994, n.p.; Plakolm-

Forsthuber 1994, p. 166 (Beim Schneider); Schmidt 1994a, p. 6;

Tabor 1995, n.p.; Anonymous [Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Fallon

1996, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 501 (At the Tailor); Black 1997,

p. 992; Borzello 1998, p. 139, illus. p. 140 (col.); Smithson

1999, n.p.; Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 37, 54 f.n., illus. p. 84;

Conradi 2001, p. 389; Phillips 2001, p. 30; Michel 2003, pp. 46

f., 49, 61, 65, 69, illus. Abb. 56 (col.); Lloyd 2004, p. 214 (Beim

Kleidermacher); Vann 2004, p. 100; Kitamura 2006, pp. 13, 23;

Kneller 2006, n.p.; Lloyd 2006, pp. 38 f.; Schlenker 2006c,

p. 84; Schlenker 2006d, p. 255; Sternburg 2006, n.p., illus. n.p.

(col.); Lloyd 2007, pp. 60, 71 f., 172, 211, 259 f.n., illus. fig. 16

(col.); Michel 2007, p. 118, illus. p. 117 (col.); Spiegler 2007,

n.p., illus. n.p.; Weinzierl 2007, illus. n.p.

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to David Scrase, Fitzwilliam

Museum, Cambridge, 24 July 1993: ‘But with out you and

your nice words and knowing that you are happy that

Rothschild and “At the dressmaker” will never leave

the Fitzwilliam Museum … I would be: very unhappy!’

127

36

Nude

1931




Probably the largest nude Motesiczky painted,

this is an unusually serious and slightly

laboured work. It has the air of a set task in

a life-class. Uneasy with being on display, the

unknown, probably professional, model adopts

a tense, stiffly upright posture in her chair.

Apart from her stockings, the top parts of

which are just visible, she is completely naked.

Her dense brown hair, held back with a slide

on one side, frames an anxious face in which

only the bright red lips stand out. Her eyes

are not engaging with the viewer but focusing

on something outside the realm of the picture.

Her right hand performs a curious gesture:

resting on one leg, it is pointing towards

the stomach in an awkward and probably

uncomfortable movement.

Fig. 57 Paula Modersohn-Becker, Halbakt einer sitzenden

Bäuerin, 1900, tempera on canvas, 817 × 537 mm (Bundesrepublik

Deutschland, Land Niedersachsen, Landkreis

Osterholz)

It may have been paintings like this that

induced Max Beckmann to compare

Motesiczky’s work with that of the German

artist Paula Modersohn-Becker (1876–1907).

Motesiczky recollects how Beckmann, probably

while she attended his master-class in Frankfurt

in 1927/8, managed to boost her artistic selfconfidence

and inspire her with a few pointed

sentences: ‘“Paula Modersohn was the best

woman painter in Germany – well, you have

every chance of succeeding her.” A pause. “But

don’t get a swollen head, you aren’t there yet.”’ 1

Beckmann’s pupil subsequently took the

suggestion of direction and encouragement

on board. Modersohn-Becker’s Halbakt einer

sitzenden Bäuerin, 1900 (fig. 57), is particularly

striking in its stylistic links, its simplicity and

grandeur to this nude by Motesiczky.

note


128

37

Model with Parasol

Modell mit Sonnenschirm

c. 1932



This half-length portrait of a young woman

reclining in a canvas deckchair captures an

intimate, leisurely moment. Completely at

ease, she gazes into the distance, basking in

the sunshine. A folded pink shawl, placed

beneath her head, acts as a cushion, providing

more comfort. Her right hand, resting nonchalantly

against her bosom, lightly holds a

parasol that partially protects her from the

warm sunshine. Motesiczky skilfully captures

the play of light and shade on the face and bare

arms of the model and on her sleeveless pale

green summer dress. The sitter’s identity has

not been discovered, nor was it possible to

establish whether she was a friend or relative

of the artist or a professional model, as the

impersonal title seems to suggest.

129

38

Tea-time

Jause

1933




In this close-up view of an ordinary domestic

scene, a chubby-cheeked blonde little girl,

probably Wilhelmine, the daughter of Hans

Beschorner, the Motesiczkys’ Hinterbrühl

chauffeur, is sitting at a table, expectantly

eyeing and pointing at the tray in front of her.

She is well dressed, wearing a pleated skirt and

a frilly blouse underneath her double-breasted

pink jacket. The tray, which appears to have a

rather irregular shape and was said to have

been the artist’s favourite, holds two napkins, a

white teapot, a shallow dish, a bowl of peaches,

plums and an apple, while a second large,

yellow apple that seems not to fit in the bowl

is placed next to it. Beside the girl, the second

chair is empty, waiting for her companion to

signal the beginning of the meal.

When the painting was first exhibited in

1939 it was shown under the Dutch title Snoepstertje,

referring to a girl who is fond of sweets.

In some documents and within the family,

the painting is sometimes referred to as Das

Wunschkind, the planned or wished-for child.

Motesiczky, herself childless, painted very few

portraits of children (see for example Child with

a Candle, Birthday Cake and Dog, 1990, no. 310).

She does, however, manage to portray this little

girl with the utmost empathy and affection. In

his introduction to the 1966 exhibition catalogue

Benno Reifenberg praised her depiction of

the girl as ‘worthy of a [Philipp Otto] Runge’. 1

Motesiczky may have been familiar with works

such as Frühstückstisch (blau) by Max Beckmann,

painted in 1934 (fig. 58), which shows a laid table

from a comparable viewpoint, albeit without

its human admirer. The painting certainly

expresses Motesiczky’s knowledge of Pierre

Bonnard’s depictions of similar scenes.

Curiously, the painting, which has always

been dated 1933 when exhibited, bears the

date 1936 in front of the signature. From the

surviving documents (variously containing

both dates) it is impossible to tell which was

the true year of creation. Of the two, 1933 seems

altogether more likely with the signature, as

in other instances, probably added later and

incorrectly.



charitable trust

Charlotte Bondy to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1985]:

‘Und warum ist “die Jause” nicht in der Ausstellung –

hattest Du das nicht extra aus der Schweiz gekriegt?

Und es ist SO good – grade auch weil es das einzige

Kinderbild ist’

note

1 ‘wie es einem Runge Ehre gemacht hätte’: Reifenberg

1966a, n.p.

provenance


Leembruggen’s death in 1961); Sophie Brentano; Ursula

Brentano (inherited).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, shown as Snoepstertje; Vienna 1966, no. 7,

illus.; Linz 1966, no. 7, illus.; Munich 1967, no. 7, illus.; Bremen

1968, no. 7, illus.; London 1985, no. 17, illus. p. 27 (col.),

probably not shown; Cambridge 1986, no. 17, illus. p. 27 (col.);




bibliography

Anonymous [1939], n.p.; Gruyter 1939, n.p.; Veth 1939, n.p.;

Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Michel 2003, p. 51, illus. Abb. 64 (col.);

B. Gries 2006, illus. n.p. (detail); R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Huther

2006b, illus. n.p. (col.); Lloyd 2006, pp. 34 f.; Lloyd 2007, p. 39.

Fig. 58 Max Beckmann, Frühstückstisch (blau), 1934, oil on canvas, 400 × 1105 mm

(Galerie Jan Krugier & Cie, Geneva)

130

131

39

Still-life with Peaked Cap

Stilleben mit Schirmmütze

1934


Richard Calvocoressi

Motesiczky presented this still-life as a gift to

Richard Calvocoressi, its current owner, after

her solo exhibition at the Goethe-Institut in

London in 1985 which he had organized. She

may have chosen this particular work for him

because he had occasionally admired the

painting and told the artist that it reminded

him of Arthur Schnitzler.

The three objects, arranged close together,

are reminiscent of the Austro-Hungarian

world of the Habsburg monarchy recreated in

the works by the author and playwright. In the

condensed compositional space, they take on

an almost monumental appearance, filling the

entire canvas. Cutting diagonally across the

picture plane lies a long branch from a rose

bush bearing white flowers in abundance.

Behind it, partially hidden by the leaves, rest

a blue peaked cap (of a soldier perhaps) and

a single yellow glove. It is not known if, with

the juxtaposition of these particular objects,

the artist, who would have been familiar with

Schnitzler’s works, attempted to allude to a

particular storyline or a specific literary figure.

They may refer to a more personal connection

with the person who wore the cap and glove

and brought flowers for a lady.

provenance

Artist; Richard Calvocoressi (gift after 1985 exhibition).

132

40

Still-life with Fruit, Vegetables and Knife

Stilleben mit Obst, Gemüse und Messer

1935



Helmut Mark, Vienna

In this still-life with its strikingly vivid colours

Motesiczky adopts a close viewpoint. The

objects, arranged almost symmetrically, thus

appear monumental. A plate with a blue and

white pattern holds half of a large lemon, two

green peppers, a Mohnsemmel, a poppy-seed

bun, and a black-handled knife. The strong

sunlight coming in from the left casts marked

shadows on the plate, while the small lemon

and two red apples behind it remain in shadow.

The provenance of Still-life with Fruit,

Vegetables and Knife remains unclear. It surfaced

only recently, when it was sold at auction from

a private collection in the USA, in 2004.

provenance

Artist; private collection, USA; Helmut Mark (purchased 2004).

41

Still-life with Garden Tools

1936

Oil on plywood, 418 × 534 mm


By 1936, having lived and studied in Frankfurt,

Paris and Berlin, Motesiczky was back in her

native Austria, working quietly in her studio in

Vienna in the winter and at the family’s estate

in Hinterbrühl during the warmer part of the

year. This still-life was probably painted in the

late summer in Hinterbrühl, a place where

the focus was on outdoor activities. Set in an

ambiguous, almost abstract space, Motesiczky

allows a view of a small number of objects

that bear testament to her lifelong fondness

for gardens: a pair of garden gloves, secateurs,

a sprig with three large leaves and a bowl of

fruit, among which are plums and red and

green grapes, the light bouncing off each small

sphere. In this composition, Motesiczky brings

together the fruits of work in the garden and

some of the tools necessary to produce them.

bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, p. 14.

133

42

Self-portrait with Straw Hat

Selbstporträt mit Strohhut

1937


Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky (‘1937’ overpainted)


In Self-portrait with Straw Hat the artist

portrays herself dramatically in close-up,

setting up a confrontation with the viewer.

Her head is seen from below, resulting in

a gracefully elongated neck. Her large round

eyes and slightly open mouth give her a

surprised and questioning expression. She

is not holding a brush or another tool of her

trade, but an umbrella with a green handle.

Inspiration for this unconventional

self-portrait came from a painting by one of

Motesiczky’s favourite artists: Edouard Manet’s

Le Balcon of 1868 (fig. 59). Her teacher, Max

Beckmann, who also admired this painting,

was particularly interested in the fact that

Manet deliberately composed it using only two

colours, blue and green. 1 According to Peter

Black, Motesiczky explained that in Self-portrait

with Straw Hat ‘the touches of colour, the

surprising blue of the eyes, the green cravat

and parasol handle, mirror the colour accents

of cravat, parasol and fan in Manet’s Le balcon

painting’. 2

The painting received widely varying

responses, with critics remarking on

Motesiczky’s success in ‘capturing her meditative

nervousness in the clever lighting’ 3 and

the striking ‘large brown eyes that forlornly

and contemplatively gaze into the distance’. 4

Others see ‘a capricious person who was fully

aware of her delightful beauty’ 5 or wonder if

this portrait ‘could be the satisfying result of

an inspection of the self’. 6 Whether one experiences

Motesiczky as demure and delicate, or

self-assured and defiant, this self-portrait is

a testament to an honest introspection.

Dating this self-portrait, which was painted

in Hinterbrühl, is problematic. While earlier

exhibitions settled for 1933, the most recent

ones have dated it 1937. Records from the

Motesiczky archive are not conclusive and

the date ‘1937’ in front of the signature in the

bottom right corner of the painting has been

overpainted. The assured style of the painting

and the mature look of the sitter suggest that

the work was created in 1937.

notes


2 Peter Black, draft catalogue entry, [1993]: Motesiczky

archive.

3 Pyle 1988.

4 ‘großen braunen Augen, die verloren, sinnend in die

Ferne blicken’: Aus der Meisterklasse Max Beckmanns,

exh. cat. 2000, p. 58.

5 ‘eine kapriziöse Person, die sich ihrer reizenden Schönheit

bewusst war’: Nicol 2000.

6 ‘könnte das befriedigende Ergebnis der Selbstbespiegelung

sein’: Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 168.

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, no. 20 or no. 24; London 1941, no. 5 (?);

London 1944b, no. 34, shown as Self-portrait with a Straw Hat;

Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952; Vienna 1966, no. 8, illus.,

dated 1933; Linz 1966, no. 8, illus., dated 1933; Munich 1967,

no. 8, illus., dated 1933; Bremen 1968, no. 8, illus., dated 1933;

Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 71, dated 1933; London 1985,

no. 16, illus. p. 68, dated 1933; Cambridge 1986, no. 16, illus.

p. 68, dated 1933; Dublin 1988, no. 5, dated 1933; Vienna 1994,

no. 13, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 11; Frankfurt am

Main 2000, p. 58 (dated 1933), illus. p. 59 (col.); Permanent

collection, Museum des Expressiven Realismus, Schloß

Kißlegg, Kißlegg, Germany, January 2001–February 2005;

Liverpool 2006, no. 26, illus. on cover (detail) and p. 97 (both

col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 26, illus. on cover (detail)

and p. 97 (both col.); Vienna 2007, no. 26, illus. on cover

(detail) and p. 97 (both col.), also exh. poster; Passau 2007,

no. 26, illus. on cover (detail) and p. 97 (both col.); Southampton

2007, no. 26, illus. on cover (detail) and p. 97 (both col.).

bibliography

Anonymous [1939], n.p.; Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Engelman

1952, n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Veth 1952, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a,

n.p. (dated 1933); Reifenberg 1966b, illus. p. 17; Albrecht 1968,

illus. n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Pyle 1988, n.p.; Koch 1994, p. 100;

Kruntorad 1994, n.p.; Packer 1994, n.p.; Plakolm-Forsthuber

1994, p. 168; Anonymous 1996b, illus. n.p.; Dollen 1997,

p. 1595, illus. p. 1594 (col.); Anonymous 2000b, illus. n.p.

(wrong caption); Crüwell 2000, n.p. (Selbstbildnis mit

Strohhut); Dollen 2000, pp. 187, 235, 237, illus. p. 234 (col.);

Nicol 2000, n.p.; Thomasius 2000, illus. n.p.; illus. in

Dreieich-Spiegel, 16 December 2000, p. 3; Michel 2003, p. 51,

illus. Abb. 62 (col.); Black 2006, illus. p. 57 (col., mirror image);

C.H. 2006, illus. n.p. (col.); Crüwell 2006a, illus. n.p. (detail,

col.); B. Gries 2006, n.p.; R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Huther 2006a,

n.p.; Huther 2006b, n.p.; Kneller 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006,

pp. 120 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 96; Weiner 2006, illus. n.p.

(col.); Borchhardt-Birbaumer 2007, illus. n.p.; Franke 2007,

illus. n.p. (detail); Lloyd 2007, p. 86; Melchart 2007, illus. n.p.;

Wiesauer 2007, illus. n.p.

provenance

Artist; Michael Croft (? – 1960s); artist; Miriam Rothschild

(late 1960s – 1980?); artist.

Fig. 59 Edouard Manet, Le Balcon, 1868, oil on canvas,

1700 × 1245 mm (Musée d’Orsay, Paris)

134

135

43

Woman and Musician

1937



Woman and Musician is an unusual painting

for Motesiczky in terms of colour, motif and

composition. It appears to depict a scene in a

fashionable bar or club. In the background, an

elegantly dressed musician with a red beard

plays an instrument that resembles a cello,

although it seems disproportionately small,

and the foreground is dominated by a pensive

young woman. She is wearing a fashionable,

asymmetrical black-and-mauve evening gown,

and a red hat sits coquettishly on the side

of her dark hair. Mauve eyeshadow and red

lipstick match her clothes. Perching on the

edge of a chair, she is leaning on what appears

to be the arm of a sofa. Head in hand, she

stares down at the empty seat in front of her.

exhibitions

Amsterdam 1952, shown as Café or Rendez-vous (?);

The Hague 1952, shown as Rendez-vous.

bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Buys 1952, n.p.; Filarski 1952b, n.p.;

H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Veth 1952, n.p. (?); Michel 2003, p. 40,

illus. Abb. 46 (col.) (Frau und Musiker).

136

44

Hilda

Hilda, meine Milchschwester

c. 1937



Hilda (or Hilde) was the daughter of Marie

Hauptmann, Motesiczky’s Bohemian wetnurse

and lifelong loyal family friend to whom

the artist paid a touching tribute in the posthumous

painting Marie in Doorway, after 1954

(no. 134). While working at her first job in Vienna,

the young Marie Hauptmann became pregnant

by the son of the house. When her illegitimate

daughter, Hilda, was born, probably in 1906,

she was given away and brought up by relatives.

Marie Hauptmann found a new position

in the Motesiczky household. The term ‘Milchschwester’

in the German title refers to the fact

that the babies Hilda and Marie-Louise shared

Marie Hauptmann’s milk, like real sisters.

Contact between Marie Hauptmann and Hilda

was not severed and family tradition has it

that, as children, Hilda would sometimes play

with Marie-Louise. After the artist and her

mother had left Austria in 1938, it seems that

Hilda managed to help and protect the artist’s

brother Karl on several occasions when he was

forced to fight the National Socialist regime

(for example in connection with the seizure of

the property in Hinterbrühl). Sadly, Hilda’s fate

is unknown. The family suspects that she died

during the Second World War, perhaps in the

bombing raid on Dresden in February 1945.

This small and informal study of Hilda’s

head shows a young and earnest, almost sad,

smooth oval face. Her eyes are unfocused and

she seems lost in thought. Unusually, the light

streams in from the right so that the right half

of Hilda’s face is cast in shadow. Her hair is

arranged in a severe style, revealing her ears.

The painting appears almost monochrome,

brightened only by a colourful scarf around

the sitter’s neck.

Hilda has sometimes been dated 1927, yet,

judging by the age of the sitter and the

markedly independent style, it is more likely

that the recent suggestion of c. 1937 is correct.

exhibitions

Dublin 1988, no. 2, dated 1927; Vienna 1994, no. 14, illus.

(col.); Manchester 1994, no. 12, shown as Hilda, Daughter of

my Wetnurse, 1937; Liverpool 2006, no. 27, illus. p. 99 (col.);




bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, p. 30 (Portrait of Hilda); R. Gries 2006,

n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 98.

137

45

Frau Ziegler

Porträt Frau Ziegler

1938

46

Frau Zischka

Porträt Frau Zischka

1938



Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna (LG 928)



This portrait, one of the smallest works by

Motesiczky, depicts an elderly woman who

is said to have been a Viennese dressmaker.

It focuses entirely on the sitter’s head, which

almost fills the canvas, leaving hardly any background

visible. Her strong neck and large face,

full of character, stand out from the dark and

sombre colours, some wisps of grey curly hair,

a black hat and a brown coat, that surround it.

The date of the portrait has been variously

given as 1936 or 1938 and cannot be clarified

with any certainty. If the signature – not always

a reliable source of information in Motesiczky’s

case – is to be believed, 1938 is correct.

Frau Ziegler was shown in Motesiczky’s

exhibition at the Wiener Secession in 1966,

her first solo exhibition in her native Austria.

It was purchased by the Österreichische Galerie

in Schloß Belvedere in January 1967 for 20,000

Schillings. The artist recollects that ‘the

Belvedere bought the very smallest painting

for such a tiny sum that I straight away lost

it in a telephone box. The first money I had

earned … at sixty.’ 1

note

1 ‘das Belvedere hat das allerkleinste Bild gekauft um so

eine kleine Summe, daß ich sie sofort in einer Telefonzelle

verloren hab’. Mein erstes verdientes Geld … mit sechzig.’:

Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, p. 173.

provenance

Artist; Österreichische Galerie Belvedere (purchased 1967).

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, no. 9, dated 1936; Linz 1966, no. 9, dated 1936;

Munich 1967, no. 9, dated 1936; Bremen 1968, no. 9, dated

1936; London 1985, no. 18, illus. p. 67, dated 1936; Vienna 1994,

no. 16, illus. (col.).

bibliography

b. 1966, n.p.; Gaisbauer 1986, n.p.; Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992,

p. 173; Kunst des 20. Jahrhunderts, 1997, p. 118, illus. p. 118;

Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 25, 54, 56 f.n., illus. p. 64; Schlenker

2006b, pp. 202, 205; Schlenker 2006d, p. 259.

According to one of Motesiczky’s address

books, Rosa Zischka last lived at Lichtensteinstraße

126 in Vienna. Frau Zischka, who is

believed to have worked in a Viennese bank,

probably befriended the Motesiczky family in

the 1930s. Contact was resumed after the war

when the artist’s mother, on holiday in Vienna,

repeatedly reported back to her daughter that

she had met Frau Zischka. Henriette von

Motesiczky, although eager for conversation

after her tranquil life in Amersham, did not

seem to enjoy Frau Zischka’s company very

much: on more than one occasion, she

described her as ‘very boring’. 1 In 1956 she

compared the model, who seems to have

temporarily lost weight, favourably with her

portrait: ‘Frau Zischka was also here, she looks

good and big again, as in your picture.’ 2

In the large portrait, painted the year the

artist and her mother left Austria, Frau Zischka

is shown seated in a red leather armchair in

front of a wall separated from the window on

the right by a cream-coloured curtain. She has

a monumental presence, her robust, middleaged

figure clad in a plain black dress, which

seems too tight in places. Her hands are gently

folded in her lap. Motesiczky seems to have

been especially pleased with them. In 1985, she

acknowledged the artistic influence of Dutch

old masters that shaped their creation: ‘The

hand on “Frau Zischka” would not have been

possible without F. Hals, and so many other

masters, small and very big like Ver Meer’. 3

Together with the multicoloured shawl covering

Frau Zischka’s hair, her sunlit face with a

worldly-wise yet resigned smile contrasts

dramatically with her solemn dress, which

dominates the simple yet very expressive

picture. Even Elias Canetti, having initially

disliked the portrait, which hung in the

hallway in the artist’s house, came to appreciate

it when he saw it in different surroundings at

Motesiczky’s exhibition in Munich in 1954.

138



charitable trust


17 September 1954: ‘Nun bin ich also in München,

wo ich vorgestern ankam. Als Erstes ging ich in die

Ausstellung, allerdings mit der Gretl, der ich nicht gut

nein sagen konnte. Ich war sehr glücklich darüber, es

sieht wunderschön aus. Die meisten Bilder kommen

gut zur Geltung; das Einzige, das wirklich schlecht

gehängt ist, ist die Georgette mit Bankert, das bemerkt

man kaum – aber vielleicht war kein anderer Platz. Das

sage ich nur, um einen Einwand zu machen, weil sonst

mein Lob falsch klingen könnte. Die Räume finde ich

ausgezeichnet. Kannst Du Dir vorstellen, wie mir

zumute war, sie alle wieder vorzufinden, in einer

neuen Nachbarschaft, so frisch und strahlend und Du

selbst dreimal als Porträt an der Wand, ich wenigstens

als Karikatur. Meine Überzeugungen über den höheren

Wert mancher Bilder im Vergleich zu andern haben

sich bestätigt. Aber manche Vorurteile habe ich doch

verloren. Die Zischka finde ich jetzt viel schöner. Ich

glaube, es war ihr Platz am Stiegenaufgang bei uns,

der sie mir verleidet hat.’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 4: ‘Wenn man

“Frau Zischka” von 1938 mit dem “Arbeiter” von 1926

vergleicht, kann man den Weg ermessen, den Du

zurückgelegt hast in der luftigen Kompaktheit der

Volumen, der meisterhaften Brechung der Linie, der

beinahe sinnlichen Saftigkeit des Lichtes.’

notes

1 ‘sehr fad’: Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 22 January 1953: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Frau Zischka war auch da, sie schaut wieder gut u. dick

aus, wie auf Deinem Bild.’: Henriette von Motesiczky to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 14 March 1956: Motesiczky

archive.

3 ‘Die Hand auf “Frau Zischka” unmöglich ohne F. Hals,

und so viele andere Meister, Kleinere und ganz grosse wie

Ver Meer’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, notebook entry

for 5 May 1985: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, no. 22; Munich 1954, no. 105, shown as

Porträt Frau Z.; Vienna 1966, no. 11, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 11,


Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 73; London 1985, no. 20, illus.

p. 31 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 20, illus. p. 31 (col.); Vienna

1994, no. 15, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 15; Frankfurt am

Main 2006, no. 28, illus. p. 101 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 28,


bibliography


Veth 1939, n.p.; b. 1966, n.p.; Hart 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg

1966a, n.p.; Berryman 1985, p. 628; Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63;

Black 1994, pp. 6 f., illus. p. 7; Schmidt 1994a, p. 6; Vorderwülbecke

1999, pp. 38 f., illus. p. 89; Phillips 2001, p. 30; Michel

2003, p. 30, illus. Abb. 28 (col.); Canetti 2005b, illus. p. 84

(detail); López Calatayud 2005, p. 32 (Frau Zischa), illus. n.p.

(detail, col.); Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 92 (detail); Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 100; Schlenker 2006d, illus.

p. 260; Lloyd 2007, illus. fig. 26 (detail).

139

47

Self-portrait with Red Hat

Selbstporträt mit rotem Hut

1938

Oil and charcoal on canvas, 507 × 355 mm

Signed (top right): Motesiczky (‘1938’ overpainted)


This self-portrait, ‘perhaps the best known of

her works’, 1 has been shown in many exhibitions

and mentioned in numerous exhibition

reviews. It appeared on the cover of the 1985

Goethe-Institut exhibition catalogue and was

used on the accompanying poster. In 1996,

most obituaries also used this image which

has become something of a ‘trademark’ for

its encapsulation of Motesiczky’s artistic style

and the elegance and beauty of her persona.

The picture was painted at a time of great

political and personal turmoil, as Motesiczky

recalls: ‘Hitler marched into Austria, and the

next morning I went with mother to the family

in Holland … Mother felt very lost in the new

Dutch surroundings at Hilversum. I carried on

painting, Self-portrait with Red Hat, and other

things.’ 2 The artist, aged thirty-one, depicts

herself wearing a striking, stylish red hat, a

matching dress, with a contrasting lilac flower

brooch and a bracelet. The hat perches coquettishly

on her blonde hair at an angle. Her

slender left hand, which curiously has only four

fingers, delicately touches its brim as if slightly

correcting its position or self-consciously

holding it in place. The gesture could almost be

read as a farewell to the native country she was

forced to leave. Her large, dark, questioning

eyes and the small, slightly parted, bright-red

lips give her face the air of intense and

thoughtful self-observation. Yet attention is

diverted from the artist’s face by the mask-like

dark male profile, commemorating an

unnamed ‘flame who was not to be recognized’,

3 on the far right. The silhouette is

mysteriously leaning towards the artist, who

is shielded by the rim of her hat. Critics have

picked up on the contrast between the ‘impressive

elegance’ 4 of the ‘enchanting-sparkling

creature’ 5 and the ‘pensive, questioning’ 6

aspects of her facial expression. Generally,

however, this self-portrait seems to be

understood as a courageous statement of

self-affirmation and self-confidence, both as

a young woman and a painter, ready to take

on the world.



charitable trust

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 31 January

1952: ‘Dieser Brief wird Dich wahrscheinlich am Tag

vor der Eröffnung erreichen, und er soll Dir Glück

bringen. Alles wird gut gehen, ich verspreche es Dir.

Vergiss nicht, immer rechtzeitig ein bisschen Wein zu

trinken, aber nie zu viel. Für Leute wie Dich ist der

Wein ein Segen. Ich weiss nicht, ob Du schon den Mut

aufgebracht hast, den Kunstleuten zu sagen, dass das

frühe Selbstbildnis aus Privatbesitz ist. Aber ich erinnere

Dich daran, Tue es rechtzeitig, denn die Folgen

einer Nachlässigkeit in dieser Sache wären sehr ernste

Fig. 60 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky and Veza Canetti in

Motesiczky’s studio in Amersham with Self-portrait with Red

Hat, photograph, early 1940s (Motesiczky archive)

140

141

und ganz jenseits von meinem Willen und meiner

Macht. Schreib mir bald mehr. Ich habe mir einige

hundert Daumen angeschafft, um sie alle für Dich

zu halten, ich bin mit Daumen förmlich behängt,

ich trag einen Daumenrock – wenn das nichts nützt,

dann hätte nichts genützt. Aber es wird nützen.’

Fig. 61 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky in

front of Self-portrait with Red Hat in the

exhibition ‘Hampstead in the Thirties.

A Committed Decade’, Camden Arts

Centre, London, photograph, 1974


Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 17 August

1954: ‘heute war ich beim Direktor die Räume

endgültig bestimmen … sagte mir sehr schöne Dinge

über die Bilder – es sei eine starke Malerei u. echt u.

käme vom Herzen – von Ihrem Selbstporträt war er

hingerissen aber auch zum Glück von einigen anderen

… Er hasse sonst das süsse Lacheln der Österreicher

überhaupt die Wiener hasse er – aber dass, dass (auf

das Selbstporträt) gefiele ihm. Ich sagte da sei für der

Beckmann vielleicht ein gutes Gegengewicht gewesen.’

notes

1 Phillips 2001, p. 31.


3 ‘Schwarm, der nicht erkannt werden sollte’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky quoted in Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 169.

4 ‘eindrucksvollen Eleganz’: Adler 1994, p. 18.

5 ‘bezaubernd-spritzigen Geschöpf’: Schmidt 1994a, p. 6.

6 ‘versonnenen, fragenden’: Zimmermann 1985.

provenance

Artist; Elias Canetti (1952? – early 1990s); artist.

exhibitions

The Hague 1939, no. 20 or no. 24; Amsterdam 1952; The

Hague 1952, no. 7 (?); Munich 1954, no. 106; London 1960,

no. 5, shown as Self-portrait with hat; Vienna 1966, no. 12, illus.

(col.); Linz 1966, no. 12, illus. (col.); Munich 1967, no. 12, illus.

(col.); Bremen 1968, no. 12, illus. (col.); London 1974, no. 87,

shown as Self-Portrait with a Red Hat; Frankfurt am Main

1980, no. 72; London 1985, no. 22, illus. on cover and p. 33

(both col.), also exh. poster; Cambridge 1986, no. 22, illus. on

cover and p. 33 (both col.); Vienna 1994, no. 18, illus. (col.);

Manchester 1994, no. 13; London 1994, no. 55, illus. p. 27 (col.);

Vienna 1999b, no. 130, p. 139 (Selbstbildnis mit rotem Hut), illus.





bibliography

Anonymous [1939], n.p., illus. n.p.; illus. in Het Vaderland,

21 January 1939; illus. in Vánoční Čtení, literary supplement of

Nového Československa, [December 1944]; Basoski 1952, n.p.;

Buys 1952, n.p., illus. n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Veth 1952, n.p.;

F.N. [Fritz Nemitz] [1954], n.p., illus. n.p.; Baldaß 1955,

p. 219, illus. p. 218; Motesiczky 1964, illus. n.p. (Selbstbildnis);

Freundlich 1966, n.p., illus. n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.;

M.B. 1967, n.p.; illus. in Münchner Merkur and Oberbayerisches

Volksblatt (Rosenheim), 6 October 1967; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.;

Helmolt 1980, n.p., illus. n.p.; Malcor [1980], n.p.; Berryman

1985, p. 628; f.th. 1985, n.p. (Selbstbildnis mit rotem Hut);

Motesiczky 1985, p. 13; Schwab 1985, illus. p. 8; Zimmermann

1985, n.p., illus. n.p.; Anonymous 1986, illus. n.p.; Gaisbauer

1986, illus. n.p.; Hampstead Artists 1946–1986, exh. cat. 1986,

illus. p. 14; Fallon 1987, illus. n.p.; Adler 1994, p. 18; Anonymous

1994h, illus. n.p. (detail); Black 1994, p. 6; Gombrich 1994,

illus. p. 135 (col.); Koch 1994, p. 99; Kruntorad 1994, n.p.;

Packer 1994, illus. n.p. (col.); Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, pp. 168

f., 177, illus. p. 169 (col.); Schmidt 1994a, p. 6; Neue Sachlichkeit,

exh. cat. 1995, illus. p. 139; Tabor 1995, illus. n.p.; Anonymous

[Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p., illus. n.p.; Black 1996, illus. n.p.;

Fallon 1996, n.p.; Fellner/Nagler 1996, p. 14; Schmidt 1996,

illus. n.p.; Neuerwerbungen, exh. cat. 1999, p. 104; Smithson

1999, illus. n.p.; Phillips 2001, p. 31; Michel 2003, pp. 52, 58 f.,

illus. Abb. 68 (col.); Foster 2004, p. 143; Lloyd 2004, p. 216,

illus. p. 219 (detail); Vann 2004, p. 100, illus. p. 100 (col.);

Canetti 2005b, illus. p. 84; Canetti 2005d, illus. n.p. (col.);

López Calatayud 2005, pp. 9, 12, 16, 19 f., 26–8, 32, illus. n.p.

(full and numerous details, col.); Schlenker 2005, p. 134,

illus. p. 135; Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 92 (detail); Anonymous

2006, illus. n.p. (detail); Behr 2006, p. 561, illus. p. 561 (col.);

Breidecker 2006a, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.); Crüwell 2006b, illus.

n.p. (col.); Davies 2006a, n.p., illus. n.p.; R. Gries 2006, n.p.;

Klein 2006, illus. n.p. (detail); Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

exh. booklet 2006, n.p., illus. on cover and n.p. (both col.);

RC 2006, illus. n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 120 f.; Schlenker 2006b,

pp. 194 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 102; Schlenker 2006d, p. 255,

illus. p. 259; Lloyd 2007, pp. 98 f., 115, 122, 149, 174, illus. on

cover (col.), fig. 20 (col.) and fig. 26 (detail).

142

48

Still-life with Sheep

Stilleben mit Schafen

1938

Oil in canvas, 400 × 805 mm


Tate, London (T04850)

This still-life was painted in the Hotel Pays-Bas

in Amsterdam where the artist and her mother

found refuge for a while after leaving Austria

in March 1938. The anonymous atmosphere of

the hotel room is made more familiar by the

arrangement of a still-life on an ironing board

that, according to the artist, had simply been

‘the most convenient surface available’. 1

Carefully covered with a white tablecloth, it

determines the unusual oblong shape of the

painting. The group of objects, painted in a

harmonious combination of yellow, blue and

white, is depicted with a startling immediacy

and seen from a strikingly close-up viewpoint.

A bright grapefruit, dark blue grapes, placed in

hollowed grapefruit halves, and yellow flowers

are displayed next to two eighteenth-century

enamelled Chinese cloisonné sheep. These

decorative animals, family heirlooms and

reminders of the Viennese home in the foreign

country, were among the few precious items

the artist managed to take with her from

Vienna. They stayed with her throughout her

life. In the artist’s estimation, the painting

probably took about three weeks to complete.

Its creation was motivated by the wish ‘to

paint something beautiful’ and the desire ‘to

paint and to dream’ and presumably forget

the immediate personal circumstances while

working on the painting. 2



charitable trust






gratulieren, denn von Peter hörte ich, daß Du 3 Bilder

nun in der Tate hängen hast. Das ist doch einfach

grossartig und so schön daß Du es erlebst!’

notes

1 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Sean Rainbird, 27

November 1987, quoted in Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 502.

2 Ibid.

provenance

Artist; Tate Gallery (purchased 1986).

exhibitions

The Hague 1939; London 1985, no. 21, illus. p. 30 (col.);

Cambridge 1986, no. 21, illus. p. 30 (col.); London 1986c;

Vienna 1994, no. 17, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 14;



p. 105 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 30, illus. p. 105 (col.);


bibliography

Veth 1939, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1986, n.p.; Fallon 1987, n.p.; Vann

1987, p. 15; Platt [1994], illus. p. 40 (detail); Tate Gallery, 1996,

pp. 502 f., illus. p. 502; Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 39, 54 f.n.,

56 f.n., illus. p. 91; Phillips 2001, p. 31; Michel 2003, pp. 52, 55,

illus. Abb. 67 (col.); Sander 2006, pp. 126 f.; Schlenker 2006b,

pp. 194 f., 204 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 104; Schlenker 2006d,

p. 260, illus. p. 261 (detail); Lloyd 2007, pp. 99, 207, 267 f.n.

143

49

Figures Walking to Church

1930s



In this rare cityscape Motesiczky presents a

view of a large building on a square. It is

constructed from a pleasing mixture of red

brick and cream stone, adorned with green

shutters and a large green blind on the first

floor. The grey slate roof is topped by a small

tower. Trees obscure the view of the nearby

houses. The scene is empty apart from two

couples, one dressed in black, the other in

white, walking across the open space in front

of the building. It has been suggested that the

building is a church, but this seems unlikely.

Equally, it is not possible to establish in which

town or even which country the building is

located; Austria and the Netherlands have been

mentioned.

Some areas are left in a rather unfinished

state, with the bare canvas showing through in

places. This is particularly obvious around the

figures, where the charcoal underdrawing also

comes through, a technique the artist

employed early in her career.

144

50

The Travellers

Die Reisenden

1940


Signed (centre bottom): Motesiczky 1940 (‘1941’ overpainted, probably originally Motesicky with z inserted later)

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, on permanent loan to the Scottish National Gallery of

Modern Art, Edinburgh

The Travellers, painted in a rented flat in

Adelaide Road, London, shortly after the artist

and her mother had arrived in England in 1939,

recalls Motesiczky’s experience of crossing the

Channel. A wooden barge is drifting helplessly

on a rough, stormy sea. No land is in sight and

there are no sails or oars to manoeuvre the

little vessel, which appears to have no specific

destination. The boat contains a group of four

inappropriately dressed, or naked, vulnerable

passengers. On the left, a woman with long

hair, who sits comfortably on a cushion, is

holding a large, ornate mirror in which she

inspects the reflection of her smiling face. 1

Next to her, a nude woman, adorned only with

some items of jewellery, is carrying an oblong

brown object which has been variously interpreted

as a missile, a giant cigar, a Torah scroll

or an urn containing the ashes of her lover.

The artist has explained that it is in fact a Wurst,

a large Austrian sausage. On the right a young

man is dangling his foot in the waves while

behind him a third woman gazes fearfully at

the dark sky.

Critics have attempted to identify the four

travellers as members of the Motesiczky

household (her nanny, her mother, her brother

or uncle and the artist herself ). While publicly

the artist was rather reluctant to give a full

and specific interpretation of the painting’s

content, privately she admitted that those

close to her served as models. However, as,

ultimately, the passengers are not intended

to represent individuals but types, the objects

on the boat should be seen symbolically as

items of great personal value that have been

gathered prior to a sudden departure.

The painting originates from the artist’s

own experience of exile which led her, first to

the Netherlands in 1938 immediately after the

Anschluß, and then to England the following

year, but it is more than an account of her

personal history. It attempts to express the

universal emotions of the sudden departure

for a forced journey into exile, coupled with

the desperate cheerfulness that made the

bitter seriousness of the situation bearable,

experienced by so many of her fellow emigrants.

In an undated document, Motesiczky describes

the mood of uncertainty she is trying to

capture:

The summer before the Nazi takeover,

we played tennis in the country and there

were Nazi groups passing by – ‘Sieg Heil,

Sieg Heil’. That put me into a fright like

an animal trying to escape. My mother and

I packed suitcases and left. In a painting

of mine, ‘The Travellers’ (1940), of naked

refugees in an open boat, I get the feeling

of the hectic craziness of it all, like something

out of Bosch’s picture ‘The Fools’

[fig. 62]. 2

In a depersonalization of the painting’s

content, which is typical of Motesiczky and

underlines the non-autobiographical nature

of the work, the title does not reveal the full

extent of its meaning. The painting has been

exhibited under various titles that hint at the

unreal quality of the image and at the fact of a

forced voyage: The Dream Boat (1941), Refugees.

A Dream (1944), Evacuatie (Evacuation; 1952)

and Die Barke der Flüchtigen (1954). In undated

private lists the artist sometimes referred to

the painting as The Emigrants, but by 1960 it

had acquired its present, neutral name which

leaves the identity and circumstances of the

people on the boat unclear, and lifts the work

into the realm of an allegory.

Fig. 62 Hieronymus Bosch, Ship of Fools, after 1491,

oil on panel, 580 × 320 mm (Musée du Louvre, Paris)

145



charitable trust


1946: ‘Herr u. Frau Seidler Perlman waren zum

Nachtmahl da u. Dr Perlman hat mir optische

Teuschungen aufgezeichnet so das mir ganz schlecht

u. schwindlig wurde … Aber als er die Barke zu deuten

begann wurde es schrecklich banal u. ich war ganz

enttäuscht – lustig nur das er die Wurst für eine

Torarolle hielt – ich wollte nur ich hatte ihn dabei

gelassen! Aber ich war roh u. sagte nur ganz trocken,

nein das ist eine Wurst aber die Wurst ist die Torarolle

dieser Frau.’


1947 (postmark): ‘Am wenigsten gefielen ihm [Max

Beckmann] die Seidler und die Emmigrantenbarke.

Aber Morning in the Garden u. das Mädchen am

Feuer gefielen ihm sehr u. eigentlich auch fast alle

übrigen Sachen.’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 27 June

1950 (postmark), postcard of St Nicholas of Bari rebuking

the Tempest by Bicci di Lorenzo: ‘Hier ist ein frommes

Urbild zu Deiner “Barke”, nur fasst Deine weniger

Leute. Auch schmeissen die Leute ihre kostbaren

Pakete über Bord und statt an Würsten halten sie sich

an Gebeten fest. Das war auch eine fromme Malerei

damals.’


11 September 1954, postcard of The Wherry of St Peter

by Taddeo Gaddi (Florence: The Spaniard’s Chapel):

‘Liebstes Muli, endlich eine Postkarte von Dir, wenn

auch kein Brief. Dafür kriegst Du eine schöne Barke.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Kurt Wettengl,

Historisches Museum, Frankfurt am Main, 3 February

1990: ‘Das Bild “The Travellers” stellt die Stimmung

dar, in der wir, meine Mutter und ich und viele andere

Emigranten waren; man wußte nicht, wohin die Reise

ging, man suchte um Visa nach Japan oder Amerika an,

hatte Lieblingsgegenstände mit sich, an denen man

festhielt. Zuweilen glich es einem Narrenschiff. Der

Preis des Bildes ist 10 000 Pfund.’

notes

1 As a prop, Motesiczky is said to have used either the large

mirror in her room (Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, pp. 193 f.)

or an elaborate porcelain mirror brought from Vienna.


Motesiczky archive.

provenance



exhibitions

London 1941, no. 14, shown as The Dream Boat; London 1944b,

no. 54, shown as Refugees. A Dream; Amsterdam 1952, shown

as Evacuatie; The Hague 1952; Munich 1954, no. 128, shown

as Die Barke der Fl chtigen; London 1960, no. 6, shown as

Travellers, 1942; Vienna 1966, no. 13, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 13,


London 1974, no. 88; Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 74; London

1985, no. 23, illus. p. 70; Cambridge 1986, no. 23, illus. p. 70;

Vienna 1994, no. 19, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 16;

Frankfurt am Main 2000, p. 60; Permanent collection,

Museum des Expressiven Realismus, Schloß Kißlegg, Kißlegg,

Germany, January 2001–February 2005; Liverpool 2006, no.

32, illus. p. 135 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 32, illus.

p. 135 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 32, illus. p. 135 (col.); Passau

2007, no. 32, illus. p. 135 (col.); Southampton 2007, no. 32,


bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Petzet 1954, n.p. (Barke der Fl chtigen);

Baldaß 1955, p. 218 (Barke der Fl chtenden); Hodin 1961/2,

illus. p. 23; Anonymous [Victor Matejka] 1966, p. 15; Freundlich

1966, n.p.; Hart 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Spiel 1966,

n.p., illus, n.p.; r-sch 1967, n.p.; d.w. 1968, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968,

n.p.; J.Wdt. 1968, n.p.; Malcor [1980], n.p.; Calvocoressi 1985,

p. 62; Taylor 1985, n.p.; Black 1994, p. 10; Cohen 1994, p. 94;

Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, pp. 166, 193 f., illus. p. 193 (col.);

Schmidt 1994a, p. 7; Anonymous 1996b, n.p; Fallon 1996, n.p.;

Dollen 1997, p. 1595, illus. p. 1595 (col.); Vorderwülbecke 1999,

pp. 39–41, illus. p. 94; Dollen 2000, p. 236, illus. p. 67 (col.);

Phillips 2001, p. 31; Michel 2003, p. 53, illus. Abb. 69 (col.);

Dollen 2004, p. 133, illus. p. 135; Lloyd 2004, pp. 216 f.;

Rothländer 2004a, p. 348, illus. p. 348 (Exodus); Behr 2006,

pp. 561 f.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p.,

illus. n.p. (col.); Marx 2006, n.p., illus. n.p. (col); Sander 2006,

pp. 124 f.; Schlenker 2006b, pp. 196 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 134;

Vinzent 2006, pp. 160 f., illus. on cover (detail) and after p. 387

(col.) (pl. 2); Lloyd 2007, p. 102, illus. fig. 22 (col.).

146

147

148

51

Frau Seidler

1940


Signed (bottom left): MM 1942

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, on permanent loan to

the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh

Presumably, the sitter of this portrait is Mary

or Marie Seidler, an opera singer who had

emigrated to England from Vienna before the

Second World War. Mary Seidler is believed

to have been Motesiczky’s landlady, probably

in 1939/40, when Motesiczky and her mother

lived at 76 Adelaide Road, London. She was

certainly a friend and a frequent visitor to the

Motesiczky house, as several diary entries and

letters suggest. According to Motesiczky, Frau

Seidler was a woman ‘who had lost virtually

everything’, 1 and she produced an appropriately

unglamorous portrait. By omission it

speaks of her non-Jewish husband, and of the

worldly goods and career the former opera

singer, who apparently never performed in

England, had left behind on the Continent.

The portrait shows a woman with a somewhat

resigned yet serene expression. Her large

figure, dressed completely in black, fills most

of the canvas. A white shawl is draped around

her shoulders. While her right hand lightly

touches a bright red necklace, her left hand lies

in her lap. Frau Seidler is seated in front of a

wall in an armchair covered in a green-brown

floral pattern. The wallpaper, of matching

colour, is adorned with a horizontal frieze of

which only a small part is visible. The overall

calming and reassuring aura of the sitter is

mirrored in Motesiczky’s writings. In the early

1940s, presumably during the Blitz, she noted:

‘This morning when I heard Frau Seidler’s

voice and she said “a wonderfully quiet night”

I thought an angel is speaking to me.’ 2 A few

years later, she recounted a dream in which

Frau Seidler, whose voice could be heard from

the neighbouring house, appeared as the

saviour, come to offer her help. 3



charitable trust






übrigen Sachen.’

notes

1 ‘denen wirklich alles genommen wurde’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, notebook entry for c. 1943: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Heute Früh als ich Frau Seidlers Stimme hörte u. sie sagte

“a wonderfully quiet night” glaubte ich ein Engel spricht

zu mir.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,

[early 1940s]: Motesiczky archive.

3 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 30 August


provenance



exhibitions

Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952; Berlin 1986, shown as

Mrs Seidler; Oberhausen 1986, shown as Mrs Seidler, c. 1940;

London 1986b, shown as Mrs Seidler, c. 1940; Vienna 1986,

shown as Mrs Seidler, c. 1940; Dublin 1988, no. 6.

bibliography

Engelman 1952, n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Dunne 1988, illus.

n.p.; Lloyd 2004, illus. p. 219; López Calatayud 2005, illus.

n.p. (detail, col.) (Frau Zischka); Canetti 2005b, illus. p. 84;

Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 92 (detail); Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.;

Schlenker 2006b, pp. 196 f., illus. pp. 197 (col.), 198 (detail);

Lloyd 2007, pp. 103, 122 (Portrait of Frau Seidler), illus. fig. 26

(detail).

149

52

Girl by the Fire

Marie am Feuer

1941



Marie Hauptmann, a shoemaker’s daughter

from Bohemia, spent most of her life working

for and living with the Motesiczky family. She

was a wet-nurse to Marie-Louise and subsequently

became a ‘second mother’ to the artist

(Motesiczky also made a portrait of Marie

Hauptmann’s daughter, Hilda, c. 1937, no. 44). In

1939 Marie followed the Motesiczkys to England

where she died in March 1954, aged sixty-nine.

In this painting, somewhat misleadingly

titled since the figure is obviously a grown

woman, Marie Hauptmann is depicted tending

a wildly smoking bonfire in the large garden

which surrounded the Motesiczkys’ house in

Amersham. Marie Hauptmann’s features are

not defined clearly enough to be recognizable,

but the solid figure, the working clothes and

especially the brightly coloured headscarf,

which the artist had enjoyed buying for her,

identify her beyond doubt. The painting has a

rough, sketchy, almost primitive and unfinished

air which prompted one critic to

compare Marie Hauptmann to ‘a Native American

squaw’. 1 Elias Canetti, who saw Marie

Hauptmann as an integral part of the artist’s

life and of his own, and admired her unwavering

uprightness and sincerity, liked her

portrayal in this painting. The painting as a

whole was, he thought, not entirely successful

but Marie Hauptmann was just as she should

be. One day, he hoped, Motesiczky would paint

another, bigger portrait of her. 2 She could be

seen as taking up his suggestion in the painting

Marie in Doorway, made after Marie

Hauptmann’s death (no. 134), which again

places her in a garden setting (fig. 63).

notes

1 Phillips 2001, p. 31.

2 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1946]:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 39, shown as Bonre; Vienna 1966, no. 14;

Linz 1966, no. 14; Munich 1967, no. 14; Bremen 1968, no. 14;

Liverpool 2006, no. 33, illus. p. 137 (col.).

bibliography

Hart 1966, n.p.; Phillips 2001, p. 31; Schlenker 2006c, p. 136.

Fig. 63 Marie Hauptmann serving tea in the

garden in Amersham, photograph, early 1940s


150

53

Still-life with Gong

Stilleben mit Gong

1941


Signed (bottom left): Motesiczky (originally Motesicky with z inserted later)


Painted during the austerity of the war years

in Amersham, this harmoniously coloured

still-life utilizes everyday objects from the

Motesiczkys’ Viennese household, brought

over to England: a gong with a wooden handle,

which used to be rung for dinner, with its two

red drumsticks, and a bunch of nasturtiums,

undoubtedly homegrown, arranged in an

unusual, shallow Norwegian vase shaped like

a duck. The objects’ surroundings are too

vaguely sketched to be identifiable but it has

been suggested that they represent a partially

visible map. The juxtaposition of these two

(at first sight unrelated) items surprised, yet

convinced, a contemporary critic. He praised

the musical instrument ‘that has nothing

to do’ in the picture, for ‘creating a complete

compositional unity’. 1

A 1966 photograph 2 shows that the signature

had originally read ‘Motesicky’, a simplification

of the artist’s name that must have been difficult

to remember, let alone pronounce. This little

trick was probably employed in an effort to

make her name more accessible to prospective

buyers of her work. Signatures on other

paintings, for example Countess with Plum,

1944 (no. 65), and Three Heads, 1944 (no. 69),

also had the ‘z’ inserted at a later stage. It is

unclear when exactly the artist overpainted

the signature.

notes

1 ‘in dem das Instrument nichts verloren hat, aber

vollkommene kompositorische Einheit schafft’: f.th. 1985.

2 Hodin 1966, p. 47.

provenance

Artist; Eva and Jeremy Adler (gift mid-1980s).

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 46; Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952;

Munich 1954, no. 110; London 1960, no. 12, shown as Still life

with nasturtiums, 1945; London 1985, no. 24, illus. p. 30 (col.);

Cambridge 1986, no. 24, illus. p. 30 (col.); London 1987,

no. 50, shown as Still Life with Nasturtiums.

bibliography

H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Hodin 1966, illus. p. 47; f.th. 1985, n.p.;

Vinzent 2006, p. 159, illus. p. 382; Lloyd 2007, p. 202.

151

54

Mrs Beazly

c. 1941


Signed (top left): mote….. (overpainted)


This is a portrait of an elderly woman called

Mrs Beazly. Unfortunately, apart from her

last name, nothing else is known about this

sitter with a decidedly manly appearance who

might have been the Motesiczkys’ cleaner in

Amersham. A striking face on a strong, short

neck emerges from the bright green blouse,

characterized by wrinkles on her forehead and

deep lines running from the nose to the sides

of the thin-lipped mouth. Her short brown

hair is cut in a jaunty, unfeminine style. As in

After the Ball, 1949 (no. 87), Motesiczky introduces

an oversized left hand which acts almost

like a barrier between viewer and model.

The signature in this portrait is particularly

interesting. While Motesiczky experimented

with simplifications of her rather complicated

surname in some works (for example, she

used the slightly more memorable ‘Motesicky’

in Countess with Plum, 1944, no. 65 – only to

correct it later), here she signed with only part

of her name and a few dots. Yet, apparently

unsatisfied with this solution, she partially

overpainted the signature at a later date.

152

55

Self-portrait in Green

Selbstporträt in Grün

1942


Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky

Mirli and Daniele Grassi, Belgium

In 1942, Motesiczky and her mother were living

in the relative security of rural Amersham,

having escaped the London Blitz. The artist’s

long affair with the writer Elias Canetti was

in its first, intense phase. This self-portrait,

in which the artist seems to take a close,

investigative look at herself in these new

circumstances, is particularly striking for two

reasons. First, her head fills the entire canvas.

There are no distractions from the face, such

as a hat with which the artist often covered her

hair. Second, Motesiczky’s exciting and effusive

use of the colour green, for her hair, her face

and her clothes, creates a daring and unusual

image, emphasized by the contrasting red

highlights on the eyelids and the slightly open

mouth. Several critics have remarked on the

artist’s ‘enormous questioning eyes’, 1 yet seem

unable to decide whether they express sadness,

amazement or alarm. The ultimate accolade

for this self-portrait came from a critic in 1966,

who praised it as one of Motesiczky’s ‘perfect

paintings’. 2

Self-portrait in Green was exhibited at the

Czechoslovak Institute in autumn 1944. Oskar

Kokoschka, a friend of the Motesiczky family

from the Vienna days, approached the director

of the Tate Gallery, John Rothenstein, enquiring

if a painting from the exhibition might be

accepted by the museum. Unfortunately, the

offer was ultimately declined, despite the fact

that John Rothenstein had included Self-portrait

in Green on his list of works to be considered

for acquisition. 3

notes

1 ‘riesigen fragenden Augen’: Baldaß 1955, p. 219.

2 ‘vollkommene Bilder’: Tassié 1966.


Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Nell Clegg (gift 1940s); artist (probably not returned

after 1966 exhibitions); Gretl Rupé (purchased at 1967

exhibition); Mirli and Daniele Grassi (inherited 2000).

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 38; Munich 1954, no. 115, shown as

Selbstporträt; London 1960, no. 7, shown as Self-portrait, 1943;

Vienna 1966, no. 17; Linz 1966, no. 17; Munich 1967, no. 17;

Bremen 1968, no. 17; Vienna 1994, no. 21, illus. (col.); Liverpool

2006, no. 35, illus. p. 141 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006,



no. 35, illus. p. 141 (col.).

bibliography

Yapou 1944, p. 319; Baldaß 1955, p. 219; Hodin 1960, illus. p. 7

(Self portrait, 1943); Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Tassié 1966, n.p.;

Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. cat. 1985,

illus. p. 58; Koch 1994, p. 100; Kruntorad 1994, n.p.; Plakolm-

Forsthuber 1994, p. 168 (Selbstbildnis in Grün); Schmidt 1994a,

p. 7; Neuerwerbungen, exh. cat. 1999, p. 104; Michel 2003,

pp. 59, 70, illus. Abb. 83 (col.); Crüwell 2006b, n.p.; R. Gries

2006, n.p.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006,

n.p.; Vinzent 2006, p. 159, illus. p. 381; Lloyd 2007, p. 115.

153

56

Still-life with Pansies

Stilleben mit Stiefmütterchen

1942

Oil on canvas, dimensions unknown

Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky. 42

Location unknown

It has not been possible to establish the current

location of this still-life. According to an index

card in the artist’s estate it was ‘bought by

Eric Newton, Amersham, for his mother’. Eric

Newton, whose review, ‘The Eye-Witness

Painter’, of Motesiczky’s exhibition at the

Czechoslovak Institute in 1944, where the

painting was shown, was published in the

Sunday Times on 8 October 1944, may have

purchased the painting from the exhibition.

A black-and-white photograph of the

painting survives in the artist’s archive, but is,

unfortunately, not easy to decipher. A small

bouquet of pansies in a bulbous glass vase is

placed on what appears to be writing material,

perhaps an open writing case (a leather version

belonging to the artist’s mother has survived in

the Motesiczky archive). On the left, envelopes

and perhaps a stamp can be made out, while

on the right a long white quill covers what

might be letter paper.

provenance

Artist; Eric Newton, Amersham (probably purchased in

the 1940s).

exhibitions

London 1942, no. 94, shown as Pansies, included as Pansies,

no. 38, in the exhibition after the London showing; London

1944b, no. 45.

154

57

Still-life with Apples

Stilleben mit Äpfeln

1942


Signed (top right): marie louise m.


This still-life has all the charm of not being

artificially assembled. Its simple and casual

arrangement looks as natural as if the painting

really depicted a table in the Motesiczky

house that was used for all sorts of purposes.

A selection of everyday objects are gathered

on a small table, which is partly and crookedly

covered by a white tablecloth. On an oval metal

tray, with little feet and an intricately patterned

rim, stand two inkpots, one holding a quill.

Behind these writing accessories, two piles of

books are arranged, closed ones underneath

and open ones on top. Four yellow and red

apples, two with leaves on their stalks, lie in a

line that loosely marks the middle of the table.

The painting’s overall harmonious and muted

colour scheme of light browns is interrupted

by highlights of primary colours in the fruit

and the inkpots, as well as splashes of paint

indicating a pattern on the tablecloth.

It has been suggested that this writing desk

is reminiscent of the one used by the artist’s

brother, Karl von Motesiczky. He had remained

in Austria when Marie-Louise and Henriette

von Motesiczky left the country in 1938. Karl

von Motesiczky, who was prone to suffer from

colds, would always keep apples on his desk.

Like After the Ball, 1949 (no. 87), Still-life with

Apples is a tribute to her absent sibling whose

life had not yet come to its abrupt end.


sketch, c. 1942, charcoal on paper,


Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London)



charitable trust

Ursula Brentano to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

17 September 1969: ‘Do you remember the still life

of books and ink stands plus apples? I so love it, the

colours are just magnificent. At the moment it is

in the large room in the chalet’

provenance

Artist; Ilse Leembruggen (1948?); artist?; Sophie Brentano

(1960s?); Ursula Brentano (inherited).

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 47, shown as Still Life with Apples and

Inkpot; Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952; Vienna 1966, no. 15;




bibliography

H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 992; Vinzent 2006, p. 159,

illus. p. 381.

155

58

Fire in July

Mädchen am Feuer

1942


Signed (bottom right): M Motesiczky

Private collection, USA

With its apparently mysterious subject matter,

Fire in July, one of Motesiczky’s ‘strange paintings’,

1 has always puzzled critics. ‘What is the

“Girl by the Fire” up to … before the black hole

of the fireplace, is she being sucked in or out

with the slightly flowing blueish veil dress, or

does she invoke the red flickering embers?’ 2

A strangely ill-defined, long-legged creature

sits on the floor next to a fireplace in which a

fire burns vigorously. She is wearing a long,

flowing, white dress. A discarded beige coat

has fallen from her shoulders. Her bare arms,

ending in ill-defined fingers, are stretched out

towards the fire to catch some warmth. As the

English title implies, the scene takes place on

an unusually cold day in the middle of summer

when it became necessary to light a fire. The

shadowy profile does not closely define the girl’s

face. Its distinctive feature is one large, dark eye,

not quite correctly positioned in her face.

Although the girl seated by the fire ‘is not

entirely earthbound but might be a figment

born of firelight’, 3 the scene could be read

without any magical or sinister overtones. In

fact, the female figure probably depicts the

artist herself. It is helpful to compare Fire in

July with Parting, 1957 (no. 149), which shows

her wearing a similar dress and hairstyle, but

with more defined features. Motesiczky may

have been inspired by a series of photographs

taken in the early 1940s during a visit of Veza

and Elias Canetti to the Motesiczky family

home in Chestnut Lane in Amersham. One

photograph shows the artist sitting on the floor

of the living room, the largest of the rooms

downstairs, which doubled as her studio, legs

stretched out in front of her in a way that is very

similar to the pose of the girl in the painting

(fig. 65). Motesiczky is, in fact, sitting only

a few feet away from the distinctive large fireplace

of the room. Several other photographs

include this impressive construction with its

pronounced brick arch, which is unmistakably

re-created in the painting.

According to Peter Black, Oskar Kokoschka,

when shown this painting, expressed his

admiration for it and advised the artist not to do

any more work on it. The former owner of the

painting recalled that it was signed years after its

completion, on the insistence of her husband.



charitable trust






übrigen Sachen.’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 4: ‘Daß Du kurz

vor einer fast visionären Betrachtung und Behandlung

des Gegenstandes stehst – wie im “Feuer im Juli” von

1942 – wird niemanden mehr wundern.’

notes

1 ‘seltsamen Bilder’: Dr. S. 1968.

2 ‘Was treibt das “Mädchen am Feuer” … vor dem

schwarzen Kaminloch, wird es mit dem leicht wehenden

bläulichen Schleiergewand hinein- oder hinausgesogen,

oder beschwört es die rot züngelnde Glut?’: Reifenberg

1966a, n.p.

3 Anonymous 1985.

provenance

Artist; Georgette Lewinson (purchased at 1960 exhibition);

David Lewinson (inherited 2008).

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 55, shown as Figure in Front of a Fire;

Munich 1954, no. 122; London 1960, no. 14, dated 1946;

Vienna 1966, no. 16, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 16, illus.; Munich


no. 27, illus. p. 32 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 27, illus. p. 32 (col.).

bibliography

Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Anonymous 1985,

n.p.; Black 1997, p. 992; Lloyd 2007, p. 122.


Motesiczky posing between

her paintings in her studio

in Amersham – Veza Canetti is

in the background, photograph,

early 1940s (Motesiczky archive)

156

157

59

Old Woman, Amersham

Alte Frau, Amersham

1942


Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky, underneath, partly visible: 1942


The sitter for this portrait was a neighbour of

the Motesiczkys in Amersham who, according

to the artist, lived to be one hundred years old.

Her name is unknown. Although toothless and

staring sightlessly into the middle distance she

still has an impressive and strong presence.

She does, in fact, seem to have weathered all

the adversities of her long life and to have

conquered extreme old age. This idea would

have appealed to the artist, who was familiar

with Elias Canetti’s ardent wish to overcome

death and who believed in his ability to make

people immortal. In a reference to her

longevity, the old woman is holding a sheet

(not a baby, as a contemporary had suggested)

that might be a shroud, a common symbol in

Dutch paintings to suggest that the sitter will

outlive those around her. The portrait contains

one striking element: the shape behind the

sitter’s head. Presumably introduced as a

compositional element, it is, in fact, a hat.

The artist, aware of many unfavourable

comments about it, was never satisfied with

it. She intended to improve it, but never

managed to carry out the work.

Old Woman, Amersham was exhibited at the

Czechoslovak Institute, London, in autumn

1944. Oskar Kokoschka, a friend of the

Motesiczky family from the Vienna days,

approached the director of the Tate Gallery,

John Rothenstein, enquiring if a painting

from the exhibition might be accepted by

the museum. Unfortunately the offer was

ultimately declined, despite the fact that

John Rothenstein had included Old Woman,

Amersham on his list of works to be considered

for acquisition. 1



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [1942]: ‘Ich

weiss nicht wie mein Weiberl wird u. dass es “gefällt”

macht mich nur misstrauisch (das der Oblatka findet

es “Reneissanzelt” so wie das Stilleben “mittelalterlt”

u. ich mache da irgend eine verlogene “Einheit” die es

gar nicht mehr gibt hat mich wieder getröstet) Aber

selbst wenn es akademisch würde so hab ich doch mit

viel Andacht daran gemalt. Es war oft als sei ich schon

in einer anderen Welt u. hatte Angst dass es solche

Weiblein nicht mehr lange geben wird u. als musste

ich sie noch schnell eimal verewigen genau so wie sie

ist. Es war als ob ihr Gesicht “und trotzdem” sagte

“Und trotzdem mein Mann vor 40 Jahren überfahren

wurde u. trotzdem meine Lieblingstochter gestorben

ist – sie war die Schönste – Lieblinge! – I am not for

the feverite ones” So dachte ich u. dass Du mich in

diese andere Welt geführt hast. Wäre ich gewöhnlich

nur zufällig gerade einmal glücklich gewesen so hätte

ich die Ärztin in Old Amersham verachtet – denn man

veachtet das Unglück u. die Hoffnungslosigkeit der

Menschen so leicht wenn es einem einmal gut geht.

So aber hat sie mir leid getan. Ich habe ihre beiden

Gesichter sehr gut gesehen. Sie hat nämlich 2

Gesichter – und ich dachte das sei auch durch Dich u.

es sei sehr gut das es so ist – u. ich werde viel bessere

Porträts malen als es sonst je möglich gewesen wäre …

Nach dem der Oblatka (ein rührender, lieber braver

Mensch übrigens) mich ein halbe Stunde sekiert hat,

warum ich denn nicht mit Farben einfach so Tausend

Experimente mache u.s.w. sagte er schliesslich warum

ich mich selber am besten male u. warum ich nicht

dies u. das – das war gerade nachdem ich ihm das

Weiblein zeigte – u. das ist bestimmt als Malerei viel

besser als das Selbstporträt. Da hab ich eine Wut

bekommen u. gesagt “Vesa bitte ein anderes Thema”

u. da hat Vesa mit ihrem süsslichsten Lächeln nichts

besseres zu sagen gewusst als: “der Canetti hat gesagt

sie ist eine grosse Malerin u. anscheinend kann man

einer grossen Malerin nichts mehr sagen” … wenn sie

wirklich was von mir halten würde hätte sie gesagt, das

ist nicht wahr, das Weiblein ist besser als die Selbstporträts.

Und wenn meine Stärke für Selbstporträts

auch mein wunder Punkt sind hätte sie es trotzdem

sagen müssen. Sie ist falsch. Alles ist falsch … Wozu

schreibt Wesa ein Buch wo was von malen vorkommt.

No, ich brauch es ja nicht zu lesen wenn ich nicht will.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [c. 1940s]:

‘Ich hab doch geglaubt dass Sie den Tod überwinden

können u. alle Menschen unsterblich machen (als ich

das alte Weiblein malte – erinnern Sie sich?) Wie kann

man da noch sagen dass ich je zu wenig gehalten habe

von Ihnen.’

note


Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

London 1942, no. 90, shown as Portrait of a woman; London

1944b, no. 29, shown as Portrait of an Old Woman; Amsterdam

1952; The Hague 1952, no. 5; Munich 1954, no. 104, shown as

Alte Frau; Munich 1967, no. 61 (ex catalogue), probably shown

as Alte Frau in Amersham; London 1985, no. 25, illus. p. 71;

Cambridge 1986, no. 25, illus. p. 71; Dublin 1988, no. 7; Vienna

1994, no. 20, illus. (col.), shown as Die alte Frau Amersham;




bibliography

Basoski 1952, n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Penning 1952, n.p.; Veth

1952, n.p.; Black 1994, p. 7; Schmidt 1994a, illus. p. 5; Black

1997, p. 992; López Calatayud 2005, illus. n.p. (detail, col.);

R. Gries 2006, n.p. (Old Woman); Schlenker 2006c, p. 138;

Lloyd 2007, p. 128.

158

159

60

Frau Saaler

c. 1942


Signed (bottom right): M. Motesiczky


This is the portrait of a red-haired, middleaged

woman called Frau Saaler. Unfortunately,

apart from the last name, nothing else is

known about the sitter, although it is reasonable

to assume that she might have been a

fellow emigrant. Frau Saaler sits in an armchair

with a curved back placed in the corner of the

room. Motesiczky frequently used this device –

see for example Portrait of a Russian Student,

1927 (no. 16). The sitter wears what appear to

be her outdoor clothes, a fur coat adorned by a

colourful brooch, and she is carefully made up

with red lipstick, pencilled eyebrows, earrings

and a necklace with large beads.

160

61

Morning in the Garden

Morgen im Garten

1943


Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky 1943.


Despite the apparently straightforward title,

Motesiczky has created a mysterious scene

of fateful secrecy, a fairy tale or allegory that

is hard to decipher. In front of a backdrop of

dense trees and vegetation a strange, spectral

ball game is taking place. Two women, wearing

what appear to be nightclothes, are playing

with a large orange sphere. One is young,

slender and seemingly more energetic while

the other is elderly, heavier, slightly hunched,

almost bald and waiting for her turn. Despite

its large size the ball does not appear to be

heavy, suspended as it is on the upper arm of

the younger player. Between the two women,

a dog is running at full speed, trying to participate

in the game. Even the trees seem to join

in the action, bending in different directions.

The entrance to a tent can be glimpsed on

the right and high in the sky the sun, pale in

comparison to the glowing ball, is shining.

The scene is based on the artist’s garden in

Amersham and the players can be identified

as the artist, her mother and their corgi, Philip.

Yet despite these roots in observed reality, the

painting retains a dreamlike, enigmatic quality

that a critic praised as ‘expressionist Surrealism’.

1 In the memorial book Motesiczky made

for her mother this painting is juxtaposed

with the following poem by Henriette von

Motesiczky, written on 20 July 1955:

Summer morning

Morning with fog

Morning with dew

Air so warm

Air so mild.

Birds that hop

In the high grass

Worms that crawl

Are having fun.

People who sleep

People who wake

Some are dreaming,

Some are thinking.

Yet all know

The day begins

Yet nobody knows,

What God devises. 2



charitable trust






übrigen Sachen.’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 8: ‘der wunderschönen

Komposition von 1943 “Morgen im Garten”,

worin die Darstellung von Dir, mit dem Ball spielend,

von Deiner Mutter und dem Hund so dicht und irreal

ist wie in den schönsten Träumen der Surrealisten’

notes

1 ‘expressionsistischen Surrealismus’: Helfgott 1966.

2 Sommermorgen

Morgen mit Nebel

Morgen mit Tau

Luft so durchwärmt

Luft so lau.

Vöglein die hüpfen

Im hohen Gras

Würmchen die krichen

Macht ihnen Spass.

Menschen die schlafen

Menschen die wach

Mancher der träumet,

Mancher denkt nach.

Alle doch wissen

Der Tag beginnt

Keiner doch weiss,

Was ein Gott ihm ersinnt.


exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 40; Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952;

Munich 1954, no. 108; London 1960, no. 13, shown as In the

garden, 1945; Vienna 1966, no. 18, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 18,


Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 75; London 1985, no. 28, illus.

p. 72; Cambridge 1986, no. 28, illus. p. 72; Vienna 1994, no. 22,

illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 17; Liverpool 2006, no. 36,


(col.); Vienna 2007, no. 36, illus. p. 143 (col.); Passau 2007,

no. 36, illus. p. 143 (col.); Southampton 2007, no. 36, illus.

p. 143 (col.).

bibliography

Gruyter 1952, n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Helfgott 1966, n.p.;

Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; r-sch 1967, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.;

Black 1994, p. 10; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet

2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 128 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 142;

Schlenker 2006d, p. 257, illus. p. 260; Lloyd 2007, p. 122.

161

62

Still-life with Yellow Roses

1943


Signed (bottom right): Motesicky 1943


This still-life is dominated by a tightly packed

bunch of roses in various shades of yellow and

pink. In contrast to the almost animated floral

arrangement the surroundings appear rather

calm and solid. The bulbous grey vase is firmly

placed in the middle of a table, jutting out at

an unusual angle. The table is bare apart from

a newspaper and a small black book. The wallpaper

in the background has a faint greenorange

pattern, while the position of the door

on the left remains somewhat unresolved.

As in several other works, mainly of the

early 1940s, the artist chose a signature that

is a simplification of her rather complicated

surname. At some point in the early 1960s

Motesiczky had offered this work to the Beaux

Arts Gallery in whose archives a photograph

has survived. It was, however, never sold.

162


sketch, c. 1943, charcoal on paper,



63

Azaleas in Town

Azaleen in der Stadt

1944


Location unknown

It has not been possible to track down this

painting. Only a black-and-white photograph

survives, which makes it difficult to judge with

any degree of certainty what is depicted

besides a few prominent elements. The picture

is dominated by a large arrangement of azaleas

standing on a surface that juts diagonally into

the picture plane from the lower right-hand

corner. In the distance, across an empty space

that might be a road, a garden or a river, a

town occupies the background. Individual

houses and a large dome can be identified,

as well as a few other details such as a fence.



charitable trust

Otto Kallir to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 14 October

1944 (© Estate of Otto Kallir. Reproduced courtesy

of Galerie St Etienne, New York): ‘der Katalog Deiner

Ausstellung, der gestern gekommen ist … Es ist ja

schade, dass nur 2 Abbildungen darin enthalten sind,

aber auch die zeigen, dass Du Dich ganz gewaltig

verändert haben musst. Dein Selbstportrait ist sehr

gut und ueberzeugend und auch die Landschaft sieht

in der Reproduktion ausgezeichnet aus. Wenn ich nur

mehr, wenigstens aus Photos, sehen koennte … Auch

wuerden mich natuerlich Kritiken interessieren, nicht

so sehr wegen der kuenstlerischen Bedeutung,

sondern wegen des allgemeinen Eindruckes.’

Helen Lessore to Peter Black, 20 November 1992: ‘Marie-

Louise’s painting “Azalias in Town” – no. 8 in her 1960

catalogue – was sold to Lawrence Harvey, but I am

afraid you may find it impossible to trace – though

you can of course try. He was married to the actress

Margaret Leighton, & I think she had some of his

pictures after his death – or possibly after they parted –

but others went to a man – a friend of his, whose name

I do not know. And I & other people went to endless

trouble many years ago, to try to trace one or two

important things he had from me – I think that in

such cases one simply has to say to oneself: After all

– in the light of eternity – ! and stop worrying.’

provenance

Artist; Lawrence Harvey (purchased at 1960 exhibition);

heirs?

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 49, illus.; London 1945, no. 9;

Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952; Munich 1954, no. 109,

shown as Azaleen und Stadt; London 1960, no. 8.

bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Buys 1952, n.p.; H.v.G. 1952, n.p.

163

64

Pier Llandudno

Landungssteg Llandudno

1944



In July 1943, Motesiczky and Marie Hauptmann,

the artist’s former wet-nurse, took a holiday in

the coastal resort of Llandudno in north Wales.

Motesiczky was at first overwhelmed by the

town: ‘In what careful way will I explain the

beauties of Llandudno to the people of

Amersham without breaking their hearts with

wanderlust.’ 1 ‘Besides I have the feeling that

a fortune-teller, who could have overseen the

whole of England, could not have found a

better spot for Marie. It is the paradise of the

petit bourgeois’. 2 After the initial ‘invincible’

enthusiasm had worn off, Motesiczky became

disillusioned with the cold weather, the lack

of sun and especially the overcrowding in the

town, complaining that ‘the place alternately

reminds one of the plague of locusts and of a

termites’ nest’. 3 Yet, when not looking after or

entertaining Marie Hauptmann, Motesiczky

took the opportunity to explore the town and

the surrounding hills on foot and sometimes

even to make a drawing. ‘I could see over the

countryside and the bays. Proper mountains

with their own character – reminiscent of

nothing. Austere and still romantic. It is

really beautiful.’ 4

This landscape was probably not painted in

Llandudno but back at home after the holiday

from the impressions gathered on her outings

(fig. 67). The bright colours of the summer

sunshine have been replaced by more muted

tones. From a raised perspective above the

town Motesiczky presents us with a grand

view of the famous crescent North Shore and

its majestic pier, taking in the foot of the Great

Orme on the left. The expansive sweep of the

bay is echoed by the exaggeratedly curved

horizon where the Irish Sea meets a grey bank

of clouds (similar to the composition of Beach

Still-life of the same year, no. 68). The grand


sketch, 1944, graphite and pastel on paper,

337 × 245 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


Victorian pier, opened in 1878 and 376 m long,

has also lost most of its straight lines; in fact,

it has a 45-degree turn roughly a third of the

way along its length. On the gentle arc two pairs

of elegant kiosks and three larger octagonal

kiosks stand out, with their characteristic white

roofs. The scene is eerily empty, purged of

buildings and of the many visitors Motesiczky

encountered, as if her fantasy had come true:

‘At night when the promenade was finally

empty and Marie already snoring I looked

out of the window. I wondered how it would

be if one sprinkled the whole promenade

with insect-powder.’ 5 Empty of noisy tourists,

Llandudno has been given back some of its

famed splendour and dignity as the undisputed

queen of the north Wales resorts.

notes

1 ‘Auf welch schonungsvolle Weise werde ich den armen

Amershamern die Schönheiten von Llandudno schildern,

so dass ihnen nicht das Herz bricht vor Reisesehnsucht.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Veza Canetti, 13 July 1943:

Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Im übrigen habe ich das Gefühl dass ein Hellseher der

ganz England hätte überblicken können keinen besseren

Ort für Marie hätte finden können. Es ist das Paradies

der Kleinbürger’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias

Canetti, [July 1943]: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘Der Ort erinnert abwechselnd an die Heuschreckplage

u. an einen Termitenbau’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Elias Canetti, [July 1943]: Motesiczky archive.

4 ‘Ich sah in’s Land hinein und in die Buchten. Richtige

Berge mit einem eigenen Karakter – erinnert an garnichts.

Herb u. doch romantisch. Es ist wirklich wunderschön.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [July 1943]:

Motesiczky archive.

5 ‘Nachts als die Promenade endlich leer war u. Marie schon

schnarchte sah ich beim Fenster hinaus. Ich dachte mir

wie es wäre wenn man die ganze Promenade mit Insektenpulver

bestreuen würde.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Elias Canetti, [July 1943]: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Karin and Jan Willem Salomonson (purchased 1990).

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 42, shown as Sea with Pier; Amsterdam

1952; The Hague 1952; London 1960, no. 9, shown as Pier at

Llandudno; Vienna 1966, no. 22; Linz 1966, no. 22; Munich

1967, no. 22; Bremen 1968, no. 22.

bibliography

Filarski 1952a, n.p.

164

165

166

65

Countess with Plum

Gräfin mit Pflaume

1944


Signed (bottom right): Motesiczky (‘1944’ overpainted, probably originally Motesicky with z inserted later)


Constance Baroness de Worms was born in

London in 1875, the daughter of Henry de

Worms, Lord Pirbright, and Fanny von

Todesco. She was a cousin of Henriette von

Motesiczky, whose family referred to her as

Conny. In 1895 she married Maximilian Graf

von Löwenstein. After their divorce in 1912 she

married Vollrath von Alvensleben. Their son,

the artist Werner von Alvensleben, who called

himself Michael Werner, kept in occasional

touch with Motesiczky. They both showed in

the exhibition ‘Kunst im Exil in Großbritannien’

in 1986. Constance de Worms died in London

in 1963.

Motesiczky depicts Constance de Worms,

by now in her late sixties, as a solid, grey-haired

lady in a salmon-coloured dress. An elegant

green feather boa around her neck does not

disguise her sizeable double chin. One massive

forearm juts across the picture plane, and she

holds a small plum delicately in her fingers,

examining it carefully before eating it.

When the painting was first shown at the

Czechoslovak Institute in 1944, a critic admired

Motesiczky’s ‘sense of colour … most delicate

in the pale pink, yellow and light green of the

Countess Eating Plums’. 1 Later that year, in

October 1944, Oskar Kokoschka approached

John Rothenstein, then director of the

Tate Gallery, enquiring if a painting from

Motesiczky’s exhibition might be accepted by

the Tate Gallery. Rothenstein listed Countess

with Plum among the paintings he was considering.

2 The offer, however, was eventually

declined. Together with Alexander de Waal, 1981

(no. 272), Countess with Plum was submitted to

the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy

in London in the early 1980s (probably in 1981)

and rejected.

As in several other cases (see for example

Still-life with Gong, 1941, no. 53, and Three

Heads, 1944, no. 69), the signature had originally

read ‘Motesicky’, presumably in an attempt

to render the complicated name more legible.

At an unknown date, the artist altered the

signature, inserting the missing ‘z’.



charitable trust


1954: ‘heute war ich beim Direktor die Räume

endgültig bestimmen … sagte mir sehr schöne Dinge

über die Bilder – es sei eine starke Malerei u. echt u.

käme vom Herzen – von Ihrem Selbstporträt war er

hingerissen aber auch zum Glück von einigen anderen

z.B. den weissen Blumen Er hasse sonst das süsse

Lacheln der Österreicher überhaupt die Wiener hasse

er – aber dass, dass (auf das Selbstporträt) gefiele ihm.

Ich sagte da sei für der Beckmann vielleicht ein gutes

Gegengewicht gewesen … Ja – und mein “Werk” (Werk

sagte er!) sei so einheitlich. Überhaupt er schien sehr

zufrieden. Blöde Welt – wenn einer sagt “Ihr Werk ist

einheitlich” freut man sich – wenn einer sagt “Sie

haben keine Entwicklung” ist man traurig. Wegen der

Einheitlichkeit zohg er die oberen Räume vor Wenn er

das nur nicht getan hat weil er den Lewy unten haben

will! Da hab ich zu wenig Erfahrung. Oben ist halt

furchtbar viel Licht – mitunter Sonne, so dass man

die Vorhänge vorziehen muss u. die Farbe der Wände

nicht so gut – blau u. Marillenrosa. Obwohl er mir die

Wahl liess war er so entschieden für oben dass schwer

was zu machen war Nun davon wird’s letzten Ende

auch nicht abhängen. An eine Wand stellte er die

Conny u. die Finchleyroad u. sagte ganz begeistert –

ist das nicht schön! u. es sah wirklich schön aus.’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 6: ‘Wie vornehm

und pflaumig ist die “Gräfin mit Pflaume” mit ihrer

birnenförmigen Nase und Kinn auf dem breiten

Doppelkinn!’

notes

1 Yapou 1944.


Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 32, shown as Countess Eating Plums;


shown as Dame mit Pflaume; Vienna 1966, no. 19; Linz 1966,

no. 19; Munich 1967, no. 19; Bremen 1968, no. 19; London

1985, no. 29, illus. p. 72; London 1986b.

bibliography

Yapou 1944, p. 319 (Countess Eating Plums); Basoski 1952, n.p.;

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Buys 1952, n.p.; Filarski 1952b, n.p.;

H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 992; Michel 2003, p. 82, illus.

Abb. 126 (col.) (Pflaumenessende Gräfin); Vinzent 2006, p. 159,

illus. after p. 387 (col.) (pl. 1); Lloyd 2007, p. 193.

167

66

Bowl of Pansies, Ashtray and Cigarette

1944


Dated (centre bottom): 1944


This still-life, left unstretched by Motesiczky

and only recently put on a stretcher, shows

an arrangement of objects on a bare table in

front of a grey wall. The simple composition

is dominated by the centrally placed shallow

bowl containing a selection of yellow, orange

and lilac pansies. In the bottom left corner an

ashtray holds a cigarette that seems to have

been half-smoked. The strong shadows cast

by the objects are evidence of a light source

on the left outside the picture plane.

67

Portrait of a Smiling Lady

Lächelnde Dame

1944



This is a portrait of an unknown young lady,

seated in a high-backed chair. She has shoulderlength,

wavy, brown hair, held back at the

temples with pink hair clips and tucked behind

her ears. Under the thin, arched eyebrows her

blue eyes appear rather close together. Her

carefully made-up mouth is smiling shyly.

A thick golden necklace adorns the decolleté of

her patterned beige blouse. Bright light comes

in from the left, throwing half her face into

shadow and drawing attention to the curve of

her right cheek. For the background Motesiczky

employed a variation on a familiar device

(see for example Model, Vienna, 1929, no. 27),

dividing the space behind the sitter’s head

into two distinct areas, blue on the left and

reddish-brown on the right.

168

68

Beach Still-life

Stilleben am Strand

1944


Dated (bottom right): 1943 (overpainted)


Peter Black once remarked that Motesiczky’s

paintings ‘express unspoken wishes’. 1 Beach

Still-life in particular suggests ‘the desire in

wartime to escape to a warm beach’. 2 In fact,

Motesiczky had managed to escape. This small

work was probably inspired by a holiday in the

Welsh seaside resort of Llandudno in 1943.

Although it is now believed to have been

painted in 1944, Motesiczky initially dated it

1943, as the overpainted year in the bottom

right corner shows. Motesiczky invited Marie

Hauptmann, her former wet-nurse who

accompanied the Motesiczky family to

England, on this holiday to give her a wellearned

rest. She took the first opportunity to be

alone and escaped to the beach, recounting the

moment happily in a letter to Elias Canetti:

‘And straight away I took out my pencils and

drew the sea. Not well of course but I was so

happy’. 3

In the still-life, the sun, setting behind the

exaggeratedly curved line of a calm blue sea

(not unlike Pier Llandudno, 1944, no. 64), paints

the sky a warm orange. In the foreground, an

array of seemingly enormously enlarged, overlifesize

objects are spread out on the sand:

an open book, half-read and upside down, an

empty packet of Player’s Navy Cut Cigarettes

Medium (the red letters ‘cigaret’ just visible

beneath the picture of a sailor in a life belt

above a calm sea – fig. 68), a broken ink pot

and a thick pencil. These are all objects

Motesiczky might have taken with her on her

trip to the beach. The still-life, however, was

probably painted from memory on the artist’s

return from holiday in her studio in Amersham.

notes

1 Black 1997, p. 993.

2 Black 1994, p. 9.

3 ‘Und gleich hab ich meine Stifterln herausgeholt u. das

Meer gezeichnet. Nicht gut natürlich aber ich war so

glücklich’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,

[ July 1943]: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 126, shown as Stilleben am Meer; London

1960, no. 11, shown as Still life on the beach; Vienna 1966,

no. 21; Linz 1966, no. 21; Munich 1967, no. 21; Bremen 1968,

no. 21; London 1985, no. 30, illus. p. 34 (col.); Cambridge 1986,

no. 30, illus. p. 34 (col.); Dublin 1988, no. 8; Vienna 1994,

no. 23, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 18.

bibliography

Black 1994, p. 9; Black 1997, p. 993; López Calatayud 2005,

p. 26.

Fig. 68 A packet of Player’s

Navy Cut cigarettes, found under

the floorboards at 6 Chesterford

Gardens in 2004

169

69

Three Heads

Drei Köpfe

1944


Signed (bottom left): Motesiczky (probably originally Motesicky with z inserted later)


Deciphering the spatial relationship of the

three figures and the setting of this painting is

difficult. The suggestion of green seats in front

of and behind the central figure give a clue to

the actual scene: three women are riding on

a bus, probably the Green Line Bus which ran

between London and Amersham. The artist’s

self-portrait in the centre is noticeably more

carefully worked than the two more sketchily

painted heads of strangers sharing the bus ride

(allegedly based on a charwoman or the artist’s

aunt Ilse Leembruggen on the right, and the

artist’s mother on the left). There is no interaction

between the three figures, which adds to

an overall air of despondency and anonymity.

Like her fellow travellers, Motesiczky is wearing

a headscarf, and presents herself to the

viewer not as an artist but as a woman going

about her domestic chores. Contemporaries

remarked on the artist’s ‘eyes intently searching

and tragically clouded’, 1 yet were also enthralled

by the small red dot in the artist’s hair, just

above her right temple, that lightens up and

lifts the image.

Motesiczky often includes the mirrors

that enabled her to paint self-portraits as an

integral part of the picture (Self-portrait with

Mirror, 1949, no. 85; Self-portrait with Pears, 1965,

no. 202; Self-portrait in Mirror, Yellow Roses,

c. 1976, no. 255) or as an accessory (Self-portrait

with Comb, 1926, no. 13; Self-portrait with Mirror,

c. 1985, no. 284). Here, instead of a mirror, it

seems to be the front window of the bus that

provided the reflection.

As in several other cases (see for example

Still-life with Gong, 1941, no. 53, and Countess

with Plum, 1944, no. 65), the signature had probably

originally read ‘Motesicky’, presumably in

an attempt to render the complicated name

more legible. At an unknown date the artist

altered the signature, inserting the missing ‘z’.



charitable trust

Otto Kallir to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 14 October

1944 (© Estate of Otto Kallir. Reproduced courtesy

of Galerie St Etienne, New York): ‘der Katalog Deiner

Ausstellung, der gestern gekommen ist … Es ist ja

schade, dass nur 2 Abbildungen darin enthalten sind,

aber auch die zeigen, dass Du Dich ganz gewaltig

verändert haben musst. Dein Selbstportrait ist sehr gut

und ueberzeugend und auch die Landschaft sieht in

der Reproduktion ausgezeichnet aus. Wenn ich nur

mehr, wenigstens aus Photos, sehen koennte … Auch

wuerden mich natuerlich Kritiken interessieren, nicht

so sehr wegen der kuenstlerischen Bedeutung,

sondern wegen des allgemeinen Eindruckes.’


1946: ‘Herr u. Frau Seidler Perlman waren zum

Nachtmahl da u. Dr Perlman hat mir optische

Teuschungen aufgezeichnet so das mir ganz schlecht

u. schwindlig wurde … auch war er ganz versessen

auf den roten Punkt auf dem Selbstporträt mit den 3

Köpfen “der das ganze so prächtig hebt – ach prächtig

köstlich wirklich ganz famos”’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 7: ‘In den “Drei

Köpfen” von 1944 findet sich der Hinweis auf die

gerettete Existenz in den drei vermummten Köpfen

mit Deinem erschlafften, magmafarbigen Gesicht,

das den Schmerz an die Oberfläche bringt wie eine

Naturkatastrophe tiefe Erdschichten aufwühlt.’

Note in George Lewis’s handwriting, probably dictated by

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1990s]: ‘Just to say once

more that the “Three Heads” has a place in my work

equal in significance to some of the heads of my

mother, and I would be glad if you could find a place

for it, even an obscure one.’

note

1 Yapou 1944.

provenance

Artist; Elias Canetti (before 1954 exhibition); artist.

exhibitions

London 1944a, no. 124; London 1944b, no. 35, illus. (detail);

Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952; Munich 1954, no. 107;

London 1960, no. 10; Vienna 1966, no. 23, illus.; Linz 1966,

no. 23, illus.; Munich 1967, no. 23, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 23,

illus.; London 1985, no. 31, illus. p. 35 (col.); Cambridge 1986,

no. 31, illus. p. 35 (col.); London 1986b, shown as Three Heads,

Self Portraits; Vienna 1994, no. 24, illus. (col.); Liverpool 2006,

no. 37, illus. p. 145 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 37,

illus. p. 145 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 37, illus. p. 145 (col.);


no. 37, illus. p. 145 (col.).

bibliography

Yapou 1944, p. 319; Hoffmann 1949, illus. p. 67; Anonymous

1952b, n.p.; Basoski 1952, n.p.; Filarski 1952b, n.p.; Penning

1952, n.p.; Prange 1952, n.p.; Veth 1952, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a,

n.p.; Black 1994, p. 6, illus. p. 12; Schmidt 1994a, p. 6; Michel

2003, p. 59, illus. Abb. 84 (col.); R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Schlenker

2006c, p. 144; Lloyd 2007, p. 112.

170

171

70

Snow Drift with Gate

Schneelandschaft

Early 1940s



This sun-lit winter landscape is rare in

Motesiczky’s oeuvre. She painted only one

other snow-covered landscape, Kitzbühel, 1958

(no. 155). Beyond the hedge and the low green

gate of the garden a sequence of further hedges

and fields or gardens open up on the right.

These are interspersed with the occasional large

tree. On the left, a narrow path leads away into

a densely wooded area.

This so far undated painting was probably

shown as Winter Landscape at the Czechoslovak

Institute in 1944. Therefore, it presumably dates

from the early 1940s and depicts a scene from

the artist’s Amersham surroundings. A diary

entry from the last year of the war testifies to

Motesiczky’s interest in snow-covered landscapes,

which she tried to capture on canvas. 1

note

1 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 8 February


exhibitions

London 1944b, no. 41 (?), probably shown as Winter Landscape;




bibliography

Vinzent 2006, pp. 159 f.

172

71

Still-life with Grapefruits and Candles

Early 1940s


Location unknown

The only record of this painting in the artist’s

estate is its appearance in several photographs

of Motesiczky’s studio in Amersham in which

she displayed a collection of paintings for her

visitors, Veza and Elias Canetti (fig. 69). High

up on the ceiling hangs Still-life with Grapefruits

and Candles. The slightly blurred image allows

the viewer to make out only the general

compositional elements. In front of a dark

background two grapefruits and a lemon are

presented on a plate. To the left two candles

are burning brightly while a piece of lightcoloured

cloth is draped in the lower left

corner.

In 1946, Motesiczky gave this still-life to

an acquaintance, presumably her cleaning lady,

who had moved to an almshouse, to brighten

up her shabby surroundings. She intended to

exchange it for another work, but there is no

evidence that she did. This painting should

probably be considered lost.



charitable trust


1946: ‘Ich war gestern bei der Bedienerin die in einer

Armenhütte gezohgen ist … Bei der Bedienerin war ich

weil ich ihr ein Bild gab damit sie in ihrer armseligen

Behausung was aufzuhängen hat – das heisst sie bat

mich darum u. nun wollte ich sehen wie es sich dort

macht. Es sah recht unheimlich aus (das Stilleben mit

den beiden Grapfrüchten u. den beiden Kerzen) in der

braunen Blechhütte, besonders da in dem Bett – so

ziemlich das einzige Möbelstück, das Alte Mutter von

Mrs Hilda lag die sich einbildet Krebs zu haben … Das

Bild sah natürlich wie ein Sterbebild aus u. ich muss

so bald als möglich etwas heiteres hinhängen.’

Fig. 69 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky amidst paintings in her studio

in Amersham – Still-life with Grapefruits and Candles is suspended from

the ceiling, photograph, early 1940s (Motesiczky archive)

provenance

Artist; gift to unidentified acquaintance (1946).

bibliography

Lloyd 2004, illus. p. 219; Schlenker 2006b, illus. p. 198.

173

72

Irises and Peonies

Pfingstrosen

1945



Exceptionally, the progress of this still-life is

recorded in Motesiczky’s diaries. In June 1945,

she faithfully chronicled a period of its creation,

noting that after working on it for three days

in a row, she is happy with the composition:

‘Difficult but somehow beautiful.’ 1 Her joy is

spoilt when Elias Canetti annoys her by altering

his plans for the day. A few days later she is

disillusioned with the painting, finding it ‘stiff,

dead, ridiculous’. 2 Canetti, however, manages

to revive her spirits by presenting her with a

red peony. The following day she attempts to

salvage the composition and then spends two

more days working on it. 3 There is no entry

proclaiming the completion of the still-life so

it is unclear whether Motesiczky considered

it finished at that point or if she continued to

work on it.

At first sight it might be difficult to decipher

the complicated spatial arrangement of this

composition, which contains two vases with

flowers that gave the work its title. The picture

plane is divided by a dramatically foreshortened

open window and a patterned curtain billowing

in the incoming breeze. Outside, the red and

yellow bricks of the adjoining wall give a clue

to the window’s position. A tall, slender glass

vase, placed on the green window-sill in the

foreground, is packed with white and lilac

irises. In the background, behind the open

window, a second vase holds a bunch of pink

peonies.

notes

1 ‘Schwer aber irgendwie schön.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for 5 June 1945: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘steif, tot, lächerlich’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary


3 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entries for 11 and


provenance

Artist; Engel Lund; Andrea Rauter.

174

73

Cyclamen at the Window

1945


Private collection

Motesiczky rarely used horizontal canvases.

Here she creates a composition that, at first

glance, is not easy to decipher. The mere

glimpse of curtains on both sides, together

with a wooden slat that marks the centre partition

of a window frame and obscures some

potted flowers, indicates the location of the

composition. Squeezed into the narrow space

between the two parts of a double window are

several pots of flowers: a large white cyclamen

flanked by two pink primulas. A miniature

wooden chair with a wicker seat, which has

survived in the artist’s estate, appears dwarfed

by the surrounding plants. The world beyond

the window is pitch black with only a few stars

shining brightly.

Although this still-life has been dated 1954

(at the 1960 exhibition) or c. 1970 (in the artist’s

own files), it almost certainly was painted as

early as 1945. Various entries in Motesiczky’s

diary of that year record her difficulties and

doubts while creating this work. 1

note

1 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entries for 20, 21, 22,

26 and 28 February 1945: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Fee Engel (gift late 1950s); Christoph Matschnig (2008);

private collection (2008).

exhibition

London 1960, no. 29, shown as Still life, 1954.

175

176

74

Dorothy

1945




Apart from her first name, Dorothy, and nickname,

Dary, little is known about the sitter for

this portrait. She may have been a maid in the

Motesiczky household in Amersham and was

probably a friend of Mary Duras, the Czech

sculptor who spent the war years in Amersham

where she became friendly with Motesiczky

and Elias Canetti. In 1944 Motesiczky and

Duras exhibited together at the Czechoslovak

Institute in London.

Progress on this portrait is documented in

detailed notes in Motesiczky’s diary. The artist,

who only occasionally wrote entries (if she

started a diary at the beginning of the year the

entries tend to peter out after the first few

weeks), seems to have minutely recorded the

hours spent working on the painting, the ups

and downs, frustrations and delights. Some

entries (for example, 14 February 1945) do not

refer to this painting, but probably to related

drawings. Motesiczky also recorded the criticism

of those trusted friends to whom she

showed the portrait. While she is furious about

Oskar Kokoschka’s harsh rejection, she calmly

states Elias Canetti’s presumed dislike. Yet,

contrary to the artist’s impression, Canetti

expressed his appreciation of the portrait in a

letter to the artist: ‘thought a lot about Dorothy

portrait. Even in recollection it is excellent’. 1

27 January 1945: ‘11–1 painted Dorothy’

29 January 1945: ‘Morning painted Dorothy

11–1’

31 January 1945: ‘ 11–1 painted Dorothy’

2 February 1945: ‘Desperately worked on Dor.

for 5 hours. Awful light’

3 February 1945: ‘Morning painted Dor. A little

better. What I paint in 8 days I should do

in 1 day!’

5 February 1945: ‘Morning painted Dor. Afternoon

continued painting, driving me mad’

7 February 1945: ‘Such a black day. Painted

painted Dor. – until 6.’

10 February 1945: ‘Painted Doroth. (nose!) after

lunch continued to paint like possessed

before Julia [came]!’

13 February 1945: ‘Finished head Dor. after

a fashion.’

14 February 1945: ‘Drew Dor. with calla’

15 February 1945: ‘Morning drew Dor. /

desperate about light! (studio!)’

1 March 1945: ‘Morning hastily drew Dorothy’

3 March 1945: ‘Mary [Duras] likes painting

Doroth!! strange.’

2 June 1945: ‘Dary finds her painting “most

attractive”. A moral success’

11 June 1945: ‘Afternoon painted Dary … C.

[Elias Canetti] sees painting Dary (I know he

doesn’t like it. He is right, is nevertheless

not completely bad)’

13 June 1945: ‘Painted Dary’

14 June 1945: ‘Painted Dary and peonies’

17 June 1945: ‘O.K. [Oskar Kokoschka] deals

me a terrible blow with Dary picture.

The picture is of no consequence to me.

But the word “hopeless” hurts very much.’

20 June 1945: ‘Finished Dary … Then the

whole Dary family admired portrait.’ 2

The portrait is a half-length depiction of

Dorothy. She is framed by what might be a

door-frame on the right and the carved backrest

of a sofa at the bottom, as if caught in the

moment when she passes an open door. She is

wearing a sleeveless yellow dress and holding

what seems to be a fan or, possibly, a feather

duster. Her hair is tied back and decorated

with a green ribbon. Her wide open, staring,

light blue eyes sit uncomfortably in a calm

and impassive face.

Until now the portrait has been incorrectly

dated 1944. As the above diary entries show, it

was actually created in 1945. The signature was

probably added at an unknown date after the

work’s completion. In some early photographs

the portrait appears without it.

notes

1 ‘ans Dorothy-Porträt habe ich viel gedacht. Es ist auch

in der Erinnerung ausgezeichnet’: Elias Canetti to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1945]: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘11–1 gemalt Dorothy’; ‘Vormittag Dorothy gemalt 11–1’;

‘11–1 Dorothy gemalt’; ‘5 Stunden verzweifelt an Dor. gearbeitet.

Grauenhaftes Licht’; ‘Vormitt. Dor. gemalt. Etwas

besser. Was ich in 8 Tagen male sollt ich in 1 Tag machen!’;

‘Vorm. Dor. gemalt. Nachm. weiter gemalt zum verrücktwerden’;

‘So ein schwarzer Tag. Dor. gemalt gemalt – bis 6.’;

‘Doroth. gemalt (Nase!) nach dem Essen wie verfolgt weiter

pinseln müssen vor Julia!’; ‘Dor. recht u. schlecht Kopf

beendet.’; ‘Dor. gezeichnet mit Calla’; ‘Vorm. Dor. gez. /

verzweifelt über Licht! (Atelier!)’; ‘Vorm. Dorothy gez.

flüchtig’; ‘Mary findet Doroth Bild gut!! sonderbar.’; ‘Die

Dary findet ihr Bild “most atractiv”. Ein moralischer Erfolg’;

‘Nachmittag Dary gemalt … C. sieht Dary Bild (ich weiss er

mag es nicht Er hat recht. Trotzdem nicht ganz schlecht)’;

‘Dary gem’; ‘Dary u. Pfingstrosen gem.’; ‘O.K. versetzt mir

einen furchtbaren Stoss mit Dary Bild. Mir liegt nichts

an dem Bild. Aber das Wort “hoffnungslos” tut so weh.’;

‘Die Dary beendet … Dann ganze Dary familie Porträt

bewundert.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entries for

27, 29 and 31 January, 2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 13, 14 and 15 February, 1

and 3 March, 2, 11, 13, 14, 17 and 20 June 1945: Motesiczky

archive.

exhibitions

Amsterdam 1952, no. 13; The Hague 1952; Munich 1954, no.

114, shown as Porträt Dorothy; London 1960, no. 17, shown as

Portrait of a girl, 1948; Vienna 1966, no. 20, dated 1944; Linz

1966, no. 20, dated 1944; Munich 1967, no. 20, dated 1944;

Bremen 1968, no. 20, dated 1944.

bibliography

Buys 1952, n.p. (?); Veth 1952, n.p.; Hodin 1961/2, illus. p. 22

(Portrait of a Girl, 1948).

177

75

The Gardener

Gärtner, Amersham

1945



This unknown young man was a gardener

in Amersham, who probably worked for the

Motesiczky family, in their large garden. He is

shown outdoors, dressed in his working gear,

a brown shirt with its sleeves rolled up and blue

dungarees. Strands of blonde hair are tucked

behind one ear. Although Motesiczky depicted

the gardener only in a half-length portrait, his

long, thin face and elongated fingers suggest

that he is probably a tall person. The fingers

of his left hand are delicately woven around

the long yellow handle of a gardening tool.

Between the index finger and thumb of his

right hand he appears to hold a tiny object he

is investigating or about to show the viewer,

seemingly pleased with his find and vaguely

smiling to himself. Unusually, this portrait has

been painted on a black ground with a tree and

the sky apparently hastily sketched in. Despite

the obviously warm weather, there is a feeling

of a storm brewing and worse weather to come.

178

179

76

Indian Mother with Child

Indische Mutter mit Kind

1945



This is a double portrait of an unknown young

Indian mother, cradling an infant in her arms.

Her red sari is matched by red highlights in

her face: a bindi on the forehead, bright red

lipstick and a sparkle in her eye (Motesiczky

used the colour red in a similar way in Three

Heads, 1944, no. 69). What at first appears as

a strangely coloured, bared breast might in

fact be a green pear offered to the child. In 1954

this painting was exhibited as Indische Madonna

(Indian Madonna), an apt title, since the intimate

pair are reminiscent of the Madonna and Child.

exhibition

Munich 1954, no. 131 (?), shown as Indische Madonna.

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 79, illus. Abb. 124 (col.).

180

77

Model with Bird Cage

Modell mit Vogelkäfig

1945



This is a portrait of an unknown model. It shows

a female figure, dressed in a voluminous beige

cloak over a colourfully patterned blouse, which

fills more than half of the canvas. Her long,

narrow face is surrounded by shoulder-length

light brown hair held back with a pink slide.

The model’s bare forearms project diagonally

from the lower corners, meeting at her breast

where her hands touch. The surroundings are

empty but for two bird cages in the background,

a large green one and a smaller black one.

Their connection to the model is unclear.

181

78

Study of Canetti Reading

c. 1945

Oil on board, 608 × 532 mm


Study of Canetti Reading is the first of several

portraits Motesiczky made of the author of

Die Blendung, who had emigrated to England

with his wife Veza in 1939. During the war Elias

Canetti settled in Amersham where he began

a friendship with the artist which lasted until

his death in 1994.

The half-length portrait depicts a youthful

man around the time of his fortieth birthday

(fig. 71), seated in a green armchair. While the

lower half of the picture is left almost bare,

with the outline of his clothes only sketched

in, the head is the part on which the artist has

worked most. It shows Canetti’s characteristic

full, dark wavy hair; his moustache is only

hinted at. Canetti is wearing round glasses

and, frowning slightly, he seems to be intently

reading the book he is holding in his hands.

This so far undated portrait was probably

painted towards the end of the war as an entry

in the artist’s diary suggests. On 29 January

1945 she writes: ‘Have smeared wildly on C.’s

head before dinner.’ 1 The choice of words

suggests that she was not totally satisfied with

the result of her efforts. She never completed

the portrait.

note

1 ‘Vor Nachtmahl wild C.’s Kopf herumgeschmiert.’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 29 January 1945:

Motesiczky archive.

bibliography

Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 94.

Fig. 71 Elias Canetti, photograph, 1947


Fig. 70 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated sketch,

graphite on paper, 355 × 228 mm (Marie-Louise von


182

79

Cyclist

Mid-1940s


Private collection

Cyclist shows a woman on a bicycle as she

moves down Chestnut Lane, the street where

the Motesiczkys lived on the outskirts of

Amersham. In front of the dark mass of a

forest, the cyclist rushes along an empty

road. As if in accordance with the movement

depicted, the paint is applied in a rather

sketchy manner.

The current owner dated Cyclist ‘c. 1947’.

An entry in Motesiczky’s diary for 1945 which

curtly states ‘Drew “bicycle tour”’ 1 testifies to

her interest in the motif and suggests that the

painting was probably created just after the war.

note

1 ‘“Radtur” gezeich.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 19 July 1945: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Peter Black (gift 1986).

183

80

Portrait with Turban

Porträt mit Turban

1946


Signed (top right): M.L.M.


In the 1960s critics praised this portrait of the

artist’s mother, Henriette von Motesiczky, as ‘a

truly great painting’, 1 and one of the ‘strongest

portraits that could be seen in Austria in the

recent past’. 2 A decade earlier, it had been

admired for being ‘the most original and the

most successful’ of Motesiczky’s portraits of

elderly women to date ‘in terms of painterly

and psychological penetration’ of the sitter. 3

This simple and unaffected yet intimate

half-length portrait shows Henriette von

Motesiczky, in her mid-sixties, clad in a brown

coat and wearing a yellow and red striped

turban. The artist’s mother had started losing

her hair early and used various means of

disguising this misfortune: a wig, a turban or

a scarf, all of which are documented in various

portraits. Only in her extreme old age did she

cease to bother hiding her baldness when

sitting for a portrait (Mother with Baton, 1977,

no. 257). Here, the sitter’s characteristic

features, her large dark eyes and a slightly

bulbous nose, are enhanced by glowing rosy

cheeks. She is accompanied by her dog, a corgi

named Philip (who also appears in Morning in

the Garden, 1943, no. 61, and Dog with Flowers,

1954, no. 130), whom she holds gently but

firmly with three huge fingers (fig. 72).

The provenance of this painting is difficult

to establish. It was sold to an unnamed buyer at

the Beaux Arts Gallery exhibition on 7 January

1960 as ‘Head, 1947’ for £ 78.15.0. 4 An undated

list of paintings in the artist’s estate mentions

the actor David de Keyser as the owner of the

portrait. At some point before 1985 the portrait

must have been given back to the artist. In the

early 1960s, around the time he might have

purchased the painting, David de Keyser was

a friend of Elias Canetti. Having expressed the

wish to meet ‘the original of his painting, the

mother’, 5 Canetti promised to invite de Keyser

in the near future to meet her. Curiously,

during recent interviews, David de Keyser

could not remember possessing the painting

or the circumstances of how he acquired, nor

why it was returned to the artist. He does,

however, recall seeing it in Elias Canetti’s flat

and suggests that somehow the provenance

was made up.

exhibitions

Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952; Munich 1954, no. 123 (?),

probably shown as Porträt H.v.M.; London 1960, no. 15 (?),

shown as Head, 1947; Vienna 1966, no. 24, illus.; Linz 1966,


illus.; London 1985, no. 32, illus. p. 74; Cambridge 1986, no. 32,

illus. p. 74; Dublin 1988, no. 9; Vienna 1994, no. 25, illus. (col.);

Manchester 1994, no. 19.

bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Gruyter 1952, n.p.; Baldaß 1955,

p. 219 (H.v.M.); Hart 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p. (Frau

im Turban); Reifenberg 1966b, illus. p. 16; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.;

Black 1994, pp. 8 f.; Koch 1994, p. 100; Kruntorad 1994, n.p.;

Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504; Michel 2003, p. 70, illus. Abb. 102

(col.); López Calatayud 2005, p. 15; Lloyd 2007, p. 132.

Fig. 72 Henriette von Motesiczky with her corgi Philip,


notes

1 ‘Ein wahrhaft grossartiges Gemälde’: Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.

2 ‘stärksten Bildnissen, die man in der letzten Zeit in

Österreich sehen konnte’: Hart 1966.

3 ‘das originellste und an malerischer und psychologischer

Durchdringung das gelungenste’: Baldaß 1955, p. 219.

4 Beaux Arts Gallery statement, dated 10 January 1960:

Motesiczky archive.

5 ‘das Original seines Bildes, die Mutter’: Elias Canetti to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [early 1960s]: Motesiczky

archive.

provenance

Artist; David de Keyser (perhaps purchased at 1960 exhibition);

artist (given back before 1985 exhibition).

184

185

81

In the Garden

Familienbild

1948




The well-known journalist and Motesiczky

family friend Benno Reifenberg remarked

about this painting: ‘to unravel the inner

tension would require a novel’. 1 On the

surface we are presented with a domestic

scene in a garden that shows the meeting of

three people, the artist on the right, her aunt

Ilse Leembruggen (also depicted in the drawing

Portrait Frau L., 1934, p. 532) in the centre and

the author Elias Canetti on the left. Motesiczky,

wielding strangely curved garden shears, sees

to the plants, while aunt Ilse, an amateur artist

(see the drawing Aunts, Sketching, 1934, p. 533),

devotes her attention to the drawing pad in front

of her. Canetti, standing on the other side of the

garden fence, seems to have dropped by. Yet, as

Canetti’s brooding, sinister expression indicates,

there is an undercurrent of some momentous,

hidden events, a ‘feeling of muted Chekhovian

drama … between the three members’, 2 as an

anonymous critic put it in 1960.

The undisclosed psychological drama that

seems to take place is expressed by the silent

communication with gestures and glances

behind the aunt’s back. In view of Motesiczky’s

statement ‘Everything figurative, apart from

the portrait, is a story for me’, 3 it seems appropriate

to investigate the nature of the artist’s

relationship with the sitters at the time of the

creation of the painting. Ilse Leembruggen

(1873–1961), who had married the Dutch entrepreneur

Willem Leembruggen in 1895 and

settled in the Netherlands, had always been a

staunch supporter – financially or otherwise –

of the Motesiczky women. Shortly after the

war, in August 1946, she visited her sister and

niece in Amersham. Motesiczky had mixed

feelings about her aunt’s stay. On the one

hand she felt irritated by her demands and

indefatigable need for constant entertainment.

Motesiczky took her on trips into town, to the

theatre and to museums. These kept her from

working and she commented tiredly: ‘it would

be rather better taking out children than old

women; both need a toilet when there is none,

want to eat things you cannot get and in the

Fig. 73 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky (left), Henriette

von Motesiczky (centre) and Ilse Leembruggen (right)

in fancy dress, Hinterbrühl, photograph, 1920s


street they have to have their hands held.’ 4 On

the other hand Motesiczky admitted: ‘Somehow

I am relieved all the same that my aunt is

here. A third person in the house takes away

some pressure’. 5 The following year, when

Motesiczky stayed with her aunt in the Netherlands,

the first signs of the onset of Alzheimer’s

had become apparent in Tante Ilse’s failing

memory: ‘There is no peace because Tante Ilse

flutters around me like a mad pelican also this

very second – makes plans, forgets them again,

searches, finds, loses everything all the time.’ 6

Canetti had similarly mixed feelings. Although

he would often make fun of Tante Ilse, he was

apparently quite fond of her.

The painting seems to be a testament

to these ambiguous, hidden emotions that

could not be expressed. Furthermore, as the

German title Familienbild (family portrait)

implies, Canetti, whom Motesiczky had

befriended in 1939, was by 1948 seen as part of

the Motesiczky family. Yet, his frowning looks,

detached stance, and disapproving attitude

suggest that he did not feel comfortable at

being thus appropriated.



charitable trust

Gustav Delbanco, Roland, Browse and Delbanco, London,

to Elias Canetti, [1953]: ‘Lieber Herr Canetti, Ich habe

heute abend die Bilder noch nach 14 Compayne Gdns.

zurückgebracht. Es war nicht möglich, Sie telephonisch

zu erreichen … Die Nachricht ist insoferne nicht so

gut, als beide Partner die Bilder nicht so gut finden

wie ich, und da 2 Stimmen gegen eine stehen, wird es

leider nicht zu einer ‘one man’ show bei uns kommen.

Wir würden aber gerne 2 oder 3 Bilder im Sommer

zeigen; darüber aber braucht man ja jetzt nicht zu

sprechen. Übrigens war das Bild, welches Roland u.

Browse – unabhängig voneinander – am besten gefiel

das große Bild zu dritt, in dem Sie mit auftreten.’

Jan Willem Salomonson to Jill Lloyd, 2 February 2001:

‘Then there is the matter of the “Familienbild” in the

garden of 1948 … I believe you are right in thinking that

there is a connection with a visit of Ilse to Henriette and

her daughter that had taken place shortly before. As far

as we know this was the last and only visit of Ilse to her

sister in England. After that the gradually increasing

loss of memory made travelling impossible for her.

Even at the time of this last visit she must already have

been somewhat helpless. As you remark, it is obvious

that the garden scene, as ‘staged’ by Marie Louise in

her painting, is largely imaginary and never took place

in this form. The picture and the grotesquely dramatic

tension between the protagonists suggested by it,

seems to ironize Marie Louise’s “mixed” and even

somewhat aggressive feelings toward her visiting aunt.

The latter, at the time, happened to be in the possession,

not only of some of the dearest of her early works

(Selfportrait 1924, View from the window 1925, Jause

1933; to mention just a few) but she had also been able,

in the years preceeding the war, and even during the

war, to acquire several important works by Beckmann.

Marie Louise somehow felt that she herself was, or

would have been, the more rightful owner of these

treasures and would have liked to “pinch” them from

her. This seems to have tempted her into visualizing

her feelings in the scene represented in the picture.’

186

notes

1 ‘die innere Spannung aufzulösen, würde einen Roman

verlangen’: Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.

2 Anonymous [Eric Newton] 1960, n.p.

3 ‘Alles Figürliche, abgesehen vom Porträt, ist für mich eine

Geschichte’: quoted in Hodin 1966, p. 48.

4 ‘es wäre doch besser Kinder als alte Weiber auszuführen,

beide wollen auf’s W.C. wo’s keines giebt, wollen Dinge

essen die man nicht bekommt u. auf der Strasse müssen

sie bei der Hand gehalten werden.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 23 August 1946: Motesiczky

archive.

5 ‘Irgendwie bin ich doch froh dass meine Tante da ist. Ein

dritter Mensch im Haus nimmt irgend einen Druck weg’:



6 ‘Es fehlt auch an Ruhe denn Tante Ilse umflattert mich wie

ein verrückter Pelikan auch in der Sekunde – macht Pläne

vergisst sie wieder, sucht, findet verlegt ununterbrochen

alles.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 16

August 1947 (postmark): Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 111; London 1960, no. 18, shown as Family in

the garden, 1949; Vienna 1966, no. 25, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 25,




1994, no. 20; Vienna 2004b, illus. p. 221 (col.), shown as Im

Garten; Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 39, illus. p. 149 (col.);



bibliography

Petzet 1954, n.p.; Baldaß 1955, p. 219, illus. p. 219 (Family

Portrait); Anonymous [Eric Newton] 1960, n.p. (Family in the

Garden); Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Fallon

1985, n.p.; J.E. 1985, illus. n.p.; Adler 1994, p. 17 (Im Garten);

Anonymous 1994e, illus. n.p. (detail); Anonymous 1994g, illus.

n.p. (detail); Schmidt 1994a, p. 7 (Im Garten); Vorderwülbecke

1999, p. 45, illus. p. 102; Schlenker 2003, p. 111; Lloyd 2004,

pp. 221 f., illus. p. 221 (col.); Schlenker 2005, p. 136, illus. p. 138;

Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 94; R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Schlenker

2006c, p. 148; Lloyd 2007, pp. 137 f., illus. fig. 27 (col.).

187

82

Still-life with Clematis

Stilleben mit Clematis

1948


Signed (bottom right): Motesi

Private collection, Sweden

This still-life was executed in the year

Motesiczky left Amersham and moved into

a flat in Compayne Gardens in London. It

shows a square wooden table on which stands

a collection of objects. Only a vase with clematis

in various colours, placed on what might be

a folded newspaper, can be easily identified.

Next to it is a silver plate on which unidentifiable

items are arranged. On the right, an object

that resembles a picture frame displays a little

figure on a yellow background.

Unusually, the painting is signed ‘Motesi’,

a simplified version of the artist’s complicated

last name. This might have been part of a

strategy to render Motesiczky’s work more

easily marketable in England. It is said to have

been suggested by her friend and flatmate

Julia Altschulova, perhaps in advance of the

exhibition of this work at the London gallery

Roland, Browse and Delbanco where it was

recorded as Still-life with Flowers by ‘Mortesi’ and

subsequently purchased by Julia Altschulova.



charitable trust

Peter Black to Julia Altschulova, 1 September 1997: ‘I am

writing concerning Marie-Louise von Motesiczky.

I organised the Vienna/Manchester exhibitions and am

now making a complete catalogue of Marie-Louise’s

paintings. You may remember that we met at the

Memorial at the Tate Gallery late last year. You told me

about your painting, a still life painted in about 1939,

and signed “Motesi”. I realize that I have no details

of this painting, and have never seen it reproduced.

Would it be possible for me to come briefly to measure

and photograph it?’

Julia Altschulova to Peter Black, 6 February 1998: ‘Thank

you for your note concerning Marie-Louise’s picture.

At the moment I am not interested in selling it.

Thank you very much for your interest.’

provenance

Artist; Julia Altschulova (purchased at Roland, Browse and

Delbanco in 1950); Swedish relatives (inherited 2004).

188

83

Woman with Blue Parrot

Frau mit blauem Papagei

1948



Sometimes wrongly identified as Henriette

von Motesiczky, this half-length portrait shows

an elderly woman whose first name was also

Henriette. She may have worked as a caretaker

to a Mr Albert, an emigrant from Vienna, in

Amersham. A series of passages in Motesiczky’s

letters to Elias Canetti chart the progress of this

portrait for which the sitter was apparently difficult

to pin down: ‘Henriette, whom I finally

wanted to make sit for me, again has a cold –

hopefully she does not fear that she has to buy

the painting.’ 1 On 23 April 1948, Motesiczky

writes energetically and hopefully to Canetti:

‘The day before yesterday Henriette was here

for the first sitting – come what may, I will

paint a portrait and will stand by it and tell

her it is good no matter how it turns out. Unfortunately

the next sitting is only on Monday.

But for many reasons I terribly hope to paint

portraits.’ 2 By mid-May work was going rather

well – ‘Henriette sits for me in London (it does

not go too badly)’ 3 – and the following week the

artist’s enthusiasm is palpable: ‘Henriette is fine

for me. She sits badly but she talks so much

amusing nonsense and I paint and it is like old

times with models in Vienna.’ 4 By the end of the

month Motesiczky reported that although the

sittings, which took place once a week for an

hour, were going well they were not frequent

enough: ‘I paint from memory, but often spoil

more than I improve because I don’t know her

that well. In similar cases I have to get used to

making more thorough drawings’. 5

When the portrait was finally finished it

showed the sitter comfortably seated in a chair,

wearing a salmon-coloured top and scarf. Her

grey hair is swept up in a bun. Two prominent

front teeth stand out in her slightly open

mouth. She is holding what appears to be a

black and white teacup in her left hand, seemingly

offering it to the yellow-breasted, large

blue parrot which perches on a branch next to

her at head height. The woman watches her

feathered companion fondly, exuding familiarity

between the sitter and her pet, although it has

been said that the animal was just an invention.

notes

1 ‘Henriette die ich nun endlich zum sitzen kriegen wollte

ist wieder erkältet – hoffentlich hat sie nicht Angst dass sie

das Bild kaufen muss.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Elias Canetti, [April 1948]: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Vorgestern kam Henriette zur ersten Sitzung – ich werde

auf Teufel komm heraus ein Porträt malen u. wie immer

ich es finde dazu stehen u. ihr sagen dass es gut ist. Leider

hab ich erst Montag wieder die nächste Sitzung. Aber ich

wünsch es mir aus vielen Gründen schrecklich Porträts zu

malen.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,


3 ‘In London sitzt mir Henriette (es geht nicht allzu schlecht)’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 13 May 1948:

Motesiczky archive.

4 ‘Henriette ist fein für mich. Sie sitzt elend aber sie redet so

viel lustiges Zeug u. ich male u. es ist so wie in alten Zeiten

mit Modellen in Wien.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Elias Canetti, 21 May 1948: Motesiczky archive.

5 ‘Ich male auswendig verderbe aber oft mehr als ich gut

mache weil ich sie nicht so gut kenne. Ich muss mich

gewöhnen für solche Fälle gründlichere Zeichnungen zu

machen’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,


189

84

Still-life, Pink Roses and Brushes

c. 1948

85

Self-portrait with Mirror

1949




Signed (top right): Motesiczky 49


In this relatively large-scale still-life,

Motesiczky brings together immensely

enlarged objects which she presents very close

to the picture plane, lending them an almost

monumental quality. In the centre of the

composition two oval objects are juxtaposed:

a green-white plate holding a pink rose, still

complete with its stem and several leaves,

and an off-white bulbous flask decorated with

an orange bird. A leather ribbon, threaded

through holes at the neck of the flask, forms

a delicate handle. The central arrangement is

framed by two groups of tall brushes in glass

containers, one so close to the viewer that only

the tops are visible. Several more lush pink

roses are scattered around the composition

with two long-stemmed blue flowers, possibly

cyclamen, among them adding an unexpected,

colourful highlight.

This painting is part of a series of self-portraits

(see for example Self-portrait in Mirror Looking

Left, 1940s, no. 91, and Self-portrait with Pears,

1965, no. 202) in which Motesiczky depicts

herself only as a reflection in a mirror. She thus

presents the viewer with the image she sees

when actually producing the work; the mirror

would usually be omitted.

The artist, in her early forties and wearing

a salmon-coloured, tight-fitting sweater, is

seated at her dressing table. As if in an echo of

At the Dressmaker’s, 1930 (no. 35), both her arms

are lifted high above her head, hands clasped

behind the head. They further frame and

emphasize the head, leaving only a partial

shadow on the wall to the left of the mirror.

Motesiczky is calmly and carefully examining

her own image, which leaves her with an

impassive and sober, almost disappointed

expression on her face. To the left of the mirror

has been placed a vase of purple irises. Two

stems have wilted and bend in front of the

mirror, providing an adornment for the artist’s

clothes that resembles a brooch. On the right,

perhaps in reference to the shadowy, mysterious

figure in Self-portrait with Red Hat, 1938

(no. 47), stands a veiled head on a pedestal –

possibly a sculpture or a dummy for Motesiczky’s

hats. Draped in yellow cloth, its unseeing eyes

seem to observe the artist’s self-evaluation. The

symmetrical arrangement of the composition, a

device often used by the artist in her still-lifes,

is counterbalanced by the fact that the mirror

image sits slightly off the central axis.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, pp. 139 f.

190

191

86

Cat with Flowers

Katze mit Blumen

1949


Signed (top right): Motesiczky


This playful and humorous ‘companion piece’

to Dog with Flowers, 1965 (no. 201), cleverly plays

with and mixes the concepts of still-life and

portraiture. The black cat, called Susi, belonged

to Marie Hauptmann, the artist’s former wetnurse,

and was an inhabitant of the Motesiczky

home in Amersham. She is standing on her

hind legs, her body tensely stretched and

balancing with her tail. She is reaching up

to a bunch of red, orange and yellow flowers,

possibly nasturtiums, on a delicate threelegged

table. Here Motesiczky clearly captures

a fleeting instant – the cat could not have

held the pose for long. It might be argued

that initially the artist had intended to paint

a still-life of flowers, handily arranged next to

her easel; a section of the easel stand can be

seen on the right. When the cat wandered in,

Motesiczky shifted the focus and decided to

include a living creature. The strong shadows

cast by the cat and the objects give an interesting

depth to the space they occupy.

exhibitions


Munich 1967, no. 62 (ex catalogue); Vienna 1994, no. 28,

illus. (col.).

bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.

192

87

After the Ball

Nach dem Ball

1949


Signed (top left): motesiczky


Like Apples from Hinterbrühl, 1955 (no. 137),

After the Ball commemorates the artist’s elder

brother, Karl von Motesiczky, who was born

in 1904. When Marie-Louise and Henriette

von Motesiczky left Austria in 1938, Karl stayed

behind and subsequently became active in the

resistance, helping many of his Jewish friends.

He was caught in 1942 and sent to Auschwitz

where he died the following year.

Both Marie-Louise and Karl von Motesiczky

were fond of masked balls. Photographs in

the artist’s estate show the teenage Karl with

a female companion, dressed as the moon

and the sun (fig. 74). Other photographs depict

Marie-Louise, Max and Quappi Beckmann in

fancy dress, fooling around on the garden steps

of the Kaulbach Villa in Munich (fig. 75).

In this moving recollection, Karl von

Motesiczky is depicted with his Norwegian

girlfriend, probably a woman aged around

thirty called Aagot, after a fancy-dress ball in

Vienna. Both are exhausted from the evening’s

entertainment. He is wearing a crown and

Fig. 74 Karl von Motesiczky and friend in fancy dress,

photograph, early 1920s (Motesiczky archive)

carrying a lyre, perhaps alluding to the biblical

King David, and she has a feather boa draped

around her hair. Hesitantly and tenderly, his

huge hands, reminiscent of those painted by

Beckmann, are holding her, while at the same

time creating a barrier protecting the couple’s

privacy. Interestingly, the preliminary drawings

for the painting omit the lyre which, together

with the contemporary appearance of the

clothing, gives the whole scene a more modern

appearance (figs 76 and 77). The painting, by

contrast, places the figures in a distant, almost

mythical past.

The artist herself made the following

remarks about her brother and the painting:

I must say a few words about my brother.

He was two years older than me and had

a wonderful intellect. But his short life was

very difficult because he was a dreamer.

He was so gifted musically. He burdened

himself in all humility with law, then theology,

then it was philosophy. And then with

politics. It was also like in the Buddha story

– it would have been better if he’d had to

earn a living. He was not a political person,

but he was leftwing as every decent person

was then. Then he got in the hands of the

famous analyst William [Wilhelm] Reich,

who in Norway exploited my brother to the

utmost. There was a Norwegian girl my

brother fell in love with. He took that girl

to a fancy dress ball, which in Vienna was

a great thing and he wore a crown. He came

back late at night and she was tired and

he still had the golden crown and all was

happy. But imagine – a few days later he

discovered he could not love the girl – he

found her too good, too meek and mild.

And that is the picture ‘After the Ball’ (1949)

– when they came back from the Fancy

Dress, he perhaps uncertain whether to

kiss her or not, and she tired. 1

Fig. 75 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky (left), Max Beckmann

(centre) and Mathilde von Kaulbach (right) in fancy dress

at the Kaulbach Villa in Munich, photograph, c. 1925


193


study for After the Ball, c. 1949,

black chalk on paper, 320 × 240 mm




study for After the Ball, c. 1949,






charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Kurt Wettengl,

Historisches Museum, Frankfurt am Main, 3 February

1990: ‘“After the Ball” stellt meinen Bruder dar. Ich

habe das Bild gemalt, nachdem ich die Nachricht von

seinem Tod in Auschwitz, kurz nach Ende des Krieges

erhielt. Ich würde mich aus begreiflichen Gründen

vorläufig lieber nicht entschliessen, das Bild zu

verkaufen.’

note

1 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated typescript:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions


shown as Nach dem Maskenfest; London 1960, no. 16, shown

as Boy and girl, 1948; Vienna 1966, no. 26, illus.; Linz 1966,


illus.; Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 76; London 1985, no. 34,

illus. p. 75; Cambridge 1986, no. 34, illus. p. 75; Manchester

1994, no. 21; Liverpool 2006, no. 41, illus. p. 151 (col.); Frankfurt

am Main 2006, no. 41, illus. p. 151 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 41,


bibliography

Basoski 1952, n.p.; Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a,

n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Calvocoressi 1985, p. 60; Winterbottom

1986, p. 11; Vann 1987, pp. 14–16, illus. p. 17 (col.); Anonymous

[Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Black 1996, n.p.; Neuerwerbungen,

exh. cat. 1999, p. 104; Smithson 1999, n.p.; Weiner 1999, n.p.;

Foster 2004, p. 143; López Calatayud 2005, p. 26; Crüwell

2006d, n.p.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006,

n.p., illus. n.p. (col.); Schlenker 2006b, pp. 200 f.; Schlenker

2006c, p. 150; Lloyd 2007, p. 132.

194

195

88

Woman in Green Leaning on a Chair

1940s



This portrait is of an unknown middle-aged,

elegantly dressed woman in green, seated

astride a chair with a back also covered in

green, albeit slightly lighter. Her bare forearms

are hugging the chair, while her chin rests

lightly on her left arm. The sitter is placed in

front of a blank grey wall, with the suggestion

of a curtain on the left. This indicates the

existence of a window just beyond the picture

plane. This spatial arrangement is further

clarified by the strong shadow over half her

face while the other half glows in the full light

streaming in through the window. Her short

brown hair shows a green tinge as if reflecting

the colour of her clothes. She wears a faint

smile, and her large dark eyes under short

black eyebrows gaze straight ahead. The

portrait may have been left unfinished as

suggested by two bare strips of canvas on

the left and right, the partially incomplete

hands and fingers and the mere suggestion

of a piece of cloth over the left forearm.

89

Head of a Man

1940s



This half-length portrait of an unknown young

man, his right hand supporting his head, is

executed in a rough and sketchy manner and

appears unfinished. Dressed in a blue suit

jacket, white shirt and red tie, he is seated in a

high-backed chair. He is facing the viewer, his

slightly squinting gaze staring fixedly ahead.

The ill-defined background seems, at least in

parts, reworked.

196

90

Bowl of Fruit with Candelabra

1940s



In this composition, the white tablecloth

produces a stark contrast to the solid black

mass of the background, virtually dividing the

picture plane into two distinct halves. A brown

bowl filled with green pears stands on a folded

piece of newspaper on which writing is indicated

but not legible. A bouquet of red and

pink flowers rises behind the fruit, its vase

obscured by the bowl. The flowers themselves

cover the lower part of a three-branched

candelabra holding three brightly burning

candles. Motesiczky indicates the light they

are emitting by bold sweeps of broad white

brushstrokes around the flame.

A preparatory sketch for this carefully

built-up, layered still-life shows a composition

that is very similar to the final painting (fig. 78).

The divided background, the fruit, flowers and

candles are all on the drawing. Eventually,

only the few scattered leaves on the table will

be replaced by the newspaper.

Fig. 78 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch, 1940s,

graphite and pastel on paper, 227 × 173 mm


197

91

Self-portrait in Mirror Looking Left

1940s



As in several other self-portraits (see Selfportrait

with Mirror, 1949, no. 85, and

Self-portrait with Pears, 1965, no. 202),

Motesiczky here incorporates the mirror,

a means of self-examination, as an integral

part of the composition. The large mirror with

its rounded edges, in which Motesiczky’s head

and shoulders appear, fills almost the entire

canvas. Yet, curiously, Motesiczky is not looking

into the mirror as might be expected in a selfportrait

if the mirror is used to study one’s

features, but facing left and seen in full profile.

Her dark blonde hair is held back by a pointed

little hat, perched on the back of her head and

decorated with an orange ribbon. By changing

her dark brown eyes into strangely prominent

yellow ones, she alters and disguises her otherwise

easily recognizable face. The sombre,

dark colours of the painting contribute to the

slightly mysterious atmosphere of the scene,

as does the bunch of yellow and pink flowers

and leaves. Presumably placed on the table in

front of the mirror, most of the flowers are

reflected in the mirror, with only one large

yellow flower directly visible in the foreground.

Motesiczky left this painting undated. No

clues have been found in the artist’s estate that

might suggest the year of creation. Owing to

the stylistic similarities to other works of the

period and the age the artist appears to be in

the painting, it should be dated to the 1940s.

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 60, illus. Abb. 85 (col.) (Selbstporträt im

Spiegel mit Blumen).

198

92

Head of a Girl

1940s



This painting, left unstretched by Motesiczky

and only recently put on a stretcher, shows

the close-up portrait of an unknown young

woman with long dark hair which seems

neatly arranged and decorated. The details

of her face, one half thrown into shadow and

the other glowing in the light, are carefully

recorded while the surroundings are left vague.

199

93

Self-portrait with Green Headscarf

1940s


Private collection

This unfinished self-portrait was left

unstretched by Motesiczky and only recently

put on a stretcher. It may have been painted

around the same time as Three Heads, 1944

(no. 69), when Motesiczky seems to have been

experimenting with scarves. It shows the artist,

probably around her fortieth birthday, wearing

a light green headscarf. The soft cloth emphasizes

the artist’s oval face, with her large brown

eyes and characteristically slightly open mouth.

While Motesiczky’s features are recorded in

detail, her clothes and her surroundings are

only hinted at and remain undefined.

provenance

Artist; private collection (2009).

200

94

Head of a Smiling Woman

1940s

Oil on canvas (not attached to stretcher), 500 × 350 mm (painted area)


This unstretched canvas shows the unfinished

portrait of an unknown young woman. Her

brown hair appears to be held back by a hairnet

and her face is dominated by a smile and rosy

cheeks. Her clothes are only loosely defined

and the background reveals nothing of the

sitter’s surroundings.

201

95

Still-life with Flowers and Pipe

1940s



This still-life was left unstretched by the artist

and only recently put on a stretcher. In the

background a window with partially drawn

yellow curtains and an oval mirror can be

made out, while the foreground is occupied

by a bouquet of white, yellow and pink flowers

tightly arranged in a bulbous blue vase on a

table. Next to it stand what appear to be a glass

and a box containing an egg. As if added as

an afterthought, a hastily sketched small black

pipe lies in front of the vase. It was presumably

discarded by the artist’s mother, Henriette

von Motesiczky, who used to smoke (she is

depicted smoking her pipe in Reclining Woman

with Pipe, 1954, no. 129, and Henriette von

Motesiczky, 1959, no. 160).

A pencil inscription on the back of the

canvas, in Motesiczky’s handwriting and in her

Viennese dialect, reads: ‘Talent is etwas was

ma kann ohne das man’s g’lernt hat’ (Talent

is what you can do without having learnt it).

202

96

Edge of a Wood

1940s



Motesiczky, who repeatedly painted her

garden, hardly ever depicted ‘untamed’ nature

in her paintings. This unstretched canvas is a

rare example of her attempt to paint a forest.

Seen from the very edge of the wood, we are

presented with a bank of tall tree trunks, trees,

bushes and colourful flowers. Only a few plants

stand out individually and the rest are lost in

a mass of dark vegetation.

203

97

Family Portrait in the Garden

1940s



This unstretched canvas shows a figural scene

that has so far proved impossible to decipher.

As if in an attempt to capture a dream,

Motesiczky here brings together several

seemingly disparate elements. A young naked

woman kneels in a green bath in front of

a bush with red blossoms, behind which a

blonde head appears. A mysterious figure

clad in black from head to toe walks around

the bush and approaches the bath. A soldier

in uniform sits in a low deckchair reading a

newspaper, while a blonde young woman in

a white dress kneels in front of him, inspecting

her face in an oval hand mirror which shows

no reflection. The figures cannot be identified,

but they might be family members or friends.

The woman with the mirror is reminiscent

of a passenger in The Travellers, 1940 (no. 50).

Motesiczky made numerous drawings of

nudes in baths and some of them are clearly

self-portraits (fig. 79). The bathers are usually

surrounded by various figures, often wearing

exotic costumes or long dresses. It is unclear

whether the atmosphere of unreality this

painting creates is the result of an attempt at

a political allegory in response to those being

produced by Motesiczky’s friend and fellow

artist Oskar Kokoschka at the time.

Fig. 79 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Woman in a Tub,

1940s, black chalk and graphite on paper, 210 × 300 mm

(private collection)

204

98

Deckchair in the Garden

1940s



This unstretched canvas shows a view of a

deserted garden, presumably from the open

window of the artist’s ground-floor studio in

Amersham. An empty deckchair stands among

white and purple irises, and, beyond the dense

hedge, tall trees can be made out. The overcast

grey and yellow sky suggests an approaching

sunset. While the open window frames the

view on the right, a small red bird in flight

on the left neatly balances the composition.

205

99

Henriette von Motesiczky and Friend Talking

1940s



This unstretched canvas shows Henriette von

Motesiczky, the artist’s mother, on the left,

with a friend whose identity remains unknown.

The women are seated at a table in front of a

window through which a few branches can be

seen set off against a dark sky. They sit close

together, gesturing animatedly, seemingly

absorbed in their conversation.

206

100

Mixed Flowers in a Vase with Cutlery

1940s



Positioned near the edge of a table stands a

sturdy vase, containing a tightly packed bunch

of mixed flowers in shades of pink, red and

yellow. Several pieces of cutlery, a fork, two

spoons and a knife, are randomly scattered

around the flowers. Motesiczky introduced

several devices that invest this still-life with a

sense of movement and force. The edge of the

table, jutting across the picture plane, the blade

of the knife, cut off by the edge of the canvas,

the angle of the spoon, half-hidden behind the

flowers, and the prongs of the fork, which are

not quite parallel, all contribute to the illusion

of activity.

207

101

Portrait of Woman in Red

1950



This bust-length portrait shows an unknown

young woman. Seated in a high-backed chair,

she is wearing a red summer dress. Her

elongated neck supports an oval face in which

the red lips, corresponding with the dress,

stand out. Her brown hair is cut short in a

boyish fashion. The fingers of her left hand

are nonchalantly, almost accidentally, included

in the picture, the elbow possibly resting on the

arm of the chair. She is dreamily focusing on

something over the artist’s left shoulder. Parts

of the chair, hand and shoulders suggest that

the portrait may not be entirely finished.

bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, illus. n.p. (two details, col.).

208

102

Still-life with Watercolour Box

1950



In this fresh and light composition a handful

of objects fill almost the entire canvas. In front

of the artist’s watercolour box, which lies open

displaying an array of colours, lie what seem

to be a fan and a goose feather. The small

apple, propped up by the feather, is simply

characterized by black outlines and one major

brushstroke of pale yellow against the green

background. In the lower left section of the

picture, the canvas has been left bare.

209

103

Conversation in the Library

Gespräch in der Bibliothek

1950



Conversation in the Library is a homage to a

lost world. 1 Jeremy Adler said of the painting:

‘There is no truer record of genius in exile.’ 2

The two geniuses and fellow emigrants, the

old friends Franz Baermann Steiner (1909–52),

anthropologist and poet, and the writer and

1981 Nobel Laureate Elias Canetti (1905–94),

who had met in Vienna in 1937, are involved

in a heated discussion. It takes place in a room

full of books, presumably the artist’s studio in

the Motesiczky house in Amersham where a

sizeable portion of Canetti’s vast library was

kept. Adler describes the painting: ‘Canetti,

mighty and straddle-legged, with his left hand

in the pocket and the right behind the bowed

head, hair tousled, looks at the floor in front

of him; Steiner, slight, stands to his right like

a fencer taking his guard, the oversized, almost

bald head in profile, the right eye sharply

looking into the distance, the red mouth like

an arrow pointing inwards, the right arm bent,

the hand stretched out, open, demonstrating.

Thus, entangled in a battle of words, the two

appear like mutually intertwined opposites,

and follow, each for himself, a common goal.’ 3

When Canetti and Steiner met again in

England, their friendship soon became close.

It was based on an intensive and regular intellectual

exchange marked by a mutual respect

for each other’s wide-ranging scholarship. In

a letter to Motesiczky of the late 1940s, Canetti

praises Steiner as the only scientifically trained

human being able to foresee the far-reaching

consequences of Canetti’s thoughts. 4 It would

have been appropriate for Motesiczky to situate

Canetti and Steiner, as she knew them, in a

room full of books. She associated Canetti’s

scholarship with books and the intensive study

of them. She might even have seen the books

as a kind of rival for Canetti’s attention, a

battle she had resigned herself to losing since

reading and especially writing always took

precedence over Motesiczky. Books also played

a recurring part in the poems Steiner gave to

Motesiczky. They can characterize a room or

a mood, and can also become a consolation in

solitude. Motesiczky was certainly aware of the

common passion for book hunting that kept

Canetti and Steiner in constant competition.

Most importantly, the books stand for the

immense knowledge amassed by Canetti and

Steiner, of which even the enforced emigration

could not rob them. This allusion to their intellectual

force stands in striking contrast to the

physical characterization of the two figures.

While an anonymous critic once thought of

Canetti and Steiner as a ‘gnomic couple’ 5 and

Canetti referred to this depiction of himself

as a ‘caricature’, 6 it would be wrong to take the

figures for cartoons. They should instead be

seen as representations of the essence of each

personality, albeit in a simplified and slightly

naïve style. Conversation in the Library is a

prime example of the artist’s gift for precisely

characterizing a person in an image and her

honesty in depicting what she sees. Canetti,

though not a physical giant, was an impressive

figure. John Bayley described him in

the following words: ‘Squat, almost dwarfish,

with a massive head and thick black hair, he

looked like a giant cut short at the waist, what

the Germans call a Sitzriese.’ 7 Canetti himself

was fascinated by Steiner’s qualities as an interlocutor

rather than his physical appearance.

Steiner himself was said to be well aware of

his physical shortcomings. He explained his

plans to do fieldwork among the pygmies as

follows: ‘All my life I have been a little man,

I want to know what it feels like, just for once,

to be a big man.’ 8

It is exactly this discrepancy between physical

disadvantage and intellectual greatness that

Motesiczky is able to capture. There is, however,

a further dimension to the painting. Although

not physically included in the painting,

Motesiczky is nevertheless obliquely present

as the invisible third party. In a preliminary

sketch for the painting she reveals her partially

hidden figure behind the prominent Canetti

(fig. 80). Modestly keeping in the background,

she is but an observer of the scene which does

not yet include Steiner. By omitting herself

210

211

Fig. 80 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Conversation

in the Library, c. 1950, pen and ink on paper, 287 × 210 mm


Fig. 81 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study

for Conversation in the Library, c. 1950,

ballpoint pen on paper, 227 × 177 mm (Marie-Louise


from another drawing (fig. 81) and from the

final painting she manages to distance herself

from the sitters and to gain a detached

perspective.



charitable trust

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 17 September

1954: ‘Nun bin ich also in München, wo ich vorgestern

ankam. Als Erstes ging ich in die Ausstellung … Ich

war sehr glücklich darüber, es sieht wunderschön aus.

Die meisten Bilder kommen gut zur Geltung; das

Einzige, das wirklich schlecht gehängt ist, ist die

Georgette mit Bankert, das bemerkt man kaum – aber

vielleicht war kein anderer Platz. Das sage ich nur, um

einen Einwand zu machen, weil sonst mein Lob falsch

klingen könnte. Die Räume finde ich ausgezeichnet.

Kannst Du Dir vorstellen, wie mir zumute war, sie alle

wieder vorzufinden, in einer neuen Nachbarschaft, so

frisch und strahlend und Du selbst dreimal als Porträt

an der Wand, ich wenigstens als Karikatur.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [1960]:

‘Und wissen Sie was Lessore für den Katalog in Druck

gegeben hat – ohne mich zu fragen – Sie und den

Steiner. Was sagen Sie dazu? Heisst “The Study” Ich

kann nix dafür.’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 26 April

1966: ‘Eben kam Dein Brief und ich schreibe Dir gleich,

um Dir ein wenig Mut zuzusprechen und auch um

Dir zu erzählen, dass zugleich mit Deinem ein anderer

Brief aus Wien kam, der zwar mich betrifft, sich aber

nur besonders günstig auf die Ausstellung auswirken

kann. Ein Direktor des österreichischen Rundfunks

teilte mir offiziell mit, dass ich für dieses Jahr zwar

nicht den Stadtpreis, dafür aber den Dichterpreis der

Stadt Wien zuerkannt bekommen habe. Ich soll am

16. Mai im Rathaus anwesend sein, um ihn entgegenzunehmen

und dafür zu danken. Das ist nun materiell

bestimmt nicht so günstig wie der Stadtpreis gewesen

wäre (ich weiss nicht einmal, ob Geld damit überhaupt

verbunden ist, das steht im Brief nicht drin) aber dafür

geschieht es jetzt, während Deiner Ausstellung, was die

Journalisten bestimmt interessieren wird. Es trifft sich

geradezu wunderbar, dass ich in Wien sein werde. Der

212

Rundfunk wird ein ganzes Programm über mich

machen und ich werde unzählige Leute kennen lernen,

die ich alle in Deine Ausstellung schicken oder bringen

kann. Ich bin sehr froh, dass Du den Presse-Empfang

in der Sezession haben wirst. Du darfst dabei nicht

sparen, es soll sehr schön sein, das haben die Leute gern

(aber nicht übertrieben üppig). Die Aufwartung soll so

sein, dass Du nicht daran zu denken hast, alles soll von

selber laufen. Dein Kopf soll für die Gespräche frei

bleiben. Du musst mir jetzt schon heilig versprechen,

ganz wenig oder nichts zu trinken, und zwar aus

folgenden Gründen: wenn man getrunken hat, sagt

man frei heraus, was man denkt. Die Journalisten

werden Dich allerhand fragen, Du darfst aber nie einen

Hieb gegen die Abstrakten oder die Wiener Surrealisten

riskieren, dazu ist Deine Stellung nicht stark genug.

Du musst sagen, dass es Dir um andere Sachen zu tun

war, Dich auf Beckmann berufen, einfach so natürlich

reden, wie Du es kannst, ohne andere Richtungen

anzugreifen. Wenn es sich ergibt, kannst Du auf Deine

feine Art das Steiner-Bild zeigen und sagen, dass ich

der andere bin, auch das Porträt kannst Du ruhig

zeigen, alle werden wissen, dass ich bald komme. Du

sollst zum Beispiel sagen, welche Bilder mir “offiziell”

gehören. Vergiss nicht, dass “Mutter mit Strohhalm”

“Canettis Lieblingsbild” von Dir ist. (Im Katalog gehört

es mir). Sag, dass ich bald komme, weil ich die Ausstellung

sehen will. Glaub mir, es ist viel besser, dass ich

nicht bei der Eröffnung dabei bin, jetzt noch mehr,

weil sich zuviel Aufmerksamkeit mir zugewandt hätte.

Wenn ich komme, so um den 9. herum, wird die Sache

einen neuen Impetus bekommen, und erst recht in der

letzten Woche nach der Preis-Verleihung im Rathaus.

Ich halte es jetzt für sehr wahrscheinlich, dass die Stadt

ein Porträt von mir bei Dir bestellt (wenn sie nicht das

Vorhandene gleich kauft).’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 5: ‘Der zerzauste

und noch nicht berühmte Schriftsteller, der gegen

den Hintergrund eines Bücherschrankes mit seinen

eigenen Gedanken ringt, dabei mehr an sich selbst als

an die anderen denkend, auf plumpen Bauernbeinen

fest am Boden verankert, unberührt vom Gestikulieren

und scharfen Profil seines schmächtigen, auf schwächlichen

Beinen stehenden Gegenspielers und damit

eine an sich schon komplizierte Situation noch

erschwert – das ist Canetti, wie alle ihn post factum

kennenlernen werden.’

notes

1 For a more detailed discussion of this painting and its

context see Schlenker 2003.

2 Quoted in Cohen 1994, p. 94.

3 ‘Canetti, mächtig und breitbeinig, mit der linken Hand in

der Tasche und der rechten hinter dem gesenkten Kopf,

blickt mit zerrauftem Haar vor sich auf den Boden; Steiner,

schmächtig, steht rechts vor ihm wie ein Fechter in Positur,

der übergroße, fast kahle Kopf in Profil, das rechte Auge

scharf in die Ferne blickend, der rote Mund wie ein nach

innen gerichteter Pfeil, der rechte Arm gebogen, die Hand

ausgestreckt, offen, zeigend. So wirken die zwei, verstrickt

im Wortgefecht, wie ineinander verschränkte Gegensätze,

und verfolgen jeder für sich ein gemeinsames Ziel.’:

Adler 1995, p. 228.

4 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [May 1948]:

Motesiczky archive.

5 Anonymous 1985.


17 September 1954: Motesiczky archive.

7 Bayley 1998, p. 118.

8 Adler/Fardon 1999, vol. 1, p. 88. The comment was

presumably made around 1950.

provenance

Artist; Elias Canetti (probably purchased at 1960 exhibition,

perhaps already in his possession in 1954); artist (given back

before 1988).

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 133, shown as Diskussion; London 1960,

no. 19, illus., shown as The study, 1949; Vienna 1966, no. 27;


Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 77, illus., shown as In der

Bibliothek; London 1985, no. 35, illus. p. 37 (col.); Berlin 1992,

no. 20:7/204, illus. p. 664, dated 1948/1960; Vienna 1994,

no. 31, illus. (col.); Marbach 1998, section 5 exhibit 18, p. 40,

illus. p. 41 (col.), dated ‘begun 1948’; Frankfurt am Main 2006,



bibliography

Baldaß 1955, p. 219 (Diskussion); Helmolt 1980, n.p.; Anonymous

1985, n.p.; Serke 1987, illus. p. 310 (detail); Adler 1994,

p. 17; Cohen 1994, p. 94, illus. p. 93 (col.); Adler 1995, p. 228;

Cohen 1996a, n.p.; Fallon 1996, n.p.; Ritter 1998, illus. n.p.;

Adler/Fardon 1999, illus. vol. 1, fig. 14; Vorderwülbecke 1999,

pp. 44 f., illus. p. 101; Kämmerlings 2000, illus. n.p.; Conradi

2001, illus. after p. 418; Larsson 2002, illus. p. 162 (col.); Michel

2003, p. 54, illus. Abb. 72 (col.); Schlenker 2003, pp. 116–18, 121,

illus. p. 119 (col.); Canetti 2005b, illus. p. 94; Canetti 2005d,

illus. n.p. (detail, col.); López Calatayud 2005, p. 26; Wachinger

2005, illus. p. 94; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006b,

pp. 200 f., 204, 207; Schlenker 2006c, p. 154; Schlenker 2006d,

pp. 257, 261; Lloyd 2007, pp. 141–3, 222, illus. fig. 28 (col.).

213

104

Still-life, Yellow Roses in White Bowl

c. 1950



105

Fountain in the Park

Springbrunnen im Park

1951



Private collection, The Hague

This symmetrical composition shows a wide,

white bowl with two handles, placed on top of

what looks like a bedside table. The keyhole of

the top drawer is just visible under its elegantly

curved front. Large, full roses fill the low bowl.

Most are yellow with some pink specimens

scattered among them. The bulk of them are

past their prime, their heads hanging and their

petals starting to drop. The calm serenity and

simplicity of this composition produces an

effect that is almost monumental.

Motesiczky had a special fondness for

London’s Regent’s Park, which was not far from

her home in Hampstead and where she often

went for walks. Several paintings were inspired

by her visits to the park (Regent’s Park, 1951,

no. 108; Regent’s Canal with Car, 1952, no. 111;

and Regent’s Canal with Aviary, 1986, no. 286).

In this painting she depicted the Triton

Fountain in Queen Mary’s Garden on the

site of the Royal Botanic Society conservatory

demolished in 1932, which had been donated

in memory of the painter Sigismund Goetze

(1866–1939) in 1950. The sculptor of the fountain,

William McMillan RA (1887–1977), had created

a playful sculpture of a coiling triton and dryads

(see fig. 82). The sculpted figures are busily

spouting water in all directions, watched by

a woman in a yellow dress who sits on one of

the surrounding benches among the garden’s

floral display. In the foreground a pram and

a sailing boat indicate the presence of children.

The fact that they have momentarily wandered

off does not diminish the joyful and relaxed

atmosphere of the painting.

Fig. 82 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Fountain

in the Park, 1951, charcoal, pastel and black chalk on paper,

180 × 240 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable

Trust, London)

214

Although Fountain in the Park has so far

been dated 1951, the following handwritten

dedication by the author in Elias Canetti’s

Komödie der Eitelkeit, published in Munich

in 1950, suggests that the painting was in

the process of being painted the year before:

‘Muli, für ihre Geduld und für den schönsten

Springbrunnen Elias Canetti 25. Juli 1950’. 1

note

1 ‘Muli, for her patience and for the most beautiful

fountain Elias Canetti 25 July 1950’. Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Kees Leembruggen (probably purchased at

exhibition in The Hague 1952); Philip Leembruggen

(inherited).

exhibitions


shown as Springbrunnen.

bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Filarski 1952a, n.p.; Filarski 1952b,

n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; Lloyd 2007, p. 147.

215

106

Indian Couple

Indisches Paar

1951

Oil and collage on canvas, 459 × 613 mm


This double portrait of an unknown Sikh

couple, whom Motesiczky is said to have met

on Finchley Road, depicts two very different

individuals. It also implicitly tells a story. On

the left, the face of a bearded man wearing a

turban is seen in profile. Dressed in an elegant

suit and tie, he is confidently smiling or even

‘leering’, as has been suggested by the art

historian Ludwig Baldass, 1 at the woman by

his side, who is wearing a red bindi on her

forehead. She faces the viewer yet seems

subdued and shy despite her beautiful rich

dress. Her eyes are downcast and with her

right hand she reaches up to support her

cheek. Since the couple who stand close

together display a strange unfamiliarity they

might in fact be a bride and groom who have

just met at their wedding. As yet they are

unsure of one another and only just starting

tentatively to approach their new life together.

note

1 ‘lüsternen’: Baldaß 1955, p. 218.

exhibition

Munich 1954, no. 129.

bibliography

Baldaß 1955, p. 218; Lloyd 2007, p. 147.

107

Lo and Lilly

1951




A couple, seated at the corner of a table,

appear to be about to enjoy a meal together.

The woman, seen in profile, is talking and

gesturing animatedly. The man, of oriental

origin and facing the viewer, is listening

attentively, resting his chin on his folded

hands. The setting of the scene is unclear

but can be interpreted as a restaurant. This

is suggested by the background with its ornamental

mirror and wall-mounted lamp while

on the table a glass holds folded yellow paper

napkins and a wine glass with a red cocktail

stick. The couple are wearing rather formal

attire: he sports a light brown suit and she is

dressed in a colourfully patterned elegant jacket

and a few bright items of jewellery. The scene

could, however, be taking place in a dining room

in a private house. Motesiczky had a Chinese

neighbour, a doctor called Lo, who invited her

round for dinner on several occasions.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 112, shown as Tscheng und Lilli; London 1960,

no. 20, shown as Couple in a restaurant, 1952; Munich 1967,

no. 64 (ex catalogue).

bibliography

Petzet 1954, n.p. (Tscheng und Lilli); Baldaß 1955, pp. 218 f.

216

108

Regent’s Park

1951


Signed (bottom right): marie louise m. (overpainted underneath: ‘Motesiczky’)


This park scene combines two characteristic

features of London’s Regent’s Park, the magnificent

gardens and the gracious surrounding

buildings. On a cold spring day two elegantly

dressed ladies, wearing tailored coats or suits

with matching little hats, are out for a walk.

They pass by a bed of tulips in a multitude

of different colours. This splendid display is

surrounded by bushes in various stages of

bloom. Yet, the bare branches of a large tree on

the left indicate that spring is only just starting.

The backdrop for this setting is provided by a

grand house, probably modelled on buildings

in Cumberland Terrace. Designed by John

Nash and completed in 1827, Cumberland

Terrace has been described as the most

splendid of the Regent’s Park terraces. Situated

on the eastern side of the park, its columns,

prominent wings and brightly coloured portico

overlook an extensive area of carefully tended

lawn. Flowerbeds, however, can be found only

in the southern part of the park. In condensing

the architectural features of Cumberland

Terrace and relocating the flowerbeds,

Motesiczky has produced an idealized view

of her favourite park.

exhibitions

Amsterdam 1952; The Hague 1952.

bibliography

Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Filarski 1952a, n.p.;

Lloyd 2007, p. 147.

217

109

Two Women and a Shadow

Zwei Frauen und ein Schatten

1951




The painter Oskar Kokoschka (1886–1980) had

been a friend of Henriette von Motesiczky in

Vienna. According to the composer Gian Carlo

Menotti, who had stayed with the Motesiczkys

in 1933/4, Kokoschka had painted a portrait

of Henriette von Motesiczky in the nude that

hung in her bedroom in the Brahmsplatz flat

(unfortunately this has not yet been located).

The Motesiczkys and Kokoschka, in the

company of his future wife Olda, met again

in England in early 1939. When Kokoschka

moved to Polperro in Cornwall in the summer

of 1939, letters were exchanged and visits

finally resumed in the early 1940s, when

the Motesiczkys were living in Amersham.

Kokoschka made a drawing of Motesiczky

wearing a straw hat (a signed copy of which he

presented to the artist’s mother – figs 31 and

83) and took a keen interest in her painting,

trying to direct her along the right artistic path,

alternating praise with criticism. On 8 May 1945,

Motesiczky noted in her diary: ‘It is peace …

Kokoschkas appear. O.K. is awful with my

painting of mother.’ 1 The following day, she

seems to have forgotten her grudge and

records her admiration for Olda Kokoschka’s

appearance: ‘Olda is beautiful to look at.’ 2

On the death of Motesiczky, Olda Kokoschka

remarked warmly that the artist was a person

‘whom I have known and liked very much

ever since our coming to London end of 1938.

She was a very special person with a very

individual way of looking at life.’ 3

With Two Women and a Shadow, Motesiczky

has created a work of art that might have

inspired Iris Murdoch’s description of the

remodelled interior of a formerly musty and

old-fashioned house in the novel The Book and

the Brotherhood from 1987: ‘The drawing room

… was now painted a glowing aquamarine

adorned with a huge scarlet abstract by de

Kooning over the fireplace and two colourful

conversation pieces by Kokoschka and

Motesiczky.’ 4

This modern conversation piece is a triple

portrait of Oskar Kokoschka, his wife Olda and

Motesiczky in social circumstances that might

be a cocktail party (the painting has been

exhibited under this title). The two women,

seated upon a large orange sofa next to each

other, are wearing light summer dresses. Olda

Kokoschka is delicately holding a small glass,

her elegantly elongated neck towering over

Motesiczky who appears somewhat shrunken

and dejected. This is emphasized by her

downcast and hooded eyes that stare at the

untouched cup on a tray in front of her and the

handkerchief she is clutching in her hand. As

if intending to confide some sad news to her

friend, Motesiczky nevertheless sits in silence

with Olda Kokoschka expectantly observing

her. It could be argued that it is the silhouetted

dark profile, visible between the women, that

prevents Motesiczky from talking. It is unmistakable

as Oskar Kokoschka’s distinctive profile.

He sits in close proximity with his back to the

women. Although not openly participating in the

intended conversation, he is visibly disturbing

it and the women do not feel free to talk with

him listening. Two Women and a Shadow subtly

depicts a lifelong friendship that was not

without its difficulties.

notes

1 ‘Es ist Frieden … Kokoschkas erscheinen. O.K. ist

scheusslich mit meinem Bild v. Mutter.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for 8 May 1945: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Olda ist hübsch zum ansehen.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for 9 May 1945: Motesiczky archive.

3 Olda Kokoschka to the family of Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 30 June 1996: Motesiczky archive.

4 Murdoch 1988, pp. 536 f.

exhibitions

Amsterdam 1952, shown as Cocktail Party; The Hague 1952,

shown as Cocktail Party; Munich 1954, no. 113; Frankfurt am

Main 2006, no. 45, illus. p. 159 (col.).

bibliography

Anonymous 1952a, n.p., illus. n.p.; Anonymous 1952b, n.p.;

Brandenburg 1952, n.p., illus. n.p.; Buys 1952, n.p.; Filarski

1952a, n.p.; Filarski 1952b, n.p., illus. n.p.; Michel 2003, p. 54,

illus. Abb. 70 (col.); R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Huther 2006a, n.p.;

Huther 2006b, n.p.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 158; Stadler 2006,

n.p.; Calvocoressi 2007, illus. p. 24 (detail, col.); Lloyd 2007,

p. 110, illus. fig. 24 (col.).

Fig. 83 Oskar Kokoschka, copy of his 1940 watercolour

Marie-Louise, dedicated to Henriette von Motesiczky


Fig. 84 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for

Two Women and a Shadow, 1951, graphite on tracing paper,


Trust, London)

218

219

110

Finchley Road at Night

Finchley Road bei Nacht

1952



Stedelijk Museum of Modern Art, Amsterdam (A 3348)

Having spent the war years in Amersham with

her mother, Motesiczky moved back to London

at the end of the war. In 1948 she found a flat

in 14 Compayne Gardens, West Hampstead,

which she shared with a friend. From 1951

to 1957 Elias Canetti also had a room there,

where he often worked. Finchley Road, one

of the main arteries leading out of London

to the north, divides West Hampstead from

Hampstead, where the artist purchased a

house in 1960, and this part of north London

was a constant presence in her Wahlheimat

(adopted country).

In this nocturnal cityscape Motesiczky

seems to explore ‘the transformation of mood

in a familiar scene brought about by night,

with its exciting effects of light and colour’. 1

Dimly illuminated by a street lamp on the far

side of the road (a second in the foreground

seems to be broken) two unreal, toy-like cars

are driving along the uneven street, their

interiors lit up. A pair of large Regency villas

behind a bank of trees form the backdrop to

this atmospheric scene. As if acknowledging

her arrival in the metropolis from the quiet

rural idyll of Amersham, Motesiczky, who

did not get her driving licence until 1955,

depicts a simplified and harmonious view

of the busy, modern urban life she has

chosen to share. Finchley Road at Night bears

a strong resemblance to Max Beckmann’s

Nachtstrasse, 1928 (fig. 85), which Motesiczky

probably saw while she was attending his

master-class in Frankfurt.

The art critic Henri Wiessing negotiated the

acquisition of the painting from Motesiczky’s

solo exhibition at the Kunstzaal Van Lier in

Amsterdam in 1952 by the Stedelijk Museum

in Amsterdam (albeit for a very small sum of

money – 25 Guilders). When, two years later,

Motesiczky visited Arthur Rümann, the director

of the Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus

in Munich, to hang her exhibition there, he

particularly admired it, as Motesiczky noted:

‘On one wall he placed Conny [Countess with

Plum, no. 65] and Finchley Road and said

totally enthusiastically – isn’t it beautiful!

and it really looked beautiful.’ 2



charitable trust

Henri Wiessing to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 21 March

1952: ‘Sandberg … hatte ohne mich auch wohl gekauft,

hätte er Geld gehabt wie ein Amerikanischer Museumdirektor

Geld hat! Nun, daß er keines gehabt hat war

ein bischen liebendes Manövrieren nötig. Warum

ich – sei es ein zehntel Deines wonnevollen, schönen,

rührenden Lächelns mag verdient haben, als Du – auf

der Treppe des Bahnhofes – die Bericht von mir gehört

hast, war nicht dieses Manövrieren, das war der impetus,

der Sprung meines Herzens, auf einmal, als wie

durch ein Dolch mein Herz fühlte, wie unbefriedigt

Du sein müßtest ohne Verkauf. Mein Fechterherz

war plötzlich wach und sagte: Wo eine Möglichkeit?,

und dann natürlich etwas viel besseres als das was

das schwerennötige Publikum Dir nicht gegeben hat.

Meine Liebe wurde auf einmal aggressive. Das war es.

Wie ich Dir auf einer Karte aus ‘m Haag geschrieben

habe hat Sandberg das “Stadgezicht met auto’s”

angewiesen, zusammen mit Jaffé. Als wir zurückfuhren

nach Amsterdam, sagte er: “Und jetzt unsere Zahlung.

Wiessing, Du hast gesprochen von einer Rumpsumme,

hundert Gulden z. B., aber Du hast gesagt, daß

Frau M. es uns überlassen möchte, da sie ja weiß wie

uns das Geld fehlt. Wir sind jetzt wirklich ganz ohne.

Ich habe hier 25 Gulden, es ist nichts, ein symbolische

Fig. 85 Max Beckmann, Nachtstrasse, 1928, oil on canvas, 460 × 800 mm (private collection)

220

Abzahlung; Glaubst Du …?” “Wirst Du, Sandberg, ein

anderes Mal, sie viel besser zahlen …?” fragte ich, und

nahm das Geld … Er [Lier] konnte nicht dafür sorgen,

daß der Kauf in der Holl. Presse bekannt gemacht

wird, das muß jetzt die Bovens (Plaats) thun. Ich werde

sie heute schreiben in diesem Sinne – Sie soll den

De Gruyter anrufen.’

Quappi Beckmann to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

29 April 1952: ‘Du weißt gar nicht wie sehr ich mich über

Deinen Erfolg gefreut habe und noch freue! Schön ist

das, weil ich weiß daß Du’s wirklich verdienst, und es ist

wirklich ein Erfolg, daß das Stedelijk Museum gekauft

hat, viel mehr als wenn ein Privatmann gekauft hätte

(was trotzdem hoffentlich auch bald geschieht u. nach

dem Museumsankauf die logische Folge wäre!) Auch daß

der Haag kaufen wollte, ich hoffe es ist was geworden

oder kommt noch?! Auch die Kritiken sind wichtig u.

erfreulich daß viel (Du hast ganz recht, egal ob dumm)

wenn nur viele geschrieben haben. Vielleicht wird man

in London jetzt etwas “freundlicher” sein! … Max hätte

sich sehr gefreut über Deinen Erfolg das weiß ich,

denn er glaubte an Dich und Deine Arbeit und es hätte

ihm innerlich wohlgetan.’

notes

1 Black 1994, p. 9.

2 ‘An eine Wand stellte er die Conny u. die Finchleyroad

u. sagte ganz begeistert – ist das nicht schön! u. es sah

wirklich schön aus.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Elias Canetti, 17 August 1954: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Stedelijk Museum of Modern Art (purchased at

exhibition in Amsterdam 1952).

exhibitions




no. 36, illus. p. 76; Vienna 1994, no. 29, illus. (col.), dated 1950.

bibliography

Braat 1952, p. 1; Brandenburg 1952, n.p.; Filarski 1952a, n.p.;

Filarski 1952b, n.p.; H.v.C. 1952, n.p.; H.v.G. 1952, n.p.;

Penning 1952, n.p.; Vogel 1966a, n.p.; Vogel 1966b, n.p.; Adler

1994, p. 17; Black 1994, p. 9; Cohen 1994, p. 94 (dated 1950);

Black 1997, p. 993 (dated 1950); Vorderwülbecke 1999,

p. 54 f.n., illus. p. 110; Michel 2003, p. 54, illus. Abb. 71 (col.);

Black 2006, p. 57 (Finchley Road by Night); Schlenker 2006b,

pp. 200 f., illus. p. 201 (col.); Schlenker 2006d, p. 257; Lloyd

2007, pp. 147, 149.

221

111

Regent’s Canal with Car

Regent’s Park mit Auto

1952



on permanent loan to the Austrian Cultural Forum,

London

This is the first of two views of Regent’s Canal

(see Regent’s Canal with Aviary, 1986, no. 286),

looking east towards London Zoo from

Macclesfield Bridge on the northern border of

Regent’s Park. It is spring and the trees display

an abundance of pink and white blossom

which is, in places, reflected in the water. New

green leaves cover both sides of the embankment.

The canal, designed by John Nash to

link the London docks with the inland port of

Paddington, had lost its crucial role as a transport

route with the advent of the railway. By

the 1950s, it was mainly cruise-boats and other

leisure craft that used the canal, although, in

this painting, the emphasis is on yet another

form of transport, the car, and no boat disturbs

the water of the canal. Perhaps inspired by

photographs of this view that are spoiled by

the accidental appearance of a car (fig. 86),

Motesiczky has created a witty scene that

captures the sense of speed. Only the back

half of a pale yellow car, possibly a Volkswagen

Beetle, that has just driven across the bridge is

captured on canvas, and the front part of the

car has already disappeared from view. The

contrast between the empty, placid canal and

the busy road is accentuated by the multitude

of tiny red ‘speed’ lines on the lower part of

the car. The turban-clad figure in the car seems

quite used to rapid progress and calmly sits

back. Motesiczky adopts an elevated viewpoint

in this painting which allows the depiction

of the bridge’s intricate metalwork without

obscuring the view. The incorporation of a

slightly embellished Primrose Hill Bridge in

the distance is imaginary since it would not

be visible from here. Similarly, the position

of the lamp has been altered as it would

not have stood in the middle of the road.

provenance

Artist; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust;

lent to the Austrian Cultural Forum (2008).

exhibition

Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 46, illus. p. 161 (col.).

Fig. 86 View of Regent’s Canal from Macclesfield Bridge,


bibliography

Schlenker 2006c, p. 160; Lloyd 2007, p. 147.

222

112

Still-life with Paintboxes and Nasturtiums

Stilleben mit Malkästen und Kapuzinerkresse

1952


Signed (bottom right): m. motesiczki 1952.


From an elevated viewpoint, the artist presents

three objects on top of a low, small table:

two open paintboxes and a bowl containing

a bunch of nasturtiums. The bright orange

and yellow flowers almost glow among the

subdued colours of their surroundings. Even

the paintboxes with their squiggles of paint

appear drab and dark in comparison.

Curiously, the artist did not sign with the

correct form of her name but with the slightly

altered version of ‘Motesiczki’. She had

repeatedly attempted to simplify her rather

complicated last name – in Countess with Plum,

1944 (no. 65), for example, she initially signed

with ‘Motesicky’, only to insert the missing ‘z’

later. The changed spelling used here, however,

does not render the name more legible. The

artist might simply have been playing around

or may have been driven by the fact that a ‘y’

would not have fitted in the limited space.

exhibitions

Frankfurt am Main 2006, ex catalogue; Vienna 2007, ex catalogue,

shown as Stilleben mit Malkasten und Brunnenkresse;

Passau 2007, ex catalogue; Southampton 2007, ex catalogue.

223

113

Portrait of a Young Girl in a Blue Dress

Porträt eines jungen Mädchens im blauen Kleid

1952

Oil on board, 459 × 372 mm


It has not been possible to establish the

identity of this young girl. The portrait was

probably painted when Motesiczky was on

holiday in the south of France since the back of

the board bears a stamp from an art supplier in

Toulon. In this half-length portrait Motesiczky

treats the sitter’s clothes summarily, only

vaguely describing them as a light blue dress

with a round collar. The girl is seated on a

chair. Its edge protrudes slightly from behind

her left shoulder, while in the background,

equally difficult to read, there might be an

open door. The focus of the painting is the

girl’s face. Her black hair is parted at the side

and smoothed back behind the ears, lending

emphasis to the sharply defined thin black

eyebrows and dark eyes which are set close

together and gaze into the middle distance,

as if lost in thought. The play of shadow on

the face and the neck is carefully recorded

although it is absent elsewhere in the painting.

224

114

Still-life with Narcissi

Stilleben mit Narzissen

1952




With Still-life with Narcissi Motesiczky presents

a composition that seems to conceal a story. A

blank wooden table pushed up against a grey

wall is laid with a silver plate, its shiny smooth

surface reflecting the image of a lilac-blue jug

holding a bunch of short-stemmed white

narcissi and tall pink gladioli. Four liqueur

glasses are lined up at the edge of the table;

only one is filled with a small amount of the

orange liquid from the bottle standing nearby.

The wall is adorned by a framed portrait, its

upper half cut off, revealing only a decisive

chin. Next to it, the shadow of a head hovers.

In Still-life with Narcissi Motesiczky uses a

device she often employed in still-lifes: the

composition is almost symmetrical, the central,

vertical axis of reflection shifted slightly to the

right while the shadow and the bottle on the

left have no counterpart on the right.

Motesiczky succeeds in creating a festive

atmosphere, yet, by not disclosing the identity

of the guests – who may not have arrived or

may have already departed – and obscuring the

surroundings in which the celebration takes

place, she shrouds the occasion in mystery.

The ominous shadow and half-visible portrait

contribute to a sense of unease. By cutting

off the upper part of the face the sitter’s eyes

cannot be seen leaving him/her both unidentified

and a potential spy on the scene. The

portrait, which had been in Motesiczky’s family

for generations, in fact shows Charles II of

Spain and was painted by the studio of Juan

Carreño de Miranda (fig. 87).

provenance

Artist; Louise Rupé (purchased before 1966 exhibition);

Mirli and Daniele Grassi.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 134, shown as Stilleben mit Blumen;

London 1960, no. 21; Vienna 1966, no. 29; Linz 1966, no. 29;

Munich 1967, no. 29; Bremen 1968, no. 29.

bibliography

Baldaß 1955, illus. p. 219 (Blumen im Krug, Flowers in a Mug).

Fig. 87 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky at the dining table –

the portrait of Charles II by the studio of Juan Carreño de

Miranda hangs on the wall behind her, photograph, 1944


225

Fig. 89 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch,

c. 1952, charcoal on paper, 357 × 253 mm (Marie-Louise


227

116

View from the Window in Compayne Gardens I

Dächer in Compayne Gardens

1952




Motesiczky painted two views from her sitting

room on the second floor of 14 Compayne

Gardens, West Hampstead (see View from the

Window in Compayne Gardens II, 1952, no. 117,

and fig. 90). She lived there from 1948 to 1960,

sharing the flat first with Georgette Lewinson

and then, from 1950, with Julia Altschulova.

From 1951 to 1957 Elias Canetti also had a room

in the flat, where he often worked.

Motesiczky presents the view through a

large bay window towards the houses on the

other side of the road. Only the top floors and

black slate roofs of the red brick houses, the

occasional antenna and several elaborate

rows of chimney pots can be seen. The orange

glow of the sky and the lit windows suggest

that it might be early evening. On a chest of

drawers in the bay window a stuffed pheasant

and a vase with a large bunch of drooping

white tulips are displayed. While the view from

the window clearly determines the location of

the flat within the house and the house within

Compayne Gardens, the orderly interior

provides no clue to the profession of the

room’s occupant.

Fig. 90 Front room of Motesiczky’s flat in Compayne

Gardens, photograph, 1950s (Motesiczky archive)

228

117

View from the Window in Compayne Gardens II

1952


Private collection, USA

This view from the artist’s window in

Compayne Gardens, West Hampstead, where

she lived from 1948 to 1960, is a companion

piece to View from the Window in Compayne

Gardens I, 1952 (no. 116). From the sitting room

on the second floor a much less well-defined

view of the outside world is presented here.

Only the misty, blurred silhouettes of the roofs

and houses opposite can be made out against

a leaden sky. Inside, on a chest of drawers

under the window, a bouquet of large red and

white roses takes pride of place, framed by

heavy yellow curtains. The net curtains are

drawn aside, creating the impression of

gentle movement, to give an unobstructed

view of the exterior.

In the early 1990s, Motesiczky gave this

painting to her friend and former flatmate

in Compayne Gardens, Georgette Lewinson,

of whom she had also made a portrait,

Mother and Child, c. 1954 (no. 133).

provenance

Artist; Georgette Lewinson (gift early 1990s); David

Lewinson (inherited 2008).

Fig. 91 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for View from

the Window in Compayne Gardens II, 1952, charcoal and

watercolour on paper, 253 × 366 mm (Marie-Louise von


229

118

Still-life with Yellow Fan

and Cherries

Before 1953

119

Lobster

Hummer

1953

Oil on canvas (?), dimensions unknown

Location unknown


Signed (bottom right): m. motesiczky


no image

In 1953, Motesiczky gave a still-life with a

yellow fan and cherries to her Dutch friends

Henri Wiessing and Suzanne van Thijn (whose

portrait she painted in the 1960s, no. 233). The

current location of the painting is unknown.

No illustration has survived in the Motesiczky

archive.



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 20 October

1953: ‘Heute hab ich Henry u. Josslin [Jocelyn Kingsley]

Bilder gezeigt – grosse Begeisterung u. die neuen

Sachen gefielen ihnen so gut – gar keine Verlegenheit

… Henry hat mir ein Bild abgebettelt. Nur für ein Jahr

nur für eine Zeit u. er würde schriftlich mir geben

dass ich es nach seinem Tode wiederbekomme. Was

konnte ich da anders tun als es ihm schenken? Es ist

das Stilleben mit dem gelben Fächer u. den Kirschen.

Er war ganz toll damit u. diese Josslin auch. Ich weiss

dass es ein Bild ist an dem Ihnen nicht so viel liegt u.

deshalb macht es doch nichts? Dann sagte er wo er es

hinhängen würde – da u. da hin, und plötzlich sagte

Suzanne: also kommt es in die Kerkstraat? Das ist der

Ort wo er mit seiner Frau wohnt Da gab’s nun eine

furchtbare Szene Tränen bei Suzanne, Wut bei Henry

u. ich rief dazwischen: das ist doch wunderbar! ein

wirklicher Streit wegen eines Bildes von mir! Aber das

half alles nichts!’

Suzanne van Thijn to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

22 July 1954: ‘I wished you could come and see us and

stay with me. I am sure you’ll love it and the tapistry

and your painting are on the wall.’

provenance

Artist; Henri Wiessing, Amsterdam (gift 1953).

The creation of Lobster was, unusually,

recorded in Motesiczky’s diaries. In 1953 she

made the following notes: 18 March: ‘finally

found barrel for lobster before supper’; 19

March: ‘Worked / lobster’; 21 March: ‘Worked

lobster’; 29 March: ‘then still lobster’. On 31

March, she felt ready to present the painting:

‘Painted lobster … shown lobster to mother,

doesn’t like it. Dissatisfied myself.’ After the

unsuccessful experience she noted the following

day: ‘Unhappily painted lobster’ and then, on

2 April, finally seems to come slowly to terms

with it: ‘worked, all of a sudden reassured

although painting is not really good’. A

triumphant entry marks the painting’s completion

on 13 April: ‘Finally lobster finished, a

weight lifted from my heart’. To celebrate – and

possibly as a little revenge for all the trouble it

had caused – Motesiczky went out to eat half

a lobster the next day. 1

Motesiczky depicted a large, bright red

lobster with massive claws, laid out on a silver

tray. The simple arrangement is decorated with

a sprinkle of leaves or herbs. In places, the tray

acts like a mirror and reflects the lobster’s body

in subtle reds and blues. In September that

year, Motesiczky learned that the Cork Street

gallery Roland, Browse and Delbanco was

putting on an exhibition of fish paintings the

following month. Motesiczky, who considered

a lobster not to be a fish and found the composition

wanting, was reluctant to submit the

painting. Encouraged by her friend, the artist

Milein Cosman, she eventually did so and the

painting was accepted. Yet, fearing the gallery

owners might change their minds, Motesiczky

started work on another still-life straight

away, this time of undisputable fish. Still-life

with Fishes (no. 122) was also accepted for the

exhibition. In the end, perhaps due to differing

opinions among the gallery owners, only

Lobster was listed in the exhibition catalogue.

Apart from its first public appearance when

it was misdated as 1952, this still-life has always

been incorrectly dated as 1954.

230

231



charitable trust

Ludwig Baldass to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 4 April

1953: ‘Ist der Hummer schon für Wien gemalt worden?

Wie steht es mit dieser Ausstellung, was hören Sie

davon?’


28 September 1953: ‘habe zu malen begonnen …

Delbankos machen eine Fischausstellung am

14. Oktober – sie [Milein Cosman] hat dort meinen

Lobster propagiert. Ich sagte ein Lobster sei doch

kein Fisch – sie ist aber anderer Ansicht – jedenfalls

habe ich soffort ein Fischstilleben begonnen fals sie

den Lobster nicht wollen. Wahrscheinlich werden

sie zuletzt beides nicht wollen aber das ist ja egal.’


1953: ‘Also denken Sie die Browse bei Delbanko hat

den Lobster genommen. Sie sah ihn einen Augenblick

gierig an u. sagte dann – sie wolle ihn. Sonst hat sie

sich weiter kein Lob entlocken lassen – nur dass er

schön gerahmt sein soll. Es würde ein sehr schöne

Ausstellung sein – Fische vom 17. Jahrhundert bis

heute.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milein Cosman, [early

October 1953]: ‘Du bist eine Mortsperson! Die “Brause”

hat den Lobster genommen! Habe inzwischen im

Radio gehört dass die frühesten Fische Schalen hatten

– wissenschaftlich ist die Sache also in Ordnung –

obwohl die Komposition zu wünschen übrig lässt –

unter uns.’


1953: ‘Hier gehts inzwischen gut weiter … die Fische

sind fertig u. ich nehme sie morgen in die Stadt ob die

Delbancos sie auch nehmen weiss ich nicht – aber ich

weiss dass sie besser sind als der Lobster – also darf

ich mich durch eine Ablehnung nicht aus der Fassung

bringen lassen. Und ich bin mitten im nächsten Bild.’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 13 October

[1953]: ‘Über den Hummer und die Fische habe ich

mich schrecklich gefreut. Wenn Du nur so gut weiter

machst.’


1953: ‘Die Fische haben die Delbancos genommen.

Sie gefallen ihnen jetzt besser wie der Lobster u. sie

lassen es sich offen ob sie beides hangen aber jedenfalls

hängen sie die Fische.’


1953: ‘Samstag war ich mit Milein bei R.B. Delbanco

… Er gratulierte mir zu dem wunderbaren Bild dass

er gesehen hatte – er meinte aber den Lobster, nicht

die Fische – das ist gut wegen der R.B.D.’s denn da

werden sie vielleicht beide Bilder hängen. Piolein ich

bekomme auch Karten die ich versenden kann, habe

darum gebeten u. die waren sehr erfreut. Es kommt

nämlich auch ein Katalog bei der Ausstellung (denn

sie fragten mich um mein Geburtsjahr) Ich hab so

ein Gefühl als könnte was verkauft werden. Könnten

Sie mir Adressen senden bitte, und vorschreiben

was ich auf die Karten schreiben darf. Wir könnten

doch vielleicht 40–50 £ verdienen mit den Bildern

– warum denn nicht – u. so was kann ich schon

wieder malen.’

note

1 ‘vor Supper endlich Trommel für Lobster gefunden’;

‘Gearbeitet / Lobster’; ‘Gearbeitet Lobst.’; ‘dann immer

noch Lobster’; ‘Lobst. Gemalt … Mutter Lobst gezeigt nicht

gefallen. Selbst unzufrieden.’; ‘Unglückl. an Lobst gemalt’;

‘gearbeitet, plötzlich beruhigt obwohl Bild nicht wirklich

gut’; ‘Endlich Lobster fertig mir ist ein Stein vom Herzen’;

‘Habe einen halben Lobster in der City gegessen.’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, diary entries for 18, 19, 21, 29 and

31 March, 1, 2, 13 and 14 April 1953: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

London 1953, no. 42, dated 1952; Munich 1954, no. 118;

London 1960, no. 28, dated 1954; Vienna 1966, no. 34, dated

1954; Linz 1966, no. 34, dated 1954; Munich 1967, no. 34,

dated 1954; Bremen 1968, no. 34, dated 1954; London 1985,

no. 39, illus. p. 38 (col.), dated 1954.

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 55, illus. Abb. 76 (col.) (dated 1954); Schlenker

2006b, pp. 200 f., illus. p. 202 (col.); Lloyd 2007, p. 148.

232

120

Feathers and Arrows

Federn und Pfeile

1953



A contemporary critic praised this little composition

as being ‘perfect in colour and form’. 1

Motesiczky created an imaginative still-life

using unusual objects. Laid out on a table in

front of the window, through which the greyish

sky outside can be glimpsed, is a Red Indian

head-dress with brightly coloured feathers.

Next to it lies a roughly hewn piece of wood on

which two green apples are placed. Propped up

against the window is a bow, its arrows scattered

around and across the wooden board.

The year 1953 was one of extended travels

for Motesiczky. During the summer, she went

on holiday to the Tyrolean village of Judenstein

with Elias Canetti and also visited Zürich,

Lucerne, Padua, Verona and Venice, as well

as the Attersee and Vienna. In December she

spent the feast of St Nicholas with her relatives

in The Hague and at the end of the month set

off to the United States. This still-life, with its

manifold playful associations, may record

experiences linked to her travels. The Swiss

myth of the archer William Tell might explain

the apples, bow and arrows, and the Red Indian

head-dress evokes North American history

and legends.

note

1 ‘vollendet in Farbgebung und Form’: Spiel 1966.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 125; Vienna 1966, no. 32, illus.; Linz 1966,


illus.; London 1985, no. 37, illus. p. 38 (col.).

bibliography

Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p. (Pfeile und

Federn); Spiel 1966, n.p.

233

121

Village in Tyrol

Dorffest in Tirol

1953


Signed (top right): Motesiczky


In the summer of 1952, Motesiczky took a holiday

in the Austrian alpine village of Judenstein

in Tyrol, near Innsbruck. The following

summer, having enjoyed her stay immensely,

she again visited Judenstein, this time with

Elias Canetti. It was to be their only summer

holiday together. The first visit probably

inspired this painting. Staying alone in a farmhouse,

she dreamed of sharing her joy with

Canetti the following summer. In order to

make the idea of holidaying together in

Judenstein palatable to him she praised the

village as ‘indescribably beautiful … it is very

very wonderful here!’ and asked herself: ‘Will

I be able to paint it some time?’ 1 Motesiczky

was especially impressed by the village festival

which she described to Canetti in full detail:

‘Yesterday, Sunday, there was a big festival here

in Judenstein … fancy-dress pageant led by

Andreas Hofer on horseback, crazily decorated

oxen, a wedding couple in a carriage, young

and old, huntsmen and two wooden canons

which fired formidably. A dance floor in the

forest – one cheery band and one dance band –

but the people were happy and loved to dance

– you have to give them that.’ 2

Back home in London and working from

numerous sketches, Motesiczky realized her

wish to paint a Judenstein motif, choosing

as her subject the village festival, and one of

the ‘crazily decorated oxen’, adorned with an

elaborate head-dress of leaves and flowers.

A cowgirl, accompanied by a little girl in red

dress and cap, leads the ox. She brandishes

a stick and wears a head-dress made from

branches. The ox is flanked by two huntsmen

in local costume, carrying their guns. The little

group seems to be positioned in front of a

house, its large dark entrance discernible on

the left.

The painting must have been completed

by April 1953. Motesiczky showed it to Roland,

Browse and Delbanco, a gallery in Cork Street,

at which she exhibited other pictures (Lobster,

1953, no. 119, and Still-life with Fishes, 1953, no.

122) later that year. She recorded the favourable

reception in her diary: ‘Barren [Lillian Browse]

liked my cow picture’. 3 In June she triumphantly

noted: ‘Cow picture in exhibition’. 4 Unfortunately,

there are no records of the exhibition at

Roland, Browse and Delbanco.

Elias Canetti appreciated the work’s

painterly quality and, on seeing it again in

new surroundings in Motesiczky’s exhibition

in Munich in 1954, was thrilled to detect a

hitherto unrecognized wildness in the

composition. 5



charitable trust









man kaum – aber vielleicht war kein anderer Platz. Das

sage ich nur, um einen Einwand zu machen, weil sonst

mein Lob falsch klingen könnte. Die Räume finde ich

ausgezeichnet. Kannst Du Dir vorstellen, wie mir

zumute war, sie alle wieder vorzufinden, in einer

neuen Nachbarschaft, so frisch und strahlend und Du

selbst dreimal als Porträt an der Wand, ich wenigstens

als Karikatur. Meine Überzeugungen über den höheren

Wert mancher Bilder im Vergleich zu andern haben

sich bestätigt. Aber manche Vorurteile habe ich doch

verloren. Die Zischka finde ich jetzt viel schöner. Ich

glaube, es war ihr Platz am Stiegenaufgang bei uns, der

sie mir verleidet hat. Das Kuhbild ist mir womöglich

noch gewachsen, es hat etwas Wildes, abgesehen von

seiner malerischen Qualität.’

notes

1 ‘unbeschreiblich schön … es ist ganz ganz wunderbar hier!

Obs auch einmal zum malen ist?’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 12 August 1952: Motesiczky

archive.

2 ‘Gestern Sonntag gab’s hier in Judenstein ein grosses Fest

… Kostumierter Zuhg mit Andreas Hofer hoch zu Ross an

der Spitze, verrückt geschmückte Ochsen ein Hochzeitspaar

in einer Kutsche jung u. alt Schützen u. zwei Holzkanonen

die fürchterlich schossen. Ein Tanzboden im Wald – ein

“Stimmungskapelle” u. eine Tanzkapelle – aber lustig waren

die Leute u. gern getanzt haben sie – das muss man ihnen

lassen.’: ibid.

3 ‘Barren gefiel mein Kuhbild’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 28 April 1953: Motesiczky archive.

4 ‘Kuhbild in Ausstellung’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,




exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 116; London 1960, no. 24, shown as

Village festival; Vienna 1966, no. 31; Linz 1966, no. 31; Munich

1967, no. 31; Bremen 1968, no. 31.

bibliography

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 42, illus. p. 96.

234

235

122

Still-life with Fishes

Stilleben mit Fischen

1953


Signed (bottom left): m. motesiczky


In autumn 1953, Roland, Browse and Delbanco,

a gallery in London’s Cork Street, put together

an exhibition of fish paintings from the

seventeenth to the twentieth century. Ludwig

Baldass, the Viennese art historian and old

family friend, was thrilled with the concept

and praised the gallery owners’ ingenuity

for mixing contemporary and old master

paintings to boost sales of this often unpopular

subject-matter for still-lifes. First, Motesiczky

submitted Lobster, 1953 (no. 119) – not a fish,

according to her – which was accepted. In

order to make sure that at least one of her

paintings would be shown in the exhibition she

immediately started this still-life of ‘real’ fish.

On 1 October, only a few days after embarking

on the painting, Motesiczky could proudly

report its near completion: ‘The best is that I

have done a much better still-life with 4 fishes

Fig. 92 Max Beckmann, Fischstilleben mit Netz, 1941,

oil on canvas, 770 × 510 mm (private collection)

– it is almost finished – I will simply also

submit it and then they can see what they do –

maybe they hang both?! 4 fishes – 3 complete

with head and tail and a golden bloater without

a head. It is better composed and has more

ideas than the lobster – and not sloppily

painted – real painting although I did it in one

go – in 2 days almost the whole picture. Well,

the fishes then stank so much that I had to

throw them away. Hopefully I am not wrong

because just now I am having such a good

time. With that I mean that the painting is

good – that the fishes stank can’t be disputed –

the whole house smelled of them.’ 1

This speedily executed and uniquely

purpose-made study of fishes expresses

Motesiczky’s enthusiasm for her task. Laid out

on the table in a tactile heap are the entangled

bodies of the three whole fishes. Two lie head

to tail while another seems to push through

between them in a strangely animated scene.

The gleaming body of the headless bloater rests

in a transparent dish behind them. Motesiczky

beautifully captures the iridescence of the

fish-scales, oscillating in a rainbow of colours.

Fischstilleben mit Netz by Max Beckmann

(fig. 92), painted in Amsterdam in 1941, is a

comparable study of an arrangement of fish.

Motesiczky was probably familiar with this

painting since her aunt Ilse Leembruggen

had purchased it from the artist in 1941 or 1942

after having been asked by Motesiczky to help

the Beckmann family who found themselves

in a dire financial situation in exile.

On 8 October, the artist, convinced and

proud that it was better than Lobster, showed

the finished work to the gallery owners. It

was accepted. Yet in the end, the exhibition

catalogue does not mention Still-life with

Fishes. It was probably kept at the gallery for

a while – although it is said to have been

shown only reluctantly – and then returned

to the artist, unsold.



charitable trust


28 September 1953: ‘habe zu malen begonnen …

Delbankos machen eine Fischausstellung am 14.

Oktober – sie [Milein Cosman] hat dort meinen

Lobster propagiert. Ich sagte ein Lobster sei doch kein

Fisch – sie ist aber anderer Ansicht – jedenfalls habe

ich soffort ein Fischstilleben begonnen fals sie den

Lobster nicht wollen. Wahrscheinlich werden sie

zuletzt beides nicht wollen aber das ist ja egal … Um

auf die Fische zurückzukommen habe ich zwei Sachen

angefangen ein Stilleben u. “des Tauchers Traum” das

zweite ist aber wohl zu ehrgeizig’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milein Cosman, [early

October 1953]: ‘Hab inzwischen ein Fischstilleben

gemalt welches mir besser gefällt – 4 Fische – 3

komplette mit Kopf u. Schwanz u. ein Bückling ohne

Kopf. Wer weiss – vielleicht nehmen sie das auch?

Ich kann es leicht fertig machen bis zum 14.’


1953: ‘Gestern fuhr ich in aller Früh … nach London …

um … mein Bild zum ramen zu geben (endlich ein

ausgezeichneter Rahmenmacher gefunden) … Aber

mit der Fischausstellung war sie [Milein Cosman]

reitzend u. ich hoffe hoffe dass ich am Ende nun wirklich

2 Bilder drin haben werde. Freitag fahre ich mit

dem “Neuen” in die Stadt u. dann wird man sehen.’


1953: ‘Hier gehts inzwischen gut weiter … die Fische

sind fertig u. ich nehme sie morgen in die Stadt ob die

Delbancos sie auch nehmen weiss ich nicht – aber ich

weiss dass sie besser sind als der Lobster – also darf

ich mich durch eine Ablehnung nicht aus der Fassung

bringen lassen. Und ich bin mitten im nächsten Bild.’

Erna Wohl to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 10 October

1953: ‘Wie ich mich mit Ihnen freue, daß das Fischbild

so rasch und gut gelungen ist’

Milein Cosman to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

12 October 1953: ‘Über den durchschlagenden Erfolg

der “neuen Fische” hab ich mich sehr gefreut.’

236


[1953]: ‘Über den Hummer und die Fische habe ich

mich schrecklich gefreut. Wenn Du nur so gut weiter

machst.’


1953: ‘Die Fische haben die Delbancos genommen. Sie

gefallen ihnen jetzt besser wie der Lobster u. sie lassen

es sich offen ob sie beides hangen aber jedenfalls

hängen sie die Fische.’


1953: ‘Samstag war ich mit Milein bei R.B. Delbanco …

Er gratulierte mir zu dem wunderbaren Bild dass er

gesehen hatte – er meinte aber den Lobster, nicht

die Fische – das ist gut wegen der R.B.D.’s denn da

werden sie vielleicht beide Bilder hängen. Piolein ich

bekomme auch Karten die ich versenden kann, habe

darum gebeten u. die waren sehr erfreut. Es kommt

nämlich auch ein Katalog bei der Ausstellung (denn

sie fragten mich um mein Geburtsjahr) Ich hab so

ein Gefühl als könnte was verkauft werden. Könnten

Sie mir Adressen senden bitte, und vorschreiben was

ich auf die Karten schreiben darf. Wir könnten doch

vielleicht 40–50 £ verdienen mit den Bildern – warum

denn nicht – u. so was kann ich schon wieder malen.’

Ludwig Baldass to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

24 October 1953: ‘Vor allem aber gratuliere ich Ihnen

zur Aufnahme Ihrer Produktion und zu Ihrem neuen

Meisterwerk. Die Idee del Bancos hat mich sehr unterhalten.

Sie wissen wohl, daß im Kunsthandel ein altes

Stillleben mit Fischen immer schwerer und schlechter

zu verkaufen ist und einen geringeren Preis bringt

als eines mit andern Lebensmitteln, von Blumen gar

nicht zu reden. Um dem abzuhelfen ist ihm wohl die

Idee der Ausstellung gekommen, und so werden jetzt

Ihre Fische einem Besitzer eines Fischstückes von

Chardin oder von Beyeren dazu verhelfen, sein Bild

anzubringen.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [1953]:

‘falls Sie in die Galerie Delbanco gehen so bestehen

Sie bitte darauf dass man Ihnen die Fische zeigt. Liss

war dort u. Roland wollte ihr dass Bild nicht zeigen.’

note

1 ‘Das Beste aber ist, ich habe ein viel schöneres Stilleben

mit 4 Fischen gemalt – es ist beinahe fertig – ich werde

es einfach dazu einsenden u. die können dann sehen was

sie machen – vielleicht hängen sie beide?! 4 Fische – 3

komplette mit Kopf u. Schwanz u. ein goldener Bückling

ohne Kopf. Es ist besser komponiert u. hat auch mehr

Einfall als der Lobster – u. gar nicht schlampig gemalt –

richtige Malerei obwohl ich es in einem Zuhg gemalt habe

– in 2 Tagen beinahe das ganze Bild. Allerdings haben die

Fische dann schon so gestunken dass ich sie wegwerfen

musste. Hoffentlich irre ich mich nicht weil ich eben jetzt

eine so gute Zeit habe. Ich meine damit dass das Bild gut

ist – darüber dass die Fische gestunken haben war kein

Irrtum – das ganze Haus hat danach gerochen.’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 1 October 1953:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Michael Croft (purchased at 1960 exhibition); artist

(probably not returned after 1966–8 exhibitions).

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 117; London 1960, no. 25, shown as Fish;


1967, no. 30, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 30, illus.; Liverpool 2006,

no. 48, illus. p. 165 (col.).

bibliography

Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; López Calatayud 2005, p. 15.

237

123

Orchid and Figure

1953



At first glance, the spatial relationship in

this composition is difficult to decipher. The

foreground is dominated by a spherical glass

vase containing an arrangement of orchids.

Motesiczky minutely records the flowers’ exotic

shapes, the explosion of colours and the reflection

of the leaves in the curves of the vase. The

rest of the composition cannot be discerned

with any certainty. While the figure may be a

small figurine of a reclining woman close to

the vase, another explanation is more likely:

across the empty space of a room the attention

is drawn to a sofa in the background, placed in

front of a window. The ghostly woman resting

on the sofa resembles Henriette von Motesiczky.

The artist has depicted her mother in this, her

habitual pose, in several works, for example

Henriette von Motesiczky – Portrait No. 1, 1929

(no. 29), Siesta, 1933 (p. 530), or Reclining Woman

with Pipe, 1954 (no. 129). The robust compactness

of the figure further underlines this theory as

does an undated drawing (fig. 93) combining

a self-portrait of the artist with the head of her

sleeping mother in the background in a very

similar spatial arrangement. Thus, Motesiczky

has managed to combine two of her favourite

and most frequent yet normally separate subjects,

flowers and her mother, in one painting.

Fig. 93 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Self-portrait

with Henriette, undated, charcoal on paper, 152 × 227 mm


238

124

Still-life with Globe

Stilleben mit Globus

1953



The diverse collection of objects gathered in

this still-life are displayed on a table in front

of a window. Through the half-drawn curtains

a grey sky and the ghostly shadows of the bare

branches of a tree are visible. Inside, a globe

takes pride of place presenting a continent that

may be Africa. Next to it lies an oval medallion

showing a young black girl. A harp (also used

in The Hour, 1967, no. 211) appears to rest against

the table. Some painting utensils, a jar with

brushes and a quill, are shown on the right.

Motesiczky took great care in depicting the

shadow of each object, cast by an artificial

light source in the room.

239

125

Two Cyclamen in a Vase

Zwei Cyclamen in Vase

1953 (1967?)



This small still-life is dominated by the conical

grey vase displaying two pink cyclamen, whose

leaves create a ruff around the top of the

vessel. The position of the table, on which the

vase stands, is unclear. It seems to be placed

in front of a window, looking out into a pitchdark

night sky in which only a few stars shine

brightly. The other items on the table are

equally difficult to read. A grey bowl appears

on the right and an untidy collection of leaves

edge into the picture plane from the bottom.

The only other item that can be identified is

a black ‘53’ on a white ground to the left of the

vase, which may be the front page of a diary

or a sheet from a calendar.

The painting has also been dated 1967.

While the earlier date might have been deduced

from the number in the painting, it has been

impossible to establish which date is correct.

240

126

Wenki

1954


Signed (bottom left): M. Motesiczky 1954

Private collection

While visiting her cousin Elinor Verdemato in

Estoril, Portugal, in autumn 1954, Motesiczky

painted this portrait of the family’s sleeping

dachshund Wenki. It was named after a dog

of the same breed that belonged to Henriette

von Motesiczky, the artist’s mother, which, in

turn, had been named after one of her doctors,

Dr Wenkebach.

Wenki was actually posing on an outdoor

terrace, yet in his portrait Motesiczky places

the curled-up dog, head resting on a front paw,

tail neatly tucked in, lying on a beach. The sand

stretches into the far distance where it finally

meets the sea behind which the sun is setting.

This spectacle is half hidden by several stems

of blue flowers under which the dog is enjoying

his nap. Another stem with one large blue

flower appears from under his tail. A pair of

green slippers, decorated with red crosses and

possibly belonging to his owner, stand at either

side of a floppy black ear. Their colour matches

that of the dog’s collar and firmly indicate

Wenki’s familial association.

provenance

Artist; Elinor Verdemato (gift 1954).

241

127

Cascais

1954




When, in autumn 1954, Motesiczky visited her

cousin Elinor Verdemato in Estoril, Portugal,

she discovered the charms of the coastal resort

of Cascais and enthusiastically wrote to Elias

Canetti: ‘Casch Caisch, the next town along

(where you register and the mayor’s office and

the police are), is enchanting – real people,

houses, fishermen, restaurants etc. It’s very

close and I was very happy about it’. 1

Motesiczky seems not to have been able to

resist the town’s attraction. A few weeks later

she reported another visit: ‘yesterday evening

I was in Cascais, there the fishes are unloaded

at night and auctioned at midnight – in long

chains the fishermen carry them ashore and

the children jump around and help or steal

fishes and the whole beach looks like a silver

carpet – you can imagine how beautiful that

looks at night down by the sea – and above

all it was warm and calm.’ 2

Motesiczky presents a view of the extensive

bay, part of the Lisbon coastline, surrounding

Cascais and Estoril, including a mountain range

in the background beyond the town. She focuses

on the sweep of the Pescadores Beach, where

the fishermen deliver their catch to be sold at

the nearby market. On the left, the buildings

of the harbour include the impressive Nautic

Club. It is a clear day, and the water washes

calmly onto the beach. Several boats are in the

water and a few are drawn up on the beach.

Of some, only the masts are visible. Otherwise,

the beach and the rest of the town seem

deserted. Some pentimenti can be made out

at the entrance to the beach where originally

two lamp posts marked the spot. They are still

faintly visible, despite Motesiczky’s efforts at

disguising them. The harbour road takes the

eye all the way round to the Town Fort on top

of the hill on the right. Strategically placed at

the corner of Cascais bay, it had been erected

there to protect Lisbon from invading ships.

A preparatory drawing for the painting shows

exactly this view of the bay (fig. 94). However,

while the painting is devoid of human presence,

the drawing includes a lone cyclist on the

harbour road, balancing a large basket on

his head.

Fig. 94 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Cascais,

c. 1954, charcoal and pastel on paper, 204 × 266 mm


There is a chance that the painting was not

created in 1954 but in 1960, as several lists in

the artist’s estate indicate. Neither date can

be firmly substantiated. In the summer of

1958 Motesiczky again visited Estoril in the

company of her friend, the architect Godfrey

Samuel (of whom she did a portrait in 1976/7).

In 1960 Elinor Verdemato told Motesiczky of

the many changes in Cascais: ‘They build like

242

128

Koala

1954



Fig. 95 Seafront, Cascais, photograph, 1994


crazy in Estoril and Cascais. In Cascais numerous

modern apartment blocks spring up and in the

square where we always used to sit in the café

they are erecting a new hotel! Sadly everything

is slowly being spoilt!’ 3 The large number of

photographs of Cascais, especially the harbour

and the beach, in the artist’s estate were

probably taken on a later visit for they seem

to include a number of very modern buildings

(fig. 95).

This close-up portrait of a koala bear is unique

among Motesiczky’s work which, despite

numerous paintings of dogs and several other

domestic animals, includes no other wild

creatures. The koala appears to be sitting in

the branches of a tree. His bulky, plump figure

fills the entire canvas yet demands even more

space with his dynamic movements. While his

head turns right, his legs are facing the other

way. One arm, flung out, seems to hold a

yellow-orange piece of fruit while his foot

rests on another.

exhibition

Munich 1954, no. 130.

notes

1 ‘Casch Caisch der nächste Ort hier (wo man sich anmeldet

u. Bürgermeisteramt u. Polizei ist) ist reitzend – echte

Menschen, Häuser Fischer, Lokale u.s.w. Das ist ganz

nah u. ich war ganz glücklich darüber’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 14 September 1954: Motesiczky

archive.

2 ‘gestern abend war ich in Cascais da werden die Fische

Nachts aus den Booten geladen u. um Mitternacht

versteigert – in langen Ketten tragen die Fischer sie an

Land u. die Kinder hüpfen herum u. helfen oder stibitzen

Fische u. der ganze Strand sieht aus wie ein Silberner

Teppich – Sie können Sich denken wie schön das aussieht

in der Nacht am Meer – u. dabei war’s warm u. windstill.’:



3 ‘In Estoril u. Cascais wird wie wild gebaut. In Cascais

entstehen lauter moderne Apartement Hauser und auf

dem Platz wo wir immer im Café sassen kommt ein neues

Hotel hin! Leider wird alles langsam verpatzt!’: Elinor

Verdemato to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 17 April 1960:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, no. 43, dated 1960; Linz 1966, no. 43, dated

1960; Munich 1967, no. 43, dated 1960; Bremen 1968, no. 43,

dated 1960.

243

129

Reclining Woman with Pipe

Liegende mit Pfeife

1954



Reclining Woman with Pipe is a marvellously

vital portrait of the artist’s mother, Henriette

von Motesiczky, then in her early seventies.

She is portrayed luxuriating in bed, a pose the

artist often chose to depict (see for example

Henriette von Motesiczky – Portrait No. 1, 1929,

no. 29; Siesta, 1933, p. 530; The Old Song, 1959,

no. 158; and From Night into Day, 1975, no. 251).

Here, dressed in a summery red nightgown,

she is leaning against a yellow pillow and

covered with blankets. She appears wide awake,

propping herself up on her left arm, while she

holds a pipe in her right hand. Motesiczky

later commemorated this masculine habit,

in which her mother indulged for many

decades, in Thistle, 1979 (no. 261). Henriette

von Motesiczky’s characteristic bulky shape,

her bulbous nose and dark eyes are all present.

Her thinning grey hair is probably covered by

a wig. Unusually, the artist does not include

one of her mother’s pet dogs in this portrait.

Peter Black said of this regal and calm portrait:

‘Here her mother’s confidence and grandeur

would befit a noble woman receiving friends

in her bed in the France of Louis XV.’ 1

Fig. 96 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Head of Henriette,

1954, charcoal on paper, 382 × 561 mm (Marie-Louise von


note

1 Peter Black, draft catalogue entry, [1993]: Motesiczky

archive.

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 30, shown as Portrait study; Vienna 1966,

no. 33; Linz 1966, no. 33; Munich 1967, no. 33; Bremen 1968,

no. 33; London 1985, no. 38, illus. p. 76; London 1986a,

no. 131; Cambridge 1986, no. 38, illus. p. 76; Dublin 1988,

no. 10; Vienna 1994, no. 33, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994,

no. 23; Liverpool 2006, no. 50, illus. p. 169 (col.); Vienna 2007,

no. 50, illus. p. 169 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 50, illus. p. 169


bibliography

Anonymous 1994e, illus. n.p. (detail, mirror image);

Cohen 1994, p. 94; Gombrich 1994, illus. p. 135 (col.);

K.S. [Kristian Sotriffer] 1994, illus. n.p.; Koch 1994, p. 100;

Kruntorad 1994, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504;

Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 34, 53 f.n., illus. p. 79; Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, illus. n.p. (col.); Schlenker

2006c, p. 168; Schlenker 2006d, p. 257; Lloyd 2007, pp. 165

(Reclining Woman with a Pipe), 202.

244

245

130

Dog with Flowers or Portrait ‘Franzi’

Windspiel mit Blumen or Porträt ‘Franzi’

1954



In August 1953 Henriette von Motesiczky,

the artist’s mother, bought a new dog, a

six-month-old Italian greyhound puppy.

It was called Franzi (fig. 97), after Franziska

von Wertheimstein, a favourite Viennese

aunt. After initial worries that Henriette von

Motesiczky would be too old for a young dog,

Franzi turned out to be a ‘fountain of youth’

for the artist’s mother who in addition was

relieved that her other dog, an old corgi

named Philip (fig. 72), eventually got on with

the new arrival (fig. 99).

Motesiczky, who, at the time, was living in

West Hampstead in London, was interested in

painting the new dog from the start, asking her

mother: ‘What colour is she – is she paintable?

… can she move you or is she only beautiful …

I am already very curious!!’ 1 When she finally

saw the dog, Motesiczky was smitten by her:

‘“Franzi” … by the way a very beautiful dog and

very stimulating, I want to paint her, sculpt her,

draw her – one cannot look away, she is so

strangely thin, the colour of rose wood and she

can fold everything up like a pocket-knife.’ 2 In

October 1953 Motesiczky wrote the following

description of the two dogs which only a few

months later she managed to capture perfectly

in her double portrait: ‘that makes me think

of our dogs … they are enchanting now! They

look like a circus act, one so fat and the other

so thin! Philip has become a touching “old

man”. Strange, how a young creature can

change an old one so completely. I see him

with very different eyes now and would like to

paint him. Even his brown-whitish-greenish

colour (the colour of old dogs) has something

moving. Franzi is my favourite and when I play

with her he creeps into a corner and throws

glances that cut right through you … When

Franzi lightly and elegantly jumps on the beds

– something he hasn’t been able to do for a

long time, he is simply desperate … I get on

extremely well with Franzi – she has some of

my own peculiarities (maybe not exactly the

best) but I often have the feeling that she is my

little enchanted sister.’ 3

The painting clearly shows the artist’s admiration

for and empathy with Franzi, the distinct

characters of the dogs and their different status

in the Motesiczky household. At first glance

this painting is a cross between a still-life and

a portrait, yet the bunch of pink and orange

gladioli is only the appropriately colourful

backdrop for the star of the picture, Franzi.

Even the title, by mentioning only one dog,

omits a reference to the second living creature

in the painting. Franzi is enthroned in an

elevated position in the centre of the composition.

Young, upright, alert and agile, her four

legs are artfully folded under her slender body.

Her head is elegantly turned to one side while

her red collar, caught by the light, is transformed

into a necklace. Old, heavy and immobile, Philip

is only partly visible. In the bottom right corner,

his head and a paw can be glimpsed in an

Fig. 97 Franzi, photograph, c. 1955


unsuccessful attempt to reach up to join Franzi

(see fig. 98). The corgi did, however, serve

as a model in earlier pictures. He features in

Portrait with Turban, 1946 (no. 80), and Morning

in the Garden, 1943 (no. 61). The painting is

signed and dated on the back ‘1946 Amersham

Motesiczky’. This cannot be correct since

Franzi joined the Motesiczkys only in 1953.

notes

1 ‘Was hat sie denn für eine Farbe – ist sie malbar? … kann

sie einen rühren oder ist sie nur schön … Ich bin schon

sehr neugierig!!’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette

von Motesiczky, 11 August 1953: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘“Franzi” … übrigens ein wunderschöner Hund u. sehr

anregend, malerisch plastisch u. graphisch – man kann

garnicht wegschauen so merkwürdig dünn ist er,

Rosenholzfarben u. alles kann er zusammen klappen wie

ein Taschenmesser.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias

Canetti, 26 September 1953: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘dabei fallen mir unsere Hunde ein … die sind jetzt

reitzend! Aussehen tun sie wie eine Zirkusnummer der eine

so dick u. der andere so dünn! Der Philip ist ein rührender

“Alter” geworden Sonderbar wie ein junges Geschöpf ein

altes vollkommen verändern kann. Ich sehe ihn jetzt mit

ganz anderen Augen u. möchte ihn gerne malen. Sogar

seine braun weisslich grünliche Farbe (die Farbe der alten

Hunde) hat etwas rührendes. Die Franzi ist mein Liebling

u. wenn ich mit ihr spiele schleicht er sich in eine Ecke u.

wirft Blicke die einem durch u. durch gehen … Wenn aber

die Franzi leicht u. elegant auf die Betten springt – etwas

was er schon lange nicht mehr kann, ist er ganz einfach

verzweifelt … Mit der Franzi versteh ich mich unheimlich

gut – sie hat einige meiner eigenen Eigenschaften

(vielleicht nicht gerade die besten) aber ich habe oft das

Gefühl das ist mein kleines verzaubertes Schwesterlein.’:



provenance

Artist; Karin and Jan Willem Salomonson.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 120; London 1960, no. 27, shown as Portrait

of Franzi; Vienna 1994, no. 26, illus. (col.), dated 1946.

bibliography

Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504 (Portrait of Franzi).

246


undated sketch, brush and ink on paper,

252 × 189 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


Fig. 99 Letter from Henriette von Motesiczky

to Käthe von Porada, dated 4 August 1953, with

a drawing of Franzi and Philip (Motesiczky archive)

247

131

Water Melon

Wassermelone

1954



In this still-life, Motesiczky created a daring

composition of kitchen utensils and summer

fruit. As in most of Motesiczky’s still-lifes, the

objects appear to have been arranged almost at

random. In fact, they were carefully positioned

to create this very effect. The extremely closeup

view is also typical and gives the objects an

almost monumental appearance. The large half

of a water melon, displaying the bright circle

of juicy, red flesh and row of white pips, may

have been cut by the knife, placed next to it. A

wooden slicer and leaves scattered across the

tray are unrelated to the melon yet provide a

context that suggests a busy day in the kitchen.

provenance

Artist; Gretl Rupé (purchased before 1969); Karin and Jan

Willem Salomonson (inherited 2000).

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 137; London 1960, no. 26, shown as Melon;

Munich 1967, ex catalogue; Vienna 2007, no. 49, illus. p. 167

(col.); Passau 2007, no. 49, illus. p. 167 (col.).

bibliography


248

132

Portrait of Ursula Vaughan Williams

1954


Signed (bottom right): Marie Louise


Ursula Vaughan Williams (1911–2007) became

well-known as the author of poems, plays and

novels. Her poetry appeals to musicians and

has been set to music by over thirty composers.

When her first husband Michael Wood died in

1942, her friendship with the composer Ralph

Vaughan Williams (1872–1958) deepened. They

married in 1953 and moved to London, choosing

a flat in Regent’s Park (10 Hanover Terrace).

Elias Canetti was a regular guest in their home

and, as a mutual friend, presumably mediated

between the composer and Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky when, shortly after their marriage,

Ralph Vaughan Williams thought of commissioning

a portrait of his wife. In early 1954,

the composer expressed his joy at the artist’s

acceptance of the commission: ‘I hear that

you are willing to do me the honour to paint a

portrait of my wife for me. This gives me great

pleasure. I understand from Mr Canetti that

you would be willing to accept a fee of £105.

I hope this is your genuine fee, and not “special

terms” due to my friendship with Mr Canetti.

I am strongly of opinion that “the labourer is

worthy of his hire.”’ 1

Sittings began in February 1954. The atmosphere,

before the first time Ursula Vaughan

Williams was to pose for Motesiczky in her

studio, is captured by Elias Canetti in an

informal, witty little poem:

To the dear and adored painter

muli

How I am looking forward to Saturday

morning!

When Ursula comes running.

The poor thing can hardly wait,

She wants to be in Muli’s painter garden.

A great beauty every inch

She does not know yet what to wear.

I told her that drawing comes first,

Good, good, she cried, if only we start!

So, the commission greets its painter

And Pio knows nothing else and has to end.

Wishes you a good night.

pio canetti 2

Very early on, Motesiczky encountered difficulties.

The sittings had to be briefly interrupted

when Marie Hauptmann, the artist’s ‘second

mother’ and former wet-nurse, died. On

resuming work on the portrait the griefstricken

Motesiczky confessed: ‘Ursula was

here twice already – it does not go very well

with the painting but I do not get agitated

about it, somehow or other I will manage to

complete the painting’. 3 In another letter she

complained: ‘Should have Ursula tomorrow –

a pity – did not start badly. Sometimes it

is all too much.’ 4 Later on work must have

progressed rather more quickly since Ralph

Vaughan Williams acknowledged receipt of

the painting in November: ‘Dear Madame

Motesieczky the picture has safely arrived

Many thanks for it’. 5

In the end, according to Ursula Vaughan

Williams, Motesiczky was pleased with the

portrait. It shows the sitter, in her early forties,

seated in an armchair. She wears an elegant

evening gown, adorned with belle époque

jewellery. As if deep in thought, her head rests

on her left hand, her gaze directed towards

the floor. Although the portrait found a place

on their wall, it was actually this pose which

caused the Vaughan Williamses’ dissatisfaction.

According to Erica Propper, a family friend,

they disliked the fact that the sitter, a lively

and vivacious person, was portrayed in a pose

that did not accurately convey her beauty and

character. By 1958 the Vaughan Williamses had

returned the painting to the artist. When Erica

Propper noticed the absence of the portrait,

she gained the Vaughan Williamses’ permission

to take possession of it and collect it

from the artist.

Despite the rather unfavourable reception

of the portrait by the sitter and her husband,

sitting for her portrait had inspired Ursula

Vaughan Williams to compose the following

poem, written in 1959:

249

In a Studio

(Self Portraits)

See, I was this girl, quiet, translucent, less

or was I more, being rich in future then?

painting a face upon a summer field,

painting a muslin dress,

a century of years ago, or ten,

a wish unfolding and a thought concealed.

If I used words I’d name that face ‘disguise’,

the skill I used suggests experience,

shaped hair and cheek and mouth and all I see

to lead towards the eyes

and there I look. That was, but is not, me

gazing on flowers with subtle innocence.

Now I confront another kind of grace

and try to capture beauty’s last touch of pride,

shimmer of movement before the darkening

rain

falls on this time and place:

and shall I find, ten years having passed again,

another thought than this I do not hide?

Again I paint the face I see. I give

ancestral features human, passionate sense,

truth and proportion, form, colour and light.

Rapt in power I live;

my hand moves with my thought, sure and

intense;

from the canvas an unknown face appears. 6



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Marie Hauptmann,

[February 1954]: ‘Der Canetti ist so lieb zu mir – weil

er weiss dass ich mir viel Sorgen um Dich mache –

u. er haltet mich zum arbeiten an – das ist gut. Ich hab

die Frau von dem Komponisten schon angefangen

u. bin fleissig.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 8 March

1954: ‘Dann will ich bald versuchen zu arbeiten u. auch

die Ursula anrufen, nur in den nächsten Tagen trau

ich mir’s noch nicht zu.’


1954: ‘Für übermorgen hab ich die Ursula bestellt aber

wie ich im Stand sein werde zu arbeiten weiss ich noch

nicht … Piolein ich weiss wie reich ich noch bin – ach

ja malen – u. für Sie malen’

notes

1 Ralph Vaughan Williams to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

3 January 1954: Motesiczky archive.

2 Der lieben und verehrten Malerin

muli

Bin ich auf Samstag Vormittag gespannt!

Da nämlich kommt die Ursula gerannt.

Die Arme kann es gar nicht mehr erwarten,

Sie will in Muli’s Malergarten.

Als grosse Schönheit jeder Zoll

Weiss sie noch gar nicht, was sie anziehn soll.

Ich sagt’ ihr, dass es erst ans Zeichnen geht,

Gut, gut, rief sie, wenn’s nur in Fluss gerät!

So lässt der Auftrag seinen Maler grüssen

Und Pio weiss nicht mehr und muss jetzt schliessen.

Wünscht eine recht gute Nacht.

pio canetti

(Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [spring 1954]:

Motesiczky archive)

3 ‘Die Ursula war schon 2 mal da – mit dem malen geht’s

nicht sehr gut aber ich rege mich darüber nicht auf,

irgendwie werde ich das Bild schon zu Ende bringen’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [spring 1954]:

Motesiczky archive.

4 ‘Sollte die Ursula morgen haben – schade – hab nicht

schlecht begonnen. Manchmal ist’s schon alles bissl viel.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [spring 1954]:

Motesiczky archive.

5 Ralph Vaughan Williams to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


6 Vaughan Williams 1996, p. 126.

provenance

Artist; Ralph and Ursula Vaughan Williams (purchased 1954);

artist (returned 1958); Arthur and Erica Propper (1958).

bibliography

Schlenker 2005, p. 134.

250

251

133

Mother and Child

Mutter mit Kind

c. 1954



On 26 May 1953, Motesiczky recorded seeing

her friend Georgette Lewinson who had good

news: ‘Afternoon Georgette, she is expecting

a baby’. 1 Born in Poland in 1922, Georgette

Lewinson had shared the artist’s flat in

Compayne Gardens for a number of years.

She had moved out after her marriage. By

early September 1953, the baby, a boy named

David, had arrived and his mother was quite

exhausted. Towards the end of the month,

Motesiczky met up again with her former

flatmate and remarked on the baby in admiration:

‘Georgette’s child [looks] like a sweet

little pygmy (I mean the small Africans)’. 2

The double portrait of Georgette and David

Lewinson must have been painted later that

year or the following year, with sittings taking

place at the artist’s studio. Motesiczky created

an intimate scene of the mother balancing her

baby son, now several months old, on her lap,

playing with a rattle. Although David is sitting

upright, he is too young to hold this position

for any length of time, as his mother’s protective

hand, ready to steady him, shows. Her

other hand is tickling the sole of the boy’s

bare right foot. Mother and child seem utterly

absorbed in one another and in their play.

Yet, despite the modern paraphernalia, the

couple evoke the traditional depiction of the

Madonna and Child.

It has been said that Georgette Lewinson

was not pleased with her features in the portrait

and made Motesiczky change them. In

numerous drawings and sketches Motesiczky

experimented with the composition, showing

various positions of the child on his mother’s

lap. In some of these sketches (fig. 100), the

child is held by his father, suggesting that at

one time Motesiczky had thought of painting

a father and child.



charitable trust









man kaum – aber vielleicht war kein anderer Platz.

Das sage ich nur, um einen Einwand zu machen,

weil sonst mein Lob falsch klingen könnte.’

notes

1 ‘Nachmittag Georgette sie erwartet ein Baby’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, diary entry for 1953: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘das Kind von der Georgette wie ein herziger kleiner Pigmäe

(ich mein die kleinen Afrikaner)’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Elias Canetti, 26 September 1953: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Munich 1954, no. 119, illus., shown as Frau mit Kind; London

1960, no. 22, shown as Mother and baby, 1953; Vienna 1966,

ex catalogue; Berlin 1986; Oberhausen 1986; Vienna 1986.

bibliography

Dollen 2000, p. 237.

Fig. 100 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Man with a Child,

c. 1954, charcoal on paper, 240 × 180 mm (Marie-Louise


252

134

Marie in Doorway

After 1954



Marie Hauptmann, the daughter of a

Bohemian shoemaker, probably joined the

Motesiczky household in Vienna in 1906. In

1939 she followed the artist and her mother to

England where, after suffering several strokes

and the amputation of a leg, she died in March

1954, aged 69. In an interview in the mid-1980s

Motesiczky talked movingly about her feelings

for Marie Hauptmann: ‘I had a second mother,

and that was Marie, my real wetnurse, from

whom I got my milk. She was a poor Bohemian

girl, who as a child, had minded geese with a

stick and slept with the animals in the barn.

And she took up her first position in a Jewish

family in Vienna, and the son of the house got

her pregnant, and this child was born, and she

told me … “Wöpslein, you know, that was such

a shame, and so I came to you, and then I had

you.” And that this woman had to give her

own child to relatives and had me instead and

that she stayed with us for the rest of her life,

from my birth to her death, in England in her

mid-sixties. And that she came with us, that

we had a really kind-hearted, funny, innocent,

constantly working, wonderful woman around

us, who gave us her life so completely, is

something so incredible that one can hardly

describe it.’ 1 The importance in Motesiczky’s

life of this ‘second mother’, whom she lovingly

called ‘Ritschie’ and whose firstborn she

immortalized in Hilda, c. 1937 (no. 44), cannot

be overestimated. Losing Marie left her desolate

and lonely. ‘Since the death of my Ritschie

life is not the same any more. Yes, it is different

now. It seems that life has begun to wane –

midsummer is gone.’ 2 Sophie Brentano, a

cousin and close friend, found the following

words of consolation: ‘Your heart is still so full

and sore from all the love that you cannot give

her any more, I can imagine how sad you are.

All your life she took up such a unique position

with you, maybe even bigger than a mother

since she was so modest in her devotion.’ 3

As in the other portrait of her, Girl by the

Fire, 1941 (no. 52), Marie Hauptmann is

portrayed in an outdoor setting. Lush green

vegetation fills the space around her. Placed in

a grey doorway – and yet, somewhat incongruously

still standing on soil – Marie Hauptmann

wears her usual practical work clothes that

include a white apron dress and a headscarf.

As if ready to work in the garden or probably

already in the middle of it, as a scythe and a

pitchfork in the bottom left corner suggest,

the sleeves of her blouse are rolled up. Her

black-stockinged feet are covered by robust

felt slippers.

The garden setting and especially the figure

of Marie Hauptmann are taken from a photograph

that has survived in Motesiczky’s estate

(fig. 101). It shows Marie Hauptmann, slightly

younger and still healthy, in Amersham several

years before her death. It is likely that this so

far undated painting was done in commemoration

of Marie Hauptmann after her death in

1954. Consequently Marie Hauptmann could

not sit for the portrait and a photograph had

to serve as a model instead. The fact that an

enlarged photograph of Marie Hauptmann’s

upper body is also among the artist’s possessions

and was presumably used to aid the

painting of Marie Hauptmann’s features,

further indicates that this portrait was based

on the photograph.

Trying to console the artist long after Marie

Hauptmann’s death, Elias Canetti calls her ‘the

wonderful Marie, this best human being you

have ever known’. 4 He expresses his notion

that Motesiczky will soon feel the need to paint

her portrait. 5 It seems that Elias Canetti was

right and that this painting is a memorial to

Marie Hauptmann.



charitable trust

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [spring

1954]: ‘Mein liebes, allerliebstes Muli, Nun habe ich

Deinen Brief bekommen und ich denke an Dich mit

einer Zärtlichkeit und Wärme, die Du Dir gar nicht

vorstellen kannst. Ich will, dass Du Deinen Gedanken

nicht zu sehr nachgibst. Du bist weit gegangen, und

das Schreckliche ist sehr in Dir. Aber darf ich Dir, als

253

ein Mensch, der dem Gram und dieser ganz besonderen

Trauer so nachgibt wie kein anderer Mensch

auf der Welt, etwas sagen, das ich daraus gelernt habe.

Man kann, was man verloren hat, nur in sich lebendig

halten; und das kann man nur, indem man so ist, wie

man war, als er noch lebte. Die Trauer fälscht. Es ist

eine falsche Schuld, die man sich gibt. Es kommt nur

auf eines an: wie sehr man Menschen liebt und geliebt

hat. Ich will Dir sagen, mein liebes, liebes, liebes Muli,

Du hast sie geliebt wie nie einen anderen Menschen,

so sehr, dass Du es vielleicht gar nicht genau gewusst

hast. Aber sie hat es gewusst und sie hat es gefühlt,

und das war ihr Leben, und das ist ein Leben. Ich

meine, was ich Dir da sage, und ich sage es Dir nicht,

um Dich zu trösten. Ich kenne Dich sehr gut, und seit

ich es voll erfasst habe, wie sehr Du lieben kannst, bin

ich Dir noch viel mehr gut. Sie war nicht, nie unglücklich.

Du bist nie von ihr weg. Sie hat Dich immer

gehabt, ihr eigentliches Kind, bis in ihr hohes Alter.

Für sie (nicht für Dich oder für mich) war es besser,

dass sie kein langes, untätiges Alter erlebt hat. Sie hätte

es nie gemocht, wie immer gut Du zu ihr gewesen

wärst. Das schwache Alter wäre ihre erste wirkliche

Traurigkeit geworden; eine lange Traurigkeit, ein wirkliches

Leiden. Sie hat gedient, aber ihrem nächsten

Menschen (so wie eine Frau nicht unglücklich ist, die

ihrem geliebten Manne dient). Sie hat kaum gelitten.

Ich schwöre Dir, mein gutes Muli, dass sie in der

ganzen Zeit, in der ich sie kannte, kaum je gelitten hat.

Es ist ungestillter Ehrgeiz oder äusseres Elend oder

lange Krankheit und Schwäche, worunter Menschen

eigentlich leiden, sonst nichts. Ich möchte, dass Du

jetzt in die Stadt ziehst und nicht in Amersham bleibst.

Nimm die Mutter mit in die Stadt. Es ist nicht gut,

dass Du jetzt in Amersham bist. Ich glaube, Du wirst

sehr bald das zwingende, unabweisliche Bedürfnis

fühlen, ein Bild von ihr zu malen. Es ist eine Gnade,

dass Du das kannst. Es ist eine Gnade, um die ich Dich

aus tiefstem Herzen beneide, der einzige Neid, den ich

fühlen kann. Vielleicht wirst Du, bevor du das malst,

das angefangene Porträt beenden wollen. Du ahnst

nicht, wie gut es wäre. Es würde Dir genau das Geringe

an Distanz geben, das Du brauchst, um dann sie zu

malen. – Du sollst Deine Freunde sehen. Du hast gute

Freunde. Du hast Freunde, die es so echt sind (Julia,

Georgette, Nell, Milaine), wie ich es sonst kaum bei

jemand kenne. Wenn ich mich von ihnen ein wenig

ferngehalten habe, so war es nie aus den Gründen, die

ich sagte, sondern nur, weil ich wollte, dass es ganz

Deine Freunde sind. Du musst mir versprechen, alles

zu tun, um Dich nicht in gefährliche und sinnlose

Zweifel zu spinnen. Du musst ausgehen und Du musst

unter Deine Bilder gehen. Du musst wissen, was ich

weiss, seit ich Dich kenne, dass Du ein grosser Maler

bist und die gesegnete Gabe hast, Menschen zu

bewahren, wie sie wirklich sind. Dafür liebe ich Dich

und darum brauche ich Dich, Du gibst mir etwas, was

ich nicht habe und ohne das ich nicht leben könnte.

Muli, ich will, dass Du mir viel, viel schreibst, genau

wie Dir zumute ist; und wenn Du je fühlst, dass es

Dir zu schwer wird, schick mir ein Telegramm und

ich komme mit dem nächsten Flugzeug zu Dir. Heute

kann ich Dir nicht über diesen Ort schreiben, weil

ich von Dir zu voll bin. Aber morgen schreibe ich

Dir einen wirklichen Brief. Ich umarme Dich auf das

Zärtlichste und sag Dir Muli, Muli, liebes, liebes, liebes

Muli und wenn ich Dir bald Maler Mulo sagen kann,

werde ich sehr froh sein. Ich hab Dich so lieb, dass ich

nicht weiss, wie ich es sagen soll, und das passiert mir

selten. Grüsse mir Deine Mutter. Dein Pio, der Dich

küsst und lange lange bei Dir sitzt und Du sagst ihm

alles, alles.’

notes

1 ‘Ich hab’ eine zweite Mutter gehabt, und das war die Marie,

meine wirkliche Amme, von der ich die Milch bekommen

hab’. Das war ein armes böhmisches Mädel, das als Kind

die Gänse gehütet hat mit einem Stöckchen und das bei

den Tieren geschlafen hat im Stall. Und das ist auf ihren

ersten Posten in Wien in eine jüdische Familie gekommen,

und der Sohn des Hauses hat ihr ein Kind gemacht, und

dieses Kind hat sie geboren, und da hat sie mir gesagt …

“Wöpslein, weißt Du, das war ja so eine Schande, und so

bin ich zu euch gekommen, und da hab ich dann dich

gehabt.” Und daß diese Frau ihr eigenes Kind hat hergeben

müssen zu Verwandten und mich stattdessen gehabt hat

und daß sie bei uns geblieben ist bis an ihr Lebensende,

von meiner Geburt bis zu ihrem Tod, Mitte sechzig in

England. Und daß sie mit uns gekommen ist, daß wir eine

richtig gütige, lustige, unschuldige, ständig arbeitende,

wunderbare Frau um uns hatten, die uns ihr Leben

gegeben hat so ganz und gar, das ist etwas so

Unglaubliches, daß man es kaum beschreiben kann.’:

Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, pp. 172 f.

2 ‘Seit meine Ritschie tod ist, ist das Leben nicht mehr das

selbe. Ja das ist jetzt anders. Mir scheint dass sich das

Leben geneigt hat – der Hochsommer ist zu ende.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 6 February


3 ‘Dein Herz ist noch so voll u. wund von aller Liebe die Du

ihr nicht mehr schenken kannst, ich kann mir denken wie

traurig Du bist. Dein Leben lang hat sie eine so einzigartige

Stelle bei Dir gehabt, vielleicht fast noch grösser als eine

Mutter weil sie in ihrer Ergebung so völlig anspruchslos

war.’: Sophie Brentano to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

11/12 March 1954: Motesiczky archive.

4 ‘die wunderbare Marie, dieser beste Mensch, den Du je

gekannt hast’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 6 September 1987: Motesiczky archive.

5 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [spring 1954]:

Motesiczky archive.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, pp. 152 f.

Fig. 101 Marie Hauptmann in the garden in Amersham,


254

255

135

Peter Clegg

Mid-1950s


Peter and Diana Clegg

Peter Clegg, born in 1942 (fig. 103), is the son

of Nell and Arthur Clegg, friends of the artist

from the post-war years in London. Around

1950 the Clegg family had moved to Aberdare

Gardens, a few streets away from the artist’s

home in Compayne Gardens, West Hampstead.

Peter Clegg remembers that Motesiczky asked

him to sit for her. The sittings took place on

Saturdays in the artist’s studio in Compayne

Gardens and lasted for one or two hours. In

order to encourage the boy and to keep him

occupied during the sittings Motesiczky gave

him a toy elephant to do a painting of; in the

portrait he can be seen at work on this task.

Seated at a desk, his head propped on his left

hand, he is looking up from his sketches, the

outlines of an elephant already completed.

Instead of the quill he is holding, an imaginary

embellishment, Peter Clegg was actually

working with one of the artist’s brushes. In

the middle of work on the portrait Peter Clegg

contracted measles and was unable to attend

Fig. 102 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch, mid-1950s,



Fig. 103 Studio photograph of the young

Peter Clegg by Edith Tudor Hart, 1950s

(Collection Peter and Diana Clegg)

the sittings for a while. When he came back,

Motesiczky found him changed too much. She

did not go on with the portrait and, according

to the sitter, never regarded this painting as

part of her finished oeuvre. The abrupt termination

explains why the two halves of the picture

appear so different, the right almost ‘polished’

(complete with a corner of one of the artist’s

works, probably a self-portrait, on the wall)

and the left unfinished. While his left hand is

carried out in great detail, the right hand only

exists in a sketchy outline. To a lesser degree,

the two halves of the face and the clothes are

similarly different. Despite this, Peter Clegg’s

slight squint is faintly noticeable – an unfortunate

detail that spoilt the portrait for the sitter

when he was young.



charitable trust

Peter Clegg to Peter Black, 4 November 1996: ‘Here at

last is the photograph of Marie-Louise’s portrait of me.

It was painted sometime around 1949, 1950, or 1951

when I was seven or eight. Piz, as I always knew her,

was living in a flat in Broadhurst Gardens NW6, not

far from the Finchley Road tube station, whilst we were

living about a mile away in Aberdare Gardens NW6.

“Mrs Mot” and Pauzen were at that time in Amersham,

and I did not meet them until several years later. At

that time Piz did not seem to be using photographs,

unlike the accounts at her memorial event. To keep

me occupied whilst she worked, she decided to teach

me to paint in oils. You can see from the portrait that

I embarked on a painting of an elephant, using an

Indian toy elephant on wheels as a model. It would,

I suppose be about 6 inches high. Is it still around?

I would be very interested in it if so. I still have the

painting I did at the time. I used to go round every

Saturday morning for what seems in memory to be

most of the summer. My strongest emotion is that

Piz introduced me to yoghurt which she had delivered

in little glass jars – unflavoured of course, but which

I used to sweeten with sugar. It seemed to me to be

very exotic and exciting at the time! At some point,

the sittings were interrupted as I developed measles

or chicken pox or some other childhood ailment.

Afterwards, Piz decided that I had changed too much

for her to continue, but I sometimes wonder if she

sensed that in “completing” it, the portrait might lose

some of its charm. The fact that the painting I am

working on is left as a sketch on the raw canvas, seems

to me to add to the impression that I am actually

painting it – how do you paint an unfinished painting?

Whatever the reason, as she hadn’t completed it, it

remains unsigned. My own reaction to the painting

at the time was mixed. I was very flattered at having

my portrait painted, but felt acutely embarrassed

at the portrayal of my squint. Over the years I have

become more accepting of the honesty of her vision.

My stepmother has a photograph of me at around the

same age taken by Tudor Hart with my head tilted

slightly in much the same way and it is fascinating

to me to see now how true a likeness the portrait is.

As Sir Ernst Gombrich said at her memorial, her

honesty was never cruel.’

provenance

Artist; Nell and Arthur Clegg (probably gift before 1958);

Peter and Diana Clegg (inherited).

256

257

136

Still-life with Apples and Banana

Äpfel

Before 1955



137

Apples from Hinterbrühl

Die letzten Äpfel aus der

Hinterbrühl

1955


Private collection

As in Orchid and Figure, 1953 (no. 123), the spatial

relationship of this still-life is ambiguous. In the

foreground, on a table topped with a white table

cloth, the artist presents a close-up view of an

arrangement of fruit. A green plate, shaped like

a leaf, holds a monumental pile of apples and

a banana. The background, however, is difficult

to read: a female head, apparently unattached to

a body and without any clues as to the context,

seems to float in space. The figure’s extremely

long hair appears to flow behind her. The

main facial features, large eyes and a bulbous

nose, resemble those of the artist’s mother,

Henriette von Motesiczky. The presence of

these two unrelated images in one painting

suggests that Motesiczky may have started a

portrait and then decided to paint a still-life,

leaving the earlier image partially visible.

provenance

Artist; Mirli and Daniele Grassi (wedding gift 1955).

exhibition

Munich 1954, no. 124.

Motesiczky was inspired to do this painting

by a sack of apples which a friend had brought

from Hinterbrühl: ‘On Wednesday at ½ 1 Rudi

[Nassauer] and Bernice [Rubens] stood before

my door … Rudi brought me a sack of apples

from Hinterbrühl as you probably know. I have

unpacked them and, as they were lying there,

started to paint them – it was rather exciting to

get apples from Hinterbrühl. At first I thought

to make a quick picture and to give it to Rudi –

to just carry it over after two days because it

was really very nice of him to bring the apples.

It is coming on quite well but I do not dare do

it since it will be slightly silly if they don’t like

it and the friends criticize it – after all, it is

only a kind of colour study and I don’t know

if he understands that. It’s again awful with

Amersham because I said I was coming for

a whole day and now I again sit here with the

painting … Today I tried the whole day to

paint my apples and now I am tired’. 1

This apparently casual and straightforward

still-life, a simple study of thirteen apples in

varying states of decay displayed on the floor

in the artist’s studio in Compayne Gardens, is,

however, more than a pure exercise in colour

harmony. It has a distinctly personal meaning,

not at first obvious, which might explain its

melancholic aura. After Motesiczky and her

mother had left Austria in 1938, the family’s

extensive property in Hinterbrühl, a village

in the Wienerwald south-west of Vienna, was

looked after and protected from seizure by the

National Socialists by the artist’s brother Karl

von Motesiczky, who stayed on in Austria. In

an attempt to make the estate financially viable

he set up an orchard in the grounds. Karl von

Motesiczky subsequently became active in

the resistance and helped many of his Jewish

friends. He was caught in 1942 and sent to

Auschwitz where he soon died. In 1955 plans to

sell the estate at Hinterbrühl were well under

way, and in summer 1956 it was sold to Hermann

Gmeiner who built an SOS-Kinderdorf on the

site. So these apples were indeed the last ever

from Karl von Motesiczky’s orchard. Not unlike

258

After the Ball, 1949 (no. 87), this work is a

memorial to the artist’s brother, a poignant

memorial to a lost world. It has been suggested

that the vivid shadows, cast on the wall behind

the apples, include the imaginary profile of

a man, possibly of Karl von Motesiczky.

note

1 ‘Am Mittwoch um ½ 1 standen der Rudi und die Bernice

vor meiner Tür … Der Rudi bracht mir einen Sack Äpfel

aus der Brühl wie Sie wohl wissen. Die habe ich ausgepackt

und wie sie da lagen sie zu malen begonnen – es war doch

aufregend Äpfel aus der Brühl zu bekommen. Eigentlich

dachte ich ein rasches Bild zu malen und es dem Rudi zu

schenken – so einfach nach zwei Tagen es hinüber zu

tragen weil es doch sehr nett war dass er die Äpfel brachte.

Es wird ganz gut aber ich getraue mich’s doch nicht denn

wenn es denen nicht gefällt und die Freunde es kritisieren

ist es bischen dumm – es ist ja auch nur so eine FarbStudie

und ich weiss nicht ob er das versteht. Mit Amersham ist’s

wieder schlimm denn ich sagte ich führe auf einen Tag

und nun sitze ich wieder da mit dem Bild … Heut hab

ich versucht den ganzen Tag meine Äpfel zu malen und

nun bin ich müde’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias

Canetti, 26 August 1955: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Peter Black (gift).

exhibitions

Cambridge 1991; Vienna 1994, no. 30, illus. (col.), dated

c. 1950; Liverpool 2006, no. 51, illus. p. 171 (col.); Vienna 2007,

no. 51, illus. p. 171 (col.).

bibliography

Cohen 1994, p. 94; Black 1996, n.p. (dated late 1940s);

Michel 2003, p. 57, illus. Abb. 79 (col.); Sander 2006, pp. 126 f.;

Schlenker 2006c, p. 170; Freitag 2007, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.);

Lloyd 2007, pp. 162 f.; Michel 2007, p. 118, illus. p. 118 (col.).

259

138

Girlfriends

Freundinnen

1955

139

Backstage

Hinter den Kulissen

1955




Private collection

This small painting shows an intimate encounter

between two friends who are enjoying a drink

and a smoke. A brunette, wearing a sleeveless

pink dress, reclines regally on a bed. She

seems to hold a lit cigarette in her raised right

hand, the smoke rising in the air. Her blonde

companion in a long yellow dressing-gown,

a green ribbon adorning her hair, sits by her

feet and delicately balances a cup in her hand.

The identity of both women is unknown. They

might, however, represent Motesiczky (on the

left) and her friend and flatmate in Compayne

Gardens, Julia Altschulova.

Girlfriends is the only known instance in

which Motesiczky duplicated one of her own

works. The reason for this unusual action is

unknown. Girlfriends is a substantially reduced

version of a large composition, The Two Friends,

1950s (no. 163), that has survived in the artist’s

estate as an unstretched canvas. The two

paintings differ only in a few minor details.

In the larger version the figures seem to hover

in an empty, undefined space. In this version

they are clearly placed in a room, the corner

of which is indicated behind the brunette’s

head, the shadow of the blonde woman on

the wall, against which the chaise longue is

placed, and the edge of a mirror or picture

behind her.

As the title suggests, the romantic encounter

depicted in Backstage takes place off-stage in a

theatre. It is unclear whether the performance

has not yet started, is still ongoing or has

already finished. The audience seems to be

nearby, as the yellow curtain on the left which

might lead to the stage indicates. Surrounded

by musical instruments, a harp in the back

and a violin or viola in front of the curtain,

the couple, presumably actors, are in disguise.

While the man is wearing grey leggings, tunic

and hat decorated with two red feathers, the

woman, who bears a strong resemblance to

the artist, is dressed in a long green skirt with

matching blouse. The couple are sitting close

together, their arms and legs touching. They

seem to gaze into one another’s eyes, but they

are obscured and hindered by his blindfold.

The two participants in this intimate and

intense scene may be lovers, perhaps the

commedia dellarte characters Harlequin and

Columbine. They appear to be re-enacting

off-stage and in private what is acted on stage

in public. Yet, because of the blindfold, each

is unable to make out what the other really

thinks or feels.

In a study for Backstage (fig. 104), the male

figure with his round cap resembles a pierrot.

His right hand enfolds his companion’s

Fig. 104 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Backstage,

1955, charcoal on paper, 210 × 297 mm (Marie-Louise von


260

forearm. The atmosphere between the couple

appears much more friendly and less fierce.

The Hour, painted some twelve years later

(no. 211), again shows a couple in disguise in

a similarly intimate manner. Here, in contrast,

the situation seems more sad and hopeless.

A reviewer criticized Backstage for what

he saw as an inappropriate late flowering of

Beckmann’s influence in the painting’s composition,

colouring and detail, yet lacking the

master’s force and daring. 1 Others praised the

unique, strange and mysterious fairytale world

Motesiczky had created here which fascinated

the viewer. 2

notes

1 d.w. 1968.

2 Freundlich 1966.

provenance


artist?; Kurt Egger (purchased at 1967 exhibition); private

collection.

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 31; Vienna 1966, no. 35, illus. (col.);

Linz 1966, no. 35, illus. (col.); Munich 1967, no. 35, illus.

(col.); Bremen 1968, no. 35, illus. (col.); London 1985,

no. 40, illus. p. 77.

bibliography

Bowness 1960, illus. p. 180 (Dans les coulisses); Hodin 1961/2,

illus. p. 21; Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.;

d.w. 1968, n.p.; Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 169.

261

140

France, Soldier by the Sea

Frankreich, Soldat am Meer

1955



When, in April 1955, Motesiczky visited her

friend Renée Cushman (née Scharf ) and her

mother in Paris, she may have stopped at the

French seaside on her way. A pencil drawing

made on the spot (fig. 105) later served as an

aide-mémoire when the artist carried out the

composition in oil. It contains notes on the

colour of the sky (‘dusty salmon, lilac-blue’) and

the sea (‘green-blue’) which Motesiczky seems

to have adhered to. The finished beach scene,

carried out in a rather sketchy manner, shows

a soldier seated at a table in the foreground. He

appears to have finished his meal – an empty

plate and cutlery have been pushed aside – and

now pensively rests his head on his hand. The

beach is deserted apart from a lone figure swimming

in the calm sea. The composition had

originally been larger with the canvas extending

8 cm to the right. The discarded, unfinished

section, which is now wrapped around the

stretcher, shows a blonde woman in a pink

bathing suit walking away from the soldier.

Fig. 105 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch, 1955,



262

141

Spanish Still-life

Spanisches Stilleben

1955


Michael Black

After Bullght, 1928 (no. 20), Spanish Still-life is

the only other pictorial reference to the sport

to which Motesiczky had been curiously

attracted. It may have been inspired by her

holiday in Portugal the year before, which

also took her to Madrid. The painting brings

together a photograph of a matador, displayed

in a colourfully decorated frame, and the

artist’s painting equipment. A heart-shaped

palette, propped up against the photograph and

held in place by two brushes stuck through the

hole, partly obscures the face of the bullfighter.

More brushes jut out in different directions

behind the palette. A single large white flower

is placed next to a striking yet unidentified red

object in front of the work accessories. As

several sketches in the sketchbooks show,

Motesiczky experimented with the composition,

regrouping and rearranging the palette,

vase of flowers and brushes, yet none of these

sketches include the photograph.

This still-life had until now been dated 1967.

It was, however, probably already painted by

1955 as a diary entry shows. On 12 July 1955

Motesiczky briefly noted ‘Stilleben Spanisch’, 1

which presumably refers to her working on this

painting. Furthermore, the work with the title

Pinsel und Matador, 1955, that appears in a list

of works compiled in the late 1960s can only

refer to the, later renamed, Spanish Still-life.

note


provenance

Artist; Halina Kirn (before 1985 – 1990s); Michael Black

(purchased 1999).

263

142

Self-portrait with Veil

Selbstporträt mit Schleier

1955



Self-portrait with Veil is an honest selfassessment

of the artist in her late forties.

Motesiczky, who only rarely depicted herself

in a formal self-portrait without a hat covering

her head, here employs a veil over her fine,

light brown hair. This work bears a close

relationship to Self-portrait with Red Hat, 1938

(no. 47), and Self-portrait in Green, 1942 (no. 55),

although there is nothing of the former’s

coquetry or the latter’s alarm. Now older and

more experienced, the artist again concentrates

purely on her face. Her clothes appear sketchy,

almost unfinished, and the overall colour

scheme of sombre greys fits the sober mood of

the work. The artist presents her open, honest

face with heavy-lidded large dark eyes and the

characteristic slightly open mouth. Through

her careful self-examination, Motesiczky

reveals her surprise or even anxiety caused

by what she sees in the mirror. Since she is

not wearing a hat it is unclear what the veil is

attached to. It enigmatically and protectively

envelopes her head like a transparent helmet,

giving her shelter and enabling her to hide.

exhibitions

Cambridge 1986, ex catalogue; Vienna 2004b, illus.

p. 30 (col.).

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 169.

264

265

143

Karin Rupé

1955/6

Oil on canvas

Dimensions and location unknown

With the fate and the whereabouts of the

painting unknown, the only document that

survives is a black-and-white photograph of

the artist presenting the finished portrait on

an easel in the garden in Amersham (fig. 106).

She is carefully watched by a dog which, in the

subsequent photograph, taken moments later,

demands her full attention (fig. 107).

When, in 1949, the artist’s mother, Henriette

von Motesiczky, visited her relatives in the

Netherlands, she enthusiastically wrote home

about Karin, the teenage granddaughter of her

sister Ilse Leembruggen: ‘Karin … [is] one of

the most charming delightful creatures I have

ever encountered in the family! She seems

old-fashioned, full of charm and kindness, a girl

from the times of Grillparzer and Schubert …

Yet she is no beauty and does not want to be

one, so simple and modest. Well, the little

thing is only 16 years old.’ 1 In 1955, Karin Rupé

(now Salomonson) stayed in England for

several months to learn English. She sometimes

visited the Motesiczkys and by the

summer was sitting for her portrait. Yet, due

to the sitter’s absence from London in July

and subsequent difficulties in finding time for

the sittings, Motesiczky was unhappy about

progress of the work. She wrote to Elias

Canetti: ‘for the time being I cannot continue

with the picture, which I imagined to be so

beautiful’. 2 By mid-August Motesiczky was

rather frustrated, alternating between London

and Amersham and thinking about doing the

portrait from memory, maybe with the help

of a sketch as an aide-mémoire. A year later,

the portrait still had not been finished and

Motesiczky resignedly noted in her diary:

‘Worked on Karin a bit but nothing good yet’. 3

At some point Motesiczky must finally have

been satisfied with the portrait as the photograph

and a postcard printed from it testify.

In this fairly large painting, Karin Rupé, now

in her early twenties, is sitting in an armchair,

playing the flute – an instrument she did play

when she was young (fig. 109). On the left, a

palette and brushes and, further back, perhaps

an easel with a painting can be made out. On

the right the large leaves of an indoor potted

plant are visible. The surviving drawing of

Karin Rupé (fig. 108), that, together with several

photographs, used to prompt Motesiczky’s

memory in the absence of the sitter, depicts

her not playing the flute but holding it.

Fig. 106 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky presenting

the portrait of Karin Rupé in the garden, photograph,

c. 1956 (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 107 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky playing with

her dog, photograph, c. 1956 (Motesiczky archive)

266

Fig. 109 Karin Rupé playing the flute, photograph,

c. 1955 (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 108 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Karin Rupé

with a Flute, 1955/6, charcoal on paper, 330 × 203 mm




charitable trust


1955: ‘Ich bilde mir ein ich muss dieses Bild malen und

werde es doch kaum zu stande bringen denn Karin

hat so wenig Zeit und es ist so heiss und drückend in

der Stadt … und nun weiss ich nicht ob ich hier durchhalten

soll oder nach Amersham gehen und einen

Versuch machen das Bild auswendig zu malen?’


1955: ‘Gestern bin ich … “herausgezogen”. Das Bild von

Karin war gut begonnen aber wie ich es beenden soll??

Die einzige Hoffnung dass ich in der Stadt noch

zeichne und es dann auswendig mache. Anderseits in

der Stadt zu sitzen wo es die einzig schöne Zeit des

Jahres heraussen ist und Karin blos einige male in der

Woche ab 9 Uhr abends zeit hat … Hatte halt gleich

beginnen sollen – alles soll man gleich beginnen und

bald beenden … In der Woche will ich aber trotzdem

3 Tage hinein wegen des zeichnens’


1955: ‘Am Dienstag Abend kam ich herein, hatte

mir am Mittwoch allerhand angesetzt Augenartzt

Zahnartz u.s.w. Und Karin zum zeichnen in der

schwachen Hoffnung dass ich danach das Bild

weiter machen kann.’

notes

1 ‘Karin … einer der lieblichsten reizendsten Geschöpfe, die

ich je in der Familie angetroffen! Altmodisch wirkt sie, voll

Charm u. Güte, ein Mädchen so um Grillparzer u. Schubert

herum … Dabei ist sie keine Schönheit u. will garkeine

sein, so einfach u. bescheiden. Na ja, das ganze Ding ist ja

erst 16 Jahre.’: Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 24 April 1949: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘das Bild welches ich mir so schön dachte kann ich vorläufig

nicht weiter machen’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Elias Canetti, 19 July 1955: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘Bischen gemalt Karin noch nichts rechtes’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, diary entry for 28 July 1956: Motesiczky

archive.

267

144

In Church, Mexico

In der Kirche, Mexiko

1956


Signed (bottom right): M. Motesiczky


In spring 1956, Motesiczky spent three months

on the American continent. As well as visiting

New York, Washington and Chicago, she

toured Arizona and Mexico. Her trip to these

exotic, distant parts of the world impressed her

deeply. She recorded vivid images in her diary:

‘I was in Toluca. O this wonderful market! …

These indios … The things they drag and carry,

on their back, in shawls, the turkeys they hold

by their legs, the fruit baskets in colours one

could not invent … The flowers. One girl

with a good deal on her back and flowers on

top especially took my fancy, she looked as

mysterious as from a different world. I wish

I had photographed her – I have no clue any

more what it actually was – but it was beautiful!

Ribera [Diego Rivera] painted these calla lilies

but in reality it is much more beautiful – and

if you paint it, it should really be even more

beautiful?’ 1 (fig. 110).

Back in London, Motesiczky must have

recalled her delight in what she had observed.

She digested the experience, albeit in a slightly

Fig. 110 Diego Rivera, Flower Day, 1925, oil on canvas,

1473 × 1207 mm (Los Angeles County Museum of Art,

Los Angeles County Fund)

altered way, in this painting. Instead of a

market, the scene is set in a Mexican church

similar to those which the artist had visited

on her trip. Not much of the church interior

is distinguishable. Yet, as suggested by the

brightly burning candles, the steps and the

rectangular object in the centre of the back

wall, partly hidden behind the flowers –

presumably a painting above the altar –

Motesiczky focused on the area around the

altar. While this is a place for silent prayer and

contemplation, exemplified by the woman

kneeling on the floor near the steps leading to

the altar with a baby in her arms and the man

behind, it is also a busy and bustling house

of God. The two women in the foreground

are going about their daily business. One is

carrying a large vase of white calla lilies, the

other is balancing a similar vessel on her head,

supported by her right arm, while she holds a

bunch of flowers in her left arm. Together, the

two women come close to being a reconstruction

of the girl in the market in Toluca who had left

a lasting impression on Motesiczky.

This painting has often been dated incorrectly

as 1955. Its year of origin is in fact 1956,

after Motesiczky’s trip to Mexico, as the 1960

catalogue of the Beaux Arts Gallery, where it

was first shown, states. The signature was

added many years later by the artist at the

request of its then owner, when the picture

went to the exhibition at the Goethe-Institut

in 1985. The catalogue for that exhibition

shows an illustration of In Church, Mexico

without its recent signature.

note

1 ‘Ich war in Toluca. Oh dieser herrliche Markt! … Diese Indios

… Was sie alles schleppen und tragen, am Buckel in Tüchern,

die Truthäne die sie an den Beinen halten, die Obstkörbe in

Farben wie man sie nicht erfinden kann … Die Blumen. Ein

Mädchen mit allerhand am Buckel und Blumen oben drauf

hat es mir besonders angetan, so geheimnisvoll wie aus einer

anderen Welt sah sie aus. Hatte ich sie nur photographiert –

habe keine Ahnung mehr was es eigentlich war – aber schön

war’s! Der Ribera hat das mit den Callas gemalt aber in

Wirklichkeit ist es viel schöner – und wenn man es malt sollte

es doch noch schöner sein?’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 1956: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Cicely Hill (purchased before 1960 exhibition); Alina

Tolochko?; Alexander Moorrees?; Karin and Jan Willem

Salomonson (purchased 1997).

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 32, shown as In a Mexican church; Vienna

1966, no. 36, dated 1955; Linz 1966, no. 36, dated 1955; Munich

1967, no. 36, dated 1955; Bremen 1968, no. 36, dated 1955;

London 1985, no. 41, illus. p. 80, dated 1955.

bibliography

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63; Lloyd 2007, p. 161.

268

145

Yucatan, Mexico

1956



When, in spring 1956, Motesiczky travelled in

Mexico, she visited Chichen Itza on the southern

Mexican peninsula of Yucatan. Once the capital

of the Yucatan Maya, it is now a world-famous

archaeological site. Motesiczky seems to have

been very impressed with Chichen Itza since

an especially large number of photographs and

postcards of its buildings have been found in

her estate.

Not choosing the site’s most famous structure,

the huge pyramid of the sun, Motesiczky

depicts instead a scene in a large courtyard, the

Cuadrangulo de Monjas (fig. 111), dominated

by the partially crumbling low building in the

background. A couple of indigenous people,

a man and a little girl, sit on the stone steps

leading up to it. The enormous heads of two

carved stone serpents (fig. 112), which Motesiczky

has relocated from other parts of the grounds,

dominate the foreground. On the right, a large

column is partially visible. A couple of distinctly

Western looking women walk between these

menacing stone creatures. One is carrying a

parasol which she no longer needs. In the quiet

peacefulness of the evening, the setting sun

creates a beautiful orange sky, visible through

the open doors and windows of the ruined

building.

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 45, illus. Abb. 53 (col.) (Yukatan, 1955).

Fig. 111 View of the Cuadrangulo de Monjas, Chichen Itza, Mexico,

photograph, 1956 (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 112 Carved stone serpent, Chichen Itza, Mexico,


269

146

The Magic Fish

Zauberfisch

1956



When The Magic Fish was first exhibited in

1966, critics remarked that it ‘had something

enigmatic, mysterious, something fateful …

behind which, in reality, stand impressions

of human fates’ 1 and praised the ‘strangely

uncanny fairytale world … which puts the

viewer in its spell’. 2 Two years later, Motesiczky’s

‘strange paintings’, such as The Magic Fish,

were interpreted as ‘means of invocation (of

boredom, the fear of loneliness and the secret

dread of life, of day-to-day existence)’. 3 The

widely admired cryptic symbolism of the

painting suggests a certain closeness to

Motesiczky’s teacher which others discerned:

‘here we see a kinship with rather than the

influence of Beckmann’. 4

Set in a darkened room with a rough

wooden floor, illuminated by the sparse

sunlight coming in through the closed shutters

of its two windows, a grotesque and dream-like

scene, that resembles a fantastic secret rite,

is taking place. On a yellow chaise longue, its

lower end covered by a green cloth, sits a seminude

woman. She is clad only in a transparent

whitish knee-length skirt and a long blue scarf

which covers her hair. She is engaged in a

strange activity, wielding a fishing net, which

she uses in her battle with a large fish, which

is flying beside the chaise longue. The creature,

with its vivid red body and powerful blue wings,

appears to attack the woman who is unable to

catch it, the net being too small. She might,

however, be able to keep it at a distance or,

with luck, frighten it away.

Critics have speculated on the woman’s

identity: ‘Is it Marie-Louise trying to kill that

Magic Fish with a long-handled bedwarmer?’ 5

The woman’s garb, rather than her features,

does indeed resemble the scantily clad female

figure in Parting, painted the following year,

which is clearly a self-portrait (no. 149). The

idea for the painting may have come from a

dream Motesiczky had. She sometimes noted

down the content of her dreams for herself or

reported them in letters to Elias Canetti, who

loved to hear them. In several dreams individual

fish or a large number of them play a major

role, although none would directly explain

The Magic Fish. Another source of inspiration

may have been the paintings of Max Beckmann.

While several works show large fish being

held by humans (see figs 185 and 186), Vampir,

painted in 1948 (fig. 113), is the best comparison.

It depicts a winged male attacking a reclining

woman, both nude. Yet whereas Beckmann’s

victim is passive and accepting, Motesiczky’s

mounts a vigorous defence.

The painting seems to stick in people’s

minds. In one instance, the absurd situation

depicted was even ‘corroborated’ by a real-life

incident in the Motesiczky household. The

guest, the historian and researcher Peter Swales,

later recalled the amusing scene: ‘I am still

bound to have to smile whenever I recall how

you exclaimed, “Ah! But it’s alive!” when that

mackerel I had gutted started to fold back over

on itself under the heat of the grill. That really

was a Zauberfisch we had for dinner!’ 6

notes

1 ‘hat etwas Hintergründiges, Mystisches an sich, etwas

Schicksalhaftes … hinter denen in Wirklichkeit Eindrücke

von Menschenschicksalen stecken’: Helfgott 1966.

2 ‘sonderbar unheimliche Märchenwelt … die den

Beschauer in ihren Bann zieht’: Freundlich 1966.

3 ‘seltsamen Bilder’, ‘Mittel zur Beschwörung (der

Langenweile, der Furcht vor Einsamkeit und dem

heimlichen Schauder vor dem Leben, dem Alltag)’:

Dr. S. 1968.

4 Taylor 1985.

5 Winterbottom 1986, p. 11.

6 Peter Swales to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18 February


exhibitions



no. 42, illus. p. 79; Cambridge 1986, no. 42, illus. p. 79;


2006, no. 52, illus. p. 173 (col.).

bibliography

Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Helfgott 1966, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966a,

n.p.; Spiel 1966, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; J.Wdt. 1968, n.p.; Taylor

1985, n.p.; Winterbottom 1986, p. 11; Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994,

p. 169; Michel 2003, pp. 66, 82, illus. Abb. 96 (b/w) and n.p.

(detail, col.); Davies 2006b, n.p.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 172; Lloyd 2007,

pp. 162, 256 f.n.

Fig. 113 Max Beckmann, Vampir, 1948, oil on canvas, 550 × 850 mm

(Museum Ludwig, Cologne, on permanent loan from a private collection)

270

271

147

Nicolas Lytton

1956


Verso: flower still-life

Private collection

Nicolas Lytton is a close relative of Motesiczky

– their grandfathers were brothers (Motesiczky

also painted a portrait of Nicolas Lytton’s

mother, Margit Döry, in 1963). After the war,

Lytton lived in a neighbouring Buckinghamshire

village and frequently visited the

Motesiczkys in Amersham, where the portrait

was painted. Framed by ornate dark red

curtains, the sitter poses immaculately dressed

in a dark blazer with a bow tie and a matching

handkerchief in the top pocket. As Nicolas

Lytton enjoyed horse riding Motesiczky

portrays him holding a riding whip. A slightly

mischievous smile betrays the sitter’s enjoyment

of the situation in which he finds

himself. According to the sitter, the view in

the background with its silhouette of towers is

evocative of his regimental past in Scotland.

provenance

Artist; Nicolas Lytton (probably gift late 1950s).

272

148

Coloured Model

c. 1956



This half-length portrait shows an unidentified

young Asian model. Her impassive face is

characterized by sparkling black eyes, enhanced

by lilac eye shadow. Her medium length black

hair falls on her shoulders in gentle curls.

She is wearing a pink and green garment. The

artist seems to have placed the sitter next to

a window through which dense green foliage

can be seen. As in numerous other portraits

(for example Model, Vienna, 1929, no. 27;

Portrait of a Russian Student, 1927, no. 16), the

background is divided behind the sitter’s head

and presumably shows beige curtains and

green-tinged wallpaper.

273

149

Parting

Trennung

1957


Verso: self-portrait in mirror

Private collection

It is almost impossible to decipher this

enigmatic scene. A young woman, presumably

a fortune-teller, is crouching before a large

crystal ball, the focal point of the painting. In

it she sees a long-beaked, red-feathered bird.

With one hand she is holding the crystal ball

while the other seems to be either conjuring

up more secret images or explaining what

she sees to her audience, which consists of

an earnest young man in sober green clothes

and a grinning head of a disembodied angel

sporting feathery blue wings. A mysterious

shadow on the wall behind her is caused by

a light source outside the picture plane. Since

the woman has features that resemble those

of the artist, this might depict a dream

scene with meaning and content that only

Motesiczky knows.

Fig. 114 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Parting, 1957, graphite on paper,

125 × 202 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London)

provenance

Artist; Kurt Egger (purchased at 1967 exhibition); private

collection.

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 35; Vienna 1966, no. 38, illus. on cover;

Linz 1966, no. 38, illus. on cover; Munich 1967, no. 38, illus.

on cover; Bremen 1968, no. 38, illus. on cover; London 1985,

no. 43, illus. p. 79.

bibliography

Michel 2003, pp. 40, 82, illus. Abb. 44 (col.) (Abschied).

274

275

150

Woman from Chestnut Lane

1957



The sitter for this portrait, Dorothy Kate Sladen,

was a neighbour of the artist in Chestnut Lane

in Amersham. Born in 1888, she moved to

a farmhouse called ‘The Chestnuts’ on her

marriage in around 1908. The couple ran a

dairy together and had a daughter, Cassie,

born in 1908, followed by a son (fig. 115). The

sitter’s husband died when Cassie was five

years old. Although they were neighbours the

Motesiczkys and Dorothy Sladen rarely saw

each other, because Dorothy Sladen suffered

from obsessive-compulsive behaviour and

often could not leave the house. Elias Canetti

recalled that ‘Old Daisy’, as he called her, ‘has

depressions that last all winter. All this time

she is bedridden. From time to time we hear

her roaring. In spring, she improves. We are

able to visit her. She shows off her flowers, and

the big cherry orchard, everything that never

changes.’ 1 As part of her illness she started to

paint and draw, mainly interiors and landscapes

of a relatively small scale and great

Fig. 115 Dorothy Sladen with her daughter Cassie and

baby son, photograph, 1910s (Motesiczky archive)

charm. This interest in art brought her closer

to the Motesiczkys. In 2000 Cassie Sladen

recalled: ‘My mother had a difficulty in living

and enjoyed Madam [Henriette] Motesiczky’s

music and her daughter’s art’. 2 When, in July

1957, Motesiczky was in need of a model, her

neighbour was willing to help: ‘In the meantime

I collect the “Mademoiselle” in the car –

you know, one of the two ladies in Chestnut

Lane – for painting, she can’t walk, she hardly

lives but I only quickly want to do something.’ 3

A few days later Motesiczky reported that the

Mademoiselle was sitting for her again.

Unfortunately, work was not progressing as

expected, since Motesiczky was much occupied

with looking after her mother. 4 She was,

however, relieved at least sometimes to be able

to take up her brushes and paint.

In the portrait, Motesiczky concentrates on

the sitter’s head which almost fills the canvas.

The surroundings are indicated as being

outdoors since Dorothy Sladen is placed

among the branches of a rhododendron bush

in bloom. While her left hand is partially

hidden behind a branch, the right hand with

her elegant long fingers holds a blossom for

close inspection. Absorbed in this small detail

she seems to be in her own world with her

thoughts.

notes

1 Canetti 2005a, pp. 76 f.

2 Cassie D. Sladen to Ines Schlenker, [July 2000]: Motesiczky

archive.

3 ‘Ich hole mir mit dem Auto inzwischen die “Mademoiselle”

Sie wissen die eine der beiden Frauleins in Chestnutlane,

zum malen ab, gehen kann sie nicht, leben tut sie kaum

aber ich will nur ja schnell was tun.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 5 July 1957: Motesiczky archive.

4 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 16 July 1957:

Motesiczky archive.

276

151

Portrait Ludwig Baldass

Porträt Ludwig Baldass

1957


Georg Baldass, Vienna

Ludwig von Baldass (1887–1963) was a wellknown

art historian, professor at the University

of Vienna and director of the Gemäldegalerie

of the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna,

which Motesiczky’s ancestors, the von Liebens,

had helped finance. He published numerous

books on art, including studies of Hieronymus

Bosch, Jan van Eyck, Giorgione, Stefan

Lochner, Hans Memling, and Gothic and

Romanesque art in Austria. Ludwig von

Baldass’s wife Pauly, the granddaughter of the

famous architect Otto Wagner (1841–1918), had

been the young Motesiczky’s governess and

remained a close friend. Pauly Baldass must

have introduced the young artist to the art

historian who, according to Peter Black, gave

her informal art history lessons and became

a lifelong admirer of her art. The following

episode, which Motesiczky recorded in her

memoirs on Max Beckmann as a teacher,

shows the budding artist’s eager attempt at

making appropriate remarks in the presence

of her older and learned Viennese mentor, who

was working on the German artist Albrecht

Altdorfer at the time. ‘It was certainly no easy

matter to maintain even a spark of independence

[from Beckmann]. His only comment on

a little Altdorfer I had ventured to admire was:

“Ha! Fireworks.” Later on, when I tried to pass

this off to an art-historian [Ludwig Baldass] as

a remark of my own (I was still very young), it

nearly brought me a box on the ears.’ 1 Despite

this early disagreement Ludwig von Baldass

proved to be a faithful supporter of Motesiczky.

He published several articles on her work and

tried to help her find an exhibition venue in

Vienna after the war. Even the artist’s friend,

Elias Canetti, habitually a critical judge of character,

was very appreciative of his support for

Motesiczky: ‘I bless Baldass that he keeps at it

with your painting. I have never before had the

feeling with any other human being that he,

in the things that matter for you, is my ally.

Although he surely doesn’t see it that way, what

matters is the result: he sees you, like me, as

a painter. Therefore I am glad that you are in

Vienna, because whatever else you do there,

you cannot avoid Baldass.’ 2

The portrait, which has hitherto been dated

1960, must have been painted in 1957, when the

artist visited Vienna for a few weeks, probably

staying with the Baldass family in the Burgring.

It is not known if the portrait was a commission,

but Elias Canetti knew about the project,

enquiring in a letter to Motesiczky, who was

already in Vienna, in April: ‘Have you started to

paint yet?’ 3 Motesiczky was kept so busy with

the painting that she did not have much time

to do anything else in Vienna. She nevertheless

admitted to being very glad to have done it. 4

In early May the portrait was almost completed

and Motesiczky, contrary to her usual refusal to

show anything unfinished, showed it to several

people: ‘I have so much prayed that I will get it

right and it really has turned out not too bad.

Two days ago the art historian Fürst [Bruno

Fürst, 1891–1965] from Oxford came. I let him

already see the unfinished picture and he said

it was a work of art and “beautiful” and so on –

then I let down my guard and already showed

it to the Baldass family as well – and I think

he really did get a fright – she rather likes it,

I think. Nevertheless I wanted to hang myself

in the evening. My mother was very nice – kept

repeating that it is one of my best portraits –

she really believes it – in the end she said: well,

in such a case Canetti is better than me! – I had

just wanted to give Baldass some pleasure.’ 5

Despite this disappointment she confidently –

and with a hint of relief – stated a few days

later: ‘The Baldass portrait has been completed

to everybody’s satisfaction. It is of course too

realistic but as such so that I cannot understand

how I managed to do it – it is simply

terribly like him and lively. If the good Baldass

was dead I would be afraid of being in the

same room with the picture.’ 6

The almost monochrome portrait, which

concentrates on the large head and massive

upper body of the eminent scholar, does indeed

show a remarkable likeness. Motesiczky’s

honesty was often not appreciated by the sitters

277

who, occasionally, rejected their portraits

disliking their lack of flattering idealization

(this was the case, for example, with Portrait

Philippe de Rothschild, 1986, no. 287, and

Portrait of Ursula Vaughan Williams, 1954,

no. 132). Ludwig von Baldass is seated in a

deep armchair, wearing a beige suit. His head

slightly averted, he looks sceptically at the

viewer. His features are concentrated in the

centre of his face which seems enlarged by

the hair receding at the temples and by a

double chin. Deep lines run from the nose to

the corners of his down-turned mouth and

are echoed by the well-defined dark eyebrows

which slope down towards the nose.

The life-like depiction Motesiczky managed

to achieve in this portrait is underlined by the

following story: ‘The little grandson – he is

3 years old – whom I showed the painting and

whom I asked who it was said: grandpa – and

after a break –: where is grandma? – then he

ran behind the easel, to find his grandmother

behind the painting!’ 7



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, [1957]: ‘Ich

fühl mich nicht so ganz wohl hier – vielleicht wegen

des Baldass Bildes – ich will’s erzwingen und diesmal

ist wirklich wenig Zeit und trotzdem möchte ich mich

u. die Anderen nicht enttäuschen. Hab alles dort

aufgestellt, Staffelei u.s.w. – hab sogar einen Kittel –

aber die Leinwand ist zu klein. Es ist ganz unmöglich

dass etwas daraus wird … Ach Piolein, heut mittags

glaubte ich das Bild wird doch irgendwas – da war ich

so gut gelaunt – und so froh und dankbar – auch Ihnen

– dass ich’s begonnen habe – denn ich hab’s doch auch

Ihretwegen getan. Nachmittag hab ich wieder daran

gemalt und jetzt glaub ich wieder es wird nichts – bin

ganz nervös u. verrückt damit und das ärgste, dass

ich’s nicht in der Pension habe und sicher schaut’s die

Baldassin an in jedem Stadium obwohl sie versprach

es nicht zu tun. Ich müsst das viel öfters machen – es

wäre auch gut für die Arbeit – man darf sich nicht so

absperren – es ist ganz anregend wenn man glaubt

es muss um jeden Preis was werden.’

Fritz Novotny, Österreichische Galerie, Schloß Belvedere,

Vienna, to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 19 December 1963

(original in capitals): ‘Nun muss ich leider mit einem

aufschiebenden Bescheid kommen: unser Ministerium

hat für die nächste Zeit die Veranstaltungen von

Ausstellungen, die nennenswerte Kosten verursachen

… als undurchführbar erklärt … So bleibt mir nichts

anderes übrig als unser Projekt zunächst zurückzustellen

… Nun ist die Frage, was mit den Gemälden

geschehen soll die Sie uns zur Ansicht geschickt haben.

Wir könnten sie natürlich hier lassen, falls es Ihnen

nicht unangenehm ist, dass dies auf unbestimmte

Zeit sein müsste … Das Bildnis von Prof. Baldass

(von dem ich noch ganz kurz vor seinem Tod einen

Brief bekommen habe) werden wir natürlich an die

Familie zurückgeben.’

Conny Nechansky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

26 February 1986: ‘Unlängst habe ich Dein Portrait von

Herrn Baldass in einem Architekturbüro gesehen und

es sofort erkannt als Dein Werk.’

notes


2 ‘ich segne den Baldass dafür, dass er mit der Malerei bei

Dir nicht locker lässt. Ich habe noch nie bei einem

Menschen so sehr das Gefühl gehabt, dass er in den

Dingen, auf die es bei Dir ankommt, mein Bundesgenosse

ist. Obwohl er es sicher selbst nicht so sieht, kommt es in

der Wirkung darauf hinaus: er sieht Dich, wie ich, als Maler.

Darum bin ich auch froh, dass Du in Wien bist, denn was

immer Du sonst dort tust, Du kannst den Baldass nicht

vermeiden.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


3 ‘Hast du schon zu malen begonnen?’: Elias Canetti to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, April 1957: Motesiczky

archive.

4 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 4 and 7 May


5 ‘Ich habe so gebetet dass es mir gelingt und es ist tatsächlich

nicht ganz schlecht geworden. Vorgestern kam der

Kunsthistoriker Fürst aus Oxford ich liess ihn schon unfertige

Bild ansehen u. er sagte es sei ein Kunstwerk und

“schön” und so weiter – da beging ich die Unvorsichtigkeit

es den Baldassen auch schon zu zeigen – und ich glaub

doch er ist sehr erschrocken – Sie findet es glaube ich gut.

Trotzdem wollte ich mich den Abend am liebsten aufhangen.

Meine Mutter war sehr nett – sagte immer wieder es sei

eines meiner besten Porträts – sie glaubt es wirklich –

schliesslich meinte sie: ja in so einem Fall ist halt der

Canetti besser wie ich! – Ich wollte halt so gerne dem

Baldass auch eine Freude machen.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 4 May 1957: Motesiczky archive.

6 ‘Das Baldassbild ist zur allgemeinen Befriedigung beendet.

Es ist naturlich zu realistisch aber als solches so dass ich gar

nicht verstehen kann wie ich’s fertig brachte – es ist ganz

einfach fürchterlich ähnlich und lebendig. Wenn der gute

Baldass todt wär hätt ich Angst davor mit dem Bild in

einem Zimmer zu sein.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Elias Canetti, 7 May 1957: Motesiczky archive.

7 ‘Der kleine Enkel – 3 Jahre ist er alt – dem ich es zeigte

und den ich fragte wer das ist sagte: der Opa – und nach

einer Pause -: wo ist die Oma? – dann lief er hinter die

Staffelei, hinter das Bild die Oma suchen!’: ibid.

provenance

Artist; Ludwig Baldass (gift 1957); Pauly Baldass; Georg

Baldass (inherited 1974).

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, ex catalogue; Vienna 1994, ex catalogue.

bibliography

Black 1997, p. 993; Michel 2003, illus. Abb. 27 (col.).

278

279

152

Portrait Rein Bakker

1958


Signed (bottom right): motesiczky

Juliaan T. Bakker, Amsterdam

Dr Rein Valencijn Bakker was a friend of

Willem Leembruggen, the Dutch husband

of Motesiczky’s aunt Ilse (whom the artist

depicted in the drawing Portrait Frau L., 1934,

p. 532). In the 1930s he lived in The Hague

and was the president of the board of the

Leembruggen factory. Having been the

Leembruggen family’s lawyer, he also took

over the responsibility for the financial affairs

of Henriette von Motesiczky in early 1935

from Henk de Waal, another relative.

Several photographs from the 1930s in

the artist’s estate show Motesiczky with Rein

Bakker and others enjoying a sunny day out

bathing (fig. 116). They even went on holiday

together in Ascona in 1937. Before the war, on

the advice of Rein Bakker, Ilse Leembruggen

granted Motesiczky a small pension to give her

some independence in times of financial difficulties

for the family. When the artist reached

England she wrote to Rein Bakker to stop these

monetary allocations since she was sure that

her aunt would thus be free to help more

needy causes. In 1938, when Motesiczky had

to leave Austria for the Netherlands, Bakker

became instrumental in arranging her first

solo exhibition: ‘Hitler marched into Austria,

and the next morning I went with mother to

the family in Holland … In The Hague, I had

my first exhibition. An old family lawyer [Rein

Bakker] took up my cause, and went to buy

some frames with me. He said: “Now we will

put on an exhibition.” At the opening I wore

a very modern hat. The next day, I heard that

there was something about me in the newspaper.

My first thought was: probably about

the hat which I was wearing. The fact that the

pictures might be reviewed and even sold did

not enter my head. The exhibition was a great

success in the press, and I did not notice that

nothing was sold.’ 1 The photograph of the

exhibition opening (fig. 26) shows Rein Bakker

standing modestly behind the artist in the

centre of the gathering of visitors. Motesiczky,

who liked Rein Bakker and believed that he

was fond of her, also in later years, 2 kept in

touch after the war. According to Peter Black,

this portrait was painted to express the artist’s

gratitude to the lawyer for a donation she

received from her aunt’s descendants after the

war thanks to his mediation. It was probably

painted from a photograph.

In this substantial half-length portrait

Motesiczky presents an impressive, large

figure. Rein Bakker is conventionally dressed

in a dark suit. Turning his head slightly to

confront the viewer, he shows his serious face

which is characterized by a firm expression.

His white hair, bushy white eyebrows and

sunken cheeks testify to his advanced age.

The sitter’s profession, in which he helped

the artist and her family so much, is indicated

by the scales of justice, visible on either side

of his head. Motesiczky positioned the sitter

in such a way that he appears to be part of

this instrument of justice.

More than a decade after its creation, Elias

Canetti singled out this portrait for special

praise: ‘First of all I wish you a happy birthday

and hope for you and me that you can now

paint several beautiful pictures, among them

portraits as good as that of Bakker.’ 3

notes




3 ‘Erst also gratuliere ich zum Geburtstag und wünsche

Ihnen wie mir, dass jetzt einige wunderbare Bilder

kommen, darunter auch Porträts so gut wie das vom

Bakker.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

20 October 1970: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Rein Bakker (probably gift); Theo Bakker;

Juliaan T. Bakker.

Fig. 116 Rein Bakker (third from left), his wife Christine Bakker-van Bosse (left),

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky (third from right) and others in the grounds of the

Hotel Monte Verita in Ascona, photograph, 1930s (Motesiczky archive)

bibliography

Schlenker 2006b, pp. 194 f., illus. p. 195.

280

281

153

Orchid

Orchidee

1958



In this simple composition three objects, each

casting marked shadows, are arranged close

together before a black background: a sturdy

brown earthenware vase with a handle holding

a single pinkish-white orchid and some foliage,

a bowl or ashtray and a book, which is the focal

point of this highly personal and intimate

composition. Although its title cannot be

discerned, it pays an unambiguous tribute to

Motesiczky’s long-standing relationship with

the author Elias Canetti, winner of the Nobel

Prize for Literature in 1981, since the spine of

the book is labelled ‘Pio’, Motesiczky’s private

nickname for Canetti. She had met him as a

relatively young and unknown writer in 1939

and was to support him throughout his career,

emotionally and practically, as well as financially.

Several drawings and portraits, for example

Study of Canetti Reading, c. 1945 (no. 78),

Conversation in the Library, 1950 (no. 103), Elias

Canetti, 1960 (no. 165), and Portrait Elias Canetti,

1992 (no. 315), testify to their lasting friendship.

From 1951 to 1957 the artist and the writer

shared a flat in Compayne Gardens, West

Hampstead. Later, especially after the artist’s

move to Chesterford Gardens in Hampstead,

Canetti frequently worked in Motesiczky’s

house. Each was very appreciative of the other’s

work. Motesiczky shows her high esteem for,

and easy familiarity with, Canetti and his

writings by including one of his books in this

still-life. It is presumably a copy of his first

novel Die Blendung, originally published in

German in 1936. In 1958, Canetti was still

working on Masse und Macht, first published

in German two years later. This is not the only

secret dedication of a painting to a lover. In 1926

Still-life with Tulips (no. 11) had borne testimony

to an even more furtive relationship.

provenance

Artist; Michael Croft (purchased at 1960 exhibition); artist

(probably not returned after 1966–8 exhibitions).

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 36; Vienna 1966, no. 40, illus.; Linz 1966,


illus.; London 1985, no. 44, illus. p. 80.

bibliography

Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Michel 2003, pp. 18, 57 (Stilleben mit Orchidee),

illus. Abb. 12 (col.); Schlenker 2003, p. 111; Schlenker 2005,

p. 128, illus. p. 130; Black 2006, p. 57; Lloyd 2007, p. 159.

282

154

Father Milburn

Pfarrer Milburn

1958



When Motesiczky moved to Amersham in 1940

she found lodgings with Mary and Gordon

Milburn who lived in a house called ‘Durris’ in

Stubbs Wood. Later, after the Motesiczkys had

bought a house in Chestnut Lane, just a few

minutes’ walk away, Elias Canetti and his wife

Veza moved in with the Milburns (fig. 117).

Robert Gordon Milburn (1870–1973), an

Anglican priest and scholar, was the author

of A Study of Modern Anglicanism, published

in 1901. The Gordon Milburn Junior Research

fellowship in Oxford now supports research

in the field of theological or philosophical

study of mysticism and religious experience.

Veza Canetti bitingly caricatured the couple

in her short story Toogoods oder das Licht. 1 In

the fourth part of his autobiography, Party in

the Blitz, Elias Canetti writes at length about

Gordon Milburn, highlighting his miserliness

and love of the German poet Friedrich Hölderlin.

He also briefly touches on his landlord’s physical

appearance: ‘Mr Milburn … was even skinnier

than Mary … His hair was still thinner than

hers. His face had deep vertical furrows,

perhaps from study, he had studied all his life.

A little goatee beard was the only pert thing

about him.’ 2

The portrait was painted when the sitter

was in his eighties, and long after he had

ceased to be Canetti’s landlord. Wearing a

comfortable red house coat, Father Milburn

sits relaxed, his hands gently folded on his

crossed legs. His white beard, sparse hair

and red-rimmed eyes, which still firmly and

contemplatively engage the viewer, indicate

his old age. By including only a few props

Motesiczky concentrates fully on the sitter.

On a table in the background are a small globe

Fig. 117 Elias Canetti, Gordon Milburn, Veza Canetti and Mary Milburn

(from left) at the table, photograph, 1940s (Motesiczky archive)

283

and two candles, extinguished but still glowing.

In these austere surroundings, despite some

paraphernalia of domesticity, the sitter’s quiet

authority and earnest seriousness can be felt.

Father Milburn has generally had a positive

reception. When Motesiczky first showed it to

her cousin Sophie Brentano, the reaction must

have been favourable for Motesiczky succinctly

and proudly noted in her diary: ‘Brentanos

London Soph saw Milburn! Beautiful!’ 3 One

critical reviewer of the 1966 Vienna exhibition

somewhat grudgingly, and despite its bad

frame, singled it out as ‘one of the few good

portraits’ 4 while another without hesitation

praised it as a ‘grandiose painting’. 5



charitable trust

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 6: ‘Der alte

anglikanische Geistliche Milburn, so gebrechlich mit

seinen steifen, mageren Beinen und Händen, so

fröstelnd in seinem rötlichen Morgenrock und so

vergeistigt in seinem abgezehrten Gesicht, mit kahlem

Haupt und tiefliegenden Augen, die schon aus dem

Jenseits blicken, mit abstehenden Ohren und dem

Spitzbärtchen eines Pastors – welch spröden Takt

verrät sein transzendentes Äußere; es ist jedoch auch

einfach das Bildnis jenes Mannes, wie Du ihn mir

vorgestellt hast in der Umgebung von Amersham,

zur Zeit des Porträts!’

notes

1 Canetti 2001, pp. 197–204.

2 Canetti 2005a, pp. 32 f.

3 ‘Brentanos London Soph Milburn angesehen! Schön!’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 23 August


4 ‘Eines der wenigen guten Portraits’: VB 1966.

5 ‘grandiose Bild’: Hart 1966.

Fig. 118 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch, c. 1958,



bibliography

Hart 1966, n.p.; Hodin 1966, illus. p. 48; Reifenberg 1966a,

n.p.; VB 1966, n.p.; Anonymous 1994g, n.p.; Black 1994, p. 7;

Schmidt 1994a, p. 7; Black 1997, p. 992; López Calatayud 2005,

pp. 14 f.n., 26; Schlenker 2005, p. 128, illus. p. 129; Schlenker

2006b, pp. 198 f., illus. p. 198 (col.) (Vater Milburn); Schlenker

2006d, p. 256 (Vater Milburn).

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 34, shown as Portrait, 1957; Vienna 1966,

no. 39, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 39, illus.; Munich 1967, no. 39,

illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 39, illus.; London 1985, no. 45, illus.

p. 39 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 45, illus. p. 39 (col.); Dublin

1988, no. 11, shown as Fr. Milburn; Vienna 1994, no. 34,

illus. (col.).

284

285

155

Kitzbühel

1958


Milein Cosman, London

In February and March 1958 Motesiczky

went on holiday to the Austrian ski resort of

Kitzbühel with her friends the artist Milein

Cosman and her husband, the musicologist

Hans Keller. Her friends were skilled and

enthusiastic skiers, but Motesiczky felt the

need to brush up her skiing by attending

classes, which proved to be an unpleasant

experience: ‘And on the slope … – after 20

years – not only my feet hurt – I felt fat and

old and rigid and only wanted to cry – being

in a ski school with the beginners while I had

once been able to go down all the mountains.’ 1

After the skiing, Motesiczky found time to

visit various acquaintances, the artists Hilde

Goldschmidt, who had emigrated to London

in 1939, and Carl Theodor von Blaatz, who had

painted a portrait of the young Marie-Louise

(fig. 13). In the evenings the friends found

entertainment in the local casino.

When Motesiczky was back in England,

she painted this little winter landscape as a

‘souvenir postcard’, as Milein Cosman put it,

and gave it to her friend as a present. Snowcovered

high peaks rise forbiddingly against

a snow-laden sky, while gentler hills in the

middle distance invite skiing. The landscape

is entirely covered in snow. Only a single

weathered fir tree stands out from the white

carpet of snow. In the foreground a horse,

protected from the cold by warm blankets,

rests from drawing a sleigh and feeds at a

manger. The sleigh’s occupants are probably

seeking warmth and taking refreshments in

the adjoining ski hut. The landscape contains

two personal tributes to the artist’s friends

(of whom Motesiczky created two successful

portraits in Studio with Nude Model, 1970,

no. 239): a signpost, rather illegibly, proclaims

a famous local slope, the ‘Streif’, a favourite

of Hans Keller’s, and, in a special dedication,

Motesiczky depicted Milein Cosman as the

solitary blue figure racing down the slopes.

note

1 ‘Und auf dem Hang … – nach 20 Jahren – haben nicht

nur die Füsse weh getan – ich kam mir dick und alt und

unbeweglich vor und hätt immer nur gerne geheult – so in

der Skischule mit den Anfängern wo ich schon all die Berge

herunter fahren konnte früher.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Elias Canetti, 20 February 1958: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Milein Cosman (gift 1959).

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 45, illus. Abb. 55 (col.) (dated 1959).


c. 1958, graphite and pastel on paper, 327 × 240 mm


286

156

Haystacks

Kornfeld

c. 1958


Signed (bottom right): M.L.M.


Haystacks, one of the few landscapes by

Motesiczky, depicts a collection of haystacks,

carefully built up pyramids of ripe grass, in a

harvested field on a warm summer day. The

view opens up to a series of soft rolling hills,

crowned by little copses and single trees,

interspersed with atmospheric blue haze in

the middle distance. The bank of clouds in the

grey sky resembles a distant mountain range.

A photograph in the artist’s estate, which

shows haystacks in a large alpine meadow,

may have inspired the painting (fig. 120). It

could have been taken on one of Motesiczky’s

holidays in the Austrian Alps in 1952 (where

she visited Rinn, Salzburg and Faakersee), 1953

(taking in Judenstein and Attersee), or 1954

(again visiting Salzburg and Mondsee).

Compared with the landscape captured in

the photograph, the tall trees in the painting,

perhaps pines, evoke warmer climes.

Fig. 120 Haystacks in a meadow, Austria,





287

157

Eight Figures in Yellow Hats in Landscape

1959



In spring 1956 Motesiczky spent an extended

holiday in the United States and Mexico, visiting

numerous places and meeting up with old

friends including Franz Pollaczek, Wolfgang

Paalen, Otto and Fanny Kallir, Irma Simon,

Quappi Beckmann and Renée Cushman. As

the headgear of the depicted figures suggests,

this picture was inspired by Motesiczky’s

travels in Mexico.

In a sketch-like composition, Motesiczky

brings together eight men, wearing large

yellow sombreros and walking in a barren

landscape. Dry brown earth extends as far as

the gentle hills on the horizon. An occasional

bush and two trees, one covered in a mass

of orange blossoms, indicate the presence of

surviving plants in these extreme conditions.

Split into two groups of four, the men are

marching in line, underneath a green horizontal

structure at the top of the picture which is

presumably a railway bridge. One figure, the

fourth from the right, seems to be carrying a

stick, another is bending down as if to further

investigate something that has caught his

attention. The artist may have portrayed

a search party, looking for something not

revealed to the viewer. The uncertainty of

the men’s occupation, their comical hats

and amusing, rigid postures as well as their

overall resemblance to stick figures or even

caricatures, make this a humorous picture.

288

158

The Old Song

Das Alte Lied

1959


Signed (bottom right): marie louise. m. 1959.


Following a trip to Paris in spring 1955,

Motesiczky recorded an inspirational visit to

the Louvre: ‘Been to the Louvre. Thought in

front of an early Italian painting that one could

well paint allegories just as a pretext – and

leave the symbolic to look after itself.’ 1 In 1959

Motesiczky seems to have followed up this idea

when she created The Old Song (also known as

The Old Tune and The Old Tale), a work that has

attracted praise as a ‘grandiose allegorical

composition’ 2 and a ‘soul-stirring allegory’. 3

Furthermore it has been warmly received for

the power of its ‘remarkable imaginative

subject’. 4 When The Old Song was shown in

Vienna in 1966, it was counted ‘among the

strongest portraits that could be seen in

Austria in the recent past’. 5 Several critics have

emphasized the painting’s debt to Rembrandt,

especially David Playing the Harp for Saul of

c. 1629 (fig. 122), 6 and one even went so far as

to state that ‘Beckmann would have been

incapable of suggesting its elusive overtones’. 7

Fig. 122 Rembrandt van Rijn, David Playing the Harp

for Saul, c. 1629, oil on wood, 620 × 500 mm

(Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main)

The Old Song, Motesiczky’s largest painting,

seems eloquently to tell a story, although not

necessarily one that can be easily and correctly

interpreted. Adopting a daring perspective, the

artist’s mother, Henriette von Motesiczky, is

portrayed as an old woman in her seventies

with a balding head. Wearing a white nightgown,

she is resting in a simple brass bed

(actually the one in which the artist was born 8 ),

propped up on her elbows and listening

intently to a white-haired woman playing a

harp at her bedside. Dramatically dressed in

a red ermine-lined cloak and accompanied by

a tousled bird reminiscent of a heraldic eagle,

the ‘rhapsodian’, as the visitor is sometimes

referred to, forms an intriguing contrast to

the common appearance of the old woman.

The composition is completed by a dog, the

Motesiczkys’ Italian greyhound Franzi, lying

under the bed.

Motesiczky herself gave an explanation of

this biographical allegory: ‘I can tell you how

the picture, “The Old Tale” … which many

critics have said is one of my best, happened.

It moved me very much, that expression of my

mother, when I went up to London and she

was left at Amersham. She had a good friend

there, a woman with a very unhappy marriage.

She always told mother how terrible her

husband was! The husband is the ugly bird in

the picture – he spoils the sound! I had myself

in there at first, as a counter effect to mother,

but it was wrong. I wanted to capture mother’s

yearning expression, that almost greed for life

and knew it couldn’t be captured as a portrait.

At last I thought, the answer is to put in that

friend and that ugly bird of a husband. That

was enough to make the composition and to

make the expression possible. With me there,

it wasn’t right. I was then terribly excited and

ordered a big canvas. The dog we always had.

He was just under the bed, he was always

there.’ 9

Henriette von Motesiczky’s friend and

neighbour, Liss Gray, had been born in Aachen,

Germany. She was married to the film music

composer Allan Gray (1902–73). Around 1974 she

left Amersham and moved back to her home

city. Throughout her friendship with Henriette

von Motesiczky, Liss Gray complained about

her husband. When visiting her friend, she

would habitually bring up the subject of her

unhappiness. The artist and her mother

noticed that their friend was particularly nice

to them when she was going through a tough

time with her husband and that they were

not needed as much when the couple got on

better. Although Henriette von Motesiczky saw

through her friend, she was by her side during

her affairs (in 1956, for example, Liss Gray had

a Swedish lover) and tried to help her, always

lending a sympathetic ear. Once, in 1956,

she even tackled Gray’s husband about his

marital problems. Henriette von Motesiczky’s

comments on her friend’s character and

appearance vary dramatically. At times she

compared Liss Gray with her dog Franzi, both

being ‘a little too complicated and reserved’. 10

She clearly spotted her friend’s pampered

and demanding attitude and was often angry

with her. Early in their friendship, the artist’s

mother praised her friend’s immaculate looks:

‘As a woman she is as perfect as Father Schey

was as a man. Everything is positioned

correctly and clearly on her head, all manners

are so natural and also always right. Her goodness,

her small, tender malignities are always

well placed and also always right so that she is

hardly interesting for me, only for the fact that

one seldom meets such a true human specimen.’

11 Later, the conflicting feelings towards

her friend became more outspoken: ‘She [Liss]

is the most conceited and selfish woman I

know. I am even sure that, if I were a poor

devil, she would soon finish the friendship.

Although I see all that clearly, I like her nevertheless

– well, you do not have much choice

in Amersham. She certainly is clever, and a

very good-looking woman she surely is, despite

her age! And she looks so Aryan, and I cannot

stand these Jewish faces any more.’ 12 However,

Liss Gray’s appearance was not always

289

Fig. 123 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Head of Henriette,

1959, graphite on paper, 230 × 180 mm (Marie-Louise von


290

291

Fig. 124 Photograph of the undated drawing Der Ball by

Henriette von Motesiczky (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 125 Liss Gray, photograph, undated


favourably received, causing Henriette von

Motesiczky to describe her as ‘gaunt, not

beautiful, only sun-tanned’ 13 , a fact that, as

Motesiczky had discovered earlier, was partly

to be attributed to the effects of a sun lamp.

Henriette must often have wondered about

her friend. She even wrote a poem entitled

‘An Liss’ (‘To Liss’), dated November 1946.

Another, untitled poem of 26 November 1962,

juxtaposed with The Old Song in the memorial

book Motesiczky created for her mother, most

probably refers to Liss Gray:

I often despise you with your face

With your eyebrows that are not your own,

With the blonde hair that really is white

With the complexion as yellow as ripe corn.

With the withered hands and claws on them,

With the nails so long and red,

Why, the devil, am I devoted to you.

Is it your voice so quiet and pure.

Is it the soft glow of your eyes –

Is it your coldness which talks to me

Why, the devil, I do not know. 14

By all accounts, and judging by the surviving

photographs, Liss Gray had a well-groomed,

slim and elegant figure. In The Old Song

Motesiczky picks up on her characteristic

features by emphasizing the ‘claw-like hands’

with the dangerously sharp red fingernails her

mother had described. Appropriate to her

name (and also her age), Liss Gray’s face is

depicted with a grey pallor, surrounded by a

shock of white hair, in which her round golden

earring, which she must have worn regularly

as it also appears in photographs, provides a

necessary highlight. An undated drawing by

Henriette von Motesiczky entitled Der Ball

(fig. 124), reproduced in the artist’s memorial

book for her mother, shows Liss Gray as a

skeletal figure with wings, engaged in a dance

with a fashionable young man. Her facial

features are carefully chiselled out and the

profile bears an unmistakable resemblance to

that of the harpist in the painting (fig. 125).

Motesiczky’s initial idea of incorporating

herself in the composition is recorded in a

drawing (fig. 126). As in the final painting,

Henriette von Motesiczky reclines in bed

while a harp stands by her bedside. This time

the harpist is her daughter, whose rendition

does not seem to satisfy her listener.

The Old Song is a tribute to the artist’s

ageing mother, relocated in a mysterious,

magical world. Interpretations often follow

the attempt by art critic and art historian Josef

Paul Hodin (1905–95) to read the painting as

an allegory of the loneliness of old age.

Consequently, the visitor is identified as a

neighbour parting with her sorrows and

providing the bed-ridden woman, hungry for

news from the outside world, with the latest

gossip. The striking iconographical allusions,

however, suggest a second layer of meaning.

Not just isolation due to ageing and illness

but also the experience of exile is discernible.

Through her assorted props, the harpist

symbolizes the now lost aristocratic world

in which the Motesiczky family had moved

before the Nazi invasion of Austria. With great

imaginative power but also a certain ironical

distance, Motesiczky represents the solitude

of an aged refugee who, through the narration

of the ‘rhapsodian’, recalls an era long gone.

A further threatening dimension is introduced

by the bird that in ancient religions, such as

that of Egypt, represents the departing soul

and, in this instance, could also function as

a metaphor for impending death.

It is not known whether Motesiczky was

aware of the wonderfully appropriate English

expression ‘harping on’. Whether involuntary

or intended, the pictorial realization of the

pun hovers between the comic and the serious.

Similarly, the harpist’s song could be perceived

as dull and boring or as reassuringly familiar.

The riddle, however, of whether The Old Song

stands for ‘the same old story’, for a sweet song

from childhood or for a ‘constant refrain’ about

death being inevitable, ultimately cannot be

solved. A short comment, which Motesiczky

noted next to her explanation of the painting,

may provide a clue that the artist preferred to

see the positive side of the expression: ‘Old

song resound, go on so that, alas, you never

come to an end.’ 15

292

Fig. 126 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for The Old Song,

late 1950s, graphite on paper, 224 × 302 mm (Marie-Louise


Motesiczky’s reaction to critical interpretation

of her work is generally unknown, but a

review of this painting stimulated a rare show

of gratitude. A few years after the work’s

creation, Hodin had written the following

sympathetic lines: ‘An old lady, in fact the

artist’s mother, is lying in bed. A friend has

come to visit her, a friend who always appears

to tell her about herself and her troubles. In the

position of the mother’s body, in the expression

of her face we can read her anxiety that

this friend may leave too soon, leave her with

her loneliness again – the anxiety that something

exciting, something vital will disappear.

The old lady listens to what is to her as the

promise of new life. The friend is dressed in a

red cloak edged with ermine, and her narration

is expressed through the playing of a harp. A

cockatoo, the troublemaker in the friend’s life,

sits on the harp, spoiling the tune. The old lady

seems more satisfied the more unsettled the

friend is – and there were many different ones

throughout the years – who wishes to find

relief in her complaints. Although the friend

appears in a rich red, it is the old lady who

glows from a more intense inner life. Marie

Louise Motesiczky has painted her mother as

she has always known her, the figure being as

established for her as that of Homer or Aesop;

it is not just a given head which has here been

reproduced but the head as she has so often

seen it, never changing, a situation which

always existed, familiar like an old melody

from childhood days – The Old Tune. The

artist was impelled to paint it, the expression

of the face which she likes so much, the

gestures which deepen the meaning of the

scene, impelled to wrest it from reality and

transitoriness, to raise it on to another plane.

Symbolism? Romanticism? No, it is simpler

than that. The human touch in art, the meaning

of reality formed in the fire of a poetic

conception. Painted thinly as though with

transparent washes, these are all portraits: the

mother, the friend, the bird, the dog under the

bed. And this was in fact the artistic problem:

how to combine several portraits into a

meaningful and justifiable composition.’ 16

Motesiczky thanked Hodin enthusiastically for

his interpretation, yet reminded him that his

analysis of The Old Song was not quite correct,

but sadly gives no details: ‘I am deeply moved.

It is beautiful, almost too beautiful – as beautiful

as something I would have dreamt up for

myself – which however can’t be right since

it is so entirely without a sting – so fond one

only is of oneself – no other person can think

of something so affectionate for someone else.

Really … I am totally speechless – although,

as you see, words don’t leave me. The analysis

of the “Old Melody” has certain problems –

because of my mother and her friend, but we

have to talk about all this – they are only minor

details. Today only so much: your article is

in front of me and I don’t dare read it again,

although I am alone in the room, because I

would have to blush over this little poetry which,

at the moment, I feel totally unworthy of.’ 17



charitable trust


1959: ‘Dieses Häuser auf und ab hat mich natürlich

sehr aus der Arbeit gebracht aber ich muss Ihnen eine

erfreuliche Mitteilung machen und zwar dass das

grosse Bild mich über alles hinwegtrösten kann wenn

es wird das Bild. Das ist entschieden ein Fortschritt

wenn auch kein Malerischer – aber vielleicht ist es

sogar gerade dass.’

Mary Duras to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18 November

1959: ‘Ich hoffe nur, dass … Du Dich jetzt in Amersham

ganz der Malerei widmen kannst. Denn das grosse

Bild wird bestimmt gut und Du musst es zur

Ausstellung fertig machen.’


1967: ‘ich war also in München und habe die

Ausstellung gesehen und sie war wunderschön …

Nicht immer glücklich war ich mit den kleinen

Zimmern. “Das alte Lied” geht so nicht, das muss in

einen grossen Raum. Obwohl man vom Nebenzimmer

her einen weiten Blick darauf hatte, fand ich es nicht

so wirksam wie in Wien oder in London.’

notes

1 ‘Im Louvre gewesen. Bei frühem Italienischen Bild

gedacht dass man ruhig Allegorien malen könnte nur

als Vorwand – und das Symbolische dabei sich selbst

überlassen.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry

for 22 April 1955: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘großartigen allegorischen Komposition’: Spiel 1966.

3 ‘ergreifenden Allegorie’: Kruntorad 1994.

4 Anonymous [Eric Newton] 1960.

293

5 ‘zu den stärksten Bildnissen, die man in der letzten Zeit

in Österreich sehen konnte’: Hart 1966.

6 Newton 1960a; Freundlich 1966.

7 Newton 1960b.

8 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg, [1966]:

Motesiczky archive.


Motesiczky archive.

10 ‘ein bissl sehr faxig u. zurückhaltend’: Henriette von

Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 26 April 1956:

Motesiczky archive.

11 ‘Sie ist als Frau so vollkommen, wie der Papa Schey als

Mann war. Alles sitzt so klaar u. richtig in ihrem Kopf, alle

Manieren sind so ungezwungen u. auch immer richtig.

Ihre Güte ihre kl. zahrten Bosheiten sind immer am

Platz u. auch immer richtig, so dass sie einem kaum

interessiert, ausser, das man ein so richtiges

Menschenexemplar selten begegnet.’: Henriette von

Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated:

Motesiczky archive.

12 ‘Sie ist die eingebildetste und egoistischste Frau die ich

kenne. Ich binn sogar sicher, wenn ich ein armer Teufel

wäre, würde sie bald die Freundschaft aufgeben. Obwohl

ich das alles klaar sehe, mag ich sie doch – nun ja, man

hat in Amersham nicht viel Auswahl. Gescheit ist sie ja

doch, und eine gut aussehende frau ist sie ja doch, trotz

ihres Alters! Und so arisch schaut sie aus, und ich kann

halt die jüdischen Gesichter nicht gerne ansehen.’:

Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 31 March 1957: Motesiczky archive.

13 ‘mager nicht schn [schön] nur braun’: Henriette von

Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1956]:

Motesiczky archive.

14 Oft bis Du mir über mit Deinem Gesicht

Mit den Augenbrauen die die Deinen nicht,

Mit dem blonden Haar das im Grunde weiss

Mit den Tint der so gelb ist wie reifer Mais.

Mit den welken Händen und Krallen daran,

Mit den Nägeln so lang und roth,

Warum zum Teufl binn ich Dir devot.

Ist es Deine Stimme so leis und rein.

Ist es Deiner Augen matter Schein –

Ist es Deine Kühle die zu mir spricht

Warum zum Teufl ich weis es nicht.


15 ‘Altes Lied töne, gehe weiter ach dass es nie ein Ende

nehmen soll.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated

manuscript: Motesiczky archive.

16 Hodin 1961/2, pp. 19 f.

17 ‘Ich bin tief gerührt. Es ist schön, beinahe zu schön – so

schön wie etwas was ich mir selbst für mich erträumt

hätte – was aber gar nicht stimmen kann weil es so ganz

ohne Stachel ist – so gerne hat man nur sich selbst – kein

anderer Mensch kann sich so liebevoll etwas für einen

ausdenken. Wirklich … ich bin ganz sprachlos – obwohl,

wie Sie sehen, mir die Sprache dabei gar nicht versagt.

Die Analyse der “Alten Melodie” hat gewisse

Schwierigkeiten – wegen meiner Mutter und ihrer

Freundin aber das müssen wir alles noch besprechen –

das sind nur Kleinigkeiten. Für heute nur so viel: Ihr

Aufsatz liegt vor mir und ich traue mich garnicht ihn

nochmals zu lesen obwohl ich allein im Zimmer bin denn

ich müsste erröten über diese kleine Dichtung derer ich

mich im Augenblick ganz unwürdig fühle.’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky to Paul Hodin, 24 January 1963:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

London 1960, no. 37, shown as The old tune; Vienna 1966,

no. 42, illus. (full and detail); Linz 1966, no. 42, illus. (full and

detail); Munich 1967, no. 42, illus. (full and detail); Bremen

1968, no. 42, illus. (full and detail); Frankfurt am Main 1980,

no. 78; London 1985, no. 46, illus. pp. 40 f. (col.), shown as The

Old Tale; Cambridge 1986, no. 46, illus. pp. 40 f. (col.), shown

as The Old Tale; Vienna 1994, no. 35, illus. (col.); Manchester

1994, no. 24, shown as The Old Tale; Liverpool 2006, no. 55,


(col.); Vienna 2007, no. 55, illus. p. 179 (col.); Southampton

2007, no. 55, illus. p. 179 (col.).

bibliography

Anonymous [Eric Newton] 1960, n.p. (The Old Tune); Newton

1960a, n.p.; Newton 1960b, n.p.; Hodin 1961/2, pp. 19 f., illus.

p. 20; Anonymous [Victor Matejka] 1966, p. 15, illus. p. 15; b.

1966, n.p.; Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Hart 1966, n.p.; Hodin 1966,

p. 48, illus. p. 49; Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Spiel 1966, n.p.; M.B.

1967, n.p.; r-sch 1967, n.p.; Albrecht 1968, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968,

n.p.; J.Wdt. 1968, n.p.; Helmolt 1980, n.p.; Malcor [1980], n.p.;

Anonymous 1985, n.p. (The Old Tale); Calvocoressi 1985, p. 62;

Winterbottom 1986, p. 11; Vann 1987, p. 16, illus. p. 16 (col.)

(The Old Tale); Adler 1994, p. 18; Cohen 1994, pp. 94 f.; Krumpl

1994, illus. n.p.; Kruntorad 1994, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504

(The Old Tale); Black 1997, p. 993 (Old Song); Vorderwülbecke

1999, pp. 34, 53 f.n., illus. p. 80 (The Old Tale); Michel 2003,

pp. 30 f., 70, illus. Abb. 30 (col.); López Calatayud 2005, p. 14

f.n. (The Old Tale); Davies 2006b, n.p.; R. Gries 2006, illus. n.p.

(detail, col.); Klein 2006, illus. n.p. (detail); Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.); Schlenker

2006b, pp. 204 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 178; Schlenker 2006d,

p. 258, illus. p. 260; Lloyd 2007, pp. 166 f., illus. fig. 29.

294

159

Self-portrait in Black

Selbstportr t in Schwarz

1959

Oil, charcoal and pastel on canvas, 1056 × 590 mm


Wearing an elegant black cocktail dress with

golden dots, the amber-coloured necklace

echoing the colour of her hair and a white

shawl draped across her shoulders, Motesiczky

stands in front of a radiant golden background,

probably a door. As if ready for an outing, she

waits for things to happen with a mixture of

sadness and anticipation. This discrepancy

between the festive clothes and the desolate

expression gives the painting a tangible

tension. Motesiczky must have been working

on the self-portrait for several years since it is

probably the one Elias Canetti refers to in a

letter to the artist dated 6 July 1957. Then the

painting was not yet finished (Motesiczky was

busy with family obligations) and Elias Canetti,

who considered it to be undoubtedly her best

self-portrait, urged her to finish it for him. 1 It

took Motesiczky two years to do so although

family tradition has it that the somehow

awkwardly executed and crammed-in left hand

had not been completed until the painting was

to be exhibited in 1985.

note

1 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 6 July 1957:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 47, illus. p. 42 (col.); Cambridge 1986,

no. 47, illus. p. 42 (col.); Dublin 1988, no. 12; London 2001,

p. 92, illus. p. 93 (col.); Liverpool 2006, no. 53, illus. p. 175 (col.);


2007, no. 53, illus. p. 175 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 53, illus.


bibliography

Pyle 1988, n.p.; Phillips 2001, illus. on magazine cover (detail,

col.); Michel 2003, p. 41, illus. Abb. 47 (col.); López Calatayud

2005, pp. 9, 12 f., 14 f.n., 16, 20, 26–8, illus. n.p. (full and

numerous details, col.); Crüwell 2006b, n.p.; R. Gries 2006,

n.p.; Huther 2006b, illus. n.p. (detail, col.); Sander 2006,

pp. 120 f.; Sternburg 2006, n.p.; Lloyd 2007, p. 169.

295

160

Henriette von Motesiczky

1959


Signed (bottom right): M.M. 1959.


In January 1959, Motesiczky told Elias Canetti

about the new portrait of her mother she was

working on: ‘Since it is too dark to paint it feels

good to hold the pen in my hand for a while

and to write. I have now decided on a portrait

of my mother and, unfortunately, it is not at all

“the picture” but I have calmed down a little

and can, despite it all, work on it with a certain

conviction since I tell myself that it is a picture

after all. You should now see the room here. It

looks like much more good work than it actually

contains but nevertheless … You would like it.’ 1

In the resulting large portrait Henriette von

Motesiczky, now in her late seventies, still

presents an imposing, almost manly figure.

Relaxing in a grey armchair in what appears to

be a habitual pose (fig. 127), she is calmly looking

at the viewer. Her large figure is informally

dressed in a comfortable yellow house coat.

While her left arm rests on the arm of the

chair, her raised right arm unselfconsciously

holds a pipe she is in the process of smoking.

Despite the sitter’s regal pose, the artist subtly

hints at her mother’s age. Above her ear a thin

lock of sparse white hair has managed to

escape from under her wig. The indication of a

slight moustache suggests that the growth of

hair in unwanted places can no longer easily be

controlled. The armchair is surrounded by

feathery plants. On the right, the composition

is framed by a curtain, while a large,

pronounced shadow looms on the light grey

wall behind the sitter.

In the late 1950s the artist’s mother was still

living in Amersham while Motesiczky shared a

flat in Compayne Gardens, West Hampstead.

In 1960 mother and daughter finally moved

together into a newly purchased house in

Chesterford Gardens, Hampstead. In the

memorial book Motesiczky created for her

mother she juxtaposes the portrait with a poem

Henriette von Motesiczky had written on 25

October 1957. The poem expresses a balance of

melancholy, loneliness and determination that

is not dissimilar to the mood of the portrait:

The furniture is polished

The carpets free of moths

The silver shines in the old cabinet,

And between all the windows

There is not a single dead fly.

The kitchen is clean as well,

So it should be, the housewife says.

And yet it seems to me that the house is dead,

Only a serving soul goes in and out.

Where is the person who needs all this?

She sits alone in her room and smokes. 2

Fig. 127 Henriette von Motesiczky in her armchair, photograph, 1943





296

297

An exquisite drawing entitled Head of Henriette

von Motesiczky, 1959 (fig. 130), is a study of a

detail of the oil painting and focuses on the

sitter’s undisturbed and equable expression.

Looking back in 1988, the artist counted this

portrait among the greatest and most important

achievements in her long career, part of

which she had to devote to the care of her

mother. The portrait was sold to a cousin of the

artist, Sophie Brentano, during the exhibition

at the Galerie Günther Franke in Munich in

1967. It seems, however, to have stayed in the

artist’s London house until after Motesiczky’s

exhibitions in London and Cambridge in

1985/6. This was apparently due to lack of space

in the purchaser’s Swiss home. 3 In autumn 1987

the portrait was finally shipped to Switzerland.



charitable trust


1967: ‘ich war also in München und habe die

Ausstellung gesehen und sie war wunderschön … Viele

Bilder kommen auch in den kleinen Zimmern gut

heraus, z.B. das grosse Porträt der Mutter, das die Soph

gekauft hat. Es ist eine wirklich schöne Ausstellung, ich

hab in den letzten drei Tagen oft dran denken müssen.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milli [Kann?], 3 November

1988: ‘Etwa 40 Jahre habe ich, erst ein zwei Bilder dann

schliesslich 5 meiner besten Bilder Soph zur Verfügung

gestellt, wie eine Schwester, weil sie die Bilder lieb

gehabt hat und sie gut behandelt hat. Schliesslich hat

sie die Bilder gekauft für einen kleinen Preis auf

anraten von Percy [Ursula Brentano] … Diese Bilder

sind das Beste und zwar ein Viertel des Besten was

ich in 60 Jahren Arbeit leisten konnte. Ich war

eingeschrenkt durch Mutter und C. und konnte nicht

mer leisten. Noch dazu sind die zwei wichtigsten

Bilder von Mutter – das grosse Portrat und der kurze

Weg darunter … die Spanierin (vielleicht (?) der beste

Kopf den ich je gemalt habe (und die wir retteten))’

notes

1 ‘Weil’s aber zu dunkel zum malen ist so tut’s gut ein

bischen die Feder in der Hand zu halten und zu schreiben.

Ich habe mich nun auf ein Bild meiner Mutter festgelegt

und es ist leider gar nicht “das Bild” aber ich habe mich

etwas beruhigt und kann trotzdem mit einiger

Überzeugung daran arbeiten weil ich mir sage dass es

immerhin ein Bild ist. Sie sollten jetzt das Zimmer hier

sehen. Es sieht nach viel mehr guter Arbeit aus als es

enthält aber immerhin … Es würde Ihnen gefallen.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 6 January


2 Die Möbel sind poliert

Die Teppich mottenfrei

Das Silber glänzt im alten Schrank,

Und zwischen allen Fenstern liegen

Nicht einmal tote Fliegen.

Auch in der Küche ist es rein,

So sagt die Hausfrau soll es sein.

Und doch scheint es mir tot im Haus,

Nur eine dienende Seele geht ein u. aus.

Wo ist der Mensch der dieses alles braucht?

Er sitzt allein in seiner Stub’ und raucht.

(translated by Jill Lloyd: Motesiczky archive)

3 Sophie Brentano to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18

January 1977: Motesiczky archive.

provenance



exhibitions

London 1960, no. 38, illus., shown as Henriette Motesiczky;

Vienna 1966, no. 41, illus. (col.), shown as Portrait Henriette

v. Motesiczky; Linz 1966, no. 41, illus. (col.) shown as Portrait

Henriette v. Motesiczky; Munich 1967, no. 41, illus. (col.), shown

as Portrait Henriette v. Motesiczky; Bremen 1968, no. 41, illus.

(col.), shown as Portrait Henriette v. Motesiczky; London 1985,

no. 48, illus. p. 43 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 48, illus. p. 43

(col.); Liverpool 2006, no. 54, illus. p. 177 (col.); Frankfurt am

Main 2006, no. 54, illus. p. 177 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 54,



bibliography

Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Spiel 1966, n.p. (Porträt Henriette v.

Motesiczky); M.B. 1967, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Berryman 1985,

illus. p. 628; Zimmermann 1985, n.p.; Plakolm-Forsthuber

1994, p. 167; Cohen 1996a, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504;

Phillips 2001, p. 33; Schlenker 2001, p. 2; Michel 2003, p. 70,

illus. Abb. 103 (col.); Schlenker 2003, p. 107; Foster 2004,

p. 143; Held 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker

2006b, pp. 202, 204 f.; Lloyd 2007, p. 165.




298

Fig. 130 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Head of Henriette von Motesiczky, 1959,

charcoal on paper, 404 × 294 mm (sight) (private collection)

299

161

Woman in Prole

Late 1950s


Verso: head of a woman


This is a portrait of an unknown woman shown

in profile. Her black hair is topped by a headdress

made of tied-up white cloth. A large,

dangling, pink and white earring plays around

her neck. She is wearing colourful blue and red

clothes and carries a calla lily, its yellow pistil

prominently glowing, that is probably part of

a larger bunch of flowers.

It has been suggested that the woman is

Indian. She is, however, more likely to be

Mexican as a comparison with In Church,

Mexico, 1956 (no. 144), reveals a woman with

a large bouquet of calla lilies. In spring 1956

Motesiczky visited Mexico as part of her extensive

travels around North and Central America.

She loved the abundance of colours and flowers

and was very impressed with the way the

Mexican painter and muralist Diego Rivera

had depicted calla lilies (fig. 110). This so far

undated painting may therefore be safely

located in the late 1950s.

162

Cook Attacked by Dragonflies

1950s



A mysterious, unexplained scene takes place in

this dingy, cavernous kitchen. Leaning over a

table placed in front of the large empty fireplace

is the cook, a chubby figure dressed in

baggy grey trousers with a white shirt over his

sizeable stomach. A white cap crowns his fleshy

face and a piece of white cloth seems to be

tucked into the top of his trousers. He is busy

kneading dough with his large hands. Three

already formed round, light brown loaves of

bread lie on the table. On the left, dark brown,

probably freshly baked, loaves sit on the

shelves of a contraption that might be an oven.

Motesiczky introduces a fantastical, almost

surreal element into this otherwise ordinary

activity with the three enormous dragonflies

that hover around the cook, seemingly intent

on attacking him. A fourth creature has already

flown into the oven. Yet the cook, unaware of

the danger or undisturbed by it, simply gets

on with his work. In its subtle suggestion of

an implicit threat from the air, Cook Attacked by

Dragonflies is not unlike The Magic Fish, 1956

(no. 146). It is unclear whether the artist was

inspired to do this painting by a dream.

300

163

The Two Friends

1950s

Oil and charcoal on canvas (not attached to stretcher),

750 × 1000 mm (painted area)


This unstretched canvas is a substantially

enlarged version of a painting Motesiczky

created in 1955, Girlfriends (no. 138). It shows the

encounter of two friends who, sitting on a bed,

enjoy a conversation and a cup of tea. While

the identity of both women is unknown, they

may represent the artist herself (on the left)

and her friend and flatmate, Julia Altschulova.

164

Waiting at the Airport

1950s

Oil on canvas (not attached to stretcher),

520 × 695 mm (painted area)


This unstretched canvas shows a scene at an

airport. An elderly couple, elegantly dressed,

sit in armchairs. Seemingly resigned to waiting

for their plane to be ready to board, they regard

their surroundings: the table in front is empty

apart from some flowers. Through a panoramic

window behind them two planes can be

glimpsed outside. Several men in uniform are

going about their business.

The painted area was originally larger,

extending to the right by a few centimetres.

At some point Motesiczky decided to decrease

the size of the composition by unstretching

the canvas, pinning it to a board and painting

a brown frame on it. Motesiczky appears to

have been unsure about the painting as it is

overpainted in several places and seems

unfinished.

301

165

Elias Canetti

1960


Signed (bottom right): M. Motesiczky 1960.

Wien Museum, Vienna (133.725)

The friendship between Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky and the writer and 1981 Nobel

Laureate Elias Canetti began in 1939 and lasted

until Canetti’s death in 1994. This portrait is

one of the first in a series that capture the

memorable features of Elias Canetti, whom

Motesiczky had lovingly nicknamed ‘Pio’. In

March 1955, Motesiczky noted in her diary:

‘Have made drawing for painting of Pio. Am

hoping that it will be a good picture.’ 1 Since

there is no surviving portrait of Elias Canetti

dating from the 1950s, it can be assumed that

studies for, and work on, this painting went

on for several years. Certainly by 1957 it had

already taken shape. 2 Yet the artist did not find

it easy to pin down her model, admitting that

‘Canetti really did not like to sit!’ 3 In the frequent

absence of the sitter, the artist probably resorted

to the drawings she had managed to sketch

and some polaroid photos to refresh her

memory of his exact features.

In this portrait Motesiczky chose to focus

on the writer’s majestic head. His surroundings

are indicated only by the glimpse of the back of

a red armchair in which he is seated. As if deep

in thought, his face, with its dark glasses and

furrowed forehead, has an air of deep concentration

and he has a compelling presence. The

brilliantly white cigarette provides an unusual,

stark highlight.

When the portrait was first exhibited at the

Vienna Secession in 1966 critical opinion was

divided. Several reviewers counted it among

the best works in the show, 4 but one critic

remarked disparagingly: ‘Her friendship with

the writer Elias Canetti may have brought

her many ingenious hours, but him only

a bad portrait. “Poor Canetti, how you have

changed!” Whoever has said that?’ 5 Closer to

home, the portrait was met with delight. Just

after its completion in 1960, Elias Canetti had

shown it to his wife Veza who, recovering from

an illness, had been constantly asking to see it.

She was strangely moved by it and, according

to Canetti, warmly praised the artist. 6

In May 1966 Canetti received the Dichterpreis

Fig. 131 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Head of Elias Canetti,

1960s, black chalk on paper, 245 × 175 mm (Marie-Louise


der Stadt Wien (Writer’s Prize of the City of

Vienna). He was particularly pleased since the

award ceremony coincided with Motesiczky’s

exhibition at the Vienna Secession and, he

reckoned, his growing fame could only foster

publicity for the exhibition, especially since, as

he wrote to Motesiczky, he ‘will meet numerous

people all of whom I can send or bring to your

exhibition’. 7 He also urged her to emphasize

their connection by pointing out his portrait

and Conversation in the Library, 1950 (no. 103),

showing him in discussion with his friend

Franz Baermann Steiner, at the press reception.

Elias Canetti speculated that the City of Vienna

would either commission Motesiczky to do a

portrait of him or simply purchase the portrait

on show. In fact, the City of Vienna acquired

this portrait and, the following year, passed it

on to the Historisches Museum der Stadt Wien

(now Wien Museum).

Fig. 132 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Elias Canetti,

undated, pen and ink on paper, 298 × 210 mm




charitable trust


1966: ‘Eben kam Dein Brief und ich schreibe Dir gleich,

um Dir ein wenig Mut zuzusprechen und auch um Dir

zu erzählen, dass zugleich mit Deinem ein anderer

Brief aus Wien kam, der zwar mich betrifft, sich aber

nur besonders günstig auf die Ausstellung auswirken

kann. Ein Direktor des österreichischen Rundfunks

teilte mir offiziell mit, dass ich für dieses Jahr zwar

nicht den Stadtpreis, dafür aber den Dichterpreis der

Stadt Wien zuerkannt bekommen habe. Ich soll am

16. Mai im Rathaus anwesend sein, um ihn entgegenzunehmen

und dafür zu danken. Das ist nun materiell

bestimmt nicht so günstig wie der Stadtpreis gewesen

wäre (ich weiss nicht einmal, ob Geld damit überhaupt

verbunden ist, das steht im Brief nicht drin) aber dafür

geschieht es jetzt, während Deiner Ausstellung, was

die Journalisten bestimmt interessieren wird. Es trifft

sich geradezu wunderbar, dass ich in Wien sein werde.

Der Rundfunk wird ein ganzes Programm über mich

machen und ich werde unzählige Leute kennen lernen,

302

303

die ich alle in Deine Ausstellung schicken oder bringen

kann. Ich bin sehr froh, dass Du den Presse-Empfang

in der Sezession haben wirst. Du darfst dabei nicht

sparen, es soll sehr schön sein, das haben die Leute

gern (aber nicht übertrieben üppig). Die Aufwartung

soll so sein, dass Du nicht daran zu denken hast, alles

soll von selber laufen. Dein Kopf soll für die Gespräche

frei bleiben. Du musst mir jetzt schon heilig

versprechen, ganz wenig oder nichts zu trinken, und

zwar aus folgenden Gründen: wenn man getrunken hat,

sagt man frei heraus, was man denkt. Die Journalisten

werden Dich allerhand fragen, Du darfst aber nie einen

Hieb gegen die Abstrakten oder die Wiener Surrealisten

riskieren, dazu ist Deine Stellung nicht stark genug. Du

musst sagen, dass es Dir um andere Sachen zu tun war,

Dich auf Beckmann berufen, einfach so natürlich reden,

wie Du es kannst, ohne andere Richtungen anzugreifen.

Wenn es sich ergibt, kannst Du auf Deine feine Art das

Steiner-Bild zeigen und sagen, dass ich der andere bin,

auch das Porträt kannst Du ruhig zeigen, alle werden

wissen, dass ich bald komme. Du sollst zum Beispiel

sagen, welche Bilder mir “offiziell” gehören. Vergiss

nicht, dass “Mutter mit Strohhalm” “Canettis

Lieblingsbild” von Dir ist. (Im Katalog gehört es mir).

Sag, dass ich bald komme, weil ich die Ausstellung

sehen will. Glaub mir, es ist viel besser, dass ich nicht bei

der Eröffnung dabei bin, jetzt noch mehr, weil sich

zuviel Aufmerksamkeit mir zugewandt hätte. Wenn ich

komme, so um den 9. herum, wird die Sache einen

neuen Impetus bekommen, und erst recht in der letzten

Woche nach der Preis-Verleihung im Rathaus. Ich halte

es jetzt für sehr wahrscheinlich, dass die Stadt ein Porträt

von mir bei Dir bestellt (wenn sie nicht das Vorhandene

gleich kauft).’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 4 May 1966:

‘Heute erfahre ich aus Wien, dass die Nachricht über

die Verleihung des Dichterpreises der Stadt Wien in

allen Zeitungen stand, am Sonntag. Ich hoffe, Du warst

bei Deiner Presse-Konferenz klug und hast die Sprache

auf das Porträt gebracht, es würde bedeuten, dass die

Zeitungen es Dir alle als Photo bringen und auch

damit auf Deine Ausstellung verweisen. Jedenfalls wird

das meiner Tätigkeit für den Maler Mulo in Wien ganz

anderen Nachdruck geben.’

Erika Lorenz to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 17 December

1986: ‘Nun zuletzt zu ihrem Bild – leider dem einzigen

in dieser Ausstellung [Kunst im Exil in England at the

Historisches Museum in Vienna]: Es war ein

Lichtstrahl im dunklen Winkel (es war auch tatsächlich

nicht gut ausgeleuchtet), es war so nah – nein hautnah,

als Betrachter fühlte ich dabei zu sein bei der Arbeit

mit Elias Canetti, der sich vielleicht gar nicht gerne die

Zeit dafür nahm, still zu sitzen. Es war ein Erlebnis!’

notes

1 ‘Habe Zeichnung zu Bild für Pio gemacht. Habe Hoffnung

dass es ein schönes Bild wird.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for 9 March 1955: Motesiczky

archive.

2 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, April 1957:

Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘Canetti ist garnicht gerne gesessen!’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Erika Lorenz, 29 December 1986: Motesiczky

archive.

4 Freundlich 1966; Hart 1966; Muschik 1966; Spiel 1966.

5 ‘Ihre Freundschaft mit dem Schriftsteller Elias Canetti

trug ihr vielleicht viele geistreiche Stunden ein, ihm nur

ein schlechtes Portrait. “Armer Canetti, wie hast du dir

verändert!” Wer hat das nur gesagt?’: VB 1966.

6 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 24 October


7 ‘werde unzählige Leute kennen lernen, die ich alle in

Deine Ausstellung schicken oder bringen kann’: Elias

Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 26 April 1966:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Culture Office of Vienna (purchased 1966); Historisches

Museum der Stadt Wien, now Wien Museum (passed on in

1967).

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, no. 44, illus., shown as Portrait Elias Canetti;

Linz 1966, no. 44, illus., shown as Portrait Elias Canetti;

Munich 1967, no. 44, illus., shown as Portrait Elias Canetti;

Bremen 1968, no. 44, illus., shown as Portrait Elias Canetti;

Vienna 1970, no. 129, illus. p. 23, shown as Porträt Elias

Canetti; London 1985, no. 49, illus. p. 81; Vienna 1986; Vienna

1999c, no. 3.26, illus. p. 46, shown as Der Schriftsteller Elias

Canetti; Liverpool 2006, no. 56, illus. p. 181 (col.); Frankfurt


illus. p. 181 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 56, illus. p. 181 (col.).

bibliography

Anonymous [Victor Matejka] 1966, illus. p. 15; BA 1966, n.p.;

Freundlich 1966, n.p.; Hart 1966, n.p., illus. n.p.; Muschik

1966, n.p. (Schriftsteller Elias Canetti); Pack 1966, n.p.;

Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Spiel 1966, n.p.; Sterk 1966, pp. 25 f.;

VB 1966, n.p.; Albrecht 1968, n.p.; d.w. 1968, illus. n.p.;

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63; Fallon 1985, n.p., illus. n.p.; Gaisbauer

1986, n.p.; Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, p. 173; Adunka 1994, p. 20;

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 54 f.n., illus. p. 112; Schlenker 2003,

p. 116; Adler 2006, pp. 14 f.; Orth 2006, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.);

Schlenker 2006b, pp. 202, 205; Schlenker 2006c, p. 180;

Schlenker 2006d, pp. 258 f.; Stadler 2006, illus. n.p.; Melchart

2007, illus. n.p.; Michel 2007, illus. p. 118 (col.) (Porträt Elias

Canetti); Wiesauer 2007, illus. n.p.

304

166

Blonde Woman

1960



This half-length portrait of an unidentified

model is probably part of a series of studies

made in the early 1960s of a young woman

called Lolita. She is wearing clothes identical

to those of the sitter for Lolita, 1962 (no. 180),

and also sports the same red fingernails, and in

the length and colour of her hair she resembles

the model for Lolita III, 1962 (no. 181). Although

the title Lolita II does not appear in the artist’s

records, this painting is probably part of the

series.

The sitter’s reddish-blonde hair, parted in

the middle, plays around her face with a slight

curl at the ends. She is raising her left hand as

if greeting someone or waving goodbye. The

artist seated her in front of a bare, grey wall,

enlivened only by what must be a curtain with

a pattern of bright red, yellow and blue-violet

stripes. These vivid colours are picked up in

the sitter’s jumper, the red fingernails and the

spots on her cheeks.

305

167

Hotel, Paris

1960


Private collection

In July 1960, Motesiczky travelled through

France. She stopped in Paris to see her Dutch

friend and fellow artist Berthe Edersheim

(1901–93) who lived with the Dutch author

Josepha Mendels. The two painters had shared

a studio in the French capital in the mid-1920s

where paintings including Workman, Paris, 1926

(no. 12), had been created. They reverted to

an old habit and worked together on the same

subject, this time the view from what seems

to have been the balcony of Motesiczky’s

hotel in Paris. In comparison to Edersheim’s

monochrome and formal depiction of the view

(which survived in her friend’s estate – fig. 133)

Motesiczky created a more playful, coloured oil

study. The view of the roofs and trees of Paris

is obstructed by the ornately decorated balcony

and the red awnings, seemingly blown about

by the wind. Executed in a sketchy manner, the

scene is devoid of any human presence despite

the fact that a hotel is normally busy.

provenance


Fig. 133 Berthe Edersheim, Hotel in Paris, 1960,

brush and ink on paper, 651 × 500 mm (Marie-Louise


306

168

Self-portrait with Palette

1960



This is one of the few self-portraits in which

Motesiczky depicts herself as a professional

painter with all the attributes of her trade.

Wearing a cap and dressed in a blue artist’s

smock, she is standing by an easel, holding the

large palette which also appears in Spanish

Still-life, 1955 (no. 141). She is working on a large

painting showing a slightly bedraggled bird,

probably an eagle, that hovers in a flying

posture, wings outstretched. A painting of an

eagle of this size does not exist. It is very likely

that Motesiczky is referring to the creation

of her largest work, The Old Song (no. 158), the

year before, in which an eagle features above

a harp in a comparable manner. Apart from the

family’s Italian greyhounds Motesiczky rarely

painted animals (Cat with Flowers, 1949, no. 86,

and Camels, 1964, no. 194, are two examples).

However, she often sketched them and

numerous drawings of monkeys, calves and

other animals survive in her estate.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 171.

307

169

Garden in the Summer

Garten im Sommer

1960



This outdoor scene shows the artist in

the garden of her Hampstead home at

6 Chesterford Gardens. Motesiczky bought

the house in 1959 and, during the following

months, undertook substantial alterations and

renovations. During the period of construction

work Motesiczky did not get much painting

done, a fact that she regretted very much:

‘One year I have betrayed painting and

built a house.’ 1

Garden in the Summer is probably one of

the first works that mark her return to painting.

Seen from the kitchen on the raised ground

floor of the house, it shows the glory of the

new garden and expresses Motesiczky’s joy

in living and working in it. The artist, who

was not a keen gardener, is bending down to

tend the plants. Behind her, the large central

flowerbed contains an array of plants, among

which broom, pink and white nicotiana, some

roses, and possibly pink azaleas or rhododendrons,

can be identified. The large oak tree in

the upper right-hand corner of the picture is

still a dominant feature of the garden although

it actually stands on the other side of the fence,

in the neighbour’s garden (see fig. 134). A lighthearted

touch is the partially hidden Italian

greyhound, the Motesiczky family dog, which

can be seen peeping out of the flowerbed, his

nose quivering above the lawn.

note

1 ‘Ein Jahr habe ich die Malerei verraten und an einem Haus

gebaut.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 1960:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Frankfurt am Main 2006, ex catalogue; Vienna 2007,

ex catalogue; Passau 2007, ex catalogue; Southampton 2007,

ex catalogue.

bibliography

Sander 2006, pp. 128 f.; Schlenker 2006b, pp. 202 f., illus.

p. 203 (col.); Lloyd 2007, p. 170.


sketch, c. 1960, graphite on paper,



308

170

Cars beneath a Palm Tree by a Lake

c. 1960



This landscape may have been inspired by

Motesiczky’s holiday in Switzerland in October

1960 which she spent with her cousin Sophie

Brentano in Blonay on Lake Geneva. The actual

location depicted has not, so far, been identified.

Huddled close together in an otherwise

empty car park, two cars are parked under the

shade of an expansive palm tree. A low railing

separates the car park from the beach to which

steps lead down on the right. The large lake is

surrounded by gentle hills in the distance. The

expanse of calm water is disturbed only by two

solitary boats. The distinctive charcoal drawing

of a car’s boot to the right of the cars indicates

that Motesiczky either slightly altered the

position of the cars or originally intended to

add a third car.

Several paintings by Max Beckmann show

similar waterside scenes, for example Kleine

italienische Landschaft, 1938 (fig. 135), and Hafen

bei Bandol (grau) und Palmen, 1939 (fig. 136).

Motesiczky was probably familiar with these

landscapes, especially with the former which was

in the possession of her aunt Ilse Leembruggen.

Fig. 135 Max Beckmann, Kleine italienische Landschaft, 1938, oil on canvas,

650 × 1054 mm (Kunsthalle Emden – Stiftung Henri und Eske Nannen und

Schenkung Otto van de Loo)

Fig. 136 Max Beckmann, Hafen bei Bandol (grau) und Palmen, 1939,

oil on canvas, 605 × 800 mm (Museum am Ostwall, Dortmund)

309

171

Still-life with Lilac

Stilleben mit Flieder

c. 1960


Michael Black

In 1960 Motesiczky and her mother moved

from Amersham to their new house in

Chesterford Gardens in Hampstead, where

this still-life was probably painted. The focal

point of the arrangement is the grey vase with

a handle containing an abundant bunch of

mauve and white lilac, that must have come

from the artist’s garden. The flowers partially

obscure the yellow shade of a table lamp which

throws a gentle light on the scene. Musical

instruments, a recorder and an oboe or clarinet,

have been placed behind the vase. They provide

a horizontal balance to the upward movement

of the flowers and the lamp.

provenance

Artist; Peter Black (gift c. 1989); Michael Black (purchased 1998).

exhibitions

London 1986b, dated 1945; Vienna 1994, no. 36, illus. (col.),

shown as Stilleben mit Flieder und Pfeifen; Manchester 1994,

no. 25, dated 1960.

172

Still-life, Bowl of Fruit with Pomegranate

Stilleben, Obstschale mit Granatapfel

c. 1960



This still-life prominently features a bowl with

a selection of fruit, among which are apples,

oranges and black grapes. A large pomegranate is

on top of the pile in the centre of the composition.

A dried pomegranate which survived in the artist’s

estate may have been used in this still-life. Behind

the bowl towers a rectangular table-top mirror

with an elaborate wooden stand and a mechanism

which allows the angle of the mirror to be

adjusted. The original, which is still in the artist’s

estate, however, does not double as a candlestick

as the artist suggested by the candle stubs and

remaining wicks on top of the side supports. It

has also been slightly reduced in size. A stringed

instrument, its body decorated with marquetry

work, leans against the wall on the right.

exhibitions

Vienna 2007, ex catalogue; Passau 2007, ex catalogue;

Southampton 2007, ex catalogue.

310

173

Roses, Toad and Nude

c. 1960



Arranged on a table, placed against the wall,

is a small glass vase holding a bouquet of large

pink roses, probably from the artist’s garden,

and a squatting dark green ceramic toad. The

plump animal is staring at the flowers, poised

in a crouching position as if ready to jump as

soon as its prey, perhaps a fly, emerges from

hiding among the flowers. Yet it may also be

ogling the painting of a female nude, reclining

in an abandoned if somewhat stiff pose, which

fills the wall above the table. The toad, which

survives in the artist’s estate, must have been

an object of which Motesiczky was rather fond.

It appears in several sketches for still-life

compositions (fig. 137).


black chalk on paper, 178 × 255 mm (Marie-Louise


311

174

Still-life with Brushes, Pineapple and Red Tulips

Stilleben mit Ananas

1960/1



Displayed next to each other on a table are

a pineapple in an ornamental white dish and

a white vase of red tulips. The flowers are past

their prime, their drooping heads already

touching the table top. The smaller tulip even

looks shrivelled while the yellowing leaves

tell the same story. Behind the table the green

back of a studded armchair and a selection

of brushes can be made out. In this still-life

Motesiczky experimented with an unusually

extended, horizontal canvas and bright, even

garish colours. Her usual compositional device

of placing arrangements of objects on the

edge of a table that juts into the picture plane,

is, however, reassuringly familiar.

312

175

Still-life with Inkpot, Ashtray and Matches

Stilleben mit Aschenbecher

1960/1



Motesiczky chose a narrow, horizontal canvas

to present this still-life of objects on a table.

The haphazard arrangement looks almost

accidental as if the artist had not bothered to

arrange the composition, being happy with

what she found on her table, as it was. The

collection of objects contains items the artist

regularly used for pleasure or work: a heavy

metal ashtray, a brightly coloured box of

matches, placed on a piece of cloth, a small

dark red vase, a blue bulging inkpot and two

large goose-quills, lying parallel across an

open book and a sheet of paper with a pen.

The objects in the centre, the ashtray and

the inkpot, throw strong shadows on the

tablecloth, highlighting their presence

and importance within the composition.

176

Still-life, Red Rose

1961



This still-life presents a large red rose with a

long, thick stem. Together with a large number

of leaves, it is displayed on an object that

cannot be identified – it could be a roughly

hewn wooden board or even a shoe. The lack

of detail and absence of other objects, as well

as the consistently neutral treatment of the

surrounding area, elevates the flower to a

monumental scale.

313

177

Henriette M.

1961


Manchester Art Gallery (1995.139)

The Austrian art critic Kristian Sotriffer,

writing about Motesiczky’s 1994 exhibition

at the Österreichische Galerie Belvedere in

Vienna, singled out this painting in his praise

for the artist’s work: ‘Motesiczky’s development

culminates in very personal, intimate works

like for example “Henriette M.” that are filled

with great charisma.’ 1

This portrait of Henriette von Motesiczky,

here in her late seventies, is part of a series

of images of the artist’s ageing mother.

The setting is far from obvious and may be

improvised. Facing the viewer and dressed

in a brownish house coat, Henriette von

Motesiczky is shown in what are probably

the familiar surroundings of her own room,

decorated with a large oval mirror on the back

wall. The well-known face with its characteristic

bulbous nose and large dark eyes bears a sad

and tired expression. Above her ear a wisp of

thin white hair has escaped from under her wig.

Motesiczky has covered a large portion of

the canvas with a transparent layer of dark

colour which, resembling a window frame,

creates the illusion that the sitter is looking out.

The overpainting took place in anticipation of

a restretching of the canvas that never took

place. The unusual framing device, which puts

the emphasis on the sitter’s face yet distances

the sitter from the viewer, was, nevertheless,

retained. The viewer is left wondering if the

mirror shows a reflection of a tree outside, as

the butterfly fluttering around it suggests, or

if Motesiczky was depicting a houseplant in

the room, as the patch of red, perhaps a pot,

might indicate.

note

1 ‘Motesiczkys Entwicklung kulminiert in den sehr

persönlichen, intimen, von großer Ausstrahlungskraft

erfüllten Bildnissen etwa der “Henriette M.”’: K.S.

[Kristian Sotriffer] 1994.

provenance

Artist; Manchester City Art Gallery, now Manchester Art

Gallery (purchased 1995).

exhibitions



1994, no. 26; Liverpool 2006, no. 58, illus. p. 183 (col.);




bibliography

K.S. [Kristian Sotriffer] 1994, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 993, illus.

p. 993; Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 54 f.n., 56 f.n., illus. p. 108;

Phillips 2001, illus. p. 31 (mirror image, incorrect title); Michel

2003, pp. 70 f., 75, illus. Abb. 105 (col.); Behr 2006, p. 561,

illus. p. 561 (col.); Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.

314

315

178

Still-life with Hyacinths

1961


Signed (top right): m. motesiczky. 1961.

Verso: still-life with tulips

Michael Black

This still-life was painted the year after

Motesiczky moved into her house in

Chesterford Gardens in Hampstead. A small,

round, knee-high table, placed against the

wall, holds a shallow terracotta bowl with

two white and two lilac hyacinths and a green

bottle, casting its shadow across the table top.

The simple composition was probably inspired

by the bowl with the four hyacinths, seen on

a photograph, probably taken in the still rather

bare garden, which survives in the artist’s

estate (fig. 138).

The painting’s provenance is unusual and

cannot be established without gaps. In the

early 1980s it appeared in a stall in Petticoat

Lane market where John Lessore, the son of

the art dealer Helen Lessore who had shown

Motesiczky’s works at the Beaux Arts Gallery

in the early 1960s, found it. The back of the

canvas shows a still-life with tulips and opera

glasses, said not to be the work of Motesiczky.

provenance

Artist; ?; John Lessore (purchased at a market stall in 1980/1);

Peter Black (purchased 1993); Michael Black (purchased 1993).

Fig. 138 A bowl of hyacinths in the garden,

Chesterford Gardens, photograph, c. 1961


316

179

Beach and Rocks

c. 1961



In a quick and sketchy manner Motesiczky

here paints a simple seascape. Wildly shaped

rocks divide the canvas between the sand

dunes of the foreground and the calm blue

mass of water and the light blue sky beyond.

On the horizon, which almost exactly bisects

the picture plane, the sea arcs gently – a device

the artist had already employed in Beach

Still-life, 1944 (no. 68), and Pier Llandudno, 1944

(no. 64). On the left, a gap in the rocks allows

a glimpse of white surf as the sea approaches

the beach. There is evidence of some vegetation

on this barren and empty stretch of sand: on

the far right, a thick short stem and a few sparse

leaves imply the presence of a hardy bush.

Beach and Rocks is probably the painting to

which Motesiczky referred in a hand-written

list of works as Landschaft Herm directly before

Landscape, Sark, 1962 (no. 182). It is therefore

likely that the painting, which has hitherto

been dated 1954, originated during or after the

artist’s visit to the Channel Islands in July 1961.

317

180

Lolita

1962



This is a portrait of a young model of whom

only the first name is known. She was apparently

a Spanish girl to whom Motesiczky gave

a room in exchange for sittings. Lolita is seated

in a green and orange armchair in front of a

sketchy grey background. Her shapely legs,

clad in tight black trousers, are drawn up. In

accordance with contemporary fashion, her red

hair is piled high with one strand escaping the

sophisticated hair-do. She gazes thoughtfully

and slightly forlornly into the middle distance

and awkwardly wrings her hands, which are

beautifully manicured.

Motesiczky produced several drawings of

this sitter, ranging in character from demure

and pious housewife with a headscarf (fig. 139)

to lazily reclining, half-naked vamp (fig. 140).

There is also one more portrait in oil, Lolita III,

1962 (no. 181). The same model appears in

Blonde Woman, 1960 (no. 166).

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 178.


Motesiczky, Lolita Seated,

early 1960s, charcoal on paper,

765 × 562 mm




Motesiczky, Lolita Reclining,

early 1960s, charcoal on paper,

560 × 762 mm



318

181

Lolita III

1962


Location unknown

At an unknown date Lolita III was purchased

by Lord McAlpine. The loan of this painting for

an exhibition had already been refused during

Motesiczky’s lifetime since it could apparently

not be found. It has since proved impossible to

locate the painting in the McAlpine collection.

A colour photograph in the artist’s possession

is therefore the only available record.

The full name of the model is unknown.

She is said to have been a Spanish girl to

whom Motesiczky gave a room in exchange

for sittings. The same year, Motesiczky painted

another portrait of her, Lolita (no. 180). The title

Lolita III suggests the existence of a further

painting, yet a work titled Lolita II does not exist.

Blonde Woman, 1960 (no. 166), which shows

the same model, may be the missing work in

the series. Motesiczky also produced several

drawings of Lolita in various poses, ranging

from prim to lascivious (figs 139, 140 and 141).

In this half-length portrait, Lolita is shown in

a pensive mood, resting her head on her hand.

Her pale, oval face, enlarged by the fact that

a white headband keeps her hair off her forehead,

is characterized by her marked, black

eyebrows and a long, straight nose under

which her tiny mouth almost disappears.

provenance

Artist; Lord McAlpine (probably purchased at the Beaux Arts

Gallery in early 1960s).


early 1960s, graphite on paper, 357 × 228 mm


319

182

Landscape, Sark

Landschaft Sark

1962



This seascape was inspired by Motesiczky’s

holiday in Guernsey in July 1961, from where

she visited the neighbouring smaller island of

Sark. It was painted back at home in London

from a sketch made on the spot. The sea takes

up most of the space, covering more than half

of the canvas. A single sailing boat disturbs its

empty and calm surface which is illuminated

by a strange, diffuse light that emanates from

the overcast grey sky. The bluish-grey mass of

water is divided by a large rock in the centre of

the composition, which casts a strong shadow,

and by a smaller one on either side. A single

figure, probably representing Motesiczky

herself, sits amid the rocky outcrops and

colourful vegetation of the foreground. The

easel identifies her as an artist, seemingly

involved in recording the natural spectacle

before her. Yet the sketchy, almost transparent

manner of depiction make her appear strangely

out of place in this deserted landscape.

exhibition

Munich 1967, no. 63 (ex catalogue).

320

183

Psychoanalyst

Psychoanalytiker

1962



London

The Motesiczky family’s connections with

psychoanalysis are numerous and span several

generations. The artist’s maternal grandmother,

Anna von Lieben (1847–1900), was an

early patient of Sigmund Freud and thus a

crucial inspiration in the creation of psychoanalysis.

The artist herself underwent a brief

period of analysis by Paul Federn, and her

brother Karl was treated for several years by

Wilhelm Reich, the physician-scientist and

student of Sigmund Freud with whom he also

worked. Karl’s analysis began in 1932 and came

to a rather sudden end when the deteriorating

financial situation of Henriette von Motesiczky

in 1934 no longer allowed the funding of the

treatment. Early on, the artist seems to have

wholeheartedly embraced the idea of psychoanalysis,

but in later years her attitude appears

to have become more ambiguous. Although,

in the 1970s, she steadily encouraged a young

friend, Jörg Roth, to become a psychoanalyst,

she never took up a friend’s suggestion of

consulting a psychoanalyst herself to deal with

her own problems. Furthermore, Motesiczky

was certainly aware of Elias Canetti’s strong

aversion to psychoanalysis. This dislike, which,

to a certain degree, she seems to have shared,

is conveyed by this portrait.

Conventionally dressed in a grey suit, the

slim figure of the psychoanalyst is seated in a

chair in front of a bare green wall. The stark

surroundings give no clue to the sitter’s occupation

or personality – only the sitter himself

reveals some aspects of his character as the

artist perceives them. His bald head and the

prominent ears, his extraordinary slanting eyes

and slight grin give the sitter a demonic and

secretive, even threatening, air. With his hands

involved in a mysterious activity with a ball of

wool, he seems to be enjoying disentangling

the chaos in his lap and in the mind of his

invisible client.

Several scholars have suggested the model

might have been Karl Landauer (1887–1945), cofounder

of the Frankfurter Psychoanalytisches

Institut in 1929. Although there is a certain

resemblance it is unlikely that Motesiczky

knew Landauer. The only clue Motesiczky left

as to the identity of the sitter is the fact that

he was an American analyst working in Vienna

and a friend of hers. Ultimately his identity

may not matter since she appears to have

intended to depict a generic type rather than

an individual.

Contemporary critics, who first saw

Psychoanalyst on public display in the late

1960s, picked up on the ‘faunlike-macabre’ 1

and ‘grotesque’ 2 qualities of the portrait and

praised the artist’s ability to narrate in painting

with light irony and a sense of caricature. 3

notes

1 ‘faunisch-makabre’: Spiel 1966.

2 ‘grotesken’: J.Wdt. 1968.

3 Ibid.

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, no. 47, dated 1963; Linz 1966, no. 47, dated 1963;

Munich 1967, no. 47, dated 1963; Bremen 1968, no. 47, dated

1963; Liverpool 2006, ex catalogue.

bibliography

b. 1966, n.p.; Pack 1966, n.p.; Spiel 1966, n.p.; J.Wdt. 1968,

n.p.; Black 2006, p. 57.

321

184

Birthday

Geburtstag

1962



Motesiczky rarely used such an extreme,

horizontal format. In this instance, her choice

seems to have been determined by the shape

of the small round Victorian table, decorated

with a camel motif underneath its glass top,

on which a series of objects are placed. These

include a pile of three books, an earthenware

jug with two roses and a burning candle, perhaps

a Lebenslicht, a single light celebrating the fact of

life instead of the number of years accumulated

on a birthday. The table’s mirror-like surface

reflects the objects, creating an illusion of more

objects than are actually present.

Despite the quiet beauty of the still-life, the

emotionally charged and fundamentally lonely

circumstances that led to its creation can be

felt. Here, clearly, is an event to which the

artist attached great sentimental value. It has

been suggested that the birthday commemorated

here could be that of Elias Canetti, not

present to share in the celebration. It seems

more likely, however, that Motesiczky chronicles

her own birthday on 24 October as she

does in the undated drawing Birthday Still-life

with Photo (p. 538). The bright flame of the

candle, doubled by its reflection and ‘burning

with an almost human fire’ 1 could be an

attempt at consolation for the absence of

human companions. The subject-matter of

the still-life had apparently been suggested

by Elias Canetti.

In 1986 the conductor André Previn (born in

1929), having been shown some of Motesiczky’s

paintings, expressed his wish to purchase this

picture, but Motesiczky could not bring herself

to part with it.



charitable trust

André Previn to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 9 July 1986:

‘It has been months since my wife and I came to visit

you, but I hope you’ve not forgotten us entirely. I have

been travelling and conducting without stop since,

have been impossible to find, and unable to contact

you. Now I am at home here in England until July 20,

after which I have to go to America until August 20.

If you can recall, of all the paintings we admired at

your house, we loved the one called “Birthday” (1962)

the most and I wanted respectfully to ask whether

it might still be possible for me to buy that picture.

I know exactly where I would like it to live in my house,

and it would make my wife and me extremely happy if

it were still something we might discuss. If you have a

moment, would you be able either to call me or drop

me a note? … If I don’t hear from you, I will certainly

understand but will call you anyway sometime next

week. I hope you are well and painting happily. It was

a privilege to meet you, and I look forward to seeing

you again.’

note

1 ‘brennt mit einem fast menschlichen Feuer’: Adler 1994,

p. 17.

exhibitions


Bremen 1968, no. 45; Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 79, dated

c. 1960; London 1985, no. 51, illus. p. 44 (col.); Vienna 1994,

no. 38, illus. (col.); Manchester 1994, no. 27.

bibliography

Adler 1994, p. 17; Black 1997, p. 993.

322

185

Night Still-life

Stilleben mit Stehlampe

1962


Location unknown

Since the present whereabouts of Night Still-life

are unknown, a poor-quality black-and-white

illustration of what is probably a relatively large

work is the only available source. The objects in

the still-life are arranged on a table in front of a

window, with a curtain on the left, through which

the darkening sky and a group of trees can be

seen. The items on the table are, probably, from

left to right: a telephone, a table lamp (possibly

the same one that was used in Still-life with

Lilac, c. 1960, no. 171) and a pile of books.

The painting left Motesiczky’s possession in

1964 when it was sold at the Beaux Arts Gallery.

When, two years later, the artist tried to locate

it for her forthcoming exhibition in Vienna, it

proved impossible to find: ‘Small trouble like

for example that three pictures which have

been sold by the Beaux Arts Gallery two years

ago can’t be found. I let the pictures go so

cheaply because I was happy that someone

wanted them. I was told a gallery [bought

them] – even more flattered – I see, I thought:

someone wants to make a bargain! Now it

becomes apparent that it was a firm of builders

and contractors – they immediately sold the

pictures on again – were hellishly rude when

I asked them to help me find the pictures.’ 1

note

1 ‘Kleine Unanehnmlichkeiten wie z.B. das 3 Bilder die

von der Beaux Arts Gallery vor 2 Jahren verkauft wurden

unauffindbar sind Ich hab die Bilder so billig hergegeben

weil ich mich freute dass sie wer will. Man sagte mir eine

Galerie – noch mehr geschmeichelt – a ha dachte ich: da

will einer ein Geschäft machen! Jetzt stellt sich heraus das

war eine Baufirma – die haben die Bilder soffort wieder

verkauft – waren sau grob als ich sie bat mir zu helfen

die Bilder zu finden.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Theo Garve, 7 February 1966: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; sold at the Beaux Arts Gallery to an unknown

buyer in 1964.

323

186

Mother with a Straw

Mutter mit Strohhalm

1962



Seen from an unusually low, close viewpoint,

this intimate scene portrays the artist’s mother,

Henriette von Motesiczky, lying in bed. Behind

her almost bald head are the outlines of the

carved wooden bedhead. The bedside table

holds a large glass and a blue jug, from which

the old lady is drinking through a yellow straw.

On the other side of the bed, Henriette von

Motesiczky’s devoted Italian greyhound Bubi

(also called Wixi) is watching his mistress as if

anticipating participation in the refreshment.

The beautiful black dressing gown with a

devoré pattern of golden velvet leaves blends

in with the subdued range of twilight and

nocturnal colours in which numerous small

highlights stand out.

First shown in an exhibition of the Beaux

Arts Gallery’s regular artists in 1963, this

portrait was praised for giving ‘a particularly

warm, personally observed impression’ 1 of

the elderly sitter. It did not find a buyer and

was subsequently included in the artist’s first

solo exhibition in Vienna in 1966 where it

was counted ‘among the strongest portraits

that could be seen in Austria in the recent

past’. 2 By then, the portrait belonged to Elias

Canetti who called it his favourite painting by

Motesiczky. 3 According to Miriam Rothschild,

a sitter and friend, Motesiczky, who was never

keen to discuss her work, did occasionally talk

about the pictures she painted of her mother,

and especially about this portrait.



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 27 July 1963:

‘Ja Piolein und in der Times bin ich scheinbar erwähnt,

recht günstig “Old women sipping Limonade” in extra

Absätzchen: “mit besonderer Liebe gemalt.” Milein

las es mir vor am Telephon hab’s noch nicht selbst

gesehen.’


1966: ‘Ich bin sehr froh, dass Du den Presse-Empfang

in der Sezession haben wirst … Du sollst zum

Beispiel sagen, welche Bilder mir “offiziell” gehören.

Vergiss nicht, dass “Mutter mit Strohhalm” “Canettis

Lieblingsbild” von Dir ist. (Im Katalog gehört es mir).

Sag, dass ich bald komme, weil ich die Ausstellung

sehen will.’

notes

1 Anonymous 1963.

2 ‘zu den stärksten Bildnissen, die man in der letzten Zeit

in Österreich sehen konnte’: Hart 1966.

3 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 26 April 1966:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Elias Canetti (before 1966); artist (before 1985).

exhibitions

London 1963, probably shown as Old Woman drinking through

a straw; Vienna 1966, no. 46, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 46, illus.;

Munich 1967, no. 46, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 46, illus.;


illus. p. 46 (col.); Vienna 2004b, illus. p. 222 (col.); Frankfurt




bibliography

Anonymous 1963, n.p. (Old Woman drinking through a straw);

Hart 1966, n.p.; Kraft 1966, n.p., illus. n.p.; Spiel 1966, n.p.;

M.B. 1967, n.p.; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; J.Wdt. 1968, n.p.; Gaisbauer

1986, n.p. (Mother with the Straw); Anonymous [Jeremy Adler]

1996, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504; Vorderwülbecke 1999,

pp. 34, 53 f.n., illus. p. 81; Michel 2003, p. 70, illus. Abb. 104

(col.); Lloyd 2004, p. 223, illus. p. 222 (col.); Schlenker 2005,

p. 134, illus. p. 136; Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, illus. n.p. (col.); Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, pp. 168, 184; Schlenker 2006d,

p. 258; Sternburg 2006, n.p.

Fig. 142 Henriette von Motesiczky in bed,

photograph, 1960s/70s (Motesiczky archive)

324

325


graphite on paper, 355 × 255 mm (Marie-Louise



ballpoint pen on paper, 255 × 355 mm (Marie-Louise


326

187

Uncle Ernst

Onkel Ernst

1963


Verso: head of a man


This portrait shows the artist’s uncle, Ernst

von Lieben (fig. 145), in old age. Born in Vienna

in 1875, he was the elder brother of Henriette

von Lieben, Motesiczky’s mother. In 1901 he

received his doctorate in Chemistry from the

University of Vienna and subsequently worked

in the family bank Lieben & Cie. (from 1921

Auspitz, Lieben & Co.) in Vienna. Throughout

his life, he practised as an inventor. He left

Austria in the late 1930s and, unable to obtain

a visa for the USA, spent the war years in

Cuba. After the war he lived in Portugal for a

number of years before eventually returning

to Vienna, where he died in 1970.

This painting, hitherto dated 1960, must

have been created in 1963 as proved by several

letters, which the artist wrote to Elias Canetti.

In May 1963 Ernst von Lieben stayed with

the Motesiczkys in Chesterford Gardens.

Motesiczky was working on a portrait of her

Fig. 145 Ernst von Lieben, photograph, undated


uncle which proved rather difficult due to the

model’s inability to sit still: ‘At noon I cooked

a barbecue meal for mother and Uncle Ernst …

Later Uncle Ernst is to sit for me. The sitting

yesterday was miserable – he is much worse

than a five-year-old child, mocking and restless

and not at all willing to cooperate in the

slightest. This again and again reminds me

that I must draw a hundred thousand times

more. I must have better, faster drawings

and then work alone – perhaps this is a way

to finally leave my awful difficulties behind.

(I often feel like a roulette player who has

lost everything and when I go into the studio

I want to regain everything with one large

brush stroke – but it doesn’t work like that)’. 1

Despite the struggle with the sitter and

the artist’s dissatisfaction with the process,

the completed portrait is an intimate and

sympathetic depiction of Ernst von Lieben

in his eighties. Seated in an armchair with his

eyes, deep in their sockets, closed, he appears

peaceful and at rest, perhaps even asleep – in

contrast to Motesiczky’s comments. His high

forehead is marked by horizontal lines and

framed by silvery hair. Red and bluish marks

indicate the sitter’s mottled skin, which is

tightly stretched over sunken cheeks and a

receding chin. The artist may have resolved to

overcome her problems with this fidgety sitter

by catching him unawares. Several pages in her

sketchbook are filled with studies of Ernst von

Lieben (figs 143 and 144). Some focus purely

on his head, and others show him reading or

as a part of a scene with the artist, reclining

on a bed, and her mother. Motesiczky seems

to have carried the idea of a static sitter almost

to its extreme, leading to the strange effect that

the portrait vaguely resembles a death mask.

The painting, however, bears witness to the

artist’s struggle: while the background remains

unresolved with clumsy shadows only and the

suggestion of a plant, several charcoal lines

on the right indicate the artist’s abandoned

intention to add something, perhaps a hand

(which is included in some sketches).

note

1 ‘Mittags habe ich für Mutter u. Onkel Ernst eine

Holzkohlenmahlzeit gekocht … Später soll Onkel Ernst

mir sitzen. Gestern die Sitzung war elend – er ist auch

ärger als ein 5 jähriges Kind, spöttisch und unruhig und

gar nicht bereit auch nur im leisesten mit zu arbeiten.

Das bringt mich immer wieder darauf dass ich hunderttausendmal

mehr zeichnen muss. Ich muss bessere

schnelle Zeichnungen haben und dann allein arbeiten –

das ist vielleicht ein Weg um endlich aus meinem schrecklichen

Schwierigkeiten herauszukommen. (komm mir

oft vor wie ein Roulettespieler der alles verloren hat und

wenn ich in’s Atelier gehe möchte ich mit einem grossen

Pinselstrich alles wieder zurückgewinnen – so geht’s aber

nicht)’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,


exhibitions

Vienna 2004b, illus. p. 28 (col.), shown as Ernst v. Lieben;





bibliography

Lloyd 2004, p. 214; R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Schlenker 2006c,

p. 186.

327

188

Margit Döry

1963



Motesiczky made pictorial records of several

members of her close and more distant family.

In this portrait, she depicts Margit Baronin

Döry de Jobbaháza (1896–1988), who had been

married to Heinrich von Lieben, Henriette von

Motesiczky’s cousin. In 1956 Motesiczky had

already painted the sitter’s son Nicolas Lytton.

The Motesiczkys kept in touch with their relative

who had stayed in Vienna, exchanging

visits. In 1953, for example, Henriette von

Motesiczky received a succinct assessment

of Margit Döry from her daughter in Vienna:

‘Visited Margit’s tearoom, ate Döritorte.

Found Margit rather nice’. 1 Margit Döry wrote

several volumes of poetry which appeared

between 1970 and 1982.

Margit Döry visited the artist and her

mother in Hampstead in 1963. Her presence

and the intended portrait prompted

Motesiczky to write the following thoughtful

lines in a letter to Elias Canetti: ‘Margit is here

… Well, and now I go to the studio – this is

true – in the garden the grass is growing, no

gardener – but even if a lot is going on, I have

less fear of “individual” things (… gardener,

tenants who all cancel – portrait that I might

not be able to get right etc. etc.) … The only

important issue is and will be – a good

painting’. 2

The resulting portrait depicts Margit Döry

in her late sixties. Her attentive face has a

look of surprise, her eyebrows are raised and

her black eyes wide. The colour of her rosy

cheeks and thin-lipped mouth is echoed by the

tint of her greyish hair, which is covered with

a light blue scarf knotted at the nape of her

neck. The white pearl in her ear, the elegant

swirls of a chair back and, behind her head,

the indication of what may be the oval frame

of a painting of a vase of flowers or a mirror

reflecting this image, allude to the sitter’s

distinguished personality.

notes

1 ‘Margit Teestube besucht, Döritorte gegessen. Margit recht

nett gefunden’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette

von Motesiczky, 10 September [1953]: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘die Margit ist da … So und jetzt gehe ich in’s Atelier – das

ist wahr – im Garten wächst das Gras, kein Gärtner – aber

wenn so allerhand los ist, hab ich weniger Angst vor vor

“Einzelnen” Dingen (… Gärtner, Mieter die alle absagen –

Porträt das ich nicht zu sammen bringen könnte u.s.w.

u.s.w.) … Der einzig feste Punkt ist und bleibt – ein gutes

Bild’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,


328

189

Gerda

1964



The sitter in this portrait has not, so far, been

identified; only her first name is recorded.

Although there are several women called Gerda

among the Motesiczkys’ friends and relatives,

an index card that has survived in the artist’s

estate reads ‘Model – Gerda’, indicating that

she probably had no personal connection with

the artist.

Gerda is seated on a chair with a high,

rounded back that echoes her silhouette. The

uniform grey wall in the background finds a

colourful contrast in the sitter’s yellow shortsleeved

top, her painted fingernails providing

additional highlights. Perfectly combed, short

brown hair frames her face, which subtle

make-up and earrings further enhance. A

slightly over-large right forearm juts out at the

bottom of the picture, creating a barrier

between the viewer and the model. Her arm

probably supports the newspaper or magazine

she is holding in her left hand. Gerda, however,

is not reading but gazing at something over

the top of her reading material.

329

190

Sheela Bonarjee

Inderin

1964


Signed (bottom left): marie louise 1969

Sheela Bonarjee, London

Sheela Bonarjee (born in 1934) recollects that,

in 1964, Motesiczky had seen her sitting on

a bench on Hampstead Heath, reading

a book, and asked if she could paint her.

Sheela Bonarjee agreed and was taken back to

Chesterford Gardens for tea and home-made

Apfelstrudel. She also met the artist’s mother

and Elias Canetti. Work on the portrait was

begun soon after this initial meeting. Upon

hearing that Sheela Bonarjee would not be able

to keep still doing nothing for very long during

the sittings, Elias Canetti had recommended

she busied herself reading while he could

provide further entertainment by explaining

his novel, Die Blendung (Auto-da-fé), which had

just appeared in the USA – said to be the book

Sheela Bonarjee is engrossed in. A few years

after its completion, the painting was given to

the sitter. In the 1980s having heard comments

about apparently ‘not wearing any trousers’ due

to the fleshlike colour of these garments in the

picture, Sheela Bonarjee took the opportunity

to ask the artist to give them a different hue

and sign the so far unsigned work. Motesiczky

did as she was asked (adding the incorrect

date ‘1969’ to the signature) and furthermore,

surprisingly, substantially changed the whole

composition. The reason for the alteration

is unknown. The sitter, however, was happy

with the new image.

The original version (fig. 146) had shown

Sheela Bonarjee reclining on a divan, reading

a book. In the background a little snake was

curled round the wooden bedhead and

appeared to be heading for the pile of cushions

and duvets. In the reworked version only the

pose of the sitter remains the same. She is

transferred from a cosy indoor setting to an

exposed outdoor terrain. In the background

Motesiczky created a seascape, complete with

sailing boats and cliffs, probably inspired by

Sheela Bonarjee’s recent holiday in Greece. In

the bottom right corner, Motesiczky added a

bird, presumably a seagull, which also appears

to read the book. In her work Motesiczky

repeatedly turned to the catalogue raisonné

of Max Beckmann’s paintings for ideas and

inspiration. Published in 1976, the two volumes

in the artist’s estate testify to heavy usage by

the numerous paint smears on their pages.

The 1940 painting Die Möwen (fig. 147) must

have appealed to Motesiczky in this context.

Her bird seems to be modelled on Beckmann’s.

According to Sheela Bonarjee, Motesiczky did

not like the painting very much since the model

was not looking at the viewer but reading a

book. Several years earlier, by contrast, she

had been happy with Ursula Vaughan Williams

doing just that. Elias Canetti, however, was

pleased with it, appreciating the way she had

captured the scene naturally.

provenance

Artist; Sheela Bonarjee (gift late 1960s).

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, pp. 178 f.

Fig. 146 Sheela Bonarjee and friend in front of the original version

of her portrait, photograph, 1960s (Collection Sheela Bonarjee)

Fig. 147 Max Beckmann, Die Möwen, 1940, oil on canvas,

size unknown, location unknown

330

331

191

Snake Charmer

1964

Oil and pastel on canvas, 800 × 501 mm


In May 1964 Motesiczky visited Tunisia. She

much admired the local fauna and enjoyed

camel rides and visits to markets where she

may have come across this little group of snake

charmers. A bearded man, dressed in lilac

trousers and a white top that leaves his chest

bare, handles the snake. While its head is held

firmly in the snake charmer’s grip, its thick

body winds round his shoulders, continuing

down along and between his legs with the tip

of the tail just touching the ground. The lower

half of the snake is only sketched in and therefore

difficult to discern. The snake charmer’s

female companion, standing further back and

protected from the sun by a green parasol, is

entirely covered by a long yellow dress. She is

playing the flute and accompanying the tricks

he performs with the snake.

Motesiczky must have abandoned the

painting at some point as the unfinished state

of the snake, the unresolved area to the left of

the man’s head and the incomplete left hand

of the flautist show. Besides, there are several

elements in the composition that do not make

much sense in an outdoor setting, for example,

the round rug on which the man is standing

and the cascading, curtain-like structure on

the right. Snakes seem to have fascinated

Motesiczky that year. The original version of

Sheela Bonarjee, 1964 (no. 190), showed a snake

winding its way around the bedhead (fig. 146).

332

192

Circus Scene

1964



At first glance, this looks like an imaginary

scene with toy figures or small statues. In fact,

as shown by three photographs in the artist’s

collection on which the composition is based,

Motesiczky here re-creates an actual circus

performance which she probably attended

(fig. 148). The equestrian act takes place in a

claustrophobically small arena beyond which

the spectators are depicted as an unfocused

mass. The four white circus ponies are

presented by their trainer who is dressed in

a white evening gown with a low neckline. She

waves a huge green feather boa over her head,

and the animals are adorned with blue feathered

plumes attached to their harness. They are in the

middle of performing their tricks, curtseying,

rearing or waiting for their turn. The small

unfinished area to the left and the larger one

to the right of the circus scene indicate that

the size of the canvas is not quite right for the

composition. The artist may have reused an

old canvas, overpainting the original image.

Fig. 148 Circus ponies, photograph, early 1960s


333

193

Iris Murdoch

1964


St Anne’s College, Oxford

The writer and philosopher Iris Murdoch met

Motesiczky through Elias Canetti and Franz

Baermann Steiner, who became unofficially

engaged to her shortly before his death.

Murdoch’s appreciation of, and interest in,

Motesiczky’s paintings span several decades

and reached a climax in 1963 when Murdoch

commissioned Motesiczky to paint her portrait

when she became an honorary fellow in

philosophy and left St Anne’s College, Oxford,

in order to devote her time fully to her novels.

As a parting gift to the college, Murdoch

was willing to pay the difference between the

college’s contribution and Motesiczky’s normal

fee. Murdoch chose Motesiczky as an artist

she personally admired and thought was undervalued

in this country. With this commission

she hoped to help increase Motesiczky’s

reputation and make her more familiar to

a wider audience.

Murdoch started to sit for the portrait in

early autumn 1963 and continued at irregular

intervals well into 1964. In between the sittings,

Motesiczky tried to paint her from memory.

These ‘unaided’ attempts sometimes proved

very fruitful and even more satisfying than

when the sitter had been present. ‘I have

managed to capture Iris … much better

by heart’, Motesiczky wrote to Canetti on

4 November 1963. 1 Working without the sitter

had made Motesiczky aware of the special

nature of Murdoch’s features: ‘she really has

a very good face if one understands that she is

a man and not a woman.’ 2 The finished portrait

indeed does not dwell on Murdoch’s feminine

qualities and corresponds with a remark John

Bayley made about his wife: ‘Iris in general

was never “female” at all.’ 3

Motesiczky portrayed Murdoch facing the

viewer, her head turned to the right with an

absent, dreamlike expression on her face and

a slightly windblown air about her whole

presence. Fittingly, she is seated in front of a

background of an animated dark sea on which

the prow of a ship can be identified, cutting

diagonally across the picture plane. The ship

was the emblem of St Anne’s College. By

depicting it in the background Motesiczky

places Murdoch in her collegial context and

also marks the occasion the portrait was to

commemorate. Motesiczky appears to have

settled on the idea for the general atmosphere

of the painting and especially the sea setting

during an overnight sea crossing to the continent

where she ‘saw wonderful things on deck.

There the people really look the way I would

love to have them in a portrait. Grey and green

and black and only the heads illuminated. If

only Iris had been sitting there!’ 4

The reception of the portrait was ambiguous.

One viewer is said to have mistaken the

ship for an aeroplane crashing into the sea.

The historian and educationist Marjorie

Reeves, a colleague of Murdoch’s at St Anne’s

College, found it a ‘powerful portrait’ but felt

that the overall ‘ship-wrecked’ appearance of

the sitter did not capture the various aspects

of Murdoch’s personality adequately. 5 Helen

Lessore, Motesiczky’s London dealer at the

time, thought the background too decorative

and urged Motesiczky to re-paint it. ‘She

considers Iris’s head to be one of my very best

heads’, 6 Motesiczky wrote to Canetti. Murdoch

herself, who saw the portrait when it was

nearly completed, found it uncannily accurate.

She noted in her diary: ‘I think it is wonderful,

terrible, so sad and frightening, me with the

demons. How did she know?’ 7



charitable trust

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 13 July 1963:

‘Ich hatte der Iris geschrieben, die mir hierher geantwortet

hat. Ich sagte ihr, dass Dein normaler Preis für

Porträts zwischen 200–250 Pfund sei. Du bestehst aber

darauf, es für sie zu reduzieren. Sie ist sehr begeistert

davon, dass Du bereit bist, sie zu malen, und bittet

Dich, den Preis nicht zu sehr zu reduzieren. Sie muss

bald nach Canada und kommt am 17. August zurück.

Dann, wenn Du kannst, möchte sie mit den Sitzungen

beginnen. Bis dahin hast Du vielleicht schon ein

Porträt von Pio gemalt.’

Fig. 149 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Iris Murdoch,

1963/4, charcoal on paper, 565 × 488 mm (Marie-Louise


Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 27 July 1963:

‘Hast Du von der Iris gehört? Sie ist jetzt in Kanada

und kommt am 17. zurück. Sie möchte sehr gern, dass

Du dann gleich mit ihrem Porträt beginnst’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 6 September

1963: ‘ertappe ich mich doch dabei, wie ich an mein

Zimmer bei Dir denke, wo die Pappeln draussen leise

für mich tanzen. Auch der kleine Musikant im Garten

geht mir ab und besonders der Geruch des Malens. Ich

wäre gern dabei gewesen, als Iris kam, schon damit sie

begreift, dass sie öfters kommen muss. Aber ich werde

sie gleich nach meiner Rückkehr sehen und mit ihr

darüber sprechen.’


10 September 1963: ‘In der “Queen” las ich eine

Besprechung vom neuen Iris Buch – Anna Sebastian

[Friedl Benedikt] wird erwähnt – es wird Sie interessieren

Iris wird sehr kritisiert … Von Iris bis jetzt

noch nichts gehört.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 6 November

1963: ‘Hier war’s sehr schon die Ausstellung wunderbar

und sehr interessant für mich (im Katalog ein Zitat aus

dem Tagebuch: “ich glaube ich male kein Porträt mehr.

Nein. Es ist so undankbar und es wird doch nie so wie

man will.” Das hat mich sehr getrostet und auch Mut

für die Iris gemacht. Es ist eben nicht so leicht Und

was die Ahnlichkeit anbetrifft stelle ich eben andere

Ansprüche wie Beckmann und weil ich kleiner bin hab

ich’s noch schwerer.’


19 November 1963: ‘Morgen sehe ich Iris aber nicht

zum arbeiten sondern in der Stadt weil ich noch ein

wenig daran auswendig machen möchte und doch

die Erinnerung auffrischen.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 30 April

1964: ‘Die Lessore schliesst ihre Galerie – noch nicht

gleich aber in einem Jahr … Bei der Iris will sie

334

durchaus dass ich den Hintergrund ganz wegmache.

Das kann ich nicht und so wird sie wohl das Bild nicht

ausstellen und zu guter letzt werde ich in ihrer Porträt

Ausstellung kein einziges Bild haben scheint mir. Den

Iris Kopf selbst findet sie einen meiner allerbesten

Köpfe. Aber der Hintergrund sei zu ilustrativ … und

nächsten Donnerstag esse ich mit Iris.’

provenance

Artist; St Anne’s College (presented by the sitter in 1964).

notes

1 ‘Iris hab ich auswendig … besser getroffen’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 4 November 1963:

Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘eigentlich hat sie ein sehr gutes Gesicht wenn man

versteht dass sie ein Mann u. keine Frau ist.’: ibid.

3 Bayley 1998, p. 59.

4 ‘wunderbare Sachen gesehen am Deck. Da sehen die

Leute eigentlich so aus wie ich sie gerne auf einem

Porträt hätte. Grau u. grün und schwarz und nur die

Köpfe beleuchtet. Wenn da die Iris gesessen wäre!’:



5 Marjorie Reeves to Ines Schlenker, 18 June 2000:

Motesiczky archive.

6 ‘Den Iris Kopf selbst findet sie einen meiner allerbesten

Köpfe’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,


7 Iris Murdoch, unpublished diary entry for 16 February

[1964], kindly made available by Peter Conradi.

exhibitions





bibliography

Anonymous [ Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 992;

Conradi 2001, p. 374; Phillips 2001, p. 32; Schlenker 2001,

pp. 2–4, illus. on cover (col.); Michel 2003, p. 54, illus. Abb. 73

(col.); Schlenker 2003, pp. 112, 116, illus. p. 113 (col.); Schlenker

2005, p. 132; Black 2006, p. 57; Crüwell 2006b, n.p.; Crüwell

2006c, n.p.; Davies 2006b, n.p.; R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 188; Schlenker 2006d, p. 258;

Lloyd 2007, pp. 180 f., illus. fig. 30; Weinzierl 2007, n.p.

335

194

Camels

Kamele

1964



On her trip to Tunisia in May 1964 Motesiczky

went on a camel ride in the mountains. She

recounted her experience in great detail in a

letter to Elias Canetti: ‘Also [I have] a beautiful

(very indigenous) jacket with a hood, which

I wear all the time in the sun and it cools me

down, warms and protects me, but today on

my great camel ride to the bedouins (3 hours)

the camel, which had soiled itself during

the rest, wagged its tail so much when I was

mounting it again that I was bespattered over

and over. My white jacket – the apple of my

eye! It was rather funny. The ride was great

but quite exhausting, great because one was

completely alone, only with the young camel

driver – at first through lemon plantations

and then through a brook to the mountains,

not high but with endless distant views. At

this time of year the landscape is by no means

dried up – there are really flowers in all colours

… some the same as at home only more fiery –

it is lovely to sit on the camel and to look into

the lemon gardens from above, which, in turn,

are bordered by cactus hedges which are often

also in bloom; pink geraniums half wild wind

their way in between and oleander in all

corners and figs and carob bean trees’. 1

In Camels, Motesiczky generalizes her

adventure. She depicts a group of three

animals with their drivers, resting in the

shadow of a few miniature palm trees in the

desert. Apart from the white building in the

background, sand seems to engulf them on

all sides, reaching to the mountains in the far

distance. One driver, his hat pulled down over

his face, is sleeping, while another is reclining,

watching the third who busies himself with a

small fire. The camels still have their luggage

strapped to their backs, indicating that the

trek has not yet reached its final destination.

note

1 ‘Auch eine wunderhübsche (sehr eingeborene) Jacke mit

Kaputze, die trage ich die ganze Zeit in der Sonne und

sieh kühlt und wärmt und schützt aber heute bei meinem

grossen Kamelritt zu den Beduinen (3 Stunden) hat beim

wieder Aufsteigen das Kamel sich bei der Rast ganz

angemacht und als ich wieder aufstieg so gewedelt dass

ich über und über bespritzt war. Meine weisse Jacke – mein

Augapfel! es war recht komisch Der Ritt war schön aber

recht anstrengend, schön weil man ganz allein war, nur mit

dem jungen Kameltreiber – erst durch Zitronen Plantagen

und dann durch einen Bach in die Berge nicht hoch aber

mit unendlich weiten Ausblicken Die Landschaft ist um

die Zeit keineswegs vertrocknet – es sind wirklich Blumen

in allen Farben … manche die selben wie bei uns nur

feuriger – es ist hübsch auf dem Kamel zu sitzen und von

oben in die Zitronen Gärten zu sehen, die sind wieder

von Kakteenhecken eingefasst die auch oft blühen und

dazwischen winden sich rosa Geranien halb wild dazwischen

und Oleander an allen Ecken und Feigen und Johannesbrotbäume’:



bibliography


336

195

Self-portrait in Blue

Selbstporträt in Blau

1964



This self-portrait shows Motesiczky, in her late

fifties, drawing. Wearing a blue summer dress

and a pearl necklace, she is seated comfortably

in a voluminous armchair, which is placed

directly in front of the large mirror that must

have assisted in the creation of this selfportrait.

An open sketchbook is balanced on

her crossed legs. Her raised arm, holding a

pink crayon which is used for the drawing, is

poised in mid-air while the artist is observing

her mirror image before continuing to work.

The crayon has occasionally been mistaken for

make-up or lipstick since the artist’s eyeshadow

and the hue of her characteristic slightly open

mouth match in colour.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 171.

337

196

Chemist’s Shop

Drogerie

1964




In the beauty corner of a chemist’s shop,

a blonde woman is trying out lipstick. The

shop-assistant, seated behind the counter and

smiling encouragingly, is holding up a hand

mirror for her customer to see the effect of the

orange lipstick she is putting on. A large palette

on the counter between them – resembling the

artist’s own which she has used in other works

such as Spanish Still-life, 1955 (no. 141), or Selfportrait

with Palette, 1960 (no. 168) – displays

the range of available lipstick colours in large

swirls. It is impossible to judge from the

customer’s face whether she likes the lipstick.

The reflection in the mirror cannot be seen

either. Another reflection, however, is well

captured: the vivid colour of the shop-assistant’s

sunlit blue-lilac dress is mirrored in her

face – similar to the way the orange lipstick

echoes the orange dress of the customer.

Motesiczky must have been pleased with the

way she caught the sun’s effect on the blue

dress. In a rare instance of self-quotation, she

repeated the colour scheme on the garment of

one of the reclining figures in Camels, painted

the same year (no. 194). The painting hardly

deviates from Motesiczky’s original compositional

ideas as laid down in a preparatory

drawing (fig. 150). The drawing, however, helps

to decipher the writing on the yellow strip

above the women’s heads. While the letters are

not legible in the painting, the drawing clearly

identifies them as ‘chemist’. The drawing also

substantiates Motesiczky’s story of the source

of inspiration: driving along in a car one day

she thought she saw the palette in a shop

together with the figures of two women, illuminated

both by the interior lights of the shop

and by the sun passing through the glass of the

window. The reflection of a traffic light in the

shop window confirms that she saw the scene

from the outside.

Helen Lessore, Motesiczky’s London dealer

in the early 1960s, closed down her gallery in

1965. To select works for the final exhibition at

the Beaux Arts Gallery she visited Motesiczky’s

studio: ‘of all the pictures she really only liked

the last picture (at the chemist) – she was

totally enthralled by it, I am not to touch it any

more.’ 1 Together with At the Dressmaker’s, 1930

(no. 35), the painting was shown under a title that

added an element of surprise and coincidence

to the scene, Chemist from the window of a car.

Several critics have detected ‘something

enigmatic, mysterious … something fateful’

which in the painting is translated into ‘a sort

of expressionist surrealism’. 2 They seized on

the painting’s origins in dreams, subjectivity

and the subconscious and suspected a ‘latent

psychosexual symbolism’. 3 The suspected

hidden layer of meaning in the painting has

so far not been explained.

Fig. 150 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Chemist’s Shop, 1964,

pastel and black chalk on paper, 204 × 286 mm (Marie-Louise von


notes

1 ‘wirklich gefallen von den Bildern hat ihr nur das letzte

Bild (beim chemist) – davon war sie ganz entzückt

ich soll nicht mehr daran rühren.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 30 April 1964: Motesiczky

archive.

2 ‘etwas Hintergründiges, Mystisches … etwas

Schicksalhaftes’, ‘eine Art expressionistischen

Surrealismus’: Helfgott 1966.

3 ‘latente psychosexuelle Symbolik’: Plakolm-

Forsthuber 1994, p. 169.

exhibitions

London 1964, no. 20, shown as Chemist from the window

of a car; Vienna 1966, no. 48, illus. (col.); Linz 1966, no. 48,

illus. (col.); Munich 1967, no. 48, illus. (col.); Bremen 1968,

no. 48, illus. (col.); London 1985, no. 53, illus. p. 45 (col.);

Cambridge 1986, no. 53, illus. p. 45 (col.); Liverpool 2006,



bibliography

Helfgott 1966, n.p.; illus. in Die Kunst und das schöne Heim,

vol. 65, no. 15, December 1967, p. 10; Dr. S. 1968, n.p.;

Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 169; Schlenker 2006d, p. 258;

Lloyd 2007, p. 259 f.n.

338

339

197

Tunisian Landscape

Tunesische Landschaft

1964



In May 1964 Motesiczky and her friend Julia

Altschulova went on a trip to Tunisia. ‘A relative

is excavating there and we want to catch the

summer, that you never get here, for two

weeks.’ 1 Jan Willem Salomonson, the Dutch

relative, met them at the airport and took them

for five days to the famous village of Sidi Bou

Said on the coast close to Carthage, where

they stayed in a villa. Motesiczky described

the place as a ‘beautiful little village with an

(awfully expensive) hotel (former Arab palace)

wonderful view over the bay – high up – you

have to climb down a long way to swim in

the bay – gardens, lemons, oranges (unknown

flowers!) And a little coffee house where you

drink coffee lying down – a Tyrolian village

Arabic style, very exotic.’ 2 The village was not

far from Tunis, so that the artist and her

friend could visit the town’s museums and

go shopping.

Back home in London, with her memories

still fresh, Motesiczky started working on the

painting. On 30 June she reported to Elias

Canetti: ‘I have made a little Tunis landscape –

well, it is not quite finished – one part I don’t

seem to get right. I want to try to not stop

completely what with “mother service” and

cooking’. 3 The light, airy and colourful work

seems to distil the artist’s impressions of her

recent holiday in the sun. The raised vantage

point of a terrace allows a view over the Bay

of Tunis. Beyond the bright blue sea, the Bou

Kornine mountains can be made out in the

distance. The terrace with its set of table, chairs

and umbrella is surrounded by a mass of exotic

flowers and vegetation, some presumably

invented, that had left a lasting impression on

the artist, who was not a keen gardener. Two

children, insubstantial and ghostly, are seen

climbing up to the terrace, perhaps returning

from the beach down below. Elias Canetti

particularly liked and praised the painting,

because it showed a landscape, rare among

Motesiczky’s works. 4



charitable trust


1967: ‘Es freut mich auch, dass der Busch [Günter

Busch] die “Tunesische Landschaft” mochte, die ich

sehr gern habe, überhaupt, dass er den Nachdruck

auf Landschaften legt. Denn darin bist Du nicht

genug ermutigt worden, vielleicht hast Du auch nicht

genug darin gemacht. Ist das eine Freude, ich bin

überglücklich!’

notes

1 ‘Ein Verwandter macht dort Ausgrabungen und wir wollen

uns 14 Tage den Sommer holen den man hier doch nie

bekommt.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Maryla

Reifenberg, 8 May 1964: Deutsches Literaturarchiv,

Marbach, Estate Benno Reifenberg.

2 ‘wunderhübsches kleines Dorf mit einem (sauteuren)

Hotel (ehemaliger arabischer Palast) herrliche Aussicht in

die Bucht – hochgelegen – man muss tief hinunter steigen

um in der Bucht zu baden – Gärten, Zitronen Orangen

(unbekannte Blumen!) Und ein kleines Caféhaus wo man

liegend den Café trinkt – ein Tiroler Dorf halt auf Arabisch,

sehr exotisch.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette

von Motesiczky, 15 May 1964: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘Ich habe eine kleine Tunis Landschaft gemacht – das

heisst sie ist noch nicht fertig – mit einem Teil komme ich

ewig nicht zurecht. Ich will versuchen trotz “Mutterdienst”

und kochen nicht ganz aufzuhören’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 30 June 1964: Motesiczky

archive.

4 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1 October


provenance

Artist; Louise Rupé (purchased at 1967 exhibition); Karin and

Jan Willem Salomonson (inherited).

exhibitions


Bremen 1968, no. 49; Vienna 1994, no. 39, illus. (col.).

bibliography

Hodin 1966, illus. p. 48; Black 1994, p. 9; Vorderwülbecke 1999,

p. 42, illus. p. 97.

340

341

198

Two Women on a Ship

Early 1960s



In this charming conversation piece two

women are seated in high-backed, red

armchairs, with a low table and an arrangement

of fruit in front of them. The scene takes

place on board a ship, as indicated by the large

porthole that elegantly frames the couple.

Through it can be glimpsed a calm, light blue

sea and a sky shot through with orange and

red clouds, suggesting a sunset. The women

are probably travelling companions. Despite

appearing tired, they seem to know each other

well enough to feel at ease even when not

engaged in conversation. They are, however,

strikingly different in their appearance. The

blonde, blue-eyed woman on the left wears

matching light clothes of orange and yellow,

and her dark-eyed companion is dressed in

a dark blue robe whose colour is reflected in

her shiny black hair.

The painting is closely based on a preparatory

drawing (fig. 151) that was probably made

on board the ship. In the sketch, some details

are more clearly defined – for example the

fruit on the table – while others, including the

trailing light blue shawl of the darker woman,

were eventually omitted in the painting.

The exact date of the painting is unknown,

yet several facts suggest that it was painted in

the early 1960s. The women’s no doubt fashionable

contemporary hairstyle fits this period.

In a 1963 letter to Elias Canetti, Motesiczky

enthused about her wish to paint the wonderful

people she saw on board a ship and wished

Iris Murdoch, whose portrait she would

complete the following year, had been sitting

there. 1 Indeed, the face of the woman on the

left resembles Iris Murdoch’s soft features

which Motesiczky had been studying intently

(see Iris Murdoch, 1964, no. 193).

note



bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 82, illus. Abb. 128 (col.) (Zwei Mädchen

am Meer, c. 1965).


Two Women on a Ship, early 1960s, charcoal and

pastel on paper, 225 × 200 mm (Marie-Louise


342

199

Portrait, American Model

1965


Destroyed

This portrait was destroyed in a house fire in

April 2003, and only a black-and-white photograph

in the artist’s estate gives clues to its

content. Executed in an unusually extended

format, it accommodates a seated, threequarter-length

portrait of a female model, the

American teenager Andrea Denbeaux, who was

born in 1947 and is now a lawyer in New York.

With her parents Jane and Fred Denbeaux she

had been living in London, at an address very

close to Chesterford Gardens, from January to

May 1965. As the sitter later recalled, a mutual

friend, Lisl Schwartz, had made the initial

contact. On meeting the Denbeaux family,

Motesiczky enquired if the daughter would

sit for her portrait. Andrea Denbeaux accepted,

thinking it was a great honour and thus went

to the artist’s studio in April 1965 every morning

for about three weeks and on each visit sat for

several hours. 1

In her portrait Andrea Denbeaux is wearing

a knee-length sleeveless dress in a light colour

that contrasts with her short dark hair through

which a large earring can be glimpsed. Her left

hand lies in her lap while her right elbow rests

on the arm of the chair and her right hand is

raised to her chin. An unidentified musical

instrument stands by the model’s side in the

foreground and behind the chair a vase holds

an arrangement of large white flowers. In the

top left corner the outlines of a head with a

cap are faintly visible, presumably a sketchy

representation of the artist’s mother. 2 Judging

by the photograph, Motesiczky must have

altered the position of the little finger of the

sitter’s right hand. It is now shown bent like

the others yet appears originally to have

been straight.



charitable trust

Jane Denbeaux to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 20 June

[1970s]: ‘I must thank you again for your wonderful

offer of Drea’s portrait some day. I can’t tell you how

much it would mean to us. It is a fine picture and

moves me very much – it is Andrea. And I miss her

when she is away.’

Jane Denbeaux to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

15 October 1976: ‘I was so appreciative of your letter,

your kind welcome to my children and your willingness

to let us have your picture for such a moderate

sum £ 500! I am sure you could get much more for it –

but we are so happy to have it! Mark has gathered the

money and is ready to send you a cheque as soon as

you are ready. He says that you had a little finishing

to do on the picture. He also says that you will arrange

for the shipping, insurance, etc. Would you tell us the

cost of this as well? We would be so delighted to have

the picture for Christmas if it would be possible …

Once our picture is hanging over our fireplace, I hope

you will pay us a visit to see it!’

Jane Denbeaux to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

22 January 1977: ‘We look forward to the picture as

soon as you can send it. Drea keeps asking me about

it. We are all so excited at the prospect of having it.’

Jane Denbeaux to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 27 March

1977: ‘We were so glad to get the good news that the

picture is ready and perhaps on its way … You have

no idea how anxious I am to see the painting again …

make the living room ready for its crowning glory. I’ll

send you a picture of the wall when it is hung upon it.’

notes

1 Andrea Moran to Ines Schlenker (e-mail), 10 March 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

2 Telephone conversation with Mark Denbeaux,

2 September 2002.

provenance

Artist; Jane and Fred Denbeaux (purchased late 1970s).

343

200

Canetti, London

1965



In the early 1960s the nature of the close

friendship between Motesiczky and the author

Elias Canetti was radically altered. After Veza

Canetti’s death in 1963 the artist harboured

hopes of marrying the writer. Yet no such offer

was forthcoming although their domestic

arrangements somewhat resembled a marriage.

As well as taking meals with the artist, Canetti

would often work in his room in Motesiczky’s

house in Chesterford Gardens.

This intimate, small-scale work has the

immediacy of long familiarity. Canetti probably

did not sit for the portrait – something he did

not like doing. Motesiczky seems instead to

have used a polaroid photograph (fig. 152) to

trigger her memory. Canetti, wild-haired and

conventionally dressed, is seated at a table,

holding a newspaper in his large hands. He is

reading with the utmost concentration, as his

furrowed forehead suggests, and smoking a

cigarette that protrudes from his mouth in a

black holder. Motesiczky probably painted this

portrait in February 1965. During that month,

Canetti visited Braunschweig in Germany,

where his Komödie der Eitelkeit was being

performed to critical acclaim and public scandal.

Overjoyed, he wrote back to London: ‘Muli,

I am now really famous in Germany.’ 1 In two

letters he urged the artist to surprise him

with a new picture on his return. 2 By the end

of the month, Canetti was exhausted by the

excitement and pressures of the trip and

longed to be back in peaceful Hampstead

where he could think and write undisturbed

and enjoy Motesiczky’s new paintings. The

extremely small scale of the work and its

sketchy, almost hasty style indicate that it

could indeed have been carried out rather

quickly, in anticipation of Canetti’s return.

In 1994 Motesiczky was in touch with

Carl Hanser Verlag, the publishing house in

Munich, which was thinking of using Canetti,

London for a publication. She describes the

portrait as ‘a sketch which I made in London

in my studio. It is a very good likeness …

especially the firm glance and his age is

captured in a few strokes … The colourful

thing [in the background] is reminiscent

of a globe. That suits Canetti.’ 3

notes

1 ‘Muli, in Deutschland bin ich jetzt wirklich berühmt.’:

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 10 February


2 Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 5 and 12

February 1965: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘einer Skizze die ich in London in meinem Atelier machte.

Sie ist sehr ähnlich … gerade der feste Blick und das Alter

ist in wenigen Strichen festgehalten … Das bunte Ding

erinnert an einen Globus. Das passt zu Canetti.’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky to Herr Arnold, 12 December 1994:

archive of Carl Hanser Verlag, Munich.

exhibitions

Marbach 1998, section 5 exhibit 19, illus. p. 157 (col.), shown

as Porträt Elias Canetti, 1950s; Frankfurt am Main 2006,



no. 63, illus. p. 193 (col.).

bibliography

Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 94; Schlenker 2006c, p. 192.

Fig. 152 Elias Canetti reading a newspaper,

polaroid photograph, 1960s (Motesiczky archive)

344

201

Dog with Flowers

Hund mit Blumen

1965



While the various Motesiczky dogs are crucial

accessories in many portraits of the artist’s

mother, this is one of a few examples in which

a pet animal takes pride of place (others are

Dog with Flowers, no. 130, and Wenki, no. 126,

both 1954). This charming painting is in fact

a portrait of the Italian greyhound Bubi (also

called Wixi) who joined the Motesiczky family

in 1960 and died in 1973. The scene probably

takes place in the artist’s dining room, lit by

daylight coming through French windows to

the left of the picture. Drawing his slender,

fawn body up to full height – a pose he could

not have held for very long – Bubi gazes at a

potted African violet, placed on a set of library


charcoal, watercolour and pastel on paper, 290 × 228 mm


steps, which echo the shape created by the

light, streaming in through the near windows,

on the wooden cover of the radiator in the

background. An oval silver dish corresponds

to the plate protecting the flower stand from

water stains. In the overall muddy colour

scheme of the picture, the bright purple of

the flowers provides a colourful highlight

that illuminates the composition.

Motesiczky gave the painting to the

mother of the current owner, Charlotte Bondy,

a fellow emigrant and friend who regularly

looked after the Motesiczky dogs, for her help

with the memorial book for Henriette von

Motesiczky which the artist compiled for

friends and relatives.

provenance

Artist; Charlotte Bondy (gift early 1980s); Jo Bondy

(inherited).

exhibition

London 1985, no. 55, illus. p. 46 (col.).

bibliography

Adler 1994, pp. 17 f.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504.

345

202

Self-portrait with Pears

Selbstporträt mit Birnen

1965



Lentos Kunstmuseum, Linz (298)

As in a number of other self-portraits

Motesiczky employs a mirror as the key to

the painting. The square hand mirror, propped

up on a table, dominates the composition. It

shows the reflection of the artist’s face, her

head gently supported by her hand, which

resembles a photograph in a frame, like those

depicted in a number of other paintings (see

for example Still-life with Photo, 1930, no. 34,

and Baron Schey at the Races, 1989, no. 298).

The self-portrait is therefore imbued with the

tranquillity and immobility of a still-life. Two

ripe green pears, perhaps symbols of the mature

age of the artist, are placed in front of the

mirror on a sheet of paper on which a drawing

seems to have been begun. Motesiczky does

not depict herself with the tools of her artistic

profession but focuses on herself as a woman

growing older.

It has been claimed that, throughout her

life, Motesiczky was the personification of

female vanity. 1 While a certain element of

vanity might arguably be detected in some

earlier self-portraits, it is surely absent from

this image of the grey-haired artist, aged 59.

As if aware of her advancing age and the loss

of youthful beauty, Motesiczky introspectively

and reflectively stares at the naked truth of

the mirror image in an on-going process of

self-examination. Benno Reifenberg called this

moving work ‘a painting of the simplest but

not the easiest of experiences’. 2 It seems in fact

to bear a universal meaning since the mirror is

placed in such a way that the reflection might

be of the viewer him/herself.

In an interview in the mid-1980s the artist

described how an unsuccessful abandoned

self-portrait provided the inspiration for this

work: ‘When I painted this there was a moment

– it was during a bungled self-portrait – when

I had these tones already, when I had the

underpainting. And like a grand master in one

hour I was able to paint the essentials on the

right ground, because it already had the right

ground. I had been thinking about this selfportrait

for a long time and then I thought: now

I will try my luck, and I got it.’ 3 Motesiczky

subsequently gave Self-portrait with Pears to

Elias Canetti as a present. She felt, however,

that he did not quite understand it, finding

it too pleasing. Henriette von Motesiczky,

who liked it, complained: ‘whenever there is

something beautiful, Canetti gets it’. 4



charitable trust

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 7: ‘Im “Selbstporträt

mit Birnen” von 1965 ist das Einwirken der Zeit auf

Dein Gesicht im Spiegel reflektiert, also meditiert und

den beiden Birnen wird, mehr als Deinem Gesicht, die

Botschaft der Reife anvertraut.’

notes

1 Dollen 2000, p. 187.

2 ‘ein Bild der einfachsten aber nicht der leichtesten

Erfahrungen’: Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.

3 ‘Wie ich das gemalt hab’, da hab’ ich einen Moment gehabt

– es war bei einem verpatzten Selbstportrait –, da hatte ich

diese Töne schon, da hatte ich die Untermalung. Und ich

konnte wie ein großer Meister auf dem richtigen Grund das

Wesentliche in einer Stunde malen, eben weil es schon den

richtigen Grund gehabt hat. Bei diesem Selbstportrait war

es so, daß mich das lang beschäftigt hat, und dann hab’ ich

gedacht: Jetzt versuch’ ich mein Glück, und ich hab’s

gehabt.’: Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, p. 174.

4 ‘immer wenn’s was Schönes gibt, dann kriegt’s der Canetti’:


provenance

Artist; Elias Canetti (gift 1965/6); Neue Galerie der Stadt Linz,

now Lentos Kunstmuseum (purchased 1966).

exhibitions

Vienna 1966, no. 51, illus.; Linz 1966, no. 51, illus., also exh.

poster; Munich 1967, no. 51, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 51, illus.;

London 1985, no. 56, illus. p. 83; Vienna 1994, no. 40, illus.

(col.); Liverpool 2006, no. 64, illus. p. 211 (col.); Frankfurt am


illus. p. 211 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 64, illus. p. 211 (col.).

bibliography

Hodin 1966, illus. p. 49; Kraft 1966, n.p.; Pack 1966, n.p.;

Reifenberg 1966a, n.p.; Reifenberg 1966b, illus. p. 17; Spiel

1966, n.p.; M.B. 1967, n.p., illus. n.p.; Albrecht 1968, n.p.;

Dr. S. 1968, n.p.; Taylor 1985, n.p.; Gaisbauer 1986, n.p., illus.

n.p.; Gaisbauer/Janisch 1992, pp. 173 f.; Black 1994, pp. 9 f.;

Kruntorad 1994, n.p.; Plakolm-Forsthuber 1994, p. 166;

Anonymous [Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 993;

Borzello 1998, p. 139, illus. p. 141 (col.); Vorderwülbecke 1999,

pp. 38, 54 f.n., illus. p. 87; Dollen 2000, p. 187, illus. on the

dust jacket and frontispiece on p. 2 (both col.); Phillips 2001,

p. 33; Michel 2003, p. 60, illus. Abb. 87 (col.); Schlenker 2005,

p. 134; Black 2006, p. 57; R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Kneller 2006,

illus. n.p. (detail, col.); Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh.

booklet 2006, n.p.; Schlenker 2006b, pp. 202, 205; Schlenker

2006c, p. 210; Schlenker 2006d, p. 259; Lloyd 2007, p. 177;

Michel 2007, illus. p. 119 (col.).

346

347

203

Miriam

1965




The full name of the red-haired model Miriam,

proud and beautiful, reclining on a chaise

longue, is unknown. Scantily clad in a short

skirt and bra, she is resting her head in her

hand and gazing into the distance. An empty

chessboard is in front of her, and behind her

a television set projects mysterious reflections

into the room. Motesiczky must have been

fascinated by new technology for she possessed

television sets early on. An invoice in the estate

archive dated 5 December 1957 states that she

bought a Philips Television Receiver, probably

her first television set. On 23 December 1964

she purchased a ‘KB 003 UHF television

portable receiver’ which, judging by the relatively

small size of the set in the painting,

may be the one depicted here.

When, in May 1965, Motesiczky stayed

with her cousin Sophie Brentano in Blonay,

Switzerland, Elias Canetti wrote to her of his

recent visit to her studio and his appreciation

of the works he had seen: ‘I again went to see

the picture in your studio, it is beautiful. (also,

that with the reclining girl in front of the

television set I like extremely well. The studio

really looked like something when I came in).’ 1

At the painting’s first exhibition in Vienna in

1966, it was praised for its ‘gripping immediacy’

and its ‘downright electrifying élan’. One critic

admired the fact that it ‘vibrates with inner

dynamics and at the same time exudes a

fantastic calm’. 2 Another critic, however,

pointed out that the portrait merely reflected

Max Beckmann’s precision, albeit in a different

range of colours. 3 Two years later, a reviewer

introduced a more philosophical aspect into

the debate. Commenting on the fact that the

television set had replaced the mirror in the

paintings, he stated regretfully: ‘Before the

“magic box” there were other means of invocation

(of boredom, the fear of loneliness and the

secret dread of life, of day-to-day existence).’ 4

notes

1 ‘Ich war mir wieder das Bild bei Dir im Atelier anschauen,

es ist wunderschön. (auch das mit dem liegenden Mädchen

vor dem Television-Apparat gefällt mir ausgezeichnet. Das

Atelier sah wirklich nach was aus, beim Hereinkommen).’:

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18 May 1965:

Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘packende Unmittelbarkeit … geradezu elektrisierenden

Elan … vibriert von innerer Dynamik und strömt zugleich

phantastische Ruhe aus’: Vogel 1966b.

3 Muschik 1966.

4 ‘Vor der “Zauberröhre” gab es andere Mittel zur

Beschwörung (der Langenweile, der Furcht vor Einsamkeit

und dem heimlichen Schauder vor dem Leben, dem

Alltag).’: Dr. S. 1968.

exhibitions


1967, no. 50, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 50, illus.

bibliography

Muschik 1966, n.p.; Pack 1966, n.p.; Vogel 1966b, n.p.; Dr. S.

1968, n.p.; Lloyd 2007, p. 178.

348

349

204

The Short Trip

Die kurze Fahrt

1965


Signed (bottom right): M.M.1966


When the artist’s mother, Henriette von

Motesiczky, was no longer able to drive an

ordinary car, she switched to small, sometimes

three-wheeled, electric vehicles to retain her

mobility and independence (fig. 154). It was

probably in the 1940s that she used a black,

open ‘Carters’ Electric Carriage. Model G’.

On the back of a photograph that shows her

sitting in it, she commented: ‘It is a strange

substitute for a car, but for me of great importance’.

1 A later model she owned was less basic,

painted grey and featured a roof, a windscreen

and side windows. According to many eyewitnesses,

Henriette von Motesiczky used to

drive recklessly around Hampstead. Beatrice

Owen, who sat for her portrait in 1973, later

recalled ‘chasing after the old ladies [sic] electric

“car” which she drove with total disregard

of Hampstead conditions, to the terror of

neighbours, dogs & nannies’. 2

In a style that a contemporary critic labelled

‘related to naïve painting’, 3 Motesiczky recreates

what must be considered a dream scene in

a real setting, the artist’s Hampstead garden.

On a strip of lawn, Henriette von Motesiczky

is going on a short trip in her invalid’s car,

which the artist depicts as possessing a full

set of four wheels. The ageing driver seems to

take unusual care while crossing the garden –

perhaps this prudence is wishful thinking on

her daughter’s part or is due to the intervention

of the ghostly white figure behind the car who

can be identified as the artist herself. Waving

what looks like a lighted stick resembling a

magic wand (but which may in fact be an

ordinary twig lined up in front of the setting

sun), the artist appears to be casting a spell to

ensure her mother’s safe driving. In a drawing

(fig. 156) related to this painting, the artist is

seen running alongside her mother’s cart,

hurrying along the dog who is in charge

of pulling it (two seagulls accompany the

procession). The painting shows a less active

Motesiczky, still watching over her mother

aiming for a figure on the other side of the

lawn who is wearing sandals, a green frock and

Fig. 154 Henriette von Motesiczky in her invalid car with

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, photograph, undated


cap, has shoulder-length blonde hair and

wields a brush, apparently in the process of

painting. The figure in fact represents Irma

Simon, a relative and close friend of the artist

and the widow of Heinrich Simon, the former

editor-in-chief of the Frankfurter Zeitung. In

1920, she had introduced Max Beckmann to

the young Marie-Louise. By the 1960s she lived

in the USA and had just come over for a visit

to Chesterford Gardens. The mother’s pet dog,

the Italian greyhound Bubi, which would

usually sit on her lap in the car, is relieved

of the task of pulling the vehicle and instead

runs or rather flies ahead.

From its elevated position on the garden

wall, a stone figure playing a cello is watching

the scene (fig. 155). Motesiczky had purchased

such a stone sculpture, the ‘Stone Dwarf

(Chinaman)’, in July 1962 at Syon Lodge,

Isleworth, to decorate her garden. Both the

artist’s father and her brother had played the

cello and the figure may have constituted a

Fig. 155 Stone figure playing cello,

installed on a wall in the garden,

Chesterford Gardens, photograph


350

Fig. 156 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Henriette in Dog Cart with Marie-Louise

Running Alongside, undated, charcoal, black chalk and pastel on paper,


visible memorial to them. In 1963 Elias Canetti

expressed his longing for his room in the

Motesiczky house, overlooking the garden:

‘I find myself thinking of my room … where

outside the poplars dance softly for me. I am

also missing the little musician in the garden

and especially the smell of painting.’ 4 The

painting seems not to have been among

Canetti’s favourites. Yet, seeing it in the

Munich exhibition in 1967, he conceded:

‘Incidentally, the “last trip” is hung well,

and all of a sudden I liked it again’. 5

The painting is usually dated 1965 and

was assigned to that date in the exhibition

catalogue of 1966. That fact that, in the bottom

right corner of the composition, Motesiczky

put ‘1966’ probably indicates only that she signed

and dated the work several years after it had

been created, not unusual for the artist, as she

could not recall the exact year of execution.

notes

1 ‘Es ist ein komischer Autoersatz, aber für mich von

grosser Wichtigkeit’: Motesiczky archive.



3 ‘naiver Malerei verwandten’: Albrecht 1968.

4 ‘ertappe ich mich doch dabei, wie ich an mein Zimmer …

denke, wo die Pappeln draussen leise für mich tanzen. Auch

der kleine Musikant im Garten geht mir ab und besonders

der Geruch des Malens.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 6 September 1963: Motesiczky archive.

5 ‘Übrigens hängt die “letzte Fahrt” hier gut, sie hat mir

plötzlich wieder gefallen’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 31 October 1967: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions


1967, no. 52, illus.; Bremen 1968, no. 52, illus.; Liverpool 2006,


illus. p. 213 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 65, illus. p. 213 (col.);


no. 65, illus. p. 213 (col.).

bibliography

Spiel 1966, n.p.; Albrecht 1968, n.p.; Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63,

illus. p. 63; Cohen 1994, p. 94; Anonymous 1996b, n.p.; Cohen

1996a, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504; Smithson 1999, n.p.;

Mirror Mirror, exh. cat. 2001, p. 92; Schlenker 2006c, p. 212;

Sternburg 2006, n.p.


The Short Trip, 1965, watercolour, charcoal and pastel

on paper, 180 × 270 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


351

352

353

354

205

Kees Leembruggen

1966


Signed (centre left): M.M. 1966.

Private collection, The Hague

Kees Leembruggen (fig. 159), a cousin of

Motesiczky from the Dutch side of the family,

was born Cornelis Giovanni Leembruggen in

1904 in Hinterbrühl, the Motesiczkys’ summer

residence outside Vienna. A strong friendship

between the cousins of almost identical age

existed throughout their lives, leading Kees

Leembruggen’s sister Sophie to suggest ‘that

there is hardly a human being he likes as much

as her’. 1 Throughout their youth, the cousins

saw each other frequently, sometimes going

on holiday together. They explored Spain in

the late 1920s and enjoyed a skiing trip in early

1939. By then Motesiczky had already lived in

the Netherlands for several months, after leaving

Austria in the spring of 1938. Straight after the

war, in December 1945, Leembruggen, who

was a great chess player, possibly among the

ten or twenty best players in the Netherlands

at the time, took part in a chess tournament in

Hastings, visiting the Motesiczkys en route.


graphite on paper, 290 × 230 mm (Marie-Louise


In an interview given in 2000, Philip

Leembruggen described his father Kees as a

dreamer and a thinker, quiet and introverted

and not much inclined to talking. According to

his son, Kees Leembruggen should have been a

lawyer instead of the manager of the woollen

factory in Leiden that had been in the family

for generations. The portrait was commissioned

for the 200th anniversary of the factory

in 1966, when the employees wanted to give a

present to Kees Leembruggen. According to his

son, Kees Leembruggen considered Motesiczky

to be a talented painter and a great artist but

one who could have made more of herself, and

it seems likely that he himself chose his cousin

to paint his portrait. During the sittings, which

took place in London and the Netherlands,

several sketches were made. While most try to

capture the sitter’s features in a rudimentary

manner, one in particular stands out as

presenting Kees Leembruggen in the pose that

was later chosen for the oil painting (fig. 158).

Motesiczky depicted her cousin in a halflength

portrait that combines his official

position as factory manager with a slightly

more relaxed leisurely yet appropriate pastime,

smoking. Seated at a table in front of a bright

yellow wall, Leembruggen is dressed in a dark

suit, white shirt and striped tie and rests his

elbow on the table top next to a piece of paper.

His raised right hand holds a cigar, while his

left hand is hidden under the table. The sitter’s

balding head is characterized by thick blackrimmed

glasses through which he calmly

watches the viewer. According to Philip

Leembruggen, Motesiczky had trouble with the

mouth, re-painting it several times. The sitter’s

wife, as well as the rest of the family, did not

particularly like the portrait for the rather too

severe personality it conveyed. The portrait was

officially handed over to Kees Leembruggen at

the ceremony to celebrate the factory’s

anniversary (figs 160 and 161).

Fig. 159 Kees Leembruggen, photograph, 1930s


355

Fig. 160 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

with the portrait of Kees Leembruggen,


In October 1967, the portrait was shown at

the artist’s solo exhibition at the Galerie Günther

Franke in Munich. In a letter to her mother,

Motesiczky describes how the arrival of the

portrait during the hanging process turned out to

be good publicity: ‘Yesterday morning hanging,

afternoon the press – for me always the most

awful thing. A funny stroke of luck: while we

were fixing prices the couriers burst into the

gallery with the painting of Kees and wanted

7,000 Marks because they had no guarantee that

the painting would leave the country again. 7,000

Marks was the sum that the painting was insured

for transport in Holland. Then I could say: “yes,

that is the sum I received for the painting.” –

And in reality I had only received half of that!

This really was a good theatrical ruse! The

couriers also calmed down, since I assured them

that the painting belonged to a factory etc. But

with all that the Frankes got the impression that

I regularly receive 7,000 Marks for portraits.’ 2

notes

1 ‘dass es kaum einen Menschen gibt den er so gern hat

wie sie’: Sophie Brentano to Henriette von Motesiczky,


2 ‘Gestern Vormittag die Hängerei Nachmittag die Presse –

was für mich immer das Fürchterlichste. Ein lustiger

Glücksfall: mitten in den Preise festsetzen, kamen die

Spediteure in die Galerie gestürzt mit dem Bild vom Kees

und wollten dass man 7000 Mark erlegt weil sie keine

Garantie hatten dass das Bild wieder aus dem Land geht.

7000 Mark war nämlich die Summe für die das Bild in

Holland für den Transport versichert war. Da konnte ich

sagen: “ja das ist die Summe die ich für das Bild bekommen

habe.” – Und in Wirklichkeit hab ich doch nur die Hälfte

bekommen! Das war wirklich ein guter Theater Trick! Die

Spediteure beruhigten sich auch, denn ich versicherte dass

das Bild einer Fabrik gehört u.s.w. Aber die Frankes bekamen

dadurch den Eindruck dass ich eben für Portäts 7000 Mark

bekomme.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette

von Motesiczky, 4 October [1967]: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Kees Leembruggen (for whom purchased 1966);

Philip Leembruggen (inherited).

exhibition

Munich 1967, no. 54 (ex catalogue), shown as Porträt

Kees Leembruggen.

Fig. 161 Presentation of the portrait

to the sitter during the anniversary

celebration in the Stadsgehoorzaal

in Leiden, 1966, photograph


356

206

Still-life with Cyclamen

Stilleben mit Cyclamen

1967


Signed (top right): M.M.67.


Before the sombre background of a darkened

room two candles burn brightly, illuminating a

small round table in the foreground. On top of

it is a vase of pink cyclamen, while a postcard

showing snow-covered mountains is propped

up against the candles. Along the right edge of

the picture, Motesiczky sketchily included an

African sculpture. The original wooden figure

from the artist’s collection, 48 cm high, seems

to be scaled up and is not easily recognizable.

Its face, however, with its marked widow’s

peak, is distinct. It has been suggested that

the sculpture might be a staff-head from the

Wodabe tribe, nomadic herdsmen who farmed

the southern Sahara. The linguist, a senior

tribal figure, would carry a staff when attending

the ritual dances during which the young

tribesmen try to attract prospective brides.

The staff-heads could also double as incense

burners, the open mouth of the sculpture

being used to expel the aroma of burned dried

dung from within the body of the carved head.

The presence of the African sculpture creates

a slightly sinister atmosphere which is further

enhanced by the last item on the table: a

smallish grey rat. The only other rat in

Motesiczky’s oeuvre appears in Nude with

a Rat and Books (no. 246) of around the same

time, where it could be interpreted as representing

Elias Canetti. In the context of this

still-life, no satisfactory explanation for the

rat has been found.

A black-and-white photograph in the artist’s

archive shows an earlier stage of the painting,

in which an unidentified egg-shaped object sits

next to the rat. At a later date and for unknown

reasons, Motesiczky overpainted this mysterious

object (and probably also added the signature).

Since cyclamen flower in late summer or

autumn, it is fair to assume that the painting

was created only a short while before its first

public showing. Like the other paintings of

1967 that were exhibited ‘ex catalogue’ at

Motesiczky’s solo exhibition at the Galerie

Günther Franke in Munich in the autumn

of that year (Orchid and Clay Figure, no. 212;

The Hour, no. 211; Fiesta, no. 207; Henriette

von Motesiczky with Dog and Flowers, no. 213)

Still-life with Cyclamen has a very simple grey

frame, possibly homemade and produced in

a hurry to enable the paintings to be shown

at such short notice.

exhibition


357

207

Fiesta

1967




After a trip to Spain in summer 1966 Motesiczky

started on this depiction of the festivities she

witnessed there. On 27 April 1967 she noted in

her diary the imminent completion of Fiesta and

her doubts about its success: ‘Today I want to

finish the picture of the Spanish dancer. Will it

really work – as Pio [Elias Canetti] thinks? Or

does he only want to encourage me?? Parts are

good – parts small, dull, dirty’. 1 Despite the

artist’s doubts, on completion, the painting was

immediately included in her Munich exhibition

that autumn.

In the picture, celebrations at a Spanish

party or public holiday are in full swing. A

figure clad in a white flowing top and blue

trousers with matching decoration dances

centre-stage. At first glance it is impossible to

determine the gender of the dancer. On the

one hand, the exaggerated black stubble on

the white make-up appears to be painted on,

suggesting a female dancer. On the other

hand, Motesiczky refered to the dancer as male

(Tänzer) – she probably would have used the

female version (Tänzerin) if she had actually

depicted a woman. Surrounding the dancer

are several individuals and groups of people,

some watching the performance, others taking

part. On the left, a dwarf, wielding a sword,

moves awkwardly to the music. Behind him

sits a mother with a naked infant on her lap.

The pair, enveloped by an aura of sadness, are

curiously reminiscent of another common

subject in art, the Madonna and Child. On the

right, a group of children are huddled together.

One little girl, clutching her doll, shies away

from the dancer, apparently afraid. A slightly

older, blonde girl protectively shields her

from the frightening sight. Behind the group,

another young dancer, grimacing, waves a

large wooden fork. At the back, a musician

appears to be playing the harp. At odds with

the apparently joyous occasion, the picture

seems to portray a gloomy atmosphere.

Although it is difficult to interpret and make

sense of the individual scenes, the inherent

danger, subtle threat and indefinable sinister

undertones of the painting are inexplicably

palpable.

Like the other paintings of 1967 that were

exhibited ‘ex catalogue’ at Motesiczky’s solo

exhibition at the Galerie Günther Franke in

Munich in the autumn of that year (Orchid and

Clay Figure, no. 212; The Hour, no. 211; Henriette

von Motesiczky with Dog and Flowers, no. 213;

Still-life with Cyclamen, no. 206) Fiesta has a

very simple grey frame, possibly homemade

and produced in a hurry to enable the paintings

to be shown at such short notice.

note

1 ‘Heute will ich das Sp. Tänzer Bild fertig machen. Ob’s

wirklich was ist – so wie Pio meint? Oder will er mich

nur ermutigen?? Stellen sind gut – Stellen klein Trüb

schmutzig’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry

for 27 April 1967: Motesiczky archive.

exhibition


bibliography

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 42, illus. p. 98.

358

208

Fiesta 2

1967

209

Fiesta 3

1967





Fiesta 2 is an unfinished, probably earlier

version of Fiesta, 1967 (no. 207). A trip to

Spain in summer 1966 must have inspired

Motesiczky to re-create the celebrations at a

Spanish party or public holiday she attended.

Although the painting was abandoned in an,

in places, unfinished state, it gives a closer

view of the dancer, who is now placed in

a more prominent position. He is looking

towards a group of people to his left, which

perhaps includes a self-portrait of the artist

in their midst.

Like Fiesta 2 (no. 208), Fiesta 3 is an unfinished

variation of Fiesta, 1967 (no. 207). It was probably

inspired by Motesiczky’s trip to Spain in summer

1966, where she must have seen similar scenes

at a Spanish party or public holiday. More

experimental and sketchy than the finished

version, Fiesta 3 demonstrates that Motesiczky

had already arrived at the composition she

retained in the final painting. The central

dancer, the group of children, the dwarf and

the mother and child are already present in

the composition.

Fig. 162 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Fiesta, 1967,

charcoal, watercolour and pastel on paper, 210 × 157 mm


359

207

208

360

209

361

210

Swimming Pool

Schwimmbad vor dem Meer

1967



A trip to Spain in the summer of 1966 gave

Motesiczky inspiration for this unusual painting.

She started on it back home in London, using

photographs she had taken of the pool (fig. 163).

On 23 February 1967, right in the middle of

the work, she noted in her diary her doubts

about the painting’s success: ‘Will the bathing

picture work?’ 1 A few days later she was more

optimistic yet wondered if her energy would

last: ‘I think the bathing picture will work –

would be great! Now I should start another

one – yes – mother takes away a lot of strength

and I haven’t got it – not enough for work +

mother’. 2 By the middle of March Swimming

Pool seems to have been finished: ‘The bathing

picture has come out quite well. I think Pio

[Elias Canetti] likes it although you never

really know!’ 3

The composition imitates the photographs

which show an empty swimming pool in front

of the sea on a cloudy day. Motesiczky adopts

the same view, which includes one corner of

the pool, and several of the details such as

the bushy trees and the sunshades with their

straw roofs. The picture plane in the painting

is divided horizontally into two equal halves by

the edge of the pool. In comparison with the

photographs Motesiczky completely altered the

mood of the scene. Instead of the sombre grey

reflection of undisturbed water, her swimming

pool is densely populated with gently comic

figures, almost caricatures, of all shapes and

sizes (figs 164, 165 and 166). Some naked or

only half-dressed, they are swimming, diving,

playing or wallowing in the water. The young

woman in a blue bathing suit, sitting on

the edge of the pool and looking over her

shoulder to watch the goings-on, may be the

artist herself.

Motesiczky, a keen swimmer, produced

many, often humorous, drawings (fig. 167) and

several paintings of beach and bathing scenes

(see for example Beach Scene, early 1970s, no.

247, or Nudes at Hampstead Pond, 1988, no. 291).

Swimming Pool is her largest and probably most

ambitious picture of this kind. Despite its witty

overtones and comparatively mundane character,

the painting cannnot hide its association

with the idea of a Fountain of Youth, especially

that by Lucas Cranach (fig. 168), as the toddler,

playing in the grass in the centre of the picture,

and the small fountain, bubbling at the edge

of the pool, might indicate.

Motesiczky once explained that, aware of

the British public’s difficulties with the rather

serious style of German art of the twentieth

century, she attempted to create a more

light-hearted composition with Swimming

Pool that might be more to the taste of her

adopted country.



charitable trust

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 8: ‘Ich streife hier

nur im Vorübergehen ein Bild, das die Welt des

Divertissement schildert, nämlich “Im Schwimmbad”

von 1967, wo sich alles auf den zwei übereinandergelagerten

Ebenen des Schwimmbades und des Meeres

abspielt; wo die Natur ebenso humoristisch in die

Breite gezogen ist wie die Figuren, die naiv im Wasser

planschen – eine sehr moderne Vision in rascher

Technik mit den im Genre-Stil hingetupften Gestalten,

wie man sie bei manchen primitiven Malern zwischen

Siena und Florenz antreffen kann.’

notes

1 ‘Ob das Badebild was wird?’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 23 February 1967: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘mir scheint das Badebild wird bissel was – wär schön!

Jetzt müsst ich noch anderes beginnen – ja – Mutter

nimmt sehr viel Kraft und ich hab sie nicht – nicht genug

für Arbeit + Mutter’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary

entry for 4 March 1967: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘Das Badebild ist bisschen was geworden. Ich glaube es

gefällt Pio obwohl man’s ja nie wirklich weiss!’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 19 March 1967:

Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions


illus. p. 48 (col.); Vienna 1994, no. 41, illus. (col.); Frankfurt




bibliography

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63; Cohen 1996c, illus. p. 62; Fallon 1996,

illus. n.p.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 218.

Fig. 163 Swimming pool, Spain, photographs, 1966


362

Fig. 164 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch, c. 1967, ballpoint pen on paper,






Fig. 167 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Female Swimmer with Fish, undated,

brush and ink on paper, 178 × 228 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable

Trust, London)

Fig. 168 Lucas Cranach the Elder,

Der Jungbrunnen, 1546, oil on wood,

1225 × 1865 mm (Staatliche Museen

zu Berlin – Gemäldegalerie)

363

364

365

211

The Hour

Die Stunde

1967




Not unlike Parting, 1957 (no. 149), The Hour

depicts an intimate scene between two lovers.

While the earlier work has a certain intensity

about it, this painting shows the artist’s

mellower side. A seated white-haired, middleaged

woman, who resembles Motesiczky, looks

down on her companion. He is kneeling in

front of her, embracing her and resting his

head against her bosom. His make-up, costume

and cap mark him out as an actor. The couple

are surrounded by discarded musical instruments,

while a clock shows 10 minutes past 10

o’clock, perhaps suggesting that the evening’s

performance has finished. With The Hour,

Motesiczky created a melancholy picture of

closeness and trust. According to the title, it

takes place in a rare or especially treasured

moment.

A handwritten note indicates that Elias

Canetti seems to have thought about alternative

titles for The Hour. The suggestions

capture different aspects of the painting, or

attempt an interpretation:

The Hour

The Silent

The Lute Player

The Refuge

Memory

Closeness and Distance

The Silent Lute

The Unquenchable 1

Just after its completion, Motesiczky showed

The Hour to Günther Franke who was in the

process of hanging her exhibition at his gallery

in Munich. She recollects his reaction: ‘Franke

happy with the new pictures – approving

grunts – especially “The Hour” and “The

Way”’. 2 The picture was shown in the exhibition

but arrived too late to be included in the

catalogue. Like the other paintings of 1967 that

were exhibited ‘ex catalogue’ at Motesiczky’s

solo exhibition at the Galerie Günther Franke

in Munich in the autumn of that year (Orchid

and Clay Figure, no. 212; Fiesta, no. 207;

Henriette von Motesiczky with Dog and Flowers,

no. 213; Still-life with Cyclamen, no. 206), The

Hour has a very simple grey frame, possibly

homemade and produced in a hurry to enable

the paintings to be shown at such short notice.

notes

1 Die Stunde

Die Verstummten

Der Lautenspieler

Die Zuflucht

Erinnerung

Nähe und Ferne

Die stumme Laute

Das Unstillbare


2 ‘Franke mit den neuen Bildern zufrieden – beifälliges

grunzen – besonders “die Stunde” und “der Weg”’: Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von Motesiczky, 24

September [1967]: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Munich 1967, no. 60 (ex catalogue); London 1985, no. 59,

illus. p. 84.

366

212

Orchid and Clay Figure

Orchidee und Tonfigur

1967


Signed (bottom left): M.M.67


In this simple juxtaposition of a figurine and a

single blossom, Motesiczky again used objects

from her immediate surroundings. The small

clay figure in indigenous dress, propped up

against the wall, was probably brought back

from the artist’s trip to Mexico in 1956. During

the artist’s lifetime it was displayed on the

mantlepiece in the living room. Dominating

the composition is a single yellow and lilac

orchid. A few blades of grass and little twigs

complete the arrangement. While the flower

is presented with a pale background, the doll,

in contrast, poses before a dark one. This

device of dividing the background of a

portrait or still-life was repeatedly employed

by Motesiczky (see for example Portrait of

a Russian Student, 1927, no. 16).




Munich in the autumn of that year (Still-life

with Cyclamen, no. 206; The Hour, no. 211;

Fiesta, no. 207; Henriette von Motesiczky with

Dog and Flowers, no. 213) Orchid and Clay Figure

has a very simple grey frame, possibly homemade

and produced in a hurry to enable the

paintings to be shown at such short notice.

exhibition


367

213

Henriette von Motesiczky with Dog and Flowers

Henriette von Motesiczky mit Hund und Blumen

1967

Oil, pastel and charcoal on canvas, 613 × 763 mm

Signed (top right): M.M.67


Motesiczky’s diary for 1967 contains the

following belated entry on 25/6 June: ‘At some

point around this time I painted mother with

flowers and dog. I think it is good. Pio [Elias

Canetti] finds it excellent. But Milein [Cosman]

doesn’t like one eye. Mother the nose. Painting

portraits is a difficult art! No, I painted mother

in July!’ 1

Henriette von Motesiczky, the artist’s

mother, is shown in an everyday, domestic

scene that must have been utterly familiar

to the artist. On purchasing the house in

Chesterford Gardens in 1959, Henriette von

Motesiczky had moved in with her daughter

who would continue to look after her until

her death in 1978, aged 96. Here, the artist’s

mother, in her mid-eighties, is still an impressive,

though frail figure. Seated at a table

decorated with a bunch of pink flowers,

Henriette von Motesiczky is dressed in a

blue-green coat, perhaps a dressing gown. A

blue scarf covers her head. The artist faithfully

depicts her mother’s characteristic bulbous

nose, disliked by the sitter, and her shiny dark

eyes. One eye, however, not quite so successfully

rendered, is hidden by the shadow of the

nose. On a plate in front of her lies a bun or

scone which she is in the process of eating.

As if pausing thoughtfully in the middle of her

meal, her hand hovers above the plate. Her

Italian greyhound Bubi (also called Wixi) has

positioned himself at her shoulder, expectantly

eyeing the food on the table and waiting for

his share.

A sketch of Henriette von Motesiczky,

seated at a table in the same position, was

found among the artist’s drawings (fig. 169).

It probably originates from Motesiczky’s preparations

for the portrait, but omits the dog

and the objects on the table. A photograph

in the artist’s estate shows a scene extremely

similar to the one in the portrait (fig. 170).




Munich in the autumn of that year (Still-life

with Cyclamen, no. 206; The Hour, no. 211;

Fiesta, no. 207; Orchid and Clay Figure, no. 212)

Henriette von Motesiczky with Dog and Flowers

has a very simple grey frame, possibly homemade

and produced in a hurry to enable the

paintings to be shown at such short notice.

note

1 ‘Irgendwann um die Zeit hab ich Mutter gemalt mit Blumen

und Hund Ich glaube es ist gut Pio findet es grossartig.

Aber Milein mag ein Aug nicht. Mutter die Nase nicht

Das Portät malen ist eine schwere Kunst! Nein ich hab

Mutter im Juli gemalt!’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

diary entry for 25/6 June 1967: Motesiczky archive.

exhibitions

Munich 1967, no. 58 (ex catalogue), shown as Portrait Henriette

v. Motesiczky; Liverpool 2006, no. 66, illus. p. 215 (col.);




bibliography

López Calatayud 2005, pp. 10, 12, 15, 17, 20 f., 26, 28 f., 32 (also

referred to as Portrait of Mother with Dog and Flowers, Portrait

of Mother, Flowers and Dog, Mother with Flowers and Dog,

Mother with Dog and Flowers), illus. n.p. (full and numerous

details, col.); Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.

Fig. 169 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Henriette Seated,

late 1960s, black chalk on paper, 170 × 235 mm


Fig. 170 Henriette von Motesiczky at the table with her dog,

photograph, late 1960s (Motesiczky archive)

368




369

214

Couple Promenading on the Sea Front

1967



Landscapes are rare in Motesiczky’s oeuvre.

Here, she depicts a view of the sea or of Lake

Geneva which she visited several times in the

1960s. Large hills in the background frame a

calm expanse of blue water which a low railing

separates from the promenade. This is adorned

with flowerbeds and a large palm tree which

dominates the picture. A couple can be seen

strolling along the waterfront, while a lone

figure (not quite completed) rests on a bench at

the far left. Next to him, a lamp-post has been

partially overpainted. Motesiczky experimented

with several more figures to the left of the

palm tree, and these are visible as faint

charcoal outlines (see fig. 172).

Several paintings by Max Beckmann show

similar waterside scenes. The most striking

comparisons are Kleine italienische Landschaft,

1938 (fig. 135), and Hafen bei Bandol (grau) und

Palmen, 1939 (fig. 136). Motesiczky must have

been familiar at least with the former since

it was in the possession of her aunt Ilse

Leembruggen.


ballpoint pen on paper, 124 × 178 mm (Marie-Louise von


370

215

Still-life with Peach

Pfirsich

1967


Signed (top right): MM. 67

Michael Black

In January 1967 Motesiczky happily noted

in her diary: ‘Started small Peach Still-life!’ 1

Within a few months the simple but quietly

beautiful work was finished. A delicious pinkishyellow

peach is placed in the middle of a gently

curving wooden bowl. An oval silver hand

mirror behind it reflects the fruit and echoes

the shape of the bowl with only the handle

of the mirror disturbing the symmetry of the

composition. The single peach is presented

like a precious object.

Not untypically for Motesiczky, this still-life

has a rather curious provenance. In 1974 the

artist gave it to Fritz Karsten, a friend and at

one point her lawyer, as a token of her thanks

for his friendship and help during the difficult

times when she learned of the new family

Elias Canetti had started in Zürich: ‘The small

picture, with gratitude for non-professional

spiritual help. I won’t let the blasted old year

go out without asking Dr Karsten to organize

a happy new one for us all – he can do that –

because he does it with such a soft voice.’ 2

In 1993 Fritz Karsten gave back the painting,

which, in his mind, was not typical of

Motesiczky’s oeuvre, and asked for another,

possibly a figure scene, in exchange. Despite

several reminders Motesiczky never gave him

a substitute or returned the still-life. After her

death, the painting was handed back to him

and subsequently sold to another owner.



charitable trust

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

3 November 1992: ‘ich schreibe Ihnen, weil ich die

Bildangelegenheit lieber schriftlich erledigen will

damit Sie nicht das Gefuehl bekommen, dass ich Sie

zu etwas haben will, was Sie nicht tun wollen. Ich lege

371

Ihnen eine Fotokopie des Briefes bei, den Sie mir 1974

geschrieben haben als Sie mir das schoene Stilleben

schenkten. Ich will es austauschen, weil ich es jetzt

schon so viele Jahre jeden Tag gesehen habe und weil

es ausserdem meiner Ansicht nach kein wirkliches

charakteristisches Motesiczky Bild ist. Da sie mir

keinen Vorschlag gemacht haben, muss ich selbst

einen machen. Was waere mit dem franzoesischen

Cafehaus Bild?’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Fritz Karsten,

28 December 1992: ‘In den schrecklichen Tagen in

denen ich erfuhr dass Canetti Frau und Kind in Zürich

hat und alle es wussten ausser ich, bin ich Ihnen

begegnet oder besser gesagt ich suchte Sie auf und

Sie waren so taktvoll und wunderbar zu mir (einer

fremden Person) und wenn ich nicht durch Sie die

Kraft bekommen hätte Canetti lange nicht mehr zu

sehen so weiss ich nicht wie ich es überstanden hätte.

Jeder Mensch der mit mir befreundet war in all den

Jahren weiss wie gut Sie zu mir waren. Als ob es eine

Legende wäre … Ein kleines Bild welches ich sorgfältig

für Sie aussuchte weil es sich in jeder Sammlung gut

halten kann wollen Sie gegen eines was Sie nicht

kennen umtauschen.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 29 April

1993: ‘Was das Bild anlangt, was ich Austauschen will,

so ist kein Zweifel, dass es ein ausgezeichnetes Bild

ist aber Ihre wirkliche Besonderheit nicht ausdrueckt,

deshalb wollte ich es eintauschen.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 14 July 1994:

‘dies ist ein freundlicher und liebenswuerdiger Brief,

den ich nur sende weil Sie ueber das Stilleben nicht

sprechen wollten, das ich gegen ein womöglich figurales

Bild eintauschen wollte. Sie sollten sich nicht

darueber aergern oder kraenken. Das Bild, welches

Sie mir vor 15/16 Jahren schenkten, ist sehr gut, es

wuerde sich in jedem Museum gut ausnehmen – mein

Wunsch hat nichts mit der Qualitaet des Bildes zu

tun. Ich moechte mir auch van Goghs “Sessel” nicht

staendig ansehen wollen oder neuere Bilder, die iene

oder andere einzelne … Sachen zeigen. Das war der

Grund warum ich es umtauschen wollte, nicht

Unzufriedenheit mit dem Werk selbst.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 12 August

1994: ‘Ich habe von Ihnen noch nicht wegen meines

Bildes gehoert. Bitte, lassen Sie mich wissen, wie Sie

sich die Sache ueberlegt haben.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 10 October

1994: ‘Jetzt zur Bildergeschichte. Ich sehe, dass Sie mir

kein anderes Bild geben wollen statt des Stillebens, das

Sie mir seinerzeit geschenkt haben. Unter diesen

Umstaenden bitte ich Sie, nun mein Bild zu

retournieren. Da ich es jetzt so lange nicht hatte, wird

es mich bestimmt sehr freuen es wiederzusehen.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 24 February

1995: ‘ich hoffe, dass Sie mein Bild inzwischen gefunden

haben und dass ich es bald abholen kann. Es fehlt

mir jetzt nach so langer Abwesenheit und ich freue

mich darauf es wieder zu sehen.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 10 March

1995: ‘Es freut mich, dass Sie ein anderes Bild fuer

mich heraussuchen werden, “welches besser zu mir

passt.” Es war sehr interessant zu hoeren, dass

Rembrandt niemals ein Stilleben gemalt hat und ich

freue mich, dass Sie mich verstehen. Dem neuen Bild

sehe ich mit grossem Interesse und Neugier entgegen.’

Fritz Karsten to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 18 May

1995: ‘Sie haben mir vor ein paar Monaten gesagt,

dass ich Sie nicht draengen moege, Sie wuerden mir

ein schoenes, von Ihnen seinerzeit gemaltes Bild

aussuchen, im Umtausch fuer mein von Ihnen

gemaltes Bild, welches sich bei Ihnen seit 1½ Jahr

befindet. Ich habe Sie nicht gedraengt. Wie dem auch

sei, jetzt glaube ich doch, dass die Zeit gekommen

ist Sie zu erinnern. Ich weiss, dass Sie immer sehr

beschaeftigt sind und oft auch leidend, aber ich bitte

Sie zu bedenken, dass ich doch noch einige Jahre

Freude an dem Bild haben moechte. Wenn es Ihnen

tatsaechlich zu beschwerlich sein sollte ein Bild

auszusuchen, kann ich gerne helfen. Wenn Sie sich

die Sache aber ueberlegt haben sollten, so moechte

ich gern mein Bild zurueckhaben, welches Sie mir

vor 16 Jahren geschenkt haben.’

notes

1 ‘Kleines Pfirsichstill. begonnen!’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for 31 January 1967: Motesiczky

archive.

2 ‘Das kleine Bild, In Dankbarkeit für unprofessionelle

Seelenhilfe. Ich lass das verflixte alte Jahr nicht auskommen

ohne dass ich den Dr Karsten bitte dass er uns allen ein

glückliches neues verschafft – er kann das – weil er es mit

einer so sanften Stimme tut.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Fritz Karsten, 31 December 1974: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Fritz Karsten (gift 1974); artist (1993); Fritz Karsten (1996);

Michael Black (purchased late 1990s).

exhibition


372

216

The Way

Der Weg

1967




Inspiration for this mysterious painting of the

artist’s mother, Henriette von Motesiczky, may

have come from a poem she had written in

Amersham in 1949, entitled ‘Der kleine Weg’

(‘The Little Way’). Motesiczky juxtaposed this

poem, which expresses her mother’s ambivalent

feelings towards a familiar footpath, with

an illustration of the painting The Way in the

handmade booklet that commemorates

Henriette von Motesiczky’s life:

Dear friend, maybe you can tell me why I so

much hate the little dark way between the

long wooden plank and the dense bushes,

and yet love it so?

Maybe it is enchanted, this awful little way?

Sometimes when I have already walked past, I

turn around, because it attracts me magically.

Yet I fear it, since no other way has tormented

me so much mentally and physically.

Especially at the beginning, where the old

stake stands, sometimes a grief and a depression

comes over me, so that I could cry and

don’t know why. And when I then, full of fear,

rush to the other end, I feel my clumsiness,

my bodily weakness, to escape all that, only

so slowly.

On foggy days, when the air, the trees, the

bushes are dripping with moisture, I tramp

through the black puddles on the little

deserted way. Sometimes a ghost appears in

the dense grey, it quickly glides past me, it

averts its face as if it hated me.

It resembles a woman with a pale face and

jet-black hair. I smile at it, I believe to entrance

it like that. I want to ask: ‘Madame, how are

you, why so cross, it is fatal that we always

have to walk the same way.’

I have never spoken to it, the figure has

already disappeared in the fog.

Yet there are winter days, when ice and snow

on the little way do not want to melt, and I

stroll, extremely happy, as if over crevasses,

towards the village, and only have to make

sure that I do not fall.

All the ivy bushes are covered in glass, there

are children who have chosen this little way of

all places for their small sledges.

And when in the spring light rain falls,

then it smells of earth and of leaves.

Behind the wooden plank lie small and

large gardens.

I breathe, I feel the spring more on this little

way, which gives me the magic of the hidden,

more than if I stood in one of these gardens

in full sunshine.

Birds chirp in the dense bushes, they are

never closer to me than on this way.

The little way, … I hate it, I do not want to

see it ever again, I love it, and I never want

to part from it.

Enchanted, awful, familiar little way. 1

Seeing her mother take slow walks in their

Hampstead garden may also have inspired

the painting (fig. 173). Motesiczky intended to

finish this portrait for her solo exhibition at the

Galerie Günther Franke in Munich in October

1967. She was working unsuccessfully on a first

version of the painting in May of that year

and noted her struggle: ‘In the morning oh it

goes very very badly, how will I manage for the

exhibition. 4 weeks’ work garden picture in vain.

And I don’t know why. How will it go on’. 2 In

June she painted ‘an improved garden picture’. 3

The familiar balding figure of her mother,

dressed in a light brown skirt and yellow jacket,

is seen from behind, walking along on what

appears to be a raised wooden garden path

towards the darkness of a lush green forest.

Leaning on her stick she shuffles past a burning

brazier. A wood pigeon is startled by the human

intrusion and flies off into the trees. The

contrast between the lush vegetation and

the frail figure creates a sombre mood in

this painting that hovers between reality

and imagination. Yet it perfectly captures the

mother’s unfailing wish to be part of the natural

surroundings she so loved, as expressed in a

letter to her daughter:

Fig. 173 Henriette von Motesiczky walking down a path

in the garden, Chesterford Gardens, photograph, 1960s


Now it starts to get warm and lovely and

I yearn for the countryside. Oh, Piper Piper,

I think I cannot live in a town any more,

I would die there!

Mountains hills, meadows fields,

Trees flowers, birds forests

Dunghills also in the garden

All these things wait

All these things are my life

I want to give everything for them

No, I can never be without them

I give up love and kissing

Dew and earth I must have,

There you can bury me. 4

Perhaps alluding to the story of the Chinese

artist who painted such a perfect landscape that

he was then able to walk into it, Motesiczky

creates the appropriate landscape for her

mother to merge into.

Family tradition has it that Motesiczky was

especially proud of this painting. In her diary

she noted: ‘I really like the figure of mother. She

is beautiful’. 5 In 1988 she counted this painting

among the two most important paintings of her

373


for The Way, 1967, ink, charcoal and pastel on

paper, 230 × 290 mm (Marie-Louise von



for The Way, 1967, ballpoint pen and pastel on

paper, 180 × 250 mm (Marie-Louise von


mother. 6 Elias Canetti also admired it, causing

Motesiczky to note proudly in her diary: ‘Pio

likes it very much.’ 7 After his visit to the Munich

exhibition he wrote a glowing report: ‘Especially

beautiful was the large room in which the “Way”

hangs, too. The wall with the “Way” is the climax

of the exhibition. There I could have gazed for

hours. It is really remarkable how paintings can

praise each other to the skies.’ 8



charitable trust

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Henriette von Motesiczky,

24 September [1967]: ‘Franke mit den neuen Bildern

zufrieden – beifälliges grunzen – besonders “die

Stunde” und “der Weg” letzteres bist Du im Garten.’

Eva Marie Kallir to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

5 February 1983: ‘Der geliebte, gehasste Weg, und

Dein Bild so ein vollkommener Ausdruck, zugleich

märchenhaft und wirklich.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milli [Kann?], 3 November

1988: ‘Etwa 40 Jahre habe ich, erst ein zwei Bilder dann

schliesslich 5 meiner besten Bilder Soph zur Verfügung

gestellt, wie eine Schwester, weil sie die Bilder lieb

gehabt hat und sie gut behandelt hat. Schliesslich hat

sie die Bilder gekauft für einen kleinen Preis auf

anraten von Percy … Diese Bilder sind das Beste und

zwar ein Viertel des Besten was ich in 60 Jahren Arbeit

leisten konnte. Ich war eingeschrenkt durch Mutter

und C. und konnte nicht mer leisten. Noch dazu sind

die zwei wichtigsten Bilder von Mutter – das grosse

Portrat und der kurze Weg darunter … die Spanierin

(vielleicht (?) der beste Kopf den ich je gemalt habe

(und die wir retteten))’

notes

1 Lieber Freund, vielleicht können Sie mir sagen, warum ich

den kleinen dunklen Weg, zwischen der langen Holzplanke

und dem dichten Gebüsch, so sehr hasse und doch so liebe?

Ist er vielleicht verzaubert, dieser abscheuliche kleine Weg?

Wenn ich manchmal schon vorbeigegangen, kehre ich um,

weil er mich magisch anzieht.

Dabei fürchte ich ihn, denn kein andrer Weg hat mir seelisch

und physisch so viel Qualen bereitet. Grade am Anfang

dort, wo der alte Pflock steht, kommt manchmal ein Weh

und eine Depression über mich, dass ich weinen könnte

und weiss nicht warum. Und wenn ich dann voll Angst dem

andern Ende zu eile, dann fühle ich meine Unbeholfenheit,

meine körperliche Schwäche, dem allen, nur so langsam,

zu entrinnen.

An Nebeltagen, wenn die Luft, die Bäume, die Büsche von

Feuchtigkeit triefen, dann stapfe ich durch die schwarzen

Pfützen auf dem kleinen menschenleeren Weg. In dem

dichten Grau taucht manchmal ein Gespenst auf, es huscht

an mir vorbei, es wendet sein Gesicht ab, als würde es

mich hassen.

Es gleicht einer Frau mit blassem Gesicht und pechschwarzem

Haar. Ich lächle es an, ich glaube es damit zu

bannen. Ich möchte fragen: ‘Madame, wie geht es Ihnen,

warum so böse, es ist fatal, dass wir immer den gleichen

Weg gehen müssen.’

Ich habe es nie angesprochen, schon ist im Nebel die

Gestalt verschwunden.

Doch gibt es Wintertage, wo Eiss und Schnee auf dem

kleinen Weg nicht schmelzen wollen, da wandle ich,

hochbeglückt, wie über Gletscherspalten, dem Dorfe zu,

und muss nur achtgeben, dass ich nicht falle.

All die Efeubüsche sind mit Glas überzogen, Kinder gibt

es, die sich grade diesen Weg für ihre kleinen Schlitten

ausgesucht haben.

Und wenn im Frühling leichter Regen fällt,

dann duftet es nach Erde und nach Laub.

Hinter der Holzplanke liegen kleine und grosse Gärten.

Ich atme, ich fühle den Frühling mehr auf diesem kleinen

Weg, der mir den Zauber des Verborgenen gibt, mehr,

als wenn ich mitten im Sonnenschein in einem dieser

Gärten stünde.

Vögel zwitschern in den dichten Büschen, nie sind sie

mir so nah als auf diesem Weg.

Der kleine Weg, … ich hasse ihn, ich möchte ihn nie

wiedersehen, ich liebe ihn, und möchte mich von ihm

nie trennen.

Verzauberter, abscheulicher, vertrauter kleiner Weg.


2 ‘Morgens Oh es geht sehr sehr schlecht wie werd ich

durchkommen bis zur Ausstellung 4 Wochen Arbeit

umsonst Gartenbild Und ich weiss nicht warum. Wie wird

es weitergehen’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary

entry for 30 May 1967: Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘ein verbessertes Gartenbild’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


4 Nun fängt es an warm und schön zu werden u. ich

bekomme die Landsehnsucht. Ach Piper Piper, ich

glaube ich kann nicht mehr in einer Stadt leben, da

komme ich um!

Berge Hügel, Wiesen Felder,

Bäume Blumen, Vögel Wälder

Düngerhaufen auch im Garten

Alle diese Dinge warten

All die Dinge sind mein Leben

Alles möcht ich dafür geben

Nein ich kann sie nimmer missen

Ich verzicht auf Lieb u. Küssen

Tau und Erde muss ich haben,

Dorten darfst Du mich begraben.

(Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

31 March 1956: Motesiczky archive)

5 ‘Mir gefällt die Figur von Mutter wirklich. Die ist schon’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for 26 June 1967:

Motesiczky archive.

6 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Milli [Kann?], 3 November


7 ‘Pio gefällt’s sehr.’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary


8 ‘Besonders schön war der eine grosse Raum, wo auch der

“Weg” hängt. Die Wand mit dem “Weg” ist der Clou der

Ausstellung. Da hätte ich stundenlang schauen können.

Es ist schon erstaunlich, wie Bilder einander gegenseitig

herausstreichen können.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 31 October 1967: Motesiczky archive.

provenance



exhibitions

Munich 1967, no. 56 (ex catalogue); London 1985, no. 58,

illus. p. 49 (col.); Cambridge 1986, no. 58, illus. p. 49 (col.);

Liverpool 2006, no. 68, illus. p. 217 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 68,



bibliography

Anonymous 1985, n.p.; Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63; Zimmermann

1985, n.p.; Anonymous [Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Tate Gallery,

1996, p. 504; Schlenker 2006b, pp. 204 f.; Schlenker 2006d,

p. 259; Lloyd 2007, p. 194.

374

375

217

Allerseelen

1967/8


Location unknown

In the Roman Catholic Church 2 November,

Allerseelen or All Souls Day, is the annual day

of remembrance of the faithful departed, those

baptized Christians who are believed to be in

purgatory because they have died with the guilt

of lesser sins on their souls. It is customary to

pay special tribute to the suffering souls in

purgatory, easing their pain and helping

cleanse these souls by offering masses and

prayers and by practising almsgiving.

In this painting, Motesiczky shows an urban

place of the dead, a cemetery surrounded by a

dark mass of houses in the background. Only

an occasional window is illuminated. The

cupola of a church, possibly St Paul’s Cathedral,

against the red evening sky offers sanctuary. An

elderly female figure, clad in a long black coat

with a white shawl wrapped around her head,

walks down a path towards the viewer. Framed

on both sides with metal railings, the occasional

branch of a tree overhanging, the path

seems to be leading through the graves. The

woman, said to have been inspired by a person

Motesiczky had seen in the cemetery in Holly

Walk, Hampstead, carrying wood, is holding an

armful of large flowers, presumably intended

for a grave. This custom is more traditionally

associated with All Saints Day on 1 November

when, in the afternoon, graves are decorated

with flowers, mainly asters and chrysanthemums,

and with candles. Curiously and

slightly unnervingly, the woman has a smile

on her face as if relishing her encounter with

the dead. Behind the lower fence on the left a

little group, probably a young family of father,

mother and baby, can be discerned. The religious

aura that surrounds the trio is not unlike

that of the mother and child in Fiesta (no. 207),

painted in 1967. Here, the eery, almost unreal

atmosphere of their surroundings contributes

to the ambiguity of the scene. From their grey

colouring and seeming stillness they appear

almost to be made of stone, like statues on a

grave rather than living creatures. The suggestion

of tiny wings gives rise to a further

suspicion that here one might be dealing with

the souls of the dead. According to old popular

belief, on All Souls Day the souls of the dead

escape from purgatory to earth for a while to

take a brief rest from their punishment.

With Allerseelen Motesiczky produced a

work that, with its openly religious theme, is

unique in her oeuvre. A baptized Jew with no

strong religious beliefs, she chose to depict a

Catholic day of commemoration of the dead.

Some aspects she depicted correctly while

others were imported from another holiday,

Fig. 176 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Allerseelen,

1967/8, black chalk and pastel on paper, 245 × 210 mm


thus perhaps attempting to imbue the work

with a more universal meaning.

During the artist’s lifetime the whereabouts

of Allerseelen had already become obscure.

Motesiczky thought it no longer existed and had

no recollection of where it had gone: a remark

on an index card indicates that she might even

have overpainted it. The painting must probably

be considered lost now, with only a colour slide

and a drawing (fig. 176) as records.

376

377

218

Benno Reifenberg

Bildnis Benno Reifenberg

1968


Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main (2113)

Benno Reifenberg (1882–1970; fig. 177), art

historian, journalist, publicist and co-editor of

the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, had met the

young Motesiczky in Frankfurt in the 1920s,

presumably at the house of the hospitable

Heinrich Simon, editor-in-chief of the

Frankfurter Zeitung. During their long acquaintance

Reifenberg and Motesiczky shared

numerous friends, among them Max

Beckmann and Oskar Kokoschka. Even Elias

Canetti, often a rather critical judge of character,

called Reifenberg ‘a fine human being’. 1

In the autumn of 1963 Reifenberg and

Kokoschka discussed the possibility of a

portrait. Kokoschka seemed reluctant and

Reifenberg was not convinced that he really

intended to paint him. In early 1964 Motesiczky

offered to mediate and convince Kokoschka to

start the work. She remarked in a letter to

Reifenberg: ‘I find the combination of humility

and objectivity that you have towards your face

so disarming that I can hardly imagine that a

human being with Kokoschka’s humour can

resist it.’ 2 The matter rested for a couple of

years. Then, in 1966, Reifenberg wrote an introduction

to Motesiczky’s exhibition catalogue

which Motesiczky found particularly sensitive

and intelligent. In 1967, when Kokoschka still

had not embarked on the portrait, Motesiczky

had another suggestion: ‘I would like to paint

you – just because O.K. and Beckmann have

never even tried – this is a challenge – I think –

if it doesn’t work I don’t have to show it – and

if it does your son shall have it – do you agree?

I know sitting is the worst part of it – I don’t

think I can already do it this autumn – but I

could come and look for a moment?’ 3

Reifenberg liked the idea: ‘I want to tell you

from the start that I feel happily inclined if you

wanted to paint me … Besides, I was fully

aware that my face did not inspire Kokoschka

to paint my portrait when he came to see me

after all those years. I would love to put myself

into your hands.’ 4 Soon afterwards Benno

Reifenberg received a donation from the city of

Frankfurt to honour his seventy-fifth birthday

Fig. 177 Benno Reifenberg, photograph, 1960s


and commissioned Motesiczky to paint his

portrait.

In July 1968 Motesiczky travelled to

Kronberg, near Frankfurt, to paint Reifenberg.

At first, she seemed to have trouble with the

painting itself and instead tried her hand at a

few drawings. She confessed to a friend that

after three weeks she found it ‘very hard work’. 5

Yet it was not the fact that the model did not

sit enough that caused the difficulties. A letter

from Siegfried Sebba, an old friend from the

Frankfurt days and a fellow artist, whom, after

decades, Motesiczky had met again during her

stay in Kronberg, reveals the true nature of the

problem – the sitter’s illness and drastically

altered looks: ‘What I was not at all happy

about was your worries about the portrait,

which have spoilt your stay here. – When I saw

Benno enter … I was really alarmed: an old

man! This is not the person we know. How can

you now paint him from nature? No-one can

do that. But of course we did not know that.

You simply came too late for this task. You

can only paint him from memory! You have to

erase again what you have just seen with your

eyes. Let someone show you photos and press

cuttings from former times, and refresh your

memory. The red cheeks are unnatural, they

are from today (blood pressure, heart) good for

the red spot of paint, (a joke of the brush) don’t

do that! Paint him as he looked formerly. He

(is) was a handsome man. Something like that

one can’t depict … What I have noticed with

our dear Benno is his blue, guileless eyes,

which have a slightly melancholic expression

(caved-in, frog-like). Of course not the same

right and left. Look carefully! Benno is forgiving,

idealistic, therefore the mouth is not grim,

not aggressive. There is nothing to gain there.

Nothing evil! Nothing demonic! Nothing

for painters!’ 6 Motesiczky eventually came to

terms with her worries, resolved the difficulties

and made good progress. Elias Canetti wrote

encouragingly: ‘I am very proud of you, dear

painter Mulo, that you have persisted. This is

a sort of last knighting for you as a painter,

that in a different atmosphere and under such

difficult circumstances you did not give up.

I am totally convinced that the painting turned

out well. Your self-criticism is always too great,

and you have never let anything of yours pass

without being right about it. Now I only beg

you, Muli, stand firm when you show it.’ 7

The half-length portrait of Benno

Reifenberg is a tribute to a public persona

as well as a private declaration of friendship.

Seated at a desk, gesturing with the elegantly

long fingers of his right hand, Reifenberg,

slightly stooped, is intently observing his

surroundings. The honesty with which

Motesiczky depicts the sitter’s features, often

praised for their harmony and beauty and

now altered through illness, is deeply moving.

Motesiczky managed to capture the two different

halves of his face, the left one deformed

and the right one still recalling the noble

features of the young man. A fragile and

visionary air surrounds the sitter, enhanced

by a sketchy figure in the background who

emerges as a white silhouette over his left

shoulder. The figure respresents Liselotte

Maria, Reifenberg’s sister. Motesiczky had

378

379

Fig. 178 Oskar Kokoschka, Michael Croft, 1938/9,

oil on canvas, 762 × 637 mm (private collection)

probably met her in the 1920s in Frankfurt.

They certainly knew each other in Berlin in the

late 1920s. In early summer 1968, just before

Motesiczky started work on the portrait,

Liselotte Maria visited the artist in London.

Her inclusion may be a final tribute to

Kokoschka who had not taken up the commission.

Kokoschka had employed such a device

to indicate an added dimension to the sitter in

several of his portraits, most notably that of

Michael Croft (fig. 178) which she most likely

knew. In the early 1940s, Kokoschka had tried

to act as a matchmaker between Michael Croft

and Motesiczky.

Reifenberg loved his portrait and was proud

of the artist. The City of Frankfurt purchased

this painting for DM 20,000 on the occasion of

the sitter’s seventy-fifth birthday and presented

it to the Städelsches Kunstinstitut, where

Reifenberg served as president of the administration

until his death. Since legal reasons

prevented paintings owned by the gallery from

being lent for exhibitions, it was shown only

once outside Frankfurt before it entered the

Städel collection. Motesiczky triumphantly

commented on her successful creation of

the portrait: ‘I was lucky that O.K. painted the

Towerbridge and I was allowed to paint Benno

Reifenberg!’ 8



charitable trust

Benno Reifenberg to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

19 February 1968: ‘Was macht unser Porträt?’


3 July 1968: ‘Was macht das Bild von Reifenberg, es ist

sicher schon auf der Leinwand.’


11 July [1968]: ‘Binn froh das Deine Zeichnung von

Reifenb. wenigstens gelungen! Heute früh die Löwen

[Edith Loewenberg] angerufen, die grade mit Dir

gesprochen u. sagte, das es auch mit dem Mahlen

besser geht.’


4 August 1968: ‘Ich denke viel und gerne an unsere

Sitzungen und ausgedachten – sicher notwendigen –

Posen meinerseits … Habe ich Ihnen noch von

Holzinger berichtet, dass er in seinem Zimmer sich

ständig angesehen fühlt von meiner Person? … Er

und ich sind was die Aufnahme des Porträts in das

Städel angeht einig. Das ist die Hauptsache. Fraglich

bleibt noch der Termin diesen Beschluß öffentlich

zu machen. Dazu gehören a) Zustimmung der

Administratoren, b) Besichtigung durch den Stadtrat

von Rath um den Senat zu unterrichten und c) die

Regelung der Auszahlung durch die Stadt-Kassa.

Ich hoffe wir werden diese drei Bedingungen vor

Holzingers Urlaub erledigen. Wenn nicht müssen

wir (d.h. Sie und ich) bis Ende August gedulden. Aber

schon jetzt gilt alea jacta sunt: Sie haben einen Sieg,

einen glänzenden, errungen.’

Ada Brunthaler to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 13 August

1968: ‘Was ich einmal wissen möchte: Haben Sie wohl

manchmal Sehnsucht nach dem Bild? Ist es nicht, als

ob man sich von seinem Kind hat trennen müssen?

aber es ist in guten Händen, Dr. H. [Holzinger] scheint

sich sehr damit zu befreunden. Übrigens ist Ihr

glückliches Model sehr stolz auf Sie.’

Helga Hummerich to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

19 August 1968: ‘selten hat mich etwas so stark beschäftigt

wie Ihr Bild von BR. Um es gleich zu sagen, es ist ein

großartiges Bild … Es ist erschütternd, wie Sie den

ganzen Menschen erfasst, durchschaut haben. Das

Gesicht hat zwei verschiedene Hälften die eine (linke)

zeigt die Veränderung nach der Krankheit u. ihre

Spuren, die andere hat noch den jungen Menschen

in sich oder gar den Wiedergenesenden. Der Blick ist

visionär, kann es aber nur sein, weil Sie selbst mit

visionärer Kraft gemalt haben … Hingerissen bin ich

auch, daß u. wie sie die Haut gemalt haben, wunderbar

die Details, das Haar oder das weiße Schälchen um

den Hals. Sie haben ein herrliches Werk geschaffen,

das man nicht müde wird, anzusehen u. zu durchforschen,

das unerhört Aufschluß gibt + doch sein

Geheimnis behält. Wie schön, daß das Porträt seinen

Platz im Städel finden wird.’

Liselotte Maria Reifenberg to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 2 September 1968: ‘Der Benno schrieb sehr

angetan von deinem Bild and sagte dass er (als er den

Brief schrieb) gerade mit dem massgebenden Mann …

gesprochen habe und dass der auch sehr begeistert sei.

Nun MUSS ich das naechste mal ins Museum gehen

um dich, den Benno und mich zu sehen. Auch wenn

keiner mich erkennt so macht mir die Idee irgendwo

im Hintergrund herum zu spuken grosse Freude.

Vielen Dank.’

Gretl Rupé to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 15 September

1968: ‘Es freut mich so sehr, daß Dir das Portrait von

Reifenberg so gut gelungen ist und er selbst so glücklich

darüber ist und die anderen auch!!! Ich verstehe

gut, wie unendlich wichtig das für Dich ist!!’

Irma Simon to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 29 September

1968: ‘Wie lange hast Du schließlich an dem Portrait

gemalt und wann war es fertig? An das linke Auge

kann sogar ich mich erinnern, glaube ich – es stammte

wohl von der Operation? Das Bild hat wohl nicht

Marylas Abneigung erzeugt – es muß sie aber

schmerzen.’

Renée Cushman to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 1 October

1968: ‘Siehst Du wie alles schön wird: jetzt auch

Bestellungen auf das Porträt hin! Bist Du Dir auch

wirklich im Klaren, wie fantastisch es ist dass Du Dich

sozusagen selbst und nur mit Deiner Kunst durchgesetzt

hast in einem Zeitalter wo alles nur mit Reklame,

Impresario und Geld gelingt?? An Deiner Stelle wäre

ich einfach fürchterlich stolz und von mir selbst

begeistert. Und noch dazu wo Deine Malerei kein

gefälliger Kitsch ist der sich dem Geschmack der

Banausen anpasst. Also – ich bin begeistert und

hocherfreut dass wenigstens einmal auf dieser Welt

der Erfolg rechtzeitig an den Richtigen kommt.’

380


28 December 1968: ‘Das Porträt wird Ihrem Wunsch

gemäß gerahmt. Der rote Fleck wird nicht verschwinden.

Er wartet darauf, im Museum der Öffentlichkeit gezeigt

zu werden. Quappi Beckmann, die eine Photographie

sah, war, wie sie mir schrieb, ganz begeistert.’


8 February 1969: ‘Inzwischen möchte ich doch sehr

wünschen der sich wiederholenden Frage ledig zu

werden, warum Sie noch nicht über das Honorar

verfügt haben, trotz mehrfacher Erkundigung des

Direktors. Ich gebe ihm an: Devisenschwierigkeiten

augenscheinlich. Ich kann aber unmöglich in die Lage

kommen dass ich persönlich an Ihrer Disposition

interessiert erscheine. Es wäre für alle Beteiligten fatal,

dass jemand glauben könnte ich hätte aus anderen

als rein künstlerischen Gründen, Sie als meine

Porträtmalerin ausgewählt. Nämlich materiellen, aus

der von der Stadt vermachten Dotierung persönlich zu

profitieren. Sie wissen genau, dass so etwas überhaupt

nicht bei meiner Wahl in den Sinn gekommen ist.’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 6: ‘wie scharf

beobachtend in seiner Zurückhaltung [ist] Benno

Reifenberg’

sources from the deutsches

literaturarchiv, marbach, estate

benno reifenberg

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg, 11 April

1968: ‘Ihr Brief, er schein mir schon wieder sehr lange

her, hat mich froh gemacht auch weil Sie unser Porträt

nochmals erwähnten. (Als ich Sie ursprünglich darum

bat, kam ich mir wirklich lästig vor damit.) Nun fahre

ich am 25. nach dem Haag und hätte so grosse Lust

einen kleinen Abstecher nach Frankfurt – das heisst

Kronberg zu machen. Ein zwei Nächte – gerade nur

um Sie zu begrüssen und zu besprechen wann eine

gute Zeit zum malen wäre. Sie denken vielleicht, wenn

ich doch später wieder komme ist das gar nicht nötig

aber wahrscheinlich gefällt mir der Gedanke so gut –

weil es gar nicht nötig ist. Das wäre in den ersten

Tagen Mai – am 5. muss ich wieder zurück sein, zum

Geburtstag meiner Mutter. Wenn aber diese Zeit Ihnen

ungelegen ist, so schreiben Sie mir ein Wort. Ich habe

gar keine Pläne in den nächsten Monaten. Vielleicht

sollte ich dann wirklich schon gleich kommen um das

Bild zu malen?’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg, 1 May

1968: ‘Vielen Dank für Ihren lieben Brief, der mir in

den Haag nachgeschickt wurde. Wie lieb dass Sie mich

am 17. empfangen wollen aber nun denke ich es ist

besser ich warte bis Lieselotte nach London kommt.

Ich freue mich ungeheuer auf ihren Besuch!! Dann

bespreche ich alles mit Lieselotte und wir rufen Sie

gleich zur Begrüssung aus London an. Wenn Sie mir

später wirklich für das Porträt sitzen (ich finde es ja

eine Schande dass man es nicht auswendig machen

kann) so wäre es das Beste ich hätte ein Zimmer in

Ihrer Nähe (Pension, Hotel, was immer) so dass ich

mehr ein “Einwohner” von Kronberg bin und Sie

mich gar nicht als Gast empfinden um den man sich

kümmern muss.’

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg,

11 January 1969: ‘Ich hatte Hemmungen dem lieben

Professor Holzinger zu schreiben dass ich auch die

Farbe des Rahmens nicht richtig finde. Es ist so ein

goldiger Ton, der etwas kunstgewerblich, das Bild

weiter malt. Aber bitte nicht ihm sagen dass ich’s

geschrieben habe. Wenn Sie aber “zufällig” so ein Auge

darauf haben könnten? Eine klare Abgrenzung – eine

Farbe die nicht im Bild vorkommt – gewöhnliches

Holz zum Beispiel – wäre besser. Ich fand schon ein

bischen komisch dass ich den roten Fleck erwähnte –

Holzinger soll doch nicht denken dass ich gar so

zimperlich bin mit meinem “lieben Bild” Aber ich

dachte, wenn’s schon wirklich ein neuer Rahmen wird’

notes

1 ‘ein feiner Mensch’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, [May 1963]: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Ich finde die Kombination von Bescheidenheit und

Sachlichkeit die Sie ihrem Gesicht gegenüber haben so

entwaffnend dass ich mir schwer vorstellen kann dass ein

Mensch mit Kokoschkas Humor dem wiederstehen kann.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg,



3 ‘ich möchte Sie gerne einmal malen, – just – weil der O.K.

und Beckmann es nicht einmal versuchten – das ist eine

Herausforderung – ich denke mir – wenn’s nix wird brauch

ich es ja nicht zeigen – und wenn’s was wird bekommt es

Ihr Sohn – einverstanden? Ich weiss, das Sitzen ist das

Schlimmste dabei – ich denke nicht dass ich’s schon

machen kann diesen Herbst – aber schauen kommen

könnte ich doch einen Augenblick?’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky to Benno Reifenberg, 1 September 1967:

Deutsches Literaturarchiv, Marbach, Estate Benno

Reifenberg.

4 ‘Schon im vornhinein will ich Ihnen sagen, dass mir recht

freundlich zu Mute wäre, wenn Sie mich malen wollten …

Im übrigen: mir war vollkommen deutlich, dass mein

Gesicht dem Kokoschka, als er mich nach langen Jahren

wiedersah, keine Aufforderung gab mich zu portraitieren.

Ihnen will ich mich gerne anvertrauen.’: Benno Reifenberg

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 14 September 1967:

Motesiczky archive.

5 ‘sehr schwere Arbeit’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to

Theo Garve, 24 July 1968: Motesiczky archive.

6 ‘Was mich gar nicht freute, war Dein Kummer über das

Porträt, das Dir den Aufenthalt hier verdorben hat. – Als

ich Benno hereinkommen sah … habe ich mich erschreckt:

Ein Greis! Das ist nicht der Mensch, den wir kennen. Wie

kannst Du ihn jetzt von der Natur abmalen? Niemand

kann das. Aber das haben wir ja nicht gewusst. Du bist

eben zu spät gekommen für diese Aufgabe. Du kannst

ihn nur malen aus der Erinnerung! Du musst das wieder

ausradieren, was Du jetzt mit den Augen gesehen hast. Lass

Dir doch Fotos und Zeitungsausschnitte von früher zeigen,

und frische Dein Gedächtnis auf. Die roten Backen sind

unnatürlich, die sind von heute (Blutdruck, Herz) gut für

den roten Farbfleck, (ein Pinselspass) mach das nicht! Male

ihn, wie er früher aussah. Er (ist) war ein schöner Mann. So

etwas kann man nicht darstellen … Was mir an unserem

lieben Benno aufgefallen ist, das sind seine blauen,

treuherzigen Augen, die einen etwas melancholischen

Ausdruck (verblasen, froschartig) haben. Natürlich ungleich

rechts und links. Sieh genau hin! Benno ist versöhnlich,

idealistisch, also ist der Mund nicht verbissen, nicht

aggressiv. Dort ist nichts zu holen. Nichts Böses! Nichts

Teuflisches! Nichts für Maler!’: Siegfried Sebba to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 22 July 1968 (postmark):

Motesiczky archive.

7 ‘ich bin wirklich stolz auf Dich, lieber Maler Mulo, dass Du

durchgehalten hast. Das ist eine Art letzter Ritterschlag für

Dich als Maler, dass Du in einer andern Atmosphäre und

unter so schwierigen Umständen nicht locker gelassen hast.

Ich bin ganz sicher, dass aus dem Bild etwas geworden ist.

Deine Selbstkritik ist immer zu gross, und Du hast noch nie

etwas von Dir gelten lassen, ohne dass Du Recht hattest.

Jetzt bitte ich Dich nur sehr, Muli, lass Dich ja nicht beirren,

wenn Du es herzeigst.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 19 July 1968: Motesiczky archive.

8 ‘Zu meinem Glück hat O.K. die Towerbridge gemalt und

ich durfte Benno Reifenberg malen!’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, undated note on Benno Reifenberg to Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, 18 September 1963: Deutsches


provenance

Artist; Benno Reifenberg; Städelsches Kunstinstitut

(presented by the City of Frankfurt 1968).

exhibitions

Bremen 1968, ex catalogue; London 1985, no. 60, illus. p. 84,

dated 1967, not shown; Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 70,


bibliography

Albrecht 1968, n.p.; Helmolt 1980, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 993

(dated 1967); Schulze 1998, p. 115, illus. p. 115 (col.);

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 54 f.n., illus. p. 111; Crüwell 2006b,

n.p.; Crüwell 2006c, n.p.; Klein 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 220; Schlenker 2006d, p. 259;

Sternburg 2006, n.p.; Weinzierl 2007, n.p.

381

219

Lorette in the Studio

Lorette im Atelier

1968



Motesiczky presents a scene in a crowded

studio where two artists are painting a model,

a common subject in art. With a few exceptions

(see for example Studio with Nude Model, 1970,

no. 239), Motesiczky does not seem to have

worked with fellow artists; indeed she probably

rejected any offers of collaboration. Moreover,

she rarely shows herself as a painter (see for

example Self-portrait with Palette, 1960, no. 168).

Yet here, she depicts herself, seated on the left

in front of an easel with a small canvas, busily

at work. The focus of the painting is on the

exotic-looking, black-haired model, who sits on

library steps in the centre of the composition.

Her name is Lorette Lugten. Of Dutch-

Indonesian origin, she was born in Batavia

(now Jakarta), Indonesia, in 1944 and lived in

London from 1967 to 1970. Lorette Lugten

recalled in an interview in 2001 that, while she

was window-shopping in Hampstead one day,

Motesiczky approached her. They struck up a

friendship and the artist invited Lorette Lugten

to sit for her. The sittings, which took place

once a week, resulted in several drawings,

one of them clearly a study for this painting

(fig. 179), and two paintings, Lorette in the Studio

and Lorette as Painter, 1968 (no. 220).

During her time in London, Lorette Lugten

intended to become an artist, doing some

painting and drawing, which is the subject of

Lorette as Painter. Here, in contrast, she works

as the model and not the artist. Dressed in

black tights, a short blue skirt and a colourful

red and orange top, she squats at leisure on the

elegantly curving steps whose central column

forms the middle axis of the composition. Her

face is beautifully captured and probably the

part of the picture that Motesiczky took most

care with. In the background, a red-haired,

bearded man is at work on another portrait

of the sitter. Curiously he is depicting her from

behind. Like Motesiczky, he is equipped with

a palette and an array of brushes. Peeping

around his large canvas, mounted on an easel

directly behind the model, he takes a look at

the sitter. The large canvas partially blocks the

view through the window in the background

beyond which the dark night sky and a few

brightly twinkling stars are visible.

Unfortunately, the identity of Motesiczky’s

fellow painter is not recorded and Lorette

Lugten does not recall him. He may be a

former neighbour from Compayne Gardens

called Oliver Jacobs who, presumably in the

late 1950s or early 1960s, approached Motesiczky

several times about ‘joining our painting party’ 1

which he suggested holding at her house. It is

not known if Motesiczky really took up his offer

to work in the company of others. Alternatively,

he may simply be invented.

Since Motesiczky had always been reluctant

to show her paintings, especially while work

was still in progress, Lorette Lugten did not

see the painting for some time. In 2001 she

confirmed that, when she eventually saw this

work, she found her depiction in the painting

a good likeness of herself.

note

1 Oliver Jacobs to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1959]:

Motesiczky archive.

Fig. 179 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Lorette Seated, 1968,

charcoal on paper, 505 × 405 mm (Marie-Louise von


382

220

Lorette as Painter

Lorette als Malerin

1968


Signed (top right): m. motesiczky 1968.


Lorette Lugten was born in Batavia (now

Jakarta), Indonesia, in 1944. From 1967 to 1970

she lived in London where, while windowshopping

one day, Motesiczky approached her

and started talking to her. Always in need of

a model, Motesiczky asked Lorette Lugten to

sit for her. Accepting the offer, Lorette Lugten

became a paid model, sitting once a week. As

well as several drawings, some of them very

accomplished (fig. 180), Motesiczky completed

two paintings of this model, Lorette as Painter

and Lorette in the Studio, 1968 (no. 219).

Lorette Lugten, who at the time wanted

to be an artist and did some painting and

drawing, recalls how Motesiczky inspired her

to create her own artworks. Equally, the sitter’s

passion for painting may have stimulated

the artist to depict her in the chosen pose.

Motesiczky empathetically presents a fellow

artist, holding the tools of her trade, a palette

and a brush. As if to match her long black hair,

she is dressed all in black, possibly a painter’s

smock. Her dark eyes gaze intently at something

outside the picture, perhaps the subject

matter of the painting she is working on. The

background is bare except for a small chest of

drawers with a vase of flowers, next to which

Motesiczky suggests the outlines of two

brushes leaning against the wall.

exhibitions

London 1987, ex catalogue; Dublin 1988, no. 14.

Fig. 180 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Head of Lorette,

1968, charcoal on paper, 560 × 380 mm (Marie-Louise


383

221

French Restaurant

Französisches Restaurant

1968



The French cellar restaurant, Le Cellier du

Midi, in Church Row in Hampstead, was a

favourite eating place of Motesiczky and her

mother. They enjoyed having their meal there

especially on the housekeeper’s day off: ‘Now

I am going to the “French” [restaurant] with

mother, Thursday – Pauzen’s leave’. 1

Motesiczky captures a busy scene in the

restaurant. In the back, behind a counter, food

is being prepared by the chef, a friend of the

Motesiczky family called Guy Monier. In the

same year Motesiczky painted a portrait of

him (The Cook, no. 222) in his working outfit and

with the frying pan as an additional, identifying

accessory. Here, a waiter is arranging the

cooked fish on a plate while another waiter

(possibly the same model) carries in a lobster

on a tray which is intended for the couple,

a young woman and an elderly man, seated

at the table in the foreground with their

two dogs. Preparatory drawings reveal that

Motesiczky toyed with a more intimate scene

between the woman and her companion (fig.

181). Considerably younger, he bends down

low to kiss her regally extended hand. It has

been suggested that the figures represent the

artist and Oskar Kokoschka, who, several years

earlier, had apparently made advances to her.

note

1 ‘Jetzt geh ich mit Mutter in’s “Französische” Donnerstag –

Pauzenausgang’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias

Canetti, 25 June 1964: Motesiczky archive.

Fig. 181 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Man Kissing a Woman’s Hand,

c. 1968, black chalk on paper, 180 × 232 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


384

222

The Cook

Der Küchenlehrling

1968


Walter Elkan, London

Guy Monier, born in France in 1947, stayed

with the Motesiczkys in Hampstead in 1968/9

while working in a local restaurant, Le Cellier

du Midi, in Church Row. He had been introduced

by his godmother Renée Cushman,

an old friend of the artist from Vienna.

Motesiczky’s portrait shows Guy Monier

wearing the clothes of his trade, a chef’s hat

and white coat. As an additional prop defining

the sitter’s occupation Motesiczky placed

before him a heavy black frying pan, under

which red flames are burning fiercely. It may

have been added as an afterthought to define

clearly the craft of the sitter, who, posing in

front of a window in the artist’s studio, appears

isolated from his work environment. The

restaurant Le Cellier du Midi is also the subject

of another painting, French Restaurant, 1968

(no. 221), of which this portrait seems to be

an enlarged detail. After his apprenticeship

in Hampstead, arranged by Motesiczky, Guy

Monier became a well-known chef and an

expert on truffles. He is now the proprietor

of the venerable La Maison de la Truffe in

Paris. According to the portrait’s current

owner, Motesiczky, who must have valued it

highly, wanted to show it in the 1994 exhibition

at the Vienna Belvedere. This did not happen

due to a misunderstanding about the work’s

availability.

provenance

Artist; Walter Elkan (gift after 1988).

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 209.

385

223

Old Woman with Flowers

and Page Boy

1968



Old Woman with Flowers and Page Boy is a

rather mysterious, almost dreamlike composition

that is difficult to interpret at first glance.

Several seemingly unrelated persons appear,

the focus being on the central figure of an

elderly, white-haired woman. She is dressed in

a grey outfit, a little hat perched on top of her

head. She holds a wrapped bunch of flowers in

her arms (thus resembling the lonely cemetery

visitor of Allerseelen, 1967/8, no. 217) and gazes

intently on the path in front of her. Her brow

is furrowed as if deep in thought. On the left, a

young woman with long red hair and wearing

a yellow dress, walks to the right. She seems

to be accompanied by a pink ibis. On the right,

walking towards her, is a young black-haired

man, carrying an unidentifiable object (maybe

a ladder, rolled-up wire, a parcel or a stick) over

his shoulder and supported with his left hand.

In front of the man, who exists only in outline,

a little page boy in a red and gold uniform

seems to be walking a little Pekinese dog that

is half hidden behind the old woman’s legs.

In Old Woman with Flowers and Page Boy,

Motesiczky presents a snapshot of a chance

encounter in a public place. As the low brick

wall, the large glass front, what might be a

pavement and a lamp post suggest, the scene

probably takes place outside a shop on a busy

street, where people, hurrying to and fro, go

about their business. The ibis is perhaps the

decoration in a shop window.

The painting is probably unfinished, including

only the sketch of the figure of the man.

Furthermore it still shows the large green head

of a young woman, just above the old woman’s

head, which must belong to an earlier painting

underneath that Motesiczky failed to obscure

by overpainting. A compositional sketch (fig.

182), albeit very smudged, includes all the

major human figures of the painting. Only

the dog is a later addition. In the painting the

focus has shifted away from the old woman

whose white hair provides the only highlight

in the drawing. According to the drawing, the

man probably carries a pair of skis.


Street Scene, 1968, charcoal and

white chalk on paper, 260 × 202 mm


Trust, London)

386

224

Miriam Rothschild

1968/9


Signed (bottom left): M.M

Private collection

This portrait of the British zoologist Miriam

Rothschild (1908–2005) was commissioned

by the sitter’s cousin and close friend Alix de

Rothschild in August 1968. The following

month Alix de Rothschild wrote to Motesiczky

admitting that at the time she could not afford

to pay more than £ 1,500 for the portrait.

Motesiczky must have agreed. The eventual

price paid, however, is not documented.

According to Miriam Rothschild, Alix de

Rothschild, who supported numerous refugees,

among them several artists, during and after

the Second World War, intended to help

Motesiczky financially. This commission therefore

came with the hidden agenda of seeing

to it that Motesiczky received some money

without making her feel it was charity.

Wearing an elegant dress and a heavy

golden necklace, Miriam Rothschild is seated

in an armchair in front of an oval mirror. Her

compelling physical presence is enhanced by a

streak of grey hair and a stern facial expression.

The sitter, who, at the time, was working in a

laboratory in Oxford, is surrounded by animals

and objects that testify to her interest in

natural life which is represented by an exotic

pink blossom and a bunch of sketchy flowers

and leaves. An owl is looking on from the back

of the armchair and was, in fact, the sitter’s

pet owl Moesje which she had raised from

a chick and had looked after for twenty years.

A dog, the sitter’s collie Foxi, one of many dogs

Rothschild has kept, delicately places a front

paw on his mistress’s leg. A magnifying glass

in her lap may allude to Rothschild’s close study

of fleas on which she published several books.

In an interview in spring 2001 Miriam

Rothschild admitted that she did not enjoy

being painted. The initial sittings for the

portrait took place in Oxford when Motesiczky

came to stay with Rothschild for a while. Later,

presumably, photographs (fig. 183) helped to

refresh Motesiczky’s memory while finishing

the portrait in her studio in Hampstead.

Rothschild, who was not allowed to see the

work in progress, did not consider her portrait

to be a particularly good one. Yet she remembered

that Motesiczky thought the portrait was

Fig. 183 Miriam Rothschild, polaroid photograph, c. 1968


387

388

Fig. 184 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Miriam Rothschild,

1968/9, charcoal on paper, 228 × 178 mm (Marie-Louise von


‘all right’ and was particularly proud of the owl.

During the sittings the artist and the sitter

became close and saw each other frequently.

In spring 1969 they holidayed together in Israel.

Rothschild described Motesiczky, whom she

nicknamed ‘Madame Mott’, as a fascinating

person with many idiosyncracies who came

into her life quite out of the blue. Their friendship,

which lasted until Motesiczky’s death,

probably also led to the creation of the rather

curious painting Confrontation in the Forest,

c. 1970 (no. 240).

The date for the creation of this portrait

has so far incorrectly been given as 1965. Since

the commisison came only in summer 1968,

the correct date is presumably 1968/9. Benno

Reifenberg, art historian, journalist, sitter and

family friend, wrote to the artist on 16 April

1969, enquiring about the portrait which had

presumably just been finished: ‘I am very

curious … how the portrait of the learned

woman looks.’ 1



charitable trust

Alix de Rothschild to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

12 August 1968: ‘You know that I always wanted to

commission a portrait of Miriam Lane and I should

very much like to know how much you ask for a

portrait. Eventually I have also a second commission

but that is not yet sure Miriam Lane’s address is:

Elsfield Manor, Elsfield, Oxford It is about 3 miles

from Oxford, the telephone is: Stanton St. John 213.

I gave her your address and I hope you will get

somehow together though she is always terribly busy.

For the moment she is anyhow in Oxford.’

Alix de Rothschild to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

13 September 1968: ‘Was den Preis anbelangt – so ist

der Frankfurter Preis sicher der Richtige. Aber ich kann

leider momentan nicht so viel dafür bezahlen, ich

bespreche es mit Miriams Kindern deren Trustee ich

bin. Ich dachte an £ 1500 20 000 DM. Sind 5000 Dollar.

Wenn das Portrait Guy gefällt wird er sicher auch für

Dich sitzen. Und dann kannst Du ruhig 5000 Dollar

verlangen. Du weisst ja selber dass man ein Kunstwerk

nicht in Dollar u. Cents werten kann. Ein gutes Portrait

von Miriam ist den Kindern u mir viel mehr wert als

5000 Dollar, aber wir müssen halt offen reden über

das was wir zahlen können.’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, pp. 5 f.: ‘Die Dame,

fest placiert zwischen der spitzen Schnauze eines

Luxushundes und der schläfrigen Wachsamkeit eines

Käuzchens, eingerahmt von Schnörkeln eleganter

Blütenblätter zur Rechten und Linken eines ovalen

Gemäldes oder Spiegels im Hintergrund, kann das

Gewicht des Goldgeschmeides, das an ihrem Hals

hängt, nicht vertuschen; vor allem der bittere Zug

um ihre Mundwinkel und der intensive Blick ihrer

schwarzen Augen verraten, wer sie ist, ohne einen

Namen nennen zu müssen.’

note

1 ‘Ich bin sehr gespannt … wie das Portrait der gelehrten

Frau ausschaut.’: Benno Reifenberg to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 16 April 1969: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Miriam Rothschild; Charlotte Lane.

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 54, illus. p. 47 (col.), dated 1965; Cambridge

1986, no. 54, illus. p. 47 (col.), dated 1965; Dublin 1988, no. 13,

dated 1965.

bibliography

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63; Winterbottom 1986, p. 11; Pyle 1988,

illus. n.p.; Schmidt 1994a, p. 7 (dated 1965); Tate Gallery, 1996,

p. 504 (dated 1965); Cohen 1996a, n.p.; Black 1997, p. 993;

Black 2006, p. 57.

389

225

In a Chinese Restaurant

1960s



This mysterious scene takes place in a Chinese

restaurant with dim lighting. Three orientallooking

people are sitting round a table. A

fourth person, probably a waitress, appears

to have approached the table carrying a tray

of food which she places before the guests.

One guest, the woman on the left, eyes wide,

eyebrows raised and covering her mouth

with her hand, admires the food in surprise.

Motesiczky treats the composition sketchily,

using decorative swirls of colour and highlights

in unusually bright fresh colours, yet

leaves the surroundings and many details

unclear.

226

Woman with Umbrella

1960s


Verso: still-life with palette and flowers


An unknown young model in oriental garb

is the subject of this study. She is seated on

a short divan in front of a bright orange background,

wearing light blue trousers, a lilac

coat and a matching turban that covers her

hair entirely. Her legs are crossed, one bare

foot dangling playfully. A small umbrella is

suspended behind her. This unusually colourful

work is sketchily executed, as seen for example

in the model’s hands and feet. Yet every inch of

the canvas has been used. While the verso

shows a still-life with palette and dahlias, the

heavily worked recto possesses evidence of

underpainting suggesting that the artist reused

an old canvas, discarding the previous image.

390

227

Duck Flying over a Meadow

1960s



Depictions of animals are rare in Motesiczky’s

oeuvre. Apart from the family’s Italian greyhounds,

which regularly put in an appearance,

especially in portraits of the artist’s mother,

very few animals have been depicted (see for

example Cat with Flowers, 1949, no. 86, and

Koala, 1954, no. 128). Here, in front of the grey,

misty silhouettes of high mountains, a duck is

flying low over a meadow of yellow flowers.

Having just taken off, the bird’s wings are

working hard to manoeuvre its plump body.

228

Female Profile and Bird

1960s



This apparently unfinished work seems to

have been painted on top of a discarded earlier

image. The head of a female figure on the left,

seen in profile, fills most of the canvas. There

are no personal accessories to identify the

sitter, but her bare shoulders and colourfully

decorated brown hair suggest an otherworldliness.

Faintly smiling, she looks at an object

close to her. Difficult to read and mostly only

suggested, this may be the white slender

neck and head of a swan. With its beak open,

the animal seems to be in conversation with

the woman. It has been suggested that this

intimate little scene in fact depicts the

mythical encounter of Leda and the Swan.

391

229

Dog Coiffure

1960s



Both Motesiczky and her mother loved dogs

and owned a succession of various species

throughout their lives. It is, however, not

known if Motesiczky ever took any of her

pets to a dog parlour where she might have

experienced a scene like the one depicted here.

Centre of attention is a fawn Afghan, proudly

standing on a raised platform. It is patiently

accepting the ministrations of the coiffeuse

who, wielding a brush, carefully combs its

long hair. Other dogs are probably waiting for

their turn. Behind the Afghan, a large grey one

(perhaps a poodle, as suggested by its elaborate

head-dress) stands on its hind legs while its

front legs rest on a stool and its head is raised

high. A third dog sits on the right, its sleek line

ending in a decoratively curving bushy tail.

Two flamboyantly dressed women with hats,

almost caricatures and presumably the owners

of the dogs, watch the proceedings from the

back of the room.

392

230

Woman Holding a Fish

1960s



This is a portrait of an unknown, probably

Indian, model, clutching a small fish in

her raised left hand. As if trying to emulate

the model’s dark skin the artist has used an

unusual dark brown priming. In various places,

particularly on the face, neck, hand and clothes,

it shows through clearly. Framed by unidentified

objects above (perhaps a basket she is carrying

on her head) and on the right, the model’s

serious face, surrounded by short, black hair,

is turned towards the viewer. Her black eyes

calmly observe the viewer. The overall sombre

tone of the portrait is broken only by the red of

her slightly parted lips, the pink of her blouse

and the vivid combination of bright tones in

the fish.

Woman Holding a Fish may be Motesiczky’s

version of a Beckmannesque motif. Several

paintings by Max Beckmann show a fish being

held by a human figure, for example Der Wels,

1929 (fig. 185), and Die drei Schwestern, 1935

(fig. 186). Yet, while Beckmann’s rather large

fish radiate strength and even sexual prowess,

Motesiczky’s small creature in contrast appears

tame, probably even dead, relegated to being

a mere prop.

Fig. 185 Max Beckmann, Der Wels, 1929, oil on canvas,

1250 × 1255 mm (private collection, Chicago)

Fig. 186 Max Beckmann, Die drei Schwestern, 1935,

oil on canvas, 1350 × 1000 mm (private collection,

Switzerland)

393

231

Still-life with Brush and Strawberries

Stilleben mit Pinsel und Erdbeeren

1960s



In this unusually elongated still-life, Motesiczky

presents an arrangement of familiar objects on

a bare table top which occupies more than half

the canvas and seems to be tilted towards the

viewer. She adopts an extremely close-up viewpoint,

thus enlarging the objects to an almost

monumental size. Laid out on the table are ten

strawberries, a sugar shovel, a large brush and

a jar, silhouetted against the bare wall like the

oval silver platter next to it. Propped up against

the back of chair, its projecting corners just

visible, the platter’s shiny surface reflects part

of the arrangement on the table, especially

three of the strawberries. In Still-life with Peach,

1967 (no. 215), Motesiczky also employs the

platter as a mirror for the painting’s main

focus, the large fruit. Just as in Still-life with

Peach, here the bright tones of the shiny, fresh

fruit provide a welcome contrast to the overall

grey-beige colour scheme.

exhibitions




bibliography

Sander 2006, pp. 126 f.

394

232

Two Nude Women and Tent

1960s



In front of a background of waves gently

rolling ashore and a sky colourfully illuminated

by a sunset, Motesiczky presents us with a

leisurely beach scene. Two nude women, sitting

beside a yellow tent, are having a lively conversation.

The one on the right is animatedly

gesturing with her hands. Above her sketchily

painted face a white cap covers her unruly

hair of which a few strands nevertheless have

escaped. The woman on the left, much lighterskinned

than her companion, is serenely

reclining against a tuft of grass, listening.

Her distinct hooked nose, piled-up red hair,

voluminous thigh and small breasts are also

captured in several sketches Motesiczky made

of this unknown model, one almost exactly

mirroring the position adopted in the painting

(fig. 187).

Fig. 187 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, sketch, 1960s, black chalk on paper,


395

233

Portrait Suzanne van Thijn

1960s



Suzanne van Thijn, a Dutch journalist and

librarian, was a friend of the artist. Born

c. 1904 and of Jewish origin, she fled from

Amsterdam in 1940, allegedly cycling through

the Netherlands and hitch-hiking through

occupied France in an SS car. She eventually

came to England, settling in Oxford and later

in London. Although she moved back to the

Netherlands after the war, she kept in touch

with her friends in England. Her autobiography,

entitled Mijn Spaanse grootmoeder, was published

in 1955. Suzanne van Thijn died c. 1983.

Motesiczky and Suzanne van Thijn shared a

number of friends, most importantly Nell and

Arthur Clegg, and Henri Wiessing (1878–1961),

journalist, art critic, editor, part of a left-wing

intellectual Dutch circle and a significant

political figure, whose mistress Suzanne van

Thijn was for many years. The idea of doing a

portrait of Suzanne van Thijn must have been

conceived in the early 1950s. In 1952 Henri

Wiessing enthusiastically and mock-accusingly

wrote to Motesiczky from Amsterdam: ‘The

thought that you want to paint Suzanne has

thrilled me. It will be possible when you are

here. So, Marie Louise, come. I love you, but

you don’t love me, otherwise you would have

written to me when you were still in The

Hague’. 1 The bond of friendship must have

been strong between the women. Suzanne van

Thijn confessed to her friend: ‘Marie-Louise

it really is great fun to have a person like

you in the world. I am most myself with you.’ 2

A mutual acquaintance, Jocelyn Kingsley,

suggested that the women’s closeness originated

in the common tragic fact that they both

loved men they could not possess or rather

men who lived in a world they could not enter

(both Elias Canetti and Henri Wiessing were

married).

When Suzanne van Thijn and Henri

Wiessing visited London in 1953, staying in the

artist’s flat, Motesiczky noted down her first

and most striking impression of her Dutch

friend: ‘there they stood … Suzanne with her

crown of hair à la Empress Elisabeth and the

suit close-fitting at the waist’. 3 During this

visit, the artist gave Henri Wiessing one of her

paintings, Still-life with Yellow Fan and Cherries

(no. 118), which has proved impossible to find

now and of which no pictorial record exists.

A series of photographs have survived in

the artist’s estate showing Suzanne van Thijn

posing in the artist’s garden and studio (fig.

189). The pictures were taken at 6 Chesterford

Gardens, which the artist bought in 1959. So

this portrait, which has so far been dated 1950,

must have been painted after the Motesiczkys’

move to Hampstead. The photographs are so

close to the final portrait in composition and

posture, the sitter looking up from reading a

newspaper, that the resemblance cannot be


pen and ink on paper, 233 × 180 mm (Marie-Louise von


Fig. 189 Suzanne van Thijn, photograph, 1960s





396

a mere coincidence and that the assumption

that the photographs served as aides-mémoire

in the absence of the sitter is a fair one.

In this half-length portrait Suzanne van

Thijn is depicted as an elegantly dressed,

middle-aged woman, calmly gazing at the

viewer. She is seated at a table, probably in

the artist’s studio as the objects behind her,

perhaps painting paraphernalia, suggest. While

her left elbow is propped up on the table, her

left hand raised animatedly, her right arm rests

on the table – together they almost create a

frame for the head which Motesiczky carried

out carefully. She concentrated on the sitter’s

extraordinary hairstyle, long plaits of hair

wound round her head several times, creating

the impression of a crown. It is unclear why

the portrait was abandoned in an unfinished

state. Motesiczky did not complete the lower

half and clearly could not decide on the position

of the hands. Several charcoal versions

overlay the originally painted right hand, and

the position of the left hand was also altered

by subsequent charcoal lines.

notes

1 ‘Der Gedanke, daß Du die Suzanne malen willst hat mich

begeistert. Es wird möglich sein, wenn Du hier bist. Also

Marie Louise, komme. Ich habe Dich lieb, aber Du hast

mich nicht lieb, sonst hättest Du mir geschrieben, als

Du noch im Haag warst’: Henri Wiessing to Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, 3 March 1952: Motesiczky archive.

2 Suzanne van Thijn to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


3 ‘da standen sie … Suzanne mit ihrer Haarkrone à la

Kaiserin Elisabeth u. dem in die Taille geschnittenen

Kostum’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti,


397

234

Two Women Drinking Wine

1960s



In Two Women Drinking Wine Motesiczky

combined a figurative scene with a still-life.

The artist provides a glimpse of a celebratory

meeting of two women, seated opposite each

other in yellow armchairs. Each is holding a

full glass of white wine, raised in their manicured

hands as if toasting. The identities of the

women are unknown, yet they seem carefully

selected for the obvious difference in character:

while the woman on the right sports short

black hair, the one on the left boasts a long

blonde mane (and resembles the women in

Chemist’s Shop, 1964, no. 196, for which the

same model may have posed). On the table in

the foreground is a brown jug with a rhododendron

branch. Two large white flowers, each

with a dense ring of leaves and just past their

prime with a few petals already fallen onto the

pink tablecloth, almost obscure the human

beings in the background. In fact, one part of

the branch seems to be deliberately bending

as if opening up the view to the scene behind.

Placed in the centre of the composition, the

floral motif, in its closeness to the viewer and

the resulting monumentality, seems to be the

main object of the painting with the figural

part adding an additional interest.

398

235

Basket of Fruit

1960s

Oil and pastel on hardboard, 610 × 610 mm


In this still-life, Motesiczky placed a shallow

woven basket with a tall handle, filled with

apples in various sizes and green grapes, in

a window. The comparatively dark interior

of the room is indicated by the black frame

surrounding the window on three sides.

Through the window, with its narrow beige

curtains, and past some colourful flowering

bushes and trees, the artist presents a view of

the gables of two houses on the opposite side

of the road (possibly Chesterford Gardens).

Motesiczky made good use of the hardboard,

an unusual support for her, by leaving the

texture of the board visible in several places,

for example, when depicting the houses and

the basket.

236

Still-life with Azalea and Teapot

1960s


Signed (bottom left): motesiczky


Motesiczky here depicts a selection of personal

items on her writing desk. They are placed

next to the window which allows a view of the

cloudy night sky interspersed with occasional

light from illuminated windows. On the upper

shelf of the writing desk are a letter opener,

a small potted pink azalea in a saucer and a

white teapot that has survived in the artist’s

estate. The lower part displays a red quill and

a green pencil in a container on an elaborate,

four-legged stand as well as a selection of the

artist’s correspondence, including a letter, an

envelope with a red stamp and postmark and

a postcard showing a lake and moutains

under a cloudy sky.

This painting, which has so far been

undated, was probably done in the 1960s as

the view from the window resembles that

from the artist’s living room on the first floor

at Chesterford Gardens in Hampstead. In 1960,

the artist and her mother had moved into

their new home on a hill, looking down over

London towards the west.

399

237

Self-portrait with Canetti

Selbstporträt mit Canetti

1960s



This double portrait is a poignant comment on

the sometimes strained relationship between

Motesiczky and the author and 1981 Nobel

Laureate Elias Canetti (1905–94). Having both

left Austria in the wake of the Anschluß they

had met in England in 1939 and spent the war

years in Amersham. In the 1950s a room in

Motesiczky’s flat in West Hampstead, London,

belonged to Canetti – a tradition that was

carried on when the artist moved into her

house in Hampstead. Upon the death of

Canetti’s first wife Veza in 1963, Motesiczky

hoped in vain that the writer would marry her.

Now both in late middle age and greyhaired,

they have grown accustomed to each

other. Set in his ways, Canetti refrains from

making concessions to his companion. Having

completed her work, her brushes washed and

neatly arranged like arrows for use in the anticipated

struggle, Motesiczky depicted herself

patiently waiting for Canetti to finish reading

his newspaper. He, however, is thoroughly

engrossed in and virtually hiding behind his

reading, while enjoying a cigarette, elegantly

placed in a black holder, and does not notice

his expectant companion who looks on without

much hope. The tension between the two

characters and the palpably awkward atmosphere

is exemplified by a shaft of light and two quills

in a jar which divide the composition in two.

The instruments could be used by both the

painter and the author in their respective

professions. The sad lack of communication is

echoed by the palette of muted earth colours

with Canetti’s cigarette providing a rare highlight.

While the overwhelming emphasis of the

composition is on Canetti with the right part

of the canvas constituting a completed, wellbalanced

portrait, the painter has squeezed

herself in at the extreme left margin, as if

used to leaving centre stage to the author.

exhibitions

Liverpool 2006, no. 71, illus. p. 223 (col.); Frankfurt am




bibliography


(Mit Canetti, lesend, c. 1965); Schlenker 2003, p. 111, illus.

p. 109 (col.); Canetti 2005b, illus. p. 90; Canetti 2005c,

illustrated on cover (col.); Schlenker 2005, pp. 137, 139, illus.

p. 138; Wachinger 2005, illus. p. 94; R. Gries 2006, n.p. (dated

1960); Huther 2006a, n.p.; Huther 2006b, n.p.; Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, exh. booklet 2006, illus. n.p. (col.); Schlenker

2006b, pp. 200 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 222; Stadler 2006,

n.p.; Lloyd 2007, p. 190.

400

401

238

Cow Stretching over Hedge in Field

1960s



Apart from the frequently appearing family

dogs, especially the Italian greyhounds, of

which the Motesiczkys possessed three over

the decades, animals rarely appear in the

artist’s works. Exceptions are, for example,

Cat with Flowers, 1949 (no. 86), and Koala, 1954

(no. 128). Here Motesiczky created a humorous

scene showing a meadow in a gentle landscape

of trees and bushes. Behind the hedge a cow,

of whom only the head, the upper portion

of its back and part of the tail can be seen, is

trying to eat the grass on the other side. The

strain of vigorously sticking out its large pink

tongue makes her eyes widen with effort.

402

239

Studio with Nude Model

Atelier mit Aktmodell

1970



By the late 1960s Motesiczky and her friend

and fellow artist Milein Cosman (born in 1921)

were almost neighbours, living only a few

streets apart in Hampstead. They met frequently

yet only occasionally worked together, according

to Cosman. On 31 January 1968, for example,

Motesiczky noted in her diary: ‘2 [p.m.] nude

Milein’. 1 It is one of these occasions of shared

creativity that Motesiczky depicts here. In the

background, Cosman’s husband, the musicologist

Hans Keller (1919–85), half-hidden behind

a folding screen, is busily studying papers or,

probably, some music. His wife, placed at the

opposite end of the picture, stands in front

of an easel. Her brush poised, she carefully

observes the nude model on the chaise longue

in the centre of the room. In comparison to

Cosman and Keller, who are almost caricatured,

the model seems fleshy and solid, dangling a

slipper on her left foot in an attempt to relieve

her boredom. Cosman, who used her repeatedly,

recalls that she was called Joanna (fig. 191).

In this painting, Motesiczky ignores spatial

relations and imaginatively extends observed

reality: impossibly, the legs of Cosman’s easel

stand in front of the chaise longue, while the

painting it holds and the artist working on

it are situated behind the piece of furniture.

This lack of clear spatial definition creates the

impression that Cosman is floating gracefully

above the floorboards.

note

1 ‘2 Akt Milein’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry

for 31 January 1968: Motesiczky archive.

bibliography

Schlenker 2006b, pp. 202 f., illus. p. 203 (col.).

Fig. 191 Milein Cosman’s drypoint of

Joanna (280 × 345 mm, Milein Cosman,

London) dates from around 1970

403

240

Confrontation in the Forest

c. 1970



Rather wittily, this mysterious painting

almost certainly comments on an episode in

Motesiczky’s life. In a dark wood, with only a

few rays of sunlight coming through the dense

foliage, the white-haired, startled artist finds

herself fighting off an unusual attacker. Her

only weapons are the tools of her profession,

a huge palette and a handful of brushes (not

unlike those in Self-portrait with Canetti, 1960s,

no. 237) which she wields like a shield and

arrows. As if in awe of a religious apparition

or overwhelmed by the sheer sight in front of

her, she has fallen to her knees. Her opponent,

sitting on an enormous tree branch that

sprouts from between her legs, is a rather

ambiguous figure, a cross between a real

menace and a caricature.

In fact, the amazonian figure is a friend

of the artist, the botanist Miriam Rothschild

(1908–2005) – identifiable by the characteristic

grey streak of hair (see Miriam Rothschild,

1968/9, no. 224). The close link between

Rothschild and Motesiczky was probably

forged during the creation of Rothschild’s

portrait. It did not go unnoticed and led

Godfrey Samuel, whom Motesiczky painted

in 1976/7, to the following wry, suggestive

comment: ‘M…e-L….e Has only to sneeze

And M….m Contracts delirium’. 1 In this picture

Motesiczky is seen defending herself against

her friend’s lesbian advances. What happened

between the two women is alluded to in a long

letter Motesiczky wrote to Rothschild, which

exists in draft form. The artist was flattered by

Rothschild’s approaches. In view of her longstanding

relationship with the author Elias

Canetti, however, Motesiczky felt obliged

to refrain from accepting: ‘Dear Miriam,

I admired you when I got to know you in

Oxford. I still do. I put you very highly Since

I have Canetti I did not come across such a

person. You are all I am – not. One part of my

true nature could say to you: I am not a lespian

but if it makes you happy that I should be one

I will trie – I will never be such a good one as

you, but I will trie my very best. – Smile – but

there is an other side of me – I can’t and don’t

want to hurt people I love. I belong to Canetti

for 30 years – we did hurt each other of course

– but the good things prevailed. Would I only

play with the idea that a completely new cind

of adventure is in my reach – I would not only

distroy the present but all the past as well. I

would distroy the picture he has of me for ever.

There is such a thing as “Tabu” there is a thing

you probably call nature. The furst one is the

privileg of man. You kant fight both. You cant

fight God. You did not say that you wanted to.

But in this respect I am like a girl of 17. If I hear

the words “I fell in love with you” I think I have

to say “yes or no” And I say no at the risk of

being a funny old thing flattering myself to be

taken much more serious as in fact this may be

the case. Think of an other thing … compared

with you my life has the nature of an Askimo

wer as yours compairs to the Cardinal Richiu

[Richelieu] If I dont oil my skin and have my

fish and follow my old habits I die. Wer as you

have competely different possibilities – not

less dangerous perhaps – not easier but your

escapes are manyfold – in your work in love

in every thing … I would so much like you

to be my friend You said: you had all that –

friendship for going to antique markets and

goodness knows what But perhaps there wasn’t

an Escimo among them. Maybe he to has to

offer you something.’ 2

notes

1 Godfrey Samuel to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


2 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Miriam Rothschild,

[c. 1970]: Motesiczky archive.

exhibition

Liverpool 2006, ex catalogue.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, pp. 182 f.

404

405

241

Slideshow with Piero della Francesca

c. 1970



In the late 1960s, Motesiczky attended adult

art appreciation classes at Kynaston Technical

School (now Quintin Kynaston School) in

Swiss Cottage. The classes, specializing in the

Renaissance, were given by Marina Hoffer, a

Czech artist, author and book illustrator (figs

192 and 193). A short-lived, intense friendship

seems to have developed between Motesiczky

and Marina Hoffer which inspired this painting.

Although the nature of the friendship was

described by Miriam Rothschild as a crush, it is

more likely to have been of a professional kind.

After a while, however, Motesiczky stopped

going to the classes which she allegedly found

‘boring’. By the mid-1970s she reportedly

considered Marina Hoffer to be a ‘prima

donna’. Elias Canetti mockingly referred to

her as ‘our famous art beholder’. 1

In the painting Marina Hoffer’s lecture is

in full swing. In a corner of the darkened room

a clock gives the time as 9 o’clock while the

skeleton suggests that the classes are taking

place in the biology department. On a low table

in front of the lecturer, a water jug and glass

stand on a book. The letters ‘PI’ are visible,

probably part of the title of a book on Piero

della Francesca. Wielding a pointer, Marina

Hoffer, white-haired and wearing an elegant

blue coat-dress, explains the slide projected on

the screen. The image is Motesiczky’s adaptation

of a fresco from Piero della Francesca’s

Legend of the True Cross in the Cappella

Maggiore of the church of San Francesco in

Arezzo (fig. 195). The fresco depicts the Queen

of Sheba who, on her journey to see King

Solomon, is about to cross a stream via a

bridge that has been manufactured from the

wood on which Jesus Christ will be crucified.

When, by a miracle, she learns this, she kneels

in devout adoration. Motesiczky adopts the

mountain range in the background of this

scene but, omitting all other characters,

concentrates on two figures from the fresco, a

horse and the Queen of Sheba. In the resulting

curious juxtaposition the original story becomes

obliterated since the Queen of Sheba, facing

in the opposite direction, now seemingly adores

the horse. It is difficult to imagine how Marina

Hoffer would have given meaning to this

distorted image which is probably the result

of Motesiczky’s mischievous attempts at

spicing up the lectures. In three coloured

and numerous other sketches Motesiczky

experimented with the composition (fig. 194),

including the audience and projecting different

images on the screen, probably also variations

on the fresco by Piero della Francesca.

note

1 ‘unsere berühmte Kunstbetrachterin’: Elias Canetti to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 21 November 1976:

Motesiczky archive.

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 32, illus. Abb. 39 (col.) (Diashow mit Piero).

Fig. 192 Marina Hoffer, photograph, 1983


Fig. 193 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Marina Hoffer, 1980s,



406

Fig. 194 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for Slideshow with

Piero della Francesca, c. 1970, graphite, watercolour and pastel

on paper, 176 × 254 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable

Trust, London)

Fig. 195 Piero della Francesca, The Queen of Sheba Adoring the

Wood of the Cross, from The Legend of the True Cross, 1452–66,

fresco (San Francesco, Arezzo)

407

242

Hampstead Garden

c. 1970


Private collection

When, in the early 1970s, the space hopper, a

large inflatable jumping ball, swept the nation,

Motesiczky became a fascinated fan. A visitor

to Chesterford Gardens would be invited to

a turn on the space hopper in the garden

after tea. In this oblong, panoramic view of

the artist’s sun-filled Hampstead garden, the

Gummiball, as Motesiczky called it, takes centre

stage. A red-haired girl is bouncing across the

grass on the space hopper. Apart from being

the star in this garden scene it will also become

the object of the artist’s new painting. The

grey-haired artist, palette in hand, can be

glimpsed at her easel behind a border of

flowers and shrubs that runs the length of

the picture. She is apparently working on the

scene in front of her, carefully observing the

girl at play. On the left, next to the Motesiczkys’

Italian greyhound Bubi, a woman in a flowing

lilac gown seems to emerge from a grotto. Her

grey streak identifies her as Miriam Rothschild

whose portrait the artist was painting in 1968/9.

While the right part of the canvas appears to

be realistic, the left half has a dreamlike quality

not unlike that other imaginary scene involving

Miriam Rothschild, Confrontation in the Forest,

c. 1970 (no. 240). Her compelling presence

seems to cast a spell on the proceedings in

the garden and determine the actions of the

participants.

provenance

Artist; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust;

private collection (2008).

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 182.

408

243

Still-life with Lily of the Valley and Pansy

Stilleben mit Maiglöckchen

1972



The focal point of this simple arrangement is

the bulbous grey vase displaying a bouquet of

lilies of the valley and two lilac and yellow

pansies, one of which is almost hidden by the

mass of lilies. Next to the vase lies a miniature

closed book. A pencil marks the page where its

reader has abandoned it. The vase stands on

what appears to be a sheet of white paper,

presumably a letter, covered with blue writing.

The relatively small size of the vase and the

book make the letters appear tantalizingly

large. They cannot, however, be deciphered.

409

244

Mrs Owen

1973


Signed (bottom right): m.motesiczky. 73.

Private collection, Thailand

Russian by birth, Beatrice Owen grew up in

Vienna and Paris. Her grandmother, Freifrau

von Stein, knew Henriette von Motesiczky, the

artist’s mother, well and her father was a friend

of the family. Beatrice Owen came to England

as a Foreign Office wife, and later she and

her children became frequent visitors in

Amersham and Chesterford Gardens. In the

early 1990s Beatrice Owen settled in Hong

Kong where she ran an antiques shop. In a

letter written in 2000 she fondly recalled her

memories of the Motesiczky household which

she called ‘my refuge’, ‘enchanted with all the

beautiful things, which were simply part of

life … rather than the result of a decorator’s

expensive efforts’. There she ‘found … the

atmosphere of central Europe, the elegance

and style that was totally natural, the values

with which I had grown up … It was a magical

household then, always full of the most gifted

people of their time, who could forget their fame

in M-L’s company and inspire each other.’ 1

In 1970 Elias Canetti wrote to Motesiczky:

‘The news of the portrait of Mrs. Owen is

good: I can imagine how wonderful she will

be to paint … I am happy, very happy that you

got a commission.’ 2 According to the sitter,

however, this portrait of a family friend was

not a commission but came into being when

Motesiczky suggested Beatrice Owen should

sit for her. The project apparently took a few

years to carry out, with sittings commencing

only in 1972. According to the sitter’s recollection,

after a series of male portraits, painting a

female model other than her mother seems to

have been a welcome change for Motesiczky.

At the time of the creation of the portrait

both women were experiencing an unsettled

period in their relationships, according to

Beatrice Owen, ‘my marriage was difficult …

Marie Louise and Elias were causing each

other pain’. 3

The artist’s empathy with her sitter is clearly

expressed in this portrait which, in its unusual

vertical format, is reminiscent of some of her

early works (for example Self-portrait with Comb,

1926, no. 13). Enveloped in an environment of

warm yellow-brown hues, the 30-year-old sitter

seems to be sitting on the bare wooden floor in

front of a wall which appears to be illuminated

by a spotlight behind her – almost as if the

radiance was emanating from the sitter herself.

Beatrice Owen, her blonde hair tidily parted

in the middle, wears a long white skirt and

a brown blouse. Her left hand rests on her

drawn-up knees, prominently displaying her

wedding ring, which symbolizes the source

of her current troubles. The sitter’s questioning

look and the lack of a smile contribute to the

air of sadness and serenity that characterizes

this work.

Motesiczky had been pleased with the

progress of the work and was especially proud

of the unity of the finished portrait. When she

finally showed it to the sitter, Motesiczky was

overwhelmed by Beatrice Owen’s tremendous

enthusiasm and appreciative comments. 4

Henriette von Motesiczky, who spent many

hours with Mrs ‘Ohen’, commented favourably

on her daughter’s depiction: ‘You really worked

magic.’ 5 Motesiczky intended to exhibit the

portrait in her solo exhibition in Vienna in 1994

and organized its transfer from the sitter’s

estranged husband to her home in Hampstead.

It appears, however, that it eventually did not

travel to Austria. The artist kept the work for

a while before the sitter was able to move it

to Hong Kong.

notes



2 ‘Das ist ja eine gute Nachricht mit dem Porträt der Owen:

ich kann mir vorstellen, dass sie sich wunderbar malen

lässt … Ich bin froh, sehr froh, dass Du einen Auftrag

hast.’: Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,




4 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky to Peter Verdemato, 6 June

1973: collection Peter Verdemato.

5 ‘Du hast wirklich gezaubert.’: Henriette von Motesiczky to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, [1974]: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Beatrice Owen (purchased c. 1975).




410

411

245

Still-life with Azalea and Clock

Stilleben mit Azalee und Uhr

1974



In her reflections on her life and work,

published in the catalogue of the Goethe-

Institut exhibition in 1985, Motesiczky recounts

a sudden realization that struck her as she was

looking at paintings in Apsley House and led

to a remarkable experience while creating this

still-life: ‘A year ago I went to see the collection

of paintings in Apsley House at Hyde Park

Corner. Visiting this house is like visiting a

private house with large windows looking on

to the Park. There are no crowds; just wonderful

pictures on the walls hanging so close

together that their frames almost touch. And yet

these pictures do not intrude on one another.

But you have to get quite close to look at them

properly. You cannot tell from 20 yards away

who painted each picture. In this collection I

discovered a painting by Duyster, a 17 th century

Dutch master [fig. 197] … Elegant figures,

minutely painted clothes, buttons, lace – you

could identify every detail but something

strange was going on. The catalogue entry

read: a picture of distinctly dubious company.

So you can paint in this way and yet convey

something peculiar, I thought I learnt something

and went home uplifted by what I had

seen, and turned at once to a still life I was

engaged on and in which I thought I had

gone into too great detail. It was a painting

of a deserted writing-desk with a small azalea

and a gold clock of Empire style on it. There

were also some other small objects. I felt I had

succeeded with the dull gold of the clock and

the greenish-black shadows, but where the

colour was at its best there was something

wrong with the form and where the form was

good the colour was less good. If you try to

correct something in a painting you can very

easily lose everything. In my eagerness I got

hold of my little hand mirror (such as painters

often use) and on it I got the reflection of the

clock in my picture. What I saw in the mirror

pleased me and from the whole there radiated

great tranquillity. The blackish gold tones were

right, the form was pleasing. I won’t change a

thing, I thought to myself, I’ve caught it. I put

the mirror down and – to my horror I discovered

that in my excitement I had caught the

reflection on the real clock which stood near

my picture. Anyone reading these words may

think that the painter’s inner compass which

after all is his guide-line, points to absolute

realism. I don’t believe this. Is it not more the

total readiness to accept reality and to reinvent

it for the canvas? This alone gives the artist the

joyous feeling that he has succeeded and that

through this achievement the spectator is

able to feel what he has felt.’ 1

Although Motesiczky struggled with doubts

and confessed that it was ‘not easy to make all

the objects look like a simple unity’, 2 it might

be argued that she eventually succeeded in

creating the illusion of coherence. A golden

clock, adorned by a dolphin above the face,

stands next to a potted pink azalea and dwarf

narcissi in a vase on a window-sill. On the

left, the miniature portrait of Anna von Lieben

(1847–1900; fig. 3), the artist’s maternal grandmother

and an early patient of Sigmund Freud,

is displayed in its delicate metal frame (fig. 198).

The oval image, which had always been in

the artist’s possession, shows a young woman,

probably in her teens, with long brown plaits,

painted by an unknown artist. The magnifying

glass and the open book in front of it suggest

that the desk’s occupier has just left.

An undated sketch (fig. 199), probably

made in connection with this still-life, captures

a window-sill on which the ‘dolphin clock’

stands side by side with a vase of flowers,

bowls and a figurine.

notes


2 ‘Nicht leicht das alles in eine einfache Einheit zu kriegen’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, notebook entry for 10 April


exhibitions

Vienna 2004b, illus. p. 206 (col.); Vienna 2007, ex catalogue;


Fig. 197 Willem Cornelisz Duyster, A Musical Party, c. 1630,

oil on oak panel, 486 × 807 mm (The Wellington Collection, Apsley House, London)

bibliography

Motesiczky 1985, p. 14; Michel 2003, p. 77, illus. Abb. 123 (col.)

(Stilleben mit Azalee und Standuhr, 1984); Lloyd 2004, pp. 205 f.,

illus. p. 206 (col.); Lloyd 2006, pp. 42 f., illus. p. 42 (col.); Lloyd

2007, pp. 18, 140, illus. fig. 4 (col.).

412

Fig. 198 Miniature portrait of Anna von Lieben

by an unknown artist (now in a private collection

in Amsterdam), photograph (Motesiczky archive)

Fig. 199 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated

sketch, graphite on paper, 116 × 175 mm (Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, London)

413

246

Nude with a Rat and Books

Akt mit einer Ratte und Büchern

Early 1970s



This witty and sarcastic, yet slightly disturbing,

painting can be interpreted as a commentary

on the artist’s relationship with Elias Canetti.

It must be seen in the context of Self-portrait

with Canetti, 1960s (no. 237), which was probably

painted slightly earlier. In the early 1970s

Motesiczky finally learned, via friends and

relatives, of Elias Canetti’s second marriage

and the birth of his daughter, which he had

kept secret from her for several years. She felt

deeply betrayed and wounded and at first

could not bear his presence. After a period

of non-communication, their friendship –

albeit altered in its nature and more distant

– tentatively resumed.

In a modification of the traditional motif

of Leda and the Swan, a female nude (clearly

a self-portrait of the artist) is reclining on a

long, low bed which fills the unusual horizontal

canvas. Between her drawn-up legs stands

a rat (who can be identified as Elias Canetti)

with a strong, curving tail. Resting its claws

on her abdomen, it is engrossed in reading a

book and a newspaper propped up against the

reclining nude’s torso. Robbed of any space to

move and of any chance of attracting the rat’s

attention, her face has taken on a resigned,

long-suffering expression while the rat, preoccupied

with its studies, is seemingly unaware

of and uninterested in her plight. A further

spiritual dimension is added by the presence

of a little mirror under the nude’s left foot and

a desiccated apple on the floor nearby – both

classic attributes of Venus, the goddess of love.

Now the mirror is virtually being crushed and

the apple has long lost its beauty. 1

note

1 This interpretation was also suggested by Michel 2003, p. 67.

exhibitions

Liverpool 2006, ex catalogue; Vienna 2007, ex catalogue;


bibliography

Vorderwülbecke 1999, p. 45, illus. p. 103; Phillips 2001, p. 32

(dated late 1960s); Michel 2003, p. 67, illus. Abb. 100 (col.)

(Akt und Ratte, c. 1965).

414

247

Beach Scene

Early 1970s



This beach scene was probably inspired by

scenery Motesiczky saw on her holiday in

Tunisia in 1973. Back home in London, she

used a photograph taken on the trip (fig. 200)

and several drawings of the site (fig. 201) as an

aide-mémoire for the work on the painting.

The artist presents a beach in a

Mediterranean country under a cloudless

blue sky. Compared with the photograph of

the original site the beach in the painting is

rather deserted and seems far removed from

civilization, as if in a state of natural solitude.

The secluded little bay lies under a large white

building which looms on top of the cliff.

Underneath, a road or railway track disappears

into the rock via the black hole of a tunnel.

A solitary boat drifts on the waves of the calm

sea which laps on to the beach in large waves.

Across the water the distant shore is hazy.

A few people, some rendered as caricatures,

enjoy the sun on the beach. A couple, of whom

we see only their legs, lie under a large pink

and white sunshade. The solitary figure of

a man with a hat is sitting on a rock further

up the beach and in the bottom left corner

a head seems to pop up out of nowhere.

Fig. 200 Beach and cliff, Tunisia, photograph, 1973



Beach Scene, 1973, charcoal on paper, 230 × 290 mm


415

248

Mother in the Garden

Mutter im Garten

1975



Depicted here three years before her death,

Motesiczky’s aged mother Henriette von

Motesiczky is the model for this portrait. She

is placed among plants in front of a brick wall

that resembles the back wall in the Motesiczkys’

Hampstead garden (the same wall, with its

ornamental sculpture of a cellist and without

the missing bricks can be seen in The Short Trip,

1965, no. 204). As if illuminated by a mysterious

light, Henriette von Motesiczky’s shadow is

visible on the wall although the effects of direct

sunlight are not discernible anywhere else in

the picture. Almost bald and dressed in what

may be a white nightgown, she appears weak

and fragile. Her stooped figure apparently

attempts to take a walk, her bare feet half hidden

in the grass, with her arms helplessly stretched

out reaching for support as if moving in the dark.

As in numerous other portraits, Henriette von

Motesiczky’s faithful companion, the Italian

greyhound Maxi, is included. However, the

artist does not seem to have been certain

about the dog and sketched only his outline,

running towards his mistress from the right,

looking back over his shoulder.

Motesiczky experimented with the

composition in an unusually large number of

preliminary drawings. Most are vague sketches

of Henriette von Motesiczky in alternative

garden settings. Some incorporate other

figures, for example lying in a deckchair or

swimming under the mother’s scrutiny. Others,

imaginatively and magically, have the mother

pass by human heads arranged as flowers

on a stem (fig. 202). They can be identified

as the artist herself, her mother’s friend Liss

Gray (depicted in The Old Song, 1959, no. 158)

and a big-eared monster. In all the drawings

Motesiczky focuses on her mother in a standing

position and wearing a long, undefined, loosefitting

garment. In some Henriette supports

herself with a stick. The final painting discards

the various different settings and omits all

distractions, concentrating on the lonely

figure of Henriette von Motesiczky (fig. 203).


c. 1975, pen and ink on paper, 228 × 175 mm

(Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust,

London)

exhibitions

Liverpool 2006, no. 76, illus. p. 229 (col.); Vienna 2007,

no. 76, illus. p. 229 (col.); Passau 2007, no. 76, illus. p. 229


Fig. 203 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Henriette von

Motesiczky in the Garden, 1975, black chalk and pastel

on paper, 230 × 205 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


bibliography

Michel 2003, pp. 31, 72, illus. Abb. 35 (col.) (Mutter, im

Garten stehend); Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.

416

249

Man with Green Scarf

Mann mit grünem Schal

1975



John Sandmeyer, who died in 1990, was a

lodger in the Motesiczky house in Chesterford

Gardens in the early 1970s; he lived in the

basement. Motesiczky asked him to sit for her

when he came back for a visit, having found

lodgings elsewhere. Several photographs were

taken of Sandmeyer, posing in the artist’s

studio, and they must have been used for the

portrait since some bear paint smudges (fig. 204).

In this half-length portrait, Sandmeyer is

shown seated in the red leather armchair that

was kept in the studio. Apart from the plug and

lead that can be made out above his left shoulder

and which was attached to the artist’s kettle,

the background cannot be clearly read. The

sitter is clad in his outdoor clothes, a grey jacket

and a scarf, and is calmly reading what looks like

a book or newspaper. The sun, coming in from

a window on the right, throws half his face into

shadow, producing highlights on his balding

forehead and on the frames of his glasses.

Fig. 204 John Sandmeyer posing for his portrait

in Motesiczky’s studio, photograph, 1975



Head of John Sandmeyer, c. 1975, graphite

and white chalk on paper, 560 × 380 mm


Trust, London)

417

250

Mother in Green Dressing Gown

Mutter im grünen Morgenrock

1975



Mother in Green Dressing Gown is among the

last paintings in the long series of intimate

portraits Motesiczky made of her mother,

Henriette von Motesiczky, documenting her

descent into extreme old age. At 93 years old,

the once formidable lady appears shrunken.

She is wearing a green dressing gown over her

nightgown, and her bald head is covered with

a white scarf. Despite the now sunken cheeks,

the characteristically large eyes – with one

eyelid slightly drooping – and bulbous nose

convey the air of a presence still to be reckoned

with since, as one critic succinctly put it, she

‘has lost most of her hair but none of the zest

in her gaze’. 1 Henriette von Motesiczky is

sitting at a table, looking straight at the viewer,

with her faithful Italian greyhound Maxi by her

side. The young creature is daintily placing his

front legs on the white tablecloth of the low

table, as if wanting to be part of the action. A

slender white vase stands on the table, holding

delicate pink buds, one of which the sitter is

holding in her hand. Apart from a small

magnifying glass, the combination of objects

on the left cannot be identified. Presumably

they are personal items placed nearby for

convenient use to help get the aged sitter

through her day. It has been suggested that

Henriette von Motesiczky is seen in the

process of arranging a still-life that she is

going to paint.

note

1 Cohen 1994, p. 95.

exhibitions

Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 80, illus. (col.), shown as Mutter

mit grüner Jacke, 1976; London 1985, no. 61, illus. p. 50 (col.);

Cambridge 1986, no. 61, illus. p. 50 (col.); Manchester 1994,

no. 29, dated 1976; Liverpool 2006, no. 75, illus. p. 228 (col.);




bibliography

Zimmermann 1985, n.p.; Anonymous 1986, illus. n.p.; Vann

1987, illus. p. 14 (detail, col.); Black 1994, pp. 8 f., illus. p. 8;

Cohen 1994, p. 95, illus. p. 93 (col.); Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504;

Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 34, 53 f.n., illus. p. 83; Michel 2003,

p. 71, illus. Abb. 107 (col.) (Mutter im grünen Morgenmantel);

Davies 2006b, illus. n.p.; B. Gries 2006, n.p.; Huther 2006a,

n.p.; Huther 2006b, n.p.; Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Sander 2006,

pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006d, p. 259, illus. p. 260.

418

419

251

From Night into Day

Von der Nacht in den Tag

1975


Tate, London (t04851)

In this portrait the artist’s mother Henriette

von Motesiczky is shown reclining in bed in

their Hampstead house. Propped up on several

cushions, she lightly touches a small oval hand

mirror that lies on the mattress next to her. A

bedside table holds a bowl with a small branch

of red flowers, two bottles and a lit night light.

Henriette’s walking stick leans against the

table. A wall-mounted bedside lamp, decorated

with dried flowers, above the little table is

unlit. At the foot of the bed, the sitter’s Italian

greyhound Maxi enthusiastically rests his front

paws on the mother’s legs. The title refers to

the fact that Henriette von Motesiczky found

it difficult to sleep and would often lie awake

as the morning broke, waiting for the night

to turn into day. A faint smile indicates her

pleasure at the entry of a visitor to keep her

company. But at the same time the title also

reverses the conventional imagery of day and

night as emblems of life and death to find

a positive meaning in old age.

The portrait was painted in the artist’s

studio across the landing from her mother’s

bedroom. Motesiczky would pay frequent visits

to refresh her memory of the model and investigate

details – the portrait therefore combines

a lifelong memory of the mother’s features

with direct observation (fig. 208). Numerous

sketches and drawings reveal the importance

Motesiczky attached to achieving the right

posture and capturing the fleeting expressions

on the sitter’s face (figs 206, 207 and 209).

Motesiczky summed up her reasons for painting

this work: ‘My mother was 93 years old at

the time I made this painting. Despite her

advanced age, for me she looked charming.

She was almost radiant each time I came into

the room. I thought that if I could paint what

I saw when she was in this decrepit state, without

embellishment and concentrating on the

genuine charm in her expression, then I would

have done a great thing. The need I felt to be

truthful led to some frightening insights, but

I was hoping that the overall impression would

convey something of the immediate joy and

hope she would show when someone came

near her.’ 1 The harsh depiction of her mother’s

complete baldness contrasts with the mysterious

light that seems to emanate from the sitter’s

head and illuminates the whole scene.

The portrait’s reception was mixed. While

an old friend of her mother, who was allowed

to see the painting, expressed a strong dislike

of the work’s frankness, a critic admiringly

asked: ‘What other living painter anywhere has

produced so poignantly simple and delicately

alive an image of mortality?’ 2 Motesiczky,

however, believed that she had truly captured

her mother and considered this work to be

‘one of the very best from the series’ 3 of

paintings of her mother.



charitable trust






gratulieren, denn von Peter hörte ich, daß Du 3 Bilder

Fig. 206 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, undated sketch, graphite on paper,




420

nun in der Tate hängen hast. Das ist doch einfach

grossartig und so schön daß Du es erlebst!’

Kulturjournal, Radio Bremen 2, 21 February 1994,

transcript, p. 3: ‘So wie ich meine Mutter gemalt hab in

der Nacht – das Bild heißt “Von der Nacht in den Tag”

– sie hat sich immer so schrecklich gefreut, wenn ich

reingekommen bin, dass jemand schon so im Zerfall

ist und so alt und dann so schaut, damals hab ich mir

gedacht in London: so reizend hat noch nie jemand

einen alten Menschen gemalt, das muß ich zusammenbringen

und dann hab’ ich gedacht, ich hab’s

zusammengebracht! Und dann ist eine alte Freundin

meiner Mutter gekommen und ich hab’ gesagt, “schau,

ich hab doch noch einmal meine Mutter gemalt”, und

sie schaut’s an … schaut’s an und sie dreht sich um

und geht aus dem Atelier! Sie fand’s so fürchterlich

und ich hab’ gedacht ich hab’s gekriegt.’

notes

1 Tate Gallery, 1996, pp. 503 f.

2 Clark 1994.

3 Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 503.

provenance

Artist; Tate Gallery (purchased 1986).

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 62, illus. p. 51 (col.), shown as From the

Night into Day; Cambridge 1986, no. 62, illus. p. 51 (col.),

shown as From the Night into Day; London 1986c, shown

as From the Night into Day; Vienna 1994, no. 42, illus. (col.);

Manchester 1994, no. 28, shown as From the Night into Day;

Liverpool 2006, no. 74, illus. p. 227 (col.); Frankfurt am




Fig. 208 Henriette von Motesiczky in bed, photograph, 1960s/70s


bibliography

Berryman 1985, p. 628; Tate Gallery, 1986, n.p., illus. n.p.

(From the Night into Day); Vann 1987, p. 15 (From the Night

into Day); Modern and contemporary works of art, exh. cat. 1989,

p. 2 (From the Night into Day); Adler 1994, p. 18; Black 1994,

pp. 8–10 (From the Night into Day); Clark 1994, n.p.; Cohen

1994, p. 95; Anonymous [Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Cohen

1996a, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, pp. 503 f., illus. p. 503; Black

1997, p. 994 (From the Night into Day); Vorderwülbecke 1999,

pp. 34, 53 f.n., 54 f.n., 56 f.n., illus. p. 82 (From the Night into

Day); Phillips 2001, p. 31 (From Night to Day); Schlenker 2001,

p. 2; Michel 2003, pp. 71–3, illus. Abb. 109 (col.); Schlenker

2003, p. 107; Foster 2004, p. 143 (From the Night into Day);

Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh.

booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker 2006b,

pp. 204 f.; Schlenker 2006c, pp. 168, 226; Schlenker 2006d,

pp. 259 f.; Michel 2007, illus. p. 119 (col.); Lloyd 2007, pp. 195,

207, illus. fig. 32 (col.).



421

422

423

252

Gordon Winter

1975



Doris Winter

The sitter in this portrait is the son of Doris

Winter, an old friend of the artist’s and her

former flatmate at 14 Compayne Gardens, West

Hampstead. When Motesiczky expressed her

wish to paint the young man he agreed to pose

for her. Born in 1956, Gordon Winter was 19

years old at the time of the painting and just

about to go to university. Artist and sitter got

on well together during the sittings and Winter

even managed to get the occasional glimpse

of his portrait in a mirror, thus defying

Motesiczky’s strict rule that no one was to see

a painting in progress. The artist characterizes

him as a serious young man placed in front

of a neutral, light background. He is casually

dressed in an open-necked white shirt under a

dark jacket. He wears large square glasses that

are partially obscured by his brown curly hair.

Winter became an actor and has appeared in

television advertisements and dramas as well

as on stage and on the radio. He now lives in

Hove, near Brighton.

During her lifetime Motesiczky could not

bear to part with this painting and kept it at

Chesterford Gardens. She did, however, want

Doris Winter to have it. In order to make sure

that the sitter’s mother would eventually

receive the portrait she wrote the following

statement: ‘I confirm in this note that the

portrait of Gordon is a present for Doris. If

later it ends up in a museum I would be very

happy’. 1 Following this wish, the portrait did

enter the collection of Doris Winter shortly

after Motesiczky’s death.

note

1 ‘Ich bestätige in diesem Schreiben dass das Portrait vom

Gordon ein Geschenk für Doris ist. Wenn es später einmal

in einem Museum landet würde ich mich sehr freuen’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, note, 19 April 1992:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Doris Winter (posthumous gift).

exhibitions

London 1975, no. 40, shown as Portrait of a Young Man;

London 1985, no. 63, illus. p. 89, probably not shown.

424

253

Still-life, Yellow Rose

Leuchter mit Rosenvase

1976

Oil and pencil on hardboard, 711 × 347 mm


In this composition a green glass vase with an

arrangement of an enormous, single, yellowpink

rose and a smaller red rose with a tiny

bud are placed in the centre of a square doily.

Next to it stands a tall, slim candlestick with a

small stub of a thin white candle. On the edge

of the doily lies what looks like a chain of

beads. High up on the wall a mirror or picture

is mysteriously hiding its reflection or image.

In various places the hardboard, a support

Motesiczky rarely used, has not been painted

and is allowed to show through as it does,

for example, in the candlestick, the mirror or

picture, the vase, the flower stems and the red

rose. Curiously the table’s wooden surface,

which is texturally similar to the hardboard,

has been painted.

exhibition

Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 81, dated 1979.

425

254

Mother

c. 1976


Private collection

This half-length late portrait of the artist’s

mother was created in connection with the

work on Mother with Baton, 1977 (no. 257).

The unfinished and very sketchy study shows

the well-known model probably sitting up

in bed, holding a dog. It concentrates on the

elderly sitter’s head in profile, highlighting

her bulbous nose and by now sparse hair

held together in a thin ponytail, while the

surroundings remain undefined.

provenance

Artist; Peter Black (gift).

426

255

Self-portrait in Mirror, Yellow Roses

Stilleben mit gelben Blumen und Spiegel

c. 1976



At first glance this painting appears to be

simply a still-life. It is, however, an encoded

self-portrait, as close inspection reveals.

Positioned, probably, in front of a window are a

few personal objects, a folded fan, a dark brown

vase containing faded yellow roses and a small

oval mirror mounted on a stand (which has

survived in the artist’s estate). Since the bottom

right corner of the painting remains unfinished,

the fourth object, which exists only as

cursory outlines, cannot be identified beyond

doubt. It may be a pottery dish. The reflection

in the mirror is in fact a partial self-portrait of

the artist. Motesiczky repeatedly employed a

mirror in her self-portraits – she holds one in

her hand in Self-portrait with Comb, 1926 (no. 13).

In Self-portrait with Mirror, 1949 (no. 85), or

Self-portrait with Pears, 1965 (no. 202), she goes

one step further in only showing a reflection

of her upper body or her head in the mirror.

This painting takes the device to an extreme by

presenting a mere glimpse of her pale features:

an eye, her nose and part of her mouth. In

this partial view, Motesiczky appears rather

younger than her age (she would have been

about seventy years old when she painted

this work). The most striking feature of the

self-portrait is the green colour of the lips. It

may have been chosen in a witty attempt at

confusion; the shape could be taken for the

reflection of a leaf from the bouquet next to

the mirror. On the other hand, Motesiczky

may have discarded the painting before she

could correct the colour.

bibliography


427

256

Godfrey Samuel

1976/7


Signed (bottom right): M. Motesiczky 1978.

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Charitable Trust, on permanent loan to the Reform Club, London

Godfrey Samuel (fig. 210) was a close friend

of Motesiczky for several decades. Apart from

spending many enjoyable evenings together,

their shared interest in art and music took

them to numerous exhibitions and concerts.

Godfrey Samuel was also a frequent travelling

companion, spending holidays with

Motesiczky in Portugal in 1958 and in Israel,

Venice and Scotland in 1974, among others.

The Hon. Godfrey Herbert Samuel (1904–82)

was the son of the Liberal politician and first

High Commissioner of Palestine, Viscount

Herbert Samuel. Having trained as an architect,

Godfrey Samuel was one of the original

partners in the progressive architecture firm

of Tecton from 1932 to 1935. Among Tecton’s

influential buildings in the new international

style of Le Corbusier and the Bauhaus were the

Highpoint One apartment block in Highgate

(1933–5) and the gorilla house (1932–3) and

penguin pool (1934) at the London Zoological

Gardens. Godfrey Samuel served as secretary

of the Royal Fine Art Commission from 1948

to 1969 and published various technical articles

on architectural subjects. According to his sister,

‘Godfrey was … a prolific writer of verse when

he was young. He was also quite a good artist’. 1

Jeremy Adler, a friend of the artist, described

Godfrey Samuel as a calm, gentle, affectionate,

immaculately dressed, perfect companion to

Motesiczky. A young relative, who met Godfrey

Samuel in Portugal in the 1950s, describes him

as ‘a gentleman in the truest sense of the word

and always prepared to help someone whenever

he could’. 2 The artist herself immensely

enjoyed Samuel’s company as the following

comment, alluding to his homosexual inclinations,

illustrates: ‘[it is] superfluous to deny

that it is an enormous pleasure when a man

is ¾ woman’. 3

Work on the portrait must have begun in

1976. Since Godfrey Samuel was probably the

first sitter sporting a substantial beard,

Motesiczky took great pleasure in practising

her skills in painting male facial hair. The

portrait was completed in early 1977 much to

the satisfaction of the artist – a rare instance

with the extremely self-critical artist: ‘100 %

positive about portrait Samuel. Model model

… Execution of the portrait almost exemplary –

just like someone with real talent should do

it. Hardly hesitated, worked fast, 13 sittings.

A painting whose success gives me a lot of

courage!!’ 4

In her portrait Motesiczky manages to

convey the compelling presence of a sitter

she knew well. Godfrey Samuel is seated in

front of the windows in the artist’s studio in

Chesterford Gardens. A selection of brushes

jut out from behind the sitter’s right shoulder,

and the bare branches of two wintry trees can

be seen outside the window. A murky haze

reduces the houses on the opposite side of the

road to mere shadows and transforms the sun

into a barely visible white disc. The sitter, in

contrast, is well defined. He is formally and

very fashionably dressed in a white suit, grey

waistcoat, dark shirt and tie. His receding

hairline is counterbalanced by a well-trimmed

greying beard. His furrowed brow testifies to

the engrossment with which he reads the

open newspaper, the Observer, in front of him.

Friends and relatives were also excited

about the portrait. Even Oskar Kokoschka,

Fig. 210 Godfrey Samuel,

photograph, 1970s


428

429

judging from a photograph, praised it as

‘excellent’. 5 One admirer commented on the

painting: ‘How effusive and intellectually arrogant

Godfrey Samuel is’. 6 Yet, for Motesiczky,

the pride was tinged with apprehension as

she had submitted the portrait to the Royal

Academy to be considered for the summer

exhibition in 1977 under the title A Friend of the

Royal Academy: ‘But damned hope for a price.

You have to be able to hope. How big will the

disappointment be?’ 7 Godfrey Samuel, like

numerous other friends, took an interest,

asking Motesiczky to ‘let me know if you hear

anything more from the Academy’. 8 Eventually

all dreams came to an end when the painting

was rejected. One friend, Ernst Marx, tried to

console Motesiczky with the following lines:

‘That your excellent portraits were not accepted

by the Royal Academy must have been a disappointment

to you. However, the low Quality of

the Exhibits makes the refusal rather a compliment.

I am inclined to quote Heine: Es tät mir

in der Seele weh, wenn ich Dich in dieser

Gesellschaft säh [It would hurt my soul to see

you in such company]. Denken Sie an den

Kampf der Impressionisten um Anerkennung

[Think of the impressionists’ struggle for

recognition]. Your Portrait-paintings remain

Masterpieces, whether the Royal Academy

exhibits them or not.’ 9

It is not known if Motesiczky intended to

give the portrait to the sitter. Doris Winter, a

friend of the artist, suggested that the sitter’s

family did not like the portrait. It hung in the

artist’s house before being presented in 1987 to

the Reform Club, of which Godfrey Samuel had

been a member since 1936. It is now displayed

in the Strangers’ Room above the table where

Godfrey Samuel, known under the nickname

‘Hon God’, used to sit.

Motesiczky apparently intended to do

another portrait of Godfrey Samuel which was

never finished. A stretched canvas (fig. 211)

bears the charcoal drawing of his half-length

portrait facing the viewer. He is surrounded by

several Italian greyhounds, the dogs the artist’s

mother, Henriette von Motesiczky, used to

keep, all reaching up to him expectantly.



charitable trust

Heinrich and Christl Karplus to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 21 February 1977: ‘Über den möglichen

Auftrag und das Bild von Samuel haben wir uns sehr

gefreut und über die Idee, daß Du Dich in Bärten

übst sehr gelacht. Bin sicher das Bild von S. ist sehr

gelungen, Du kennst ihn ja so gut.’

Christl Karplus to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

20 March 1977: ‘Ich bin so froh fuer Dich dass Du

zufrieden mit dem Bild von Samuel bist, Du bist

doch so kritisch mit Dir selber.’

Heinrich and Christl Karplus to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 13 April 1977: ‘Wir finden alle das Bild von

Samuel ganz ausgezeichnet und bedauern sehr, daß

wir es nicht in Farbe sehen können. Es gebührt Dir

wirklich ein Preis dafür.’

Jörg Roth to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 29 April 1977:

‘Die beiden neuen Bilder von Dir … Ich finde sie

wunderbar – beide! Und sie sind doch sehr, sehr

anders als die, die ich bisher von Dir kannte. Viel

mehr Du selbst bist das auch – so kam es mir vor:

Henriette and Samuel’

Käthe von Porada to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

19 May 1977: ‘Dank für die Zusendung der beiden

Photos. Du kannst ja wirklich malen und die Portraits –

Ähnlichkeit und Ausdruck – ergreifend. Da müssen

doch, besonders in England Deine so menschliche

Interpretation der Persönlichkeit Erfolg und Aufträge

haben.’

Gertrud Boller-Schwing to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

25 June 1977: ‘Die Ausstellungsleute, die Dir Deine

Bilder zurückgeschickt haben, sind einfach blöd!’

Chairman of the Reform Club to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 8 June 1987: ‘I am writing on behalf of the

General Committee of the Club to convey to you its

warmest thanks for your very kind offer to make available

to us, on permanent loan, your portrait of Godfrey

Samuel. The portrait was much admired when it was

shown to the Committee last week and we are very

happy indeed to have the opportunity of hanging this

fine portrait of a much respected Member in a room

of the Club so particularly associated with him.’

notes

1 Nancy Salaman to Ines Schlenker, 26 February 2000:

Motesiczky archive.

2 Peter Verdemato to Ines Schlenker (e-mail), 9 July 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

3 ‘wiederum überflüssig zu leugnen dass es ein grosser

Genuss ist wenn ein Mann ¾ eine Frau ist’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky to Elias Canetti, 30 June 1958: Motesiczky

archive.

4 ‘Positiv 1/100 Hundert Perzent Porträt Samuel. Modell

Modell … Durchführung des Porträts beinahe musterhaft –

so wie ein Mensch mit wirklichem Talent es machen soll.

wenig gezögert schnell gearbeitet 13 Sitzungen Ein Bild

dessen Gelingen mir sehr viel Mut giebt!!’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky, diary entry for spring 1977: Motesiczky

archive.

5 ‘ausgezeichnet’: Sophie Brentano to Henriette von

Motesiczky, 18 April 1977: Motesiczky archive.

6 ‘Wie überschwenglich und geistig hochmütig ist

Godfrey Samuel’: Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986,

p. 6: Motesiczky archive.

7 ‘Aber verruchte Hoffnung auf Preis. Muss hoffen können.

Wie gross wird die Enttäuschung sein?’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for spring 1977: Motesiczky archive.

8 Godfrey Samuel to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 29 April


9 Ernst Marx to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 30 May 1977:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; lent to the Reform Club (1987).

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 64, illus. p. 86, dated 1977; Cambridge 1986,

no. 64, illus. p. 86, dated 1977.

bibliography

Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63.

430


Motesiczky, Godfrey Samuel with

Dogs, 1976/7, charcoal on canvas,

785 × 640 mm (Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky Charitable Trust,

London)

431

432

257

Mother with Baton

Mutter mit Stab

1977



Arts Council of Great Britain, London (ac 5108, Old Lady with Baton)

In the winter of 1976 Motesiczky was not

satisfied with her work. She noted in her

diary: ‘Work: nothing this winter. ¾ picture

of mother stopped.’ 1 Six months later she

had completed the portrait of her mother:

‘Mother’s picture with baton finally finished.

Am satisfied with it – but – perhaps also

because I want it so much. Maybe it is really

something, some days of satisfaction – that

at least I have done.’ 2

This portrait of the artist’s mother,

Henriette von Motesiczky, a year before

her death, is one of the last in a long series

chronicling the sitter’s inevitable decline into

extreme old age. Motesiczky carried out her

task objectively, refraining from beautification

and idealization yet with an empathy and

compassion that expresses her deep love for

the sitter. Henriette von Motesiczky, as so

often, is shown reclining in her bed. Now

reduced to a painfully frail, pale apparition

she has lost almost all her hair of which only

a thin grey plait, held together with a pink

ribbon, remains. Yet, despite her age, her eyes

are bright and alert. The bulbous, prominent

nose over a slightly open, sagging mouth

dominates the face. One thin arm holds a baton

as if she is conducting to an unheard tune or,

in other words, she still has her surroundings

well in hand and not least the life of her

daughter as a painter. She is surrounded by

light as if from a halo, which cannot be coming

from the small lamp but seems to symbolize

joy and zest for life. The sitter’s pet dog, an

Italian greyhound called Maxi, who had joined

the Motesiczkys on the sitter’s birthday on

5 May 1973, is sleeping under the duvet, his tiny

head just visible above the eiderdown. This

luxury seems to have been a treat that all the

family’s greyhounds enjoyed. In 1956 Henriette

von Motesiczky wrote to her daughter: ‘After

a fervent morning kiss Franzi is now in my

bed between the covers.’ 3

notes

1 ‘Arbeit: in diesem Winter 0. ¾ Bild von Mutter abgebrochen.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for

winter 1976: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Mutters Bild mit Stab endlich beendet. Bin zufrieden

damit – aber – vielleicht auch weil ich es so sehr wünsche.

Vielleicht ist es wirklich was, einige Tage der Zufriedenheit

– das wenigstens habe ich gemacht.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for summer 1977: Motesiczky

archive.

3 ‘Nach einem innigen Morgenkuss, ist Franzi in meinem

Bett zwischen den Decken.’: Henriette von Motesiczky

to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 16 September [1956]:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Arts Council of Great Britain (purchased 1982).

exhibitions

Nottingham 1982–4, no. 21, shown as Old Lady with Baton;

London 1985, no. 66, illus. p. 88; Cambridge 1986, no. 66,

illus. p. 88; Oxford 1988–90; Vienna 1994, no. 43, illus. (col.),

shown as Mutter mit Baton; Manchester 1994, no. 30; Liverpool




no. 77, illus. p. 231 (col.).

bibliography

Motesiczky 1984, p. 51; Calvocoressi 1985, p. 63; Tate Gallery,

1986, n.p.; Black 1994, pp. 8–10; Cohen 1994, p. 95; Kruntorad

1994, n.p.; Anonymous 1996b, n.p.; Tate Gallery, 1996, p. 504;

Black 1997, p. 993; Phillips 2001, p. 33; Schlenker 2001, p. 2;

Schlenker 2003, p. 107; Lloyd 2004, p. 223 (Mutter mit

Taktstock); Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker

2006b, pp. 204 f.; Schlenker 2006c, pp. 168, 230; Schlenker

2006d, p. 259; Gaisbauer 2007, n.p., illus. n.p.; Lloyd 2007,

p. 195, illus. fig. 31 (col.).


Henriette in Bed, Asleep with a Dog,

undated, graphite on paper,



433

258

Portrait Maureen

1977/8


Signed (bottom right): MLM 1976

Private collection, Cork

Maureen Fallon, born in 1953, was a neighbour

of the artist, living in Redington Road, just

around the corner from Chesterford Gardens

in Hampstead, London. Motesiczky asked

the young woman to sit for her. According

to the sitter, progress on the painting, which

Motesiczky began in 1977, was slow. By

summer it had not advanced to the artist’s

satisfaction: ‘Portrait Maurin so far weak

but nevertheless a painting.’ 1 In autumn

Motesiczky felt much happier: ‘Head of

Maureen good, for me, if painting good

depends on the background, always the most

difficult.’ 2 The portrait was completed in the

first few months of 1978.

The half-length portrait shows Maureen

Fallon dressed in a blue frock; the colour

matches her eyes. The sitter recalls, however,

that the dress she wore was black, decorated

with blue, white and pink flowers. In the late

1970s, Maureen Fallon was working as an

administrator at the Royal Free Hospital. The

short, curly, brown hair gives her a boyish

appearance which is softened by a gold earring.

The background, presumably the artist’s studio,

is undefined; only what might be the folded

panels of a screen the artist kept in this room

can be made out on the right. What appears

to be a large snake’s head juts into the picture

plane from the left. Its mouth wide open, it

is about to attack the sitter whose head is only

inches away. Unperturbed by this threat Maureen

calmly holds an instrument that resembles

a trombone. Finding the right accessory to

complete the portrait had proved rather difficult.

Maureen remembers that Motesiczky explored

shops selling unusual musical instruments

for a suitable prop. She finally found an outlet

specializing in ethnic and antique instruments,

opposite the Royal Free Hospital, where she

bought the trombone which, according to

the sitter, she felt expressed her vision of the

‘ethereal quality’ 3 of Maureen’s personality and

what she termed as her soul. Maureen never

played the trombone; its presence represents

the artist’s attempt to add a spiritual dimension.

The incorrect dating of the painting was

probably caused by the long gap between its

creation and the application of the signature.

Wrongly dating works was a mistake the

artist frequently made.

notes

1 ‘Porträt Maurin bisher schwach aber doch eine Arbeit.’:

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entry for summer 1977:

Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Kopf von Maureen gut ob Bild gut, hängt bei mir vom

Hintergrund ab immer das Schwerste.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for autumn 1977: Motesiczky archive.

3 Maureen Harris to Ines Schlenker, 12 May 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Maureen Harris (gift 1996).

434

259

Mother in Bed

Mutter im Bett

c. 1977/8



on permanent loan to the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge

Executed in the last year of her mother’s life,

this is a particularly unsparing, objective,

yet deeply compassionate portrait. Together

with a few drawings, this portrait is among

the last in a long series of mother pictures

(The Greenhouse, 1979, no. 266, was done

posthumously). Too weak to leave her bed,

Henriette von Motesiczky (1882–1978) is

noticeably near death. Only one hand and

her bare head emerge from the white bed

sheets. She is seemingly devoid of hair and

thus conveys a strangely sexless quality. Yet, her

characteristic large dark eyes, now more sunken,

and the bulbous nose are still recognizable.

Despite her tired looks, her face is enlivened

by her red cheeks. Unlike earlier portraits,

Motesiczky refrains from incorporating her

mother’s beloved dog or other paraphernalia.

She simply focuses on the familiar face of her

old mother in the knowledge that she is sitting

for one last time. In a way, this portrait could

be read as a death mask of the still living.

provenance


to the Fitzwilliam Museum (2009).

exhibitions





bibliography


(Letztes Bildnis von Henriette von Motesiczky); Lloyd 2004,

p. 223; Lloyd 2006, pp. 40 f.; Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

exh. booklet 2006, n.p.; Sander 2006, pp. 122 f.; Schlenker

2006c, pp. 168, 232; Lloyd 2007, p. 195.

435

260

The Very Reverend Victor de Waal, Dean of Canterbury

1979


Signed (bottom right): MM. 1978

The Dean and Chapter of Canterbury Cathedral

Victor de Waal, born in 1929 and a distant

relative of the artist, was Dean of Canterbury

from 1976 to 1986. When asked to have his

portrait painted for Canterbury’s collection of

the Deans that goes back to the Reformation

and includes one by Thomas Gainsborough

(1727–88), he approached Motesiczky in January

1977. The choice of artist was simple for Victor

de Waal who recalled that ‘Marie-Louise was

the only person I could ask to paint my portrait,

when as Dean of Canterbury, mine had to be

added to the unbroken series stretching back

to the last Prior of the monastery and the first

Dean in the 16 th Century. She was hesitant and

eager as always, with that confident diffidence

which betrays true humility and therefore

true greatness.’ 1

Motesiczky accepted the commission but

apparently found it difficult to pin the Dean

down to come to sit for her in the Hampstead

studio. It is unclear if sittings took place in 1977.

A friend commiserated with the waiting artist:

‘You must now go after your high prelate and

force him to sit in your studio. Tell him your

soul needs the execution of the commission.

Tell him that you feel strong and willing to give.

He must agree and make the sitting sacrifice

if only as a Christian.’ 2 By the end of the year,

Victor de Waal self-consciously admitted: ‘It is

terrible that I have not come to sit yet. But 1978

will be much easier. What about my coming to

see you on Monday 16 January?’ 3 In early 1978

Motesiczky seems to have visited the sitter

in Canterbury to work on the portrait. Elias

Canetti supported the commencement of the

task with the following encouraging remark:

‘paint the Dean as only you can paint a portrait’. 4

Subsequently, Victor de Waal occasionally came

to London to sit but Motesiczky also worked

from photographs of which an exceptionally

large number have survived in the archive

(fig. 213). When the portrait was finally completed

in 1979 (and not in 1978 as the signature

suggests), the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury,

who were admiring and enthusiastic, acquired

it for £ 1,500. Motesiczky was pleased with the

Fig. 213 Victor de Waal, photograph, 1978/9


work and modestly surprised at its success:

‘Have painted a large portrait of the Dean

of Canterbury which even got a very good

reception.’ 5 Elias Canetti found that ‘the Dean

should thank his God that you painted him.

Whether he deserves it or not, as long as the

earth exists, he won’t disappear from it’. 6

In his portrait, the Dean, whose responsibility

is the overseeing of worship and liturgy,

is shown in his place of work, the Gothic arch

in the background resembling the one under

Bell Harry Tower in Canterbury Cathedral.

Wearing a black cassock he sits in his highbacked

chair that used to stand in the nave of

the Cathedral (now replaced by a new chair).

Awkwardly clasping his hands he presents an

image of troubled spirituality. Victor de Waal

recorded his reaction to the painting: ‘The

portrait, when it was finished (and of course

I had not been allowed to glimpse it before)

was very revealing. Though of a Christian

clergyman it showed my Jewish roots, to the

extent that in it I appeared positively rabbinic.

More perceptively still it revealed to me the

questioning, the burdens and the dissonance

that underlay my life at the time.’ 7



charitable trust

Elisabeth de Waal to Henriette and Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 14 January 1977: ‘Ich glaube, Tascha

[Victor de Waal] hat vor, Euch in den nächsten

Tagen zu besuchen. Er denkt daran, mit Dir, Piez,

über ein eventuelles Portrait zu sprechen, denn er

ist verpflichtet, sich malen zu lassen. Alle Deans,

30 an der Zahl, hängen an den Wänden der Deanery.

Allerdings sind diese Portraits sehr “konventionell”.

Auch weiß ich nicht, ob das Kapitel oder er selbst

das Portrait bezahlt’

Victor de Waal to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

18 January 1977: ‘There is a possibility that a portrait

of me will be wanted one day!’


1977: ‘Eine Arbeitszeit in Canterbury, und eben ein

solches Porträt, wie wäre das schön, und wie richtig

wäre es! Eine wirkliche Aufgabe, des Malers Mulo

würdig, ich schreibe nicht mehr darüber, damit

Du nicht abergläubisch wirst und fürchtest, mein

Überschwang und meine Freude könnten dem

Zustandekommen der Sache schaden. Aber das Eine

darf ich noch sagen: dass ich es alles vor mir sehe:

Deinen Aufenthalt dort, die Spaziergänge um die

Kathedrale vor der Arbeit, die grosse Familie, die

dreissig Vorgänger-Bilder, darunter eines von einem

so wunderbaren Maler wie Gainsborough. Sehr oft,

wenn ich an unsere Spaziergänge in Ken Wood

denke, sehe ich das berühmte Porträt einer englischen

Dame vor mir, das wir manchmal von aussen durchs

Fenster angeschaut haben. Aus dieser Zeit datiert

mein Interesse für Gainsborough … Umsomehr

wünsche ich mir von Herzen, dass es bei Dir alles

gut geht und dass Du im Frühjahr mit dem Porträt

beginnst.’

Gertrud Boller-Schwing to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

25 June 1977: ‘Und die Menschen, die nicht für ein

Porträt zu Dir kommen, wissen entweder nicht, was

sie versäumen, oder – sie haben Angst, sich selber

so zu begegnen, wie Deine Augen sie gesehen und

erfasst, und Deine Hand sie festgehalten hat! Arme,

wahrheitsscheue Menschen!!!’


1978: ‘Du wirst nun schon mit dem Dean begonnen

haben. Da wohnst Du wahrscheinlich in Canterbury, –

aber nicht die ganze Zeit, sonst müsste ich Dich dort in

der Kathedrale besuchen, was komisch wäre. Aber zwei

Tage wirst Du auch für Chesterford Gardens erübrigen:

436

437

ich muss wieder einmal unter Deinen Bildern sitzen!

… mal den Dean so wie nur Du ein Porträt malen

kannst’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 19 January

1979: ‘Der Dean kommt wieder und das Porträt für

Canterbury wird allmählich fertig. Auch das möchte

ich sehen, wie die neue Einrichtung Deiner eigenen

Wohnung.’

Victor de Waal to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 11 January

1981: ‘I’ve been waiting to write, because the matter

of the portrait is sorted out at last. All the people at

the Cathedral who had to decide whether they wanted

it to hang in the Deanery for the next 1000 years, in

line with the other portraits of Deans, have now seen

it. And there is general admiration and enthusiasm.

Enclosed is the cheque for £ 1500 – with many

apologies for the long delay!’

Daniele Grassi, typescript, c. 1986, p. 6: ‘wie “very, very

Reverend” und etwas unheimlich [ist] der Dekan von

Canterbury!’

Victor de Waal, typescript, mid-1990s:

‘being painted by marie-louise

I was five and playing in the garden at Hinterbrühl.

We were staying with my grandparents in Vienna.

Marie-Louise (der Piz or just Piz, as she was known

in the family) will have been twenty-eight and most

beautiful, as indeed she remained to the end of her

life. But I have to confess that my only memory of that

visit was getting into serious trouble for losing my

temper and hitting my younger brother Constant (now

Sir Henry de Waal K.C.B., Q.C.) over the head with a

rake, so that the doctor had to be summoned to stitch

him up. He recommended that I be spanked. I believe

at Henriette’s intercession I was let off. We didn’t

meet again till I was a teenager and sitting at the

end of Henriette’s bed, talking as always in a mixture

of German and English, for I was still a favourite.

Henriette then was famous not only for smoking a

pipe, but for causing mayhem on the pavements of

Hampstead in her electric wheel-chair. It was at that

time that I first saw the portraits that Marie-Louise

was painting of her mother, and, like many, shocked at

first, began to perceive that combination of technical

mastery and penetrating perception that makes for

the genuine artist.

So, quite apart from family friendship (how appropriately

it was said that round her flowed and gathered

a company in which family and friends were one),

Marie-Louise was the only person I could ask to paint

my portrait, when as Dean of Canterbury, mine had to

be added to the unbroken series stretching back to the

last Prior of the monastery and the first Dean in the

16 th Century. She was hesitant and eager as always, with

that confident diffidence which betrays true humility

and therefore true greatness. She persuaded a photographer

she happened to meet at a party to come and

take some photographs. He had one of those cameras

which take it seems about twenty pictures at the press

of a button. He must have taken hundreds (though I

was never allowed to see them), and turned out to be

a celebrated commercial photographer who thought

nothing of travelling to the far corners of the globe

to take that one stunning picture which in one corner

reveals itself to be an advertisement for something

extremely expensive. Needless to say he charged

Marie-Louise nothing, and indeed I think had to put

off just such a well-paid journey in order to oblige her.

Typical! The portrait, when it was finished (and of

course I had not been allowed to glimpse it before)

was very revealing. Though of a Christian clergyman

it showed my Jewish roots, to the extent that in it I

appeared positively rabbinic. More perceptively still it

revealed to me the questioning, the burdens and the

dissonance that underlay my life at the time.

Relating to Marie-Louise could be disconcerting,

especially if her delightful attractiveness brought one

close to her. I was not surprised when she told me that

Elias Canetti had not liked her last great portrait of

him, which now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery.

Hers was an eye of unfailing truthfulness, but she was

never cruel. Her truth was allied, as in the Hebrew

Biblical tradition of God (in whom she only partly

believed) with love. Love informed truth, not to sentimentalise

it, but on the contrary to be illuminated in

its turn by truth. It was this clarity of vision that in her

life preserved her from any trace of bitterness about

the sorrows and sufferings to which she was heir from

childhood onwards, while doubtless these served to

purify that vision. So great artists are made, of which

surely she is one.’

notes

1 Victor de Waal: ‘being painted by marie-louise’,

typescript, mid-1990s: Motesiczky archive.

2 ‘Du musst nun hinter Deinem hohen Praelaten gehen

und ihn in Deinem Atelier zur Sitzung zwingen. Sag ihm

Deine Seele brauche den Vollzug des Auftrages. Sag ihm,

dass Du Dich stark und gebebereit fühlest. Er muss

schon als Christ einwilligen und das Sitzopfer bringen.’:

Christoph [Bernoulli?] to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


3 Victor de Waal to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

December 1977: Motesiczky archive.

4 ‘mal den Dean so wie nur Du ein Porträt malen kannst’:



5 ‘Hab ein grosses Porträt vom Dean von Canterbury gemalt

welches sogar sehr gute Aufnahme fand.’: Marie-Louise

von Motesiczky to Quappi Beckmann, 8 April 1980:

Motesiczky archive.

6 ‘der Dean kann seinem Gott danken, dass Du ihn gemalt

hast. Ob er’s verdient oder nicht, solange es die Erde gibt,

wird er nicht von ihr verschwinden’: Elias Canetti to

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 12 December 1979:

Motesiczky archive.

7 Victor de Waal: ‘being painted by marie-louise’,

typescript, mid-1990s: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; The Dean and Chapter of Canterbury Cathedral

(purchased 1981).

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 65, illus. p. 87, dated 1977; Vienna 1994,

no. 44, illus. (col.), shown as The Very Reverend Victor de Waal,

Dean von Canterbury (1976–1986), 1978.

bibliography

Anonymous 1994g, n.p.; Schlenker 2006d, p. 259.

438

261

Thistle

Distel

1979

Oil and pastel on paper, 509 × 404 mm


Painted the year after the death of the artist’s

mother, Henriette von Motesiczky, Thistle,

like The Greenhouse (no. 266) is a tribute to the

artist’s favourite model, now absent. Two vases

stand side by side on a table. The smaller one

contains a bunch of colourful mixed flowers,

presumably from the artist’s own garden,

which will fade away and wilt soon. Although

Motesiczky referred to the painting as Thistle,

the taller vase displays a single large flower

which is, in fact, a protea and not a thistle.

There is still water in the vase, but the plant

looks already extremely desiccated. Taken out

of the water, it can be kept for a long time as

a dried flower. It may be possible to read the

protea as the artist’s memory of her mother,

which, now devoid of new nourishment, will

nevertheless survive. On a less metaphorical

level, the pipe-rack with two pipes is a direct

reminder of Henriette von Motesiczky who was

a keen pipe smoker (as shown, for example, in

Reclining Woman with Pipe, 1954, no. 129). The

smaller, brown pipe still seems to contain a

spark as if it had only just been abandoned.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 197.

262

Still-life with

Rhododendron Branch

1979



This simple still-life focuses on a single, large

blossom of pink rhododendron which probably

came from the artist’s garden. It is placed in

a bulbous vase on a table in the centre of the

composition. The marked shadow cast by the

blossom’s leaves give it a three-dimensional

presence. To the left and right stand two small

glasses, one filled with toothpicks, the other

empty. As if to counterbalance the symmetry

created by these three objects, Motesiczky

sketched in a brown bottle and a dish at the

right-hand edge of the composition.

439

263

Still-life with Fruit and Roses

1979



In this still-life Motesiczky presents a close

view of a laid table. Covered with a white cloth,

the table fills three quarters of the picture

plane and leaves only a suggestive glimpse of

the room where vague shapes are discernible

as the backs of chairs. Next to a plate of small

orange fruit and a tall, slim bottle of wine on

a saucer, a bulbous brown vase with fine multicoloured

roses takes centre stage. Two small,

slender glasses stand empty.

In Still-life with Fruit and Roses Motesiczky

employs a technique she hardly ever used elsewhere

and which might have been inspired by

early works by Oskar Kokoschka: with the help

of the back of a brush she scratched fine lines

on to the freshly painted canvas in order to

give texture to some of the objects, especially

to two of the red roses, the bottle and the glass

dish on the left. Owing to their closeness to

the viewer, the objects appear life-size, almost

monumental. There may be a further layer of

meaning in the still-life, the composition of

which resembles that of Still-life with Asters,

1985 (no. 281). Painted the year after the artist’s

mother’s death and set in the Motesiczkys’

dining room, Still-life with Fruit and Roses may

also be a tribute to and a commemoration of

Henriette von Motesiczky. While the emphasis

is on the table, her mother’s absence is almost

palpable in the painting’s mood, her chair and

her glass now being empty.

264

Still-life with Red Roses

Rosen

1979


Beverley Haun

This still-life was painted in Motesiczky’s

Hampstead bedroom as the red, green,

yellow and white striped curtains of the

room’s large bay window indicate. Framed

by this distinctive fabric, an arrangement

of objects is laid out on the artist’s dressing

table: a shallow bowl containing one end of

a string of pearls that snakes across the table,

a comb, an oval hand mirror and, in the centre

of the composition, a cylindrical glass vase

with a bunch of red roses, presumably from

the artist’s garden.

provenance

Artist; Gillian Jason Gallery, London (purchased at auction

at Camden Arts Centre in May 1988); Peter Black (purchased

1993); Beverley Haun (purchased 1993).

exhibition

Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 82.

440

265

Portrait Henderson Boy

1979


Signed (centre right): Motesiczky.

Location unknown

Gay Henderson, the mother of the ‘Henderson

Boy’ – whose real name is Jeremy Ross-Duggan

(fig. 214) – was an American who lived in

London with her family for several years in

the 1970s and 1980s. Gay Henderson and

Motesiczky met on a grey November day

in the late 1970s walking down Marylebone

High Street when the artist, curious about

the stranger’s coat, approached Henderson.

Motesiczky subsequently seems to have

borrowed the admired piece of clothing and its

owner became known as the ‘fur lady’. A long

friendship developed between the two women

and survived the Hendersons’ move back to

the United States, after which the contact was

maintained through the letters they

exchanged.

Jeremy Ross-Duggan was born in Long

Beach, California, in 1963. During his childhood

he travelled with his family through

Europe, Africa, the Pacific and New Zealand.

His high school years were spent in London,

where he graduated from the American School

in 1981. He studied at Pepperdine University

in California and Parsons School of Design in

New York and subsequently assisted various

artists before becoming an artist himself.

In preparation for the portrait Motesiczky

took a series of photographs of Jeremy Ross-

Duggan, posing in his tennis outfit and

experimenting with different poses, standing,

sitting and crouching. Several of the photographs

in the artist’s archive, one close-up in

particular, bear paint smudges testifying to

the artist’s frequent referral to these aidesmémoire

during the process of creating the

portrait in the absence of the sitter.

Motesiczky depicts the American youth in

a white sports jacket that bears two crossed

tennis rackets, the team emblem of the

‘American School Paris Tennis’. His lean, long

face and short black hair fit in with his sporty

appearance. He is holding a tennis racket on

which he seems to be balancing or bouncing

a tennis ball as if practising or showing off his

skills. To indicate the outdoor setting of the

sitter’s chosen sport Motesiczky added some

twigs on the right, which partially conceal

the sitter.

Gay Henderson was very appreciative of the

portrait, expressing her admiration in a letter

to the artist: ‘I am sitting in the living room of

our 15th floor apartment, overlooking part of

Houston. As I raise my eyes from this machine,

I look directly into Jeremy’s (in his portrait you

painted!) … we love it! You may just consider it

a “sketch” … but we consider it a treasure … And

I must tell you, too, that Allyn and I wouldn’t

alter the framing one bit! It’s lovely … perfect,

with the inset of that washed charcoal to raise

Jeremy’s dark features … and lovely proportions.

You could not have chosen better! … Jeremy …

was sooooo happy to hear Allyn had purchased

your painting … His brief visits with you were

very important, Marie-Louise, and it wouldn’t

surprise me if you heard from him again some

time.’ 1 In subsequent letters the sitter’s mother

continues to stress the ‘great influence’ 2

Motesiczky had on her son: ‘In some wonderful

way you have inspired him.’ 3 Another letter

pays tribute to the American’s special bond

with the artist, embodied in the portrait:

‘I daily think of you, yet here I am, months

from answering your letter. I mentally talk

to you all the time. It is as though we were

related. I do wonder if your other “clients”

who own pictures you’ve painted for them

feel the same way. I would wager they do!!

This is the glory of being an artist of your

high caliber. You leave something so tangible

of yourself for someone else to be reminded

Fig. 214 Jeremy Ross-Duggan,


of you constantly. No wonder Jeremy aspires

to this way of life.’ 4

The portrait is owned by the family of the

sitter who, unfortunately, could not be traced.

Only a black-and-white photograph in the

artist’s estate has survived.

notes

1 Gay Henderson to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,




3 Gay [Henderson] to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,




provenance

Artist; Henderson family, USA (purchased early 1980s).

441

266

The Greenhouse

Das Glashaus

1979



In this peaceful, dreamlike scene the artist’s

Hampstead garden (fig. 215), from which the

surrounding houses have been omitted, is

transformed into an enchanted wilderness.

The setting sun, reflected in the panes of the

greenhouse, infuses the garden with a magic

light. Amid the abundant flora, a bent old

figure, the artist’s mother dressed in a brown

coat and accompanied by two frolicking dogs,

is raking leaves. Motesiczky painted this

work as a posthumous tribute to her mother

Henriette who had died in 1978. Motesiczky

originally intended to include the three Italian

greyhounds her mother had kept over the

years (Franzi, Bubi and Maxi) to commemorate

all her faithful companions. Eventually only two

Fig. 215 The greenhouse in Motesiczky’s garden in

Hampstead, photograph, 1981 (Motesiczky archive)

dogs found their way into the scene and the

outline of a smaller third one, watched by

the others, can be faintly detected in front of

the greenhouse.

In a rare lengthy statement Motesiczky

noted down some thoughts about and inspirations

for this work: ‘I have to paint from

nature, at least most of the time – but in the

course of the painting I must be able to invent

freely. There a story might develop. Why, o last

hour in the garden are you so beautiful – when

the sun goes down somewhere far away and

only sends its light – and it is possible that it all

of a sudden is reflected in the windows of the

greenhouse – small but convincing, veiled and

yet the sun – it gives the picture its signature.

I am in the west and you are painting the

north but I illuminate everything for you. And

then you know that this is where it belongs,

reflected in the greenhouse. And there my

mother could stand just as she had so often,

helping a little, picking up some leaves, even if

it wasn’t so easy for her anymore. I have found

exactly the right place in the picture, there she

belongs. With the three dogs that she loved

so much. All three are no longer alive, but all

three are in the picture. Two people who saw

the unfinished painting said: this must be

the gardener? I have painted her just as she is

but as a gardener and I couldn’t help smiling:

another person has appeared to someone

else as a gardener before. My secret, now it

is revealed. You may smile but not mock me.

Stories inspire the eyes. The ochre brown

of the gardener’s coat is just right. It all falls

into place.’ 1 The ‘unearthly’ colours of The

Greenhouse have revealed to one critic the

essence of Motesiczky’s oeuvre: ‘Painting as

if with a magic brush, transformed reality.’ 2

The painting’s nostalgic connotations, the

loving responsibility she felt for her mother,

are hinted at in a poem by the artist dated

22 October 1980:

Down there by the dogs

I have found you!

You collect the leaves.

Now the evening comes

delighting and refreshing,

and the spinner still weaves her fine net

The sun goes down

soon I put you to bed

Only a bird still sings in the tree

But your life is my dream 3

notes

1 ‘Ich muss nach der Natur malen meistens jedenfalls –

aber im Verlauf des Bildes muss ich frei erfinden können

Da kann noch eine Geschichte entstehen Warum oh letzte

Stunde im Garten bist Du so schön – wenn die Sonne

untergeht ganz wo anders und nur mehr ihr Licht schickt –

und es kann geschehen das sie sich mit einem mal im

Glashausfenster spiegelt – klein aber überzeugend,

verschleiert und doch die Sonne – sie giebt dem Bild die

Unterschrift. Ich bin im Westen und Du malst den Norden

aber ich erleuchte Dir alles. Und dann weiss man da gehört

sie hin gespiegelt im Glashaus. Und da könnte meine

Mutter stehen so wie sie es so oft getan, ein bischen helfen

ein paar Blätter aufheben, wenn’s auch nicht mehr so gut

ging. Da habe ich gerade den richtige Platz im Bild da

gehört sie hin. Mit den 3 Hunden die sie so gerne hate.

Sie leben alle 3 nicht mehr aber alle 3 kommen auf das

Bild. 2 Menschen die das Bild unfertig sahen sagten: das

ist wohl der Gärtner? So malte ich sie ganz wie sie war

aber als Gärtner und ich musste lächeln: es ist doch

schon jemand nach dem Tod wem anderen als Gärtner

erschienen. Mein Geheimnis, nun gebe ich es Preis. Man

mag lächeln aber nicht sich lustig machen. Geschichten

beflügeln die Augen. Das ocker Braun des Gärtner Mantels

ist das richtige It all falls into place.’: Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, diary entry for 18 October 1980: Motesiczky

archive.

2 ‘Malerei wie mit einem Zauberstab, verwandelte

Wirklichkeit.’: Schmidt 1994a, p. 7.

3 Dort unten bei den Hunden

da hab ich Dich gefunden!

Du sammelst das Laub.

Nun kommt der Abend

beglückend und labend,

und die Spinnerin webt noch ihr feines Netz

Die Sonne sinkt

bald bring ich Dich zu Bett

Nur noch ein Vogel singt im Baum

Aber Dein Leben ist mein Traum


442

exhibitions


illus. p. 52 (col.); Dublin 1988, no. 15; Vienna 1994, no. 45, illus.

(col.), shown as Glashaus; Manchester 1994, no. 31; Liverpool




no. 79, illus. p. 235 (col.).

bibliography

Zimmermann 1985, n.p.; Pyle 1988, n.p.; Adler 1994, p. 17

(Glashaus); Anonymous 1994a, p. 144, illus. p. 144 (col.);

Anonymous 1994g, n.p.; Black 1994, p. 10; Cohen 1994, p. 94;

Schmidt 1994a, p. 7; Schmidt 1994b, n.p.; Wagner 1994, illus.

n.p.; Anonymous [ Jeremy Adler] 1996, n.p.; Cohen 1996a, n.p.;

Vorderwülbecke 1999, pp. 45 f., 53 f.n., illus. p. 104; Michel

2003, p. 74, illus. Abb. 116 (col.); R. Gries 2006, n.p.; Held

2006, illus. n.p. (col.); Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh.

booklet 2006, n.p., illus. n.p. (col.); Sander 2006, pp. 128 f.;

Schlenker 2006b, pp. 204 f.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 234; Schlenker

2006d, p. 259; Lloyd 2007, pp. 197 f., illus. fig. 33 (col.).

Fig. 216 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for The Greenhouse, 1979,



Fig. 217 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, study for The Greenhouse, 1979,

black chalk on paper, 290 × 225 mm (Marie-Louise von Motesiczky


443

444

445

267

Still-life with Flowers and Meat Safe

1970s



In this still-life, in which Motesiczky arranged

objects in two distinct rows, the identity of the

items as well as their spatial relationship is not

easy to decipher. The front row contains two

small dark vases, holding respectively light

green leaves and several sprigs from a privet

hedge which grows outside the artist’s studio

window. Curiously, the vases are surrounded

by what looks like grass, interspersed with little

white flowers. Behind a low partition, the artist

placed two domed objects that also cannot be

easily identified. On the right is a blue wiremesh

meat safe, that has survived in the artist’s

estate, identifiable by its golden knob on the

top and the lighter grid that gives structure to

the dome. The centre of the picture is occupied

by a cream-coloured ceramic dish, topped by a

decorative handle, that seems to be positioned

sideways.

268

Still-life with Lemon

Stilleben mit Zitronenscheiben

1980


Signed (bottom right): M.M.


On the edge of a table, covered with a white

tablecloth, a round crystal dish holds several

slices of lemon. A small, two-pronged fork is

propped up against the rim of the dish. An

apple and a spray of white blossoms and the

first hint of young green leaves complete

the composition. Every object throws a solid

shadow on the uneven surface, adding both

movement and stability to the arrangement.

The light plays beautifully on the rim of the

crystal dish and casts a delicate pattern, whose

details are not as visible in the real object, on

the tablecloth. Although the objects do not

touch each other, the subtle green reflection

in the rim of the dish, which could originate

from the apple or the spray, provides a tenuous

link between them.

exhibitions

Frankfurt am Main 1980, no. 83, shown as Blüten, Frucht

und Fleisch; London 1985, no. 68, illus. p. 54 (col.); Frankfurt




bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 55, illus. Abb. 74 (col.) (Stilleben mit Limone).

446

269

Still-life, Heather and Apple

Stilleben, Heide mit Apfel und Wasserhahn

1980



Motesiczky arranged this still-life on the

draining board in the old-fashioned scullery

next to the dining room in Chesterford Gardens.

For the purposes of the painting she slightly

altered the exact spatial circumstances, for

example changing the position and the shape

of the tap. Her truthfulness to the actual

surroundings, however, made her indicate the

grey wooden window-sill above the sink. On

the draining board’s row of rough wooden

planks two shallow earthenware dishes stand

side by side. One is holding an apple. The

other, displaying a bowl containing a bunch of

multicoloured heather, has a greenish-yellow

inside which echoes the colour of the fruit.

Both objects have been placed next to the sink

for good reasons: while the apple is washed to

be eaten, the heather is watered to ensure its

growth. The drop of water, escaping from the

tap and shining brightly in the light, testifies

to the completed tasks. A bee is hovering above

the heather, about to indulge in its pollen.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, pp. 219 f. (Still Life with Heather and Apple).

447

270

Evelyn and Friend

Evelyn und Freundin

(Marie-Louise)

1980



This double portrait depicts Motesiczky and

a friend, Evelyn, an Irish woman who worked

for the Motesiczky family in the 1970s and

early 1980s. Her last name, unfortunately,

is unknown. A series of photographs in the

artist’s estate, taken in the Motesiczkys’

Hampstead garden on a sunny day, show

Evelyn as a strong, middle-aged woman in a

brown coat dress. In the portrait she is wearing

a similar garment in blue which matches her

striking, steel blue eyes. Standing with her

arms folded in front of her chest (fig. 219),

with a smile on her face, she takes up most of

the space. The white-haired artist, although

included in the composition, appears to be

there by accident or added as an afterthought,

leaning into the picture from the left. Holding

a palette and brushes, she is seemingly at work

on the portrait, peeping round her canvas to

observe the sitter. Characteristically, her mouth

is slightly open while her features remain

mostly in shadow, as if to not divert attention

from the sun-filled face of Evelyn. The title of

the painting already shifts the emphasis away

from the artist and indicates her main role as

an observer. Although the personal relationship

between the women is hinted at in the title,

it is their professional connection that is

expressed in the portrait.


black chalk and graphite on paper, 295 × 210 mm


Fig. 219 Evelyn talking to Motesiczky’s gardener,


448

449

271

Head of a Girl

c. 1980



This half-length portrait of an unknown young

model (fig. 220) is executed in a rough and

sketchy manner and appears unfinished. The

girl, whom Motesiczky also used for Model with

Dog (early 1980s, no. 282), is shown frontally,

facing the viewer. A mass of long red curly

hair frames a pale, oval face. Her dark jumper

blends into the ill-defined background, which

seems, at least in parts, reworked.

Fig. 220 Sitter for Head of a Girl and Model with Dog,


450

272

Alexander de Waal

1981

Oil, charcoal and pencil on canvas,

510 × 408 mm


Alexander de Waal (born in 1963) is a relative

of Motesiczky. In 1979 she had painted a

portrait of his father, Victor de Waal, Dean of

Canterbury. Edmund de Waal, a well-known

potter, is the sitter’s brother. Alexander de Waal

first met the artist in 1976 when he was thirteen

years old. A few years later she spontaneously

asked him to sit, saying something like ‘I am

going to paint you now!’, as the sitter recalled

in 2002. The sittings, four or five in total over

a period of four to six weeks, took place in the

artist’s studio in Chesterford Gardens. At the

time of the portrait Alexander de Waal was

eighteen years old and beginning to make

his own drawings and watercolours. He had

just left school and was waiting to go to

Oxford. He now is a director of Justice Africa,

a London-based organization that supports

human rights, peace and democracy in

Africa, and has published several books and

numerous articles on the subject.

In this half-length portrait Motesiczky

presents a dark-haired youth, wearing a green

jacket and a scarf of a subtly different shade

of green which are both reflected in his eyes.

Motesiczky, who liked to supply her sitters with

exotic props (see for example Portrait Maureen,

1977/8, no. 258), here simply depicts him reading

a book. A candle is precariously clipped to the

top of the book, its flame flickering slightly.

According to the sitter, the candle was added

at the last moment, when Motesiczky felt the

painting needed another light source. On the

wall behind the sitter’s head is the 1971 ‘Map

of the London Borough of Camden’, its thick

red line marking out the borough’s boundary.

The map hung in the artist’s studio for several

decades, until her death. The letters ‘ED’ and

‘DE’, suggesting the title or legend of the map,

are imaginary (but rather suggestive of the

sitter’s brother’s initials). As was her custom,

Motesiczky did not allow Alexander de Waal

to see the painting until it was finished.

Together with Countess with Plum, 1944

(no. 65), the portrait of Alexander de Waal was

submitted to the Summer Exhibition at the

Royal Academy in London in the early 1980s

(probably in 1981) but was rejected.

provenance

Artist; Elisabeth de Waal; Victor de Waal; Alexander de Waal.

exhibition

London 1985, no. 69, illus. p. 89.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, p. 193.




451

273

Mountain Landscape

1981

274

Golders Hill Park

1981





Mountain Landscape was probably inspired

by Motesiczky’s trip to Austria in July 1980,

although it is unclear which Alpine valley is

depicted. A river emerges beyond the viaduct

in the foreground. It flows through a forest and

travels past a small town in the middle ground

which is crowned by a church on top of a small

elevation to the left. The houses are spread out

before impressive mountain scenery. In the

far distance, a chain of mountains grows ever

taller and hazier under a cloudless grey sky.

The steep slope of the nearby mountain on

the right gives an indication of the enormous

size of the peaks surrounding the valley.

After the death of her mother and favourite

model in 1978, Motesiczky increasingly turned

to her immediate surroundings for inspiration.

Apart from numerous still-lifes she painted

pictures of Golders Hill Park, situated on the

border of Hampstead and Golders Green, a

stone’s throw from her house. With its sports

grounds, bandstand, tea house, deer enclosure

and zoo, Golders Hill Park is a popular

destination for excursions (fig. 222).

Motesiczky chose to depict a somewhat

fictionalized view of the park by picking out

several of its characteristic features and assembling

them in a single composition. Beneath

the mass of white blossoms of two magnolia

trees, a putto hovers over the fountain in the

flower garden. As if supported by a jet of

water, it seems to be flying, arms stretched out,

surrounded by a few fish spurting water. The

iron gate on the left is the relocated entrance

to the formal garden. The building behind,

with its characteristic little tower, is part of

the park’s outbuildings. In the foreground,

the flamingos, separated from the animal

enclosure elsewhere in the park, provide pink

highlights yet seem curiously insubstantial and

superimposed. Despite the colourful lightness

of the spring park, the scene has a ghostlike

and quietly disturbing air to it. The presence

of the Indian woman with a blue headscarf

at the extreme right edge of the picture does

nothing to alleviate this impression.

exhibitions

London 1985, no. 70, illus. p. 53 (col.); Liverpool 2006, no. 82,


(col.); Vienna 2007, no. 82, illus. p. 239 (col.); Passau 2007, no.

82, illus. p. 239 (col.); Southampton 2007, no. 82, illus. p. 239

(col.).

bibliography

Anonymous 1985, n.p.; Zimmermann 1985, n.p.; Adler 1994,

p. 17; Cohen 1994, p. 94; Cohen 1996a, n.p.; Michel 2003, p. 74,

illus. Abb. 117 (col.); Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, exh. booklet

2006, n.p.; Schlenker 2006c, p. 238; Schlenker 2006d, p. 260.

452

Fig. 222 Flowerbeds and fountain in Golders Hill Park, photograph, 1987/8


453

275

Still-life with Books, Roses and Recorder

Stilleben mit Büchern, Rosen und Flöte

1982



Using the familiar compositional device of

arranging a still-life along the edge of a table

that is placed against a bare wall, Motesiczky

here focuses closely on a few objects that gain

a certain monumental quality. On the right,

a vase holds three splendid roses in yellow,

pink and red, the latter being reflected in the

table, leaning their heavy heads on a pile of

two books. The pages in the book on top are

marked by the mouthpiece of a recorder, the

lower section of which is precariously balancing

on top of the pile, seemingly prevented from

falling by the roses.

Motesiczky apparently took great trouble

in getting the composition right. As several

sketches demonstrate, she experimented with

slight compositional changes, such as varying

the number of books and the position of the

vase. The recorder was apparently introduced

at a late stage since it does not figure in the

preparatory sketches.

bibliography

Lloyd 2007, pp. 219 f. (Still Life with Books, Roses and Flute).

454

276

Still-life with Strawberries

Stilleben mit Erdbeeren

1982



In a composition that in its simplicity resembles

the earlier Still-life with Lemon, 1980 (no. 268),

Motesiczky here arranged the still-life along

the edge of a table. On the white table-cloth

the primary colours of the assembled objects

stand out sharply: the blue saucepan, the yellow

rim of the meat safe and the blueish tinge of

its meshed dome precariously balanced on the

saucepan, the red strawberries arranged along

the bottom of the picture. Some of the fruits’

green leaves are scattered further across the

table. Motesiczky put great emphasis on the

play of light and shadow, picking out the white

wires holding the dome of the meat safe in

place, and carefully detailing the light-filled

hole in the shadow of the saucepan’s handle.

The shadow that falls on some of the strawberries

makes them look dark and overripe

while the others appear fresh and perfect

for eating.



charitable trust







include in the hang for lack of space in our Gallery;

and he liked the small Still Life with Strawberries 1982.

For that I could pass on to him the price from the

list which Michael Black has supplied. I should not be

at all surprised if there were not other sales of those

works which you are prepared to let go.’

exhibitions


no. 71, illus. p. 54 (col.).

bibliography

Michel 2003, p. 55, illus. Abb. 75 (col.); López Calatayud 2005,

p. 32, illus. n.p. (two details, col.); Lloyd 2007, pp. 219 f.

277

Still-life with Fish

Stilleben mit Fisch

1982



Placed diagonally in a green-rimmed metal

casserole is the silvery body of a single trout.

Ready to be put in the oven, it has been carefully

prepared, its stomach slit open so that

the tender pink flesh of the gutted innards

is showing. The gleaming iridescence of the

fish-scales is subtly emphasized by white,

blue and lilac highlights. For the refinement

of the dish’s flavour, Motesiczky has added

a large bunch of mixed herbs, whose colours

echo the rim of the casserole. A number of

chives, draped individually over the rim of the

casserole, emphasize the three-dimensionality

of a composition that might otherwise appear

misleadingly flat.

exhibitions


illus. p. 55 (col.); Dublin 1988, no. 16; Frankfurt am Main 2006,



bibliography

Schlenker 2006d, p. 260.

455

278

Portrait Flavia

c. 1982


Flavia Grassi, Rome

This is the first portrait Motesiczky made of

her young relative Flavia Grassi (the second,

Flavia Grassi, no. 279, was painted c. 1983),

who studied social anthropology in London

in the 1980s. During this time she was in close

contact with Motesiczky whom she saw regularly

(fig. 224). Upon her return from fieldwork

in Madagascar in early 1988 she stayed in the

artist’s house in Hampstead for two months.

An entry in the artist’s diary in November 1981

states ‘Nachmittag Flavia’ (‘Afternoon Flavia’)

which might refer to a simple afternoon spent

together or perhaps indicate a sitting for a

portrait. Flavia Grassi now lives in Rome

where she works for the United Nations.

This half-length portrait shows Flavia Grassi

aged about twenty, wearing a simple grey

sweater which blends in with the painting’s

overall dark colours. It also emphasizes her

face with its slightly open mouth and full lips

as the only illuminated part of the canvas.

Her hands, folded in front of her stomach, are

holding several pears – an unusual detail which

links this portrait to Self-portrait with Pears, 1965

(no. 202). As if to enhance this connection and

point out the special bond between artist and

sitter, Motesiczky herself appears from the

shadows behind Flavia Grassi’s left shoulder.

The artist’s hand is carefully touching the

younger woman’s upper arm in a gesture that

suggests a protective attitude. According to

the sitter’s recollections in 2004, Motesiczky

had included herself in the picture to provide

a ‘guardian angel’ for her young friend –

a role she fulfilled throughout Flavia Grassi’s

stay in London.

provenance

Artist; Flavia Grassi (gift 1988).

456

279

Flavia Grassi

c. 1983



Fig. 223 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Flavia Grassi,

early 1980s, black chalk on paper, 648 × 500 mm


Flavia Grassi (born in 1962), a young relative

of the artist from the Dutch side of the family,

lived in the 1980s in London where she studied

social anthropology. During this time she was

in close contact with Motesiczky whom she

saw regularly. In early 1988 she stayed with

her for two months. Numerous photographs

of Flavia Grassi, wearing different clothes and

striking various poses, have survived in the

artist’s estate (fig. 225). Some photographs are

stained with paint as if Motesiczky had used

them in the sitter’s absence when working on

the portrait. The red wool sweater and long

skirt with a floral pattern on a white ground

Flavia Grassi was wearing in several photographs

were chosen for the painting. A year

earlier Motesiczky had painted another

portrait of this sitter, Portrait Flavia, c. 1982

(no. 278). She now lives in Rome, working for

the United Nations.

Facing the viewer, the sitter is seated in a

chair, legs drawn up and crossed in front of

her. Motesiczky concentrates on Flavia Grassi’s

short brown hair, dark eyebrows and slightly

open mouth, leaving her eyes somewhat undefined.

The globe, which the sitter is holding

in her hands, was probably a later addition

by the artist and, according to Flavia Grassi,

has no known links with her. An easel behind

the sitter displays a painting which cannot be

identified among the artist’s surviving works.

It shows a bald-headed figure in the top right

corner, seemingly hovering above the sitter’s

head. Holding an open book or newspaper, he

appears to be reading to her or whispering a

secret in her ear. From a compositional point

of view Flavia Grassi, with the centrally placed

model and the painting behind her head like

a painting in a painting, can be compared with

Model with Dog from the early 1980s (no. 282).

Fig. 224 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky and Flavia Grassi, photograph, 1989


457

Fig. 225 Flavia Grassi, photograph, early 1980s


Fig. 226 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Flavia Grassi, c. 1983,



458

459

280

Still-life with Apples and Corn

c. 1983


Signed (bottom right): MLM. 1983.


281

Still-life with Asters

Stilleben mit Astern

1985


Private collection

A wooden board, placed on a bare tabletop at

a slight angle, its legs just visible on the left,

holds an arrangement of five yellow-red apples,

two pieces of corn-on-the-cob, still covered in

their protective leaves, and a glass with a little

twig. In the centre of the composition, half

hidden by the board, stands an earthenware

jug with a handle and a lid, decorated with

what resembles the letter ‘M’ and parallel

brown stripes. The curiously dark and colourless

background allows a glimpse of two

further apples, which are unappetizingly grey.

Slightly out of focus, they look almost like

reflections of the arrangement on the board.

provenance

Artist; Trude Rabley (gift c. 1983).

At first glance this painting, which is set in the

artist’s dining room in Chesterford Gardens,

is simply a still-life with flowers. The hidden

autobiographical dimension of the painting

becomes clear with Motesiczky’s explanatory

comment: ‘“Still-life with Asters” … was

painted at a time when I was sad to be alone

and my mother was not there – and many

other people also not there, and there were still

the lovely family chairs.’ 1 As in The Greenhouse,

1979 (no. 266), Motesiczky pays tribute to her

late mother with this painting.

Henriette von Motesiczky, who had died

in 1978, used to sit in the now vacant chair at

the head of the table. Illuminated by the light

that comes in from the window to the garden

behind the viewer, it stands out dramatically

in a painting that is otherwise characterized

by shadows. Apart from the colourful bunch

of asters, the table holds a single faded rose in

a graceful silver dish and a plate with a halfeaten

Wiener Kipferl, a Viennese cake speciality

that was among Henriette von Motesiczky’s

favourites. In Henriette von Motesiczky with

Dog and Flowers, 1967 (no. 213) she is depicted

enjoying a similar treat. Instead of the chair

Motesiczky used to sit in – which would have

been to the right of the table – a spare chair,

placed in the shadow against the back wall, is

included in the scene. To the left of the chairs,

the corner of a baroque chest of drawers can

be made out. The air of absence is enlivened by

two butterflies, one hovering near a leaf of the

withering rose, the other placed in the bottom

right corner, almost resembling a signature.

note


Motesiczky archive.

provenance


exhibitions


no. 73, illus. p. 56 (col.); Vienna 1994, no. 46, illus. (col.);

Manchester 1994, no. 32.

bibliography

Gaisbauer 1986, n.p.; Vann 1987, p. 16, illus. p. 16 (col.);

Black 1994, p. 10; Michel 2003, pp. 57, 74, illus. Abb. 80 (col.).

460

461

282

Model with Dog

Early 1980s



This large portrait shows a young female

model, whose identity cannot be established.

She also appears in the unfinished painting

Head of a Girl, c. 1980 (no. 271). She is seated on

a low stool, resting her forearms on her thighs

and holding what may be a small bunch of

flowers in her hand. Her clothes consist of

tight blue trousers, a white polo neck jumper

and a white scarf loosely knotted round her

neck. The fabric of the scarf is shot through

with golden threads that reflect the light.

Long curly red hair frames her even face in

which her extraordinary dark eyes stand out.

Motesiczky positioned the model’s head exactly

in the middle axis of the composition. On an

easel behind her stands a blank canvas, framing

her head and upper body and thus suggesting

a painting within a painting. A small dog,

presumably inspired by her late mother’s

Italian greyhounds, the last of whom was

called Maxi, who accompany Henriette von

Motesiczky in many portraits, appears at the

right edge of the painting, standing on its

hind legs and reaching up to the girl.

Motesiczky took a series of black-and-white

photographs of the model, posing in her

studio, and these have survived in her estate

(fig. 220). Paint stains on a few photographs

testify to the artist’s repeated reference to

these aides-mémoire during the painting

process. The photographs may indeed have

inspired several details of the portrait. For

example, Motesiczky may have got the idea

of including a blank canvas from the view of

her studio in the background which shows a

fairly large painting propped up on the board

running along the wall at chest height. Its face

is turned to the wall, so only the empty back

remains visible. Another set of photographs

show the half-finished portrait on the artist’s

easel (fig. 227). Apart from the hands, which are

shown as folded in her lap, the figure appears

almost in its final posture. The background is

not yet defined. The dog and the painting on

the easel were probably the latest components

to be added.

Fig. 227 Unidentified girl with a fan in front of the unfinished painting in

Motesiczky’s studio, photograph, early 1980s (Motesiczky archive)

462

463

283

Michael Karplus and Bedouin Friend

Early 1980s



This unfinished double portrait shows Michael

Karplus, a relative of Motesiczky who lives in

Israel, and a Bedouin friend called Achmed

Abu Galion. He was also the Karplus family’s

gardener and died in the early 1990s. On one

of her several trips to Israel, for example in

1980 or 1982, Motesiczky took a photograph

of the two friends which has survived in the

artist’s estate (fig. 228). It is covered in paint

smears which testifies to its use as an aidemémoire

when Motesiczky worked on the

painting (probably back home in London).

While the double portrait closely focuses on

the two heads, which are faithfully chronicled,

Motesiczky adapts the background and introduces

a few branches of greenery to frame

her sitters.

Fig. 228 Michael Karplus and Achmed Abu Galion, photograph,

early 1980s (Motesiczky archive)

464

284

Self-portrait with Mirror

c. 1985


Private collection

Motesiczky indulged her fascination with

mirrors in this cleverly composed and rather

sketchy painting which is in effect a selfportrait

with a mirror in a mirror, perhaps

chronicling the actual method by which the

painting was created. The reflection of the

artist’s grey-haired profile is seen in a large

rectangular mirror, presumably mounted on

her dressing table which is placed in front of

the large bay window in Motesiczky’s bedroom

as the red, green, yellow and white striped

curtains indicate. She is observing herself

critically in an oval hand mirror, her mouth,

characteristically, slightly open.

provenance


465

285

Mrs Bolter

1986

286

Regent’s Canal with Aviary

1986



London



This is a half-length portrait of Mrs Bolter,

known as ‘Bolti’, who worked as a companion

and helper for the artist and her mother for

some time. In the late 1960s in particular she

was called on to look after Henriette von

Motesiczky, to relieve the burden on Maria

Pauzenberger, the Motesiczky housekeeper. 1

Mrs Bolter seems to have got on well with the

family. In April 1967, for example, the artist

took Mrs Bolter and Maria Pauzenberger on

a break to Paris for a few days. 2

Motesiczky depicts a woman in later middle

age. Dressed in a reddish-brown sweater, she

is seated in front of a wall which is divided

horizontally into a light green upper and a

brown lower part (this is unusual for Motesiczky

who often employs vertical partitions of the

pictorial space – see for example Model, Vienna,

1929, no. 27). The sitter’s short brown hair

seems to be emerging from the brown portion.

Her raised eyebrows and wrinkled forehead

give her a slightly surprised expression. With

the familiar device of a black column of

paint leaning into the picture on the right,

Motesiczky counterbalances the symmetry of

the composition and gives it a dynamic edge.

The painting was apparently intended as

a present to the sitter, as an index card in the

artist’s archive shows. Before being given away

it still had to be framed. It is not known why

Mrs Bolter did not receive her portrait.

notes

1 Henriette von Motesiczky to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


2 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, diary entries for 26 March

and 26 April 1967: Motesiczky archive.

Painted three and a half decades after Regent’s

Canal with Car, 1952 (no. 111), this view of

Regent’s Canal from Macclesfield Bridge

adopts a wider, almost panoramic format and

incorporates more details. We are presented

with a glorious spring scene of trees in bloom,

taking in houses outside Regent’s Park on

Prince Albert Road on the left and a dense

bank of foliage on the right (figs 229 and 230).

The stylized metalwork of the bridge marks

the foreground, while, directly behind it, a

disproportionally small and forlorn looking

sailing boat is the only evidence of traffic on

the canal. The towpath and another footpath

snaking through trees further up the left

embankment lead the eye towards the main

focus of the painting: the walk-through aviary

of London Zoo. Designed by Lord Snowdon

and built over a man-made cliff in 1965, it

soars above the adjacent canal. Its structure

consists of galvanized steel tension cables and

aluminium tube legs supporting mesh which

is held in mid-air on tetrahedral frames. In

the painting this light and airy creation takes

on an almost solid appearance. Motesiczky

was especially fond of this location for here

she could hear ‘such strange birdcalls’ 1 from

within the zoo and also from the surrounding

park. The aviary, which cannot actually be seen

from the bridge due to a bend in the canal,

stands for a dominant and beloved feature

of the park and also expresses Motesiczky’s

sadness for the birds kept there which have

lost their freedom.

note

1 ‘so merkwürdige Vogelrufe’: Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

to Benno Reifenberg, 11 January 1969: Deutsches


466

Fig. 229 Regent’s Canal and footpath, photograph, 1980s


Fig. 230 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Regents Canal from

Maccleseld Bridge, c. 1986, black chalk on paper, 210 × 297 mm


467

287

Portrait Philippe de Rothschild

Porträt Philippe de Rothschild

1986

Oil on canvas, touches of charcoal, 873 726 mm

The Syndics of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (ff 561993, Baron Philippe de Rothschild )

Baron Philippe de Rothschild (190288) took

over the neglected Pauillac estate of Ch teau

Mouton Rothschild in 1922. Under his management

Mouton Rothschild became a rst-class,

world-famous wine. Apart from being a great

viticulturist, Philippe de Rothschild was also a

scholar and poet, best known for his admirable

translations from the English, especially his

bilingual anthology of Elizabethan poetry. He

also succeeded as a sportsman, particularly in

motor racing and sailing, and was well-known

for his supremely aesthetic approach to life.

Philippe de Rothschild commissioned

Motesiczky, a distant relative, to paint his

portrait. Talks must have started in 1985, and in

spring 1986 Motesiczky spent a few weeks over

Easter at Mouton Rothschild in France where

she made several sketches and an accomplished

charcoal drawing on canvas (g. 232) of the

Baron, presumably intended as the underdrawing

for an oil portrait. Yet back home in

London she embarked on another, much larger

and more ambitious version of the portrait.

She worked mainly from photographs taken in

France. One, in which the sitter’s pose corresponds

with that in the portrait, is especially

covered in paint smears testifying to its

frequent use in the studio (g. 231). In June

Motesiczky was still working on the portrait

which was by now nearing completion. Having

had very favourable reactions to the portrait,

Motesiczky asked Philippe de Rothschild for

his permission to include the work in her

imminent solo exhibition at the Fitzwilliam

Museum in Cambridge. As if expecting some

future disagreement, she added: What I said

before still holds true that you are under no

obligation to have the picture. That remains

entirely up to you.’ 1

Motesiczky depicts Baron Philippe de

Rothschild, aged 84, in the surroundings of a

sumptuously decorated room in his ch teau.

Wearing a green silk jacket, he sits in a red

armchair in a relaxed yet somewhat magisterial

posture, smiling slightly at the viewer. The

sitter’s pale head emerges ghostlike from the

general darkness of the painting. It is almost

bald, with some indication of sparse grey hair

Fig. 231 Philippe de Rothschild, photograph, taken during Motesiczky’s

stay at Mouton Rothschild in spring 1986 (Motesiczky archive)

469

288

Portrait of the Anaesthetist Dr Cyril Scurr

1987

Oil on canvas, 918 565 mm

Signed (top left): M. Motesiczky 1987.

Henry and Anna-Maria Rollin

Cyril Frederick Scurr CBE played an inuential

role in the evolution of anaesthesia. He was

the author of several publications on the

subject, and a consultant anaesthetist at the

Westminster Hospital, London. He was on the

Board for the Faculty of Anaesthetists at the

Royal College of Surgeons from 1961 to 1977,

and served as Dean from 1970 to 1973. From

1976 to 1978 he was President of the Association

of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland

which, in 1986, wanted to commission a

portrait of him to hang in the gallery of past

presidents in their London headquarters. In

their search for a suitable artist they contacted

Dr Anna-Maria Rollin, a consultant anaesthetist

in Epsom and member of the Association of

Anaesthetists, who, in turn, consulted Ernst

Gombrich (19092001), the eminent art

historian and, coincidentally, a friend of

the Motesiczky family. Ernst Gombrich

recommended Motesiczky, who was duly

commissioned.

The rst of the ve sittings required for the

portrait probably took place on 29 January 1987,

the artist having just received the requested

information on the expected size of the portrait

from the Association. Two months later, the

artist seems to have been pleased with the

progress of her work on which a friend

commented: So pleased your anaesthetist has

pulled itself together’. 1 The artist took a series

of photographs of the sitter posing in her

living room and her studio (g. 233). Several

bear a multitude of paint stains, testifying to

the artist referring to them as aides-mØmoire

in the absence of the sitter.

Cyril Scurr is presented almost life-size in

a half-length portrait. He is formally dressed in

a dark suit, his red tie slightly awry due to the

insignia of his oce which are displayed on a

blue ribbon round his neck. A further attribute,

an open book supported in his hands, stresses

his learning and ocial position. He glances

proudly and serenely at the viewer. The background

is completely taken up by the multi-panel

painted screen that the artist kept in her studio.

To the sitter’s disappointment, Motesiczky

would not let him see the portrait until it

was completed. The nished work, however,

did not meet the approval of the patrons

since, according to Cyril Scurr, the style of

the portrait was not suitable to hang at the

Association in the gallery of presidential

protraits at their headquarters’. 2 In order to

avert the potentially embarrassing situation

Anna-Maria Rollin purchased the portrait.

-

Ann Muir to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 26 January

1987:I understand from Dr. Cyril Scurr, that he is

coming to see you on Thursday, 29 th January, and he

has asked me to advise you of the size of the portrait

we require. This is approx 24 20.’

Henry Rollin to Jill Lloyd and Ines Schlenker, 14 January

2000:I was interested, indeed fascinated, to know

Marie-Louise von Motesiczky Perhaps I can begin

by telling you how I came to know her. Some years

ago, circa 1987, the President of the Association of

Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland approached

my wife, Anna-Maria, and asked if she was able to

recommend an artist to paint the past President. She

felt that she could do no better than seek the advice

of Professor Sir Ernst Gombrich, the renowned art

historian. Without hesitation he recommended Marie-

Louise and a portrait by her of Dr. Cyril Scurr was

commissioned. I do not know how many sessions the

portrait took but, alas, the nished painting did not

please the Association Council. This was somewhat

surprising and embarrassing for my wife who offered

to buy the painting herself for whatever price had

been negotiated (something in the nature, I think,

of £2,000). This seemed a happy solution to all the

problems created, and we have had the pleasure

of the painting in our house ever since, apart from

the venture to Vienna a few years ago when an

exhibition was organised.’

Cyril Scurr to Ines Schlenker, 31 March 2000: I was

sent to Miss Motesiczky some years ago (?10) by The

Association of Anaesthetists to have my presidential

portrait painted. I understand this was on the advice

of Dr Anna-Maria Rollin. I had ve sittings but Miss

Motesiczky would not let me see the painting until

it was completely nished. In the event the style of the

portrait was not suitable to hang at the Association

in the gallery of presidential portraits at their headquarters

and you have recently seen it elsewhere.’

1 David Scrase to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,


2 Cyril Scurr to Ines Schlenker, 31 March 2000:

Motesiczky archive.

ff

Artist; Henry and Anna-Maria Rollin (purchased 1988).

Vienna 1994, no. 48, illus. (col.), shown Dr. as Cyril Scurr

CBE, LVO.

Fig. 233 Cyril Scurr posing for his portrait,


472

473

289

Portrait Dean of Chichester,

The Very Reverend Robert T. Holtby

1987


Signed (bottom left): 1987. M.L. Motesiczky.

Private collection, England

Robert Tinsley Holtby was born in Thorntonle-Dale,

North Yorkshire, in 1921. In 1967, he

became General Secretary of the National

Society for Promoting Religious Education and,

a few years later, also the first General Secretary

of the Board of Education. The notable historian,

author of several books and fine musician was

appointed Dean of Chichester in 1977. He retired

to Yorkshire in 1989 and died in 2003.

Robert Holtby’s enthusiasm for contemporary

British religious art was expressed, for

example, in the 1987 exhibition, staged at

Chichester Cathedral, called ‘The Glass of

Vision. Seven Artists in a Christian Context’,

showing works by Craigie Aitchison and

others. In an interview in 2000, Robert Holtby

explained how, in 1985, he went by chance to

the exhibition of Motesiczky’s paintings at the

Goethe-Institut in London. He very much liked

both the work and the artist and subsequently

commissioned a portrait, intended as a surprise

for his wife Mary on their ruby wedding

anniversary in November 1987. After a visit by

the artist to Chichester, Robert Holtby came

up to Chesterford Gardens for several sittings

in June and July 1987. As in so many other

instances, Motesiczky took a series of photographs

of the sitter in various guises and poses

to work from in his absence; numerous paint

stains testify to the heavy usage of a few of the

photographs (fig. 234). She also carried out a

drawing (fig. 235) that captures the essence of

the final oil portrait.

In his half-length portrait Robert Holtby

can be seen wearing the full regalia of the Dean

of Chichester, a golden cope and bands. The

backdrop of draped curtains that frame the

sitter’s head create an atmosphere of cultured

wealth and importance and follow the curve of

the sitter’s carefully combed hair, now getting

sparse. The sitter faces the viewer looking

through black-rimmed glasses. Kind eyes and

a faint smile immediately give the sitter, who

was known for his impish sense of humour,

a sympathetic air. Agreeing to do the portrait,

Motesiczky must certainly have taken to Robert

Fig. 234 The Very Reverend Robert T. Holtby, Dean of

Chichester, posing for his portrait, photograph, 1987


Holtby and his modesty, warmth and wit,

since usually she was extremely selective

about whom she painted. Robert Holtby was

pleased with his portrait, which he praised as

a ‘great work’ 1 and immediately purchased

it. The artist attended the wedding anniversary

party at which she saw the painting hanging

in the Dean’s dining room in Chichester.



charitable trust

The Dean of Chichester to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

24 May 1987: ‘Your telephone call was very encouraging.

I hope we can proceed, though I am sure we must

settle the finance … I could come to London Friday

19 June Wednesday 24 June Wednesday 1 July Wednesday

8 July Wednesday 15 July Wednesday 22 July … Start

again 9 Sept, if necessary … I shall look forward to

hearing from you … Vive Beckmann!’

The Dean of Chichester to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

[November 1987]: ‘Very many thanks for the great

work’

note

1 The Dean of Chichester to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

[November 1987]: Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; Mary and Robert T. Holtby (purchased 1987).

Fig. 235 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, The Very Reverend

Robert T. Holtby, Dean of Chichester, 1987, charcoal on paper,


Trust, London)

474

475

290

Mitzi

1988



Private collection, Austria

Maria-Therese (‘Mitzi’) Rafael, born in 1977,

comes from Heidelberg. In 1988, she travelled

several times to London with her father, visiting

Motesiczky, who was a family friend. While

at Chesterford Gardens, Mitzi sat for the artist.

A large number of photographs, mainly taken

in Motesiczky’s studio and probably intended

to refresh the artist’s memory in the absence

of the model, show her exploring different

postures and expressions (fig. 236). Motesiczky

eventually chose to depict her young model,

dressed in a T-shirt under a pinafore dress

and a cardigan with a pattern in pastel colours,

holding a skein of light-brown wool in her

half-raised hands (although the thread itself

does not appear to have been painted). Her

light brown hair is tidily swept back in a pony

tail, emphasizing her smooth face which is

adorned by an almost invisible pair of round

glasses. The portrait seems to be unfinished in

places, especially the lower half and the background

which is left bare except for a round

object that might be a barometer. The signature

with the incorrect date was probably added

when the portrait left the artist’s possession.

provenance

Artist; Johannes Rafael (1992).

Fig. 236 Maria-Therese Rafael posing for her portrait,


476

Fig. 237 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Mitzi, 1988,



291

Nudes at Hampstead Pond

1988


Signed (bottom left): M.M.88.


The Ladies’ Bathing Pond on Hampstead

Heath, not far from Motesiczky’s home, is a

popular open-air swimming pool exclusively

for women. The artist, sometimes accompanied

by friends such as Sheela Bonarjee (of

whom she painted a portrait in 1964, no. 190)

or Linda de Vries, occasionally visited the

pond for an outdoor swim. Men are strictly

forbidden to enter the premises and the

women are not allowed to sunbathe naked.

If caught by the warden, they are told to

cover up.

Despite these rules, the artist decided to

show two women sunbathing in the nude

on what seems to be a warm and sunny day.

They have settled down next to the edge of

the pond, a calm green pool of water, and

are absorbed in soaking up the sun. The

sunbathers are well protected from visitors to

the park by a dense bank of vegetation, reeds,

bushes and large trees. The scene is, however,

witnessed by an unauthorized onlooker, which

gives the painting a comic touch: on the right,

half hidden between the reeds, the artist has

sketched in the long thin neck and strongbeaked

head of a large bird, perhaps a stork,

which peeps curiously at the beauties.

bibliography


477

292

Tulips and Narcissi

Sturm ums Glashaus

1988


Location unknown

While, at first glance, this still-life shows an

interior floral arrangement, the work’s German

title reveals the true setting of the composition:

a greenhouse. On the slatted wooden

bench in front of the window stands a small

vase on a large low saucer or, possibly, a woven

basket. The display of white narcissi and fiery

orange tulips, presumably cut in the garden

and just arranged, is proudly presented as if

the gardener were standing back and admiring

the work accomplished, about to carry these

early signs of spring into the house. The usual

paraphernalia of a gardener, another vase and

several plants and flowers, testify to busy activity

in the greenhouse. Through the building’s

glass walls the grey overcast sky can be seen,

in which a few lonely birds brave the storm.

The setting may have been inspired by

Motesiczky’s own greenhouse (also depicted in

The Greenhouse, 1979, no. 266) as the just visible

overlapping of two glass panels at the top of

the painting suggests. Yet, other elements of

the greenhouse, the window divisions and

the pull indicating a blind, are probably

imaginary.

provenance

Artist; Pamela Boumeester, the Netherlands (purchased 1991).

293

Two Apples with

Chrysanthemums

Zwei Äpfel mit Chrysanthemen

1988


Signed (bottom right): motesiczky 1988.


Before a vaguely defined background stands

a small round table, covered with an exactly

fitting, thick, cream tablecloth. A simple glass

vase with a large bunch of chrysanthemums in

a variety of colours is placed on it, off-centre.

Next to the vase, a bowl holds two apples in

colours that match the flowers, while a few

long-stemmed leaves of nasturtiums complete

the simple but well-balanced and carefully

coordinated composition.

This still-life was a birthday gift to the

current owner, whom Motesiczky allowed

to choose a painting, which she then had

framed for her.

provenance

Artist; Trude Rabley (gift c. 1990).

478

294

Still-life Christmas Mail

1988

Oil and collage with pastel on canvas, 505 × 704 mm

Signed (bottom right): MM. 1988

Verso: flower still-life


This still-life, arranged around a low glasstopped

table, is dominated and illuminated by

a table lamp with a yellow shade and a flexible

stand. The table is littered with letters, presumably

Motesiczky’s Christmas correspondence.

Unusually among the artist’s work, Still-life

Christmas Mail contains an element of collage:

pink Austrian stamps, one complete, another

half torn, mark some of the letters as originating

from the artist’s home country. Several flower

arrangements, including cyclamen and

gypsophila, surround the table. The pair of

French school, eighteenth-century portraits in

oval frames, which are partially visible on the

wall behind the table, used to hang on either

side of the fireplace in the artist’s living room.

They depicted an architect and a young lady,

wearing a blue cloak with a fur collar, and

were sold at auction after the artist’s death.

exhibition

London 1989, no. 7, shown as Christmas Mail.

295

Still-life with Bowl and Daffodils

Stilleben mit Obstschale und Narzissen

1988



This arrangement of objects may be a detail

of the artist’s dining table as the delicate glass

holding folded paper napkins in the bottom

left corner suggests. The two objects that give

the still-life its name are framed by two bottles.

On the right is an opaque open bottle of wine,

whose foil wrap hangs loosely round its neck.

On the left stands an almost empty bottle of

mineral water, its top firmly screwed on to

prevent the gas from escaping. The dark wooden

bowl, a present from the artist’s relatives, comes

from Sulawesi (Celebes) in Indonesia. It displays

a variety of fruit on its long, elegant stand: a

shiny yellow-red apple, bunches of red and

green grapes and perhaps a pear or kiwi fruit.

Beside the bowl stands a large vase filled with

tightly packed white narcissi. Only very few

have opened already while most still remain

in bud. Motesiczky also used the bowl, which

she would sometimes display on a small table

near the windows in her living room, in

Orchid with Bowl and Mirror, 1992 (no. 318).

479

296

The Two Lakes

c. 1988



In late summer 1988, Motesiczky went to

Austria for a fortnight, probably staying near

Altaussee in the Salzkammergut. There she

must have come across the enchanting lake

scenery of which she took numerous photographs.

Back home in London these helped

her create this landscape. One particularly

paint-smeared photograph in the artist’s estate

(fig. 238), in which the viewpoint closely

corresponds with that of the painting, must

have been her principal aide-mémoire.

Motesiczky presents a view of a large

lake in the background, over which a pale sun

goes down. Separated from the main lake by

a stretch of boggy meadow and connected to

it via a little stream, is a small round pond in

the foreground in whose centre a miniature

island of vegetation lies. In this well-balanced

composition, the two lakes seem to mirror

each other, while the sun is echoed by the small

island. Interestingly, Motesiczky faithfully painted

the reflection of a conifer in the undisturbed

surface of the pond, neglecting, however, to

incorporate the original tree standing in the

meadow. With this calm landscape Motesiczky

magically depicts the mood of a calm and

slightly misty summer’s evening.

Fig. 238 Austrian landscape, photograph, 1988


480

297

Still-life with African Doll

Stilleben mit Puppe und Apfel

1989

Oil on canvas, 409 505 mm

Signed (top left): M.L. Motesiczky 1989.


As so often in Motesiczky•s oeuvre, this still-life

seems randomly to bring together everyday

objects in the artist•s possession. On closer

inspection it becomes clear that the composition

has been carefully assembled. In front

of the dark silhouette of one of the artist•s

palettes stands a shallow wicker basket holding

a large apple and a bundle of narcissi, presumably

from the artist•s garden. Placed parallel to

the stem of the narcissi lies a sti, armless doll,

which Motesiczky might have brought back

from her travels. Another bunch of narcissi is

displayed in a vase on the right, providing a

vertical emphasis, and a few ”ower heads are

scattered on the table around the doll•s head.

Motesiczky brings out the doll•s solidity and

lifelessness in contrast to the short-lived

naturalness and vivid beauty of the fruit

and ”owers.

London 1989, no. 9, illus. p. 7; Liverpool 2006, no. 85,

illus. p. 244 (col.); Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 85, illus.

p. 244 (col.); Vienna 2007, no. 85, illus. p. 244 (col.); Passau



Dollen 1997, p. 1595, illus. p. 1595 (col.) (

Dollen 2000, pp. 237, 239, illus. p. 236 (col.).

Stilleben mit Puppe);

481

92

M

384

Hare

Hase

Late 1980s

Oil on canvas , 430 306 mm


his T study of a hare may have been inspired

by otesiczky•s M nickname for her mother

Henriette. She used to be aectionately

referred to as •Has• or •Hasi•, an Austrian pet

name for a hare. It has been suggested that the

title and the painting further allude to a “gure

in H.G. Adler•s novel Eine Reise ( A Journey ) of

/15912.

otesiczky M chose to concentrate on the

animal•s head, showing it peeping over long

gras. Its ears pricked, its eyes wide open, it

is carefully observing its surroundings as if

expecting danger and ready to turn and

run. he T related drawing of a hare, which

otesiczky , probably incorrectly , dated c. 1950

(“g. 240), shows the animal in exactly the same

posture and state of attention. he T features

are slightly altered in the painting as its nose

is marginally more pronounced.

Artist; Eva Adler (gift).

Liverpool 2006, no. 44, illus. p. 157 (col.), dated c. 1950;

Frankfurt am Main 2006, no. 44, illus. p. 157 (col.), dated

c. 1950.

Schlenker 2006c, p. 156 (dated c. 1950).

Fig. 40Marie-Louise 2 von otesiczky M , Hare,

late , 1980s conté on paper , 310 215 mm (sight)

(Marie-Louise von otesiczky M Charitable Trust,

London)

307

Mountains and Orange Trees in Mallorca

1989/91



In March 1988, Motesiczky spent a week in

Mallorca, staying with Sheela Bonarjee in her

house C’an Xila in Soller, in the mountainous

and quieter north-western part of the island.

Several photographs of orange trees and

mountains, taken on this trip, have survived

in the artist’s estate. Some are especially paintsmeared

and must have been used in the

creation of the landscape back at home in

London (fig. 242). No single photograph, however,

can be identified as the direct inspiration.

It seems that elements were combined from

a number of photographs and adapted for the

composition.

The painting is dominated by a large, grey

mountain range looming in the background,

presumably the Puig Major, which Motesiczky

brings closer to the viewer. The foreground is

taken up by a plantation of orange trees. As the

nearest tree abundantly shows, the plantation

bears ripe fruits in large numbers. The central

clearing is covered by a mass of long grass, and

olive trees grow among the orange trees. There

is a windswept and somewhat oppressive air

to the painting. Despite the southerly climate

there is no sun and no apparent warmth on

this cool and cloudy spring day.

Fig. 242 Orange trees and mountains near Soller, Mallorca,


490

491

308

Portrait of Elizabeth

1990


New Hall Art Collection, Murray Edwards College, Cambridge

Elizabeth Tollinton, the sitter of this portrait,

was born in India in 1937. She first worked for

the Foreign Office, probably MI5, where she

struck up a friendship with John le Carré. In

2004 he described her as ‘very tall, big eyed,

and radiant, with a considerable intellect and

a scathing wit. She possessed enormous charm

of a faux-naïve kind, and an over-protected

sensitivity to everything … She was a linguist

– I’m not sure where she learned her German

but it was good – well-read & wonderful

company … Elizabeth had great physical grace

of a ballerina’s kind, and extraordinarily strong

facial features, which would have delighted

any painter.’ 1 From the early 1970s to 1993 she

was the assistant press officer at the Canadian

High Commission in London, where she made

her mark as a witty writer. Unfortunately, not

much is known about the circumstances of

the portrait’s creation. Elizabeth Tollinton,

who died in December 1995, must have been a

friend of the artist. Whether she commissioned

the portrait or whether Motesiczky asked her

to sit is unknown.

Presumably a few days before the first

sitting took place, Elizabeth Tollinton sent a

photograph to the artist noting on the back:

‘Sunday. This is the doorway to my balcony.

Thank you for a delicious tea. I look forward

to seeing you on Saturday at 10 am and please

don’t feel worried – I suppose it is like someone

starting a new novel. We shall enjoy meeting,

das ist die Hauptsache [that’s the main thing]!’ 2

Despite Motesiczky’s apprehension, the time

of creating the portrait, during which process

she made several drawings, seems to have

been an altogether agreeable one as the sitter’s

mother remarked: ‘We had such happy occasions

when you were painting her portrait.’ 3

A series of photographs that survived in the

artist’s estate show Elizabeth Tollinton sitting

in a red armchair in the artist’s studio. Several

photographs bear numerous paint stains,

testifying to their usage as aides-mémoire

in the absence of the sitter (fig. 243).

In her half-length portrait, Elizabeth

Tollinton, wearing the striped brown silk

blouse and the necklace of the photographs,

Fig. 243 Elizabeth Tollinton posing for her portrait,


492

493

Fig. 244 Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, Elizabeth Tollinton,

1990, black chalk on paper, 750 × 540 mm (Marie-Louise


is seated in an armchair, whose colour

Motesiczky has changed to green. The background

is almost filled with the two-fold

screen from the artist’s studio, leaving a

glimpse of just enough wall to create a frame

within the picture. The sitter’s regal appearance

is emphasized by her long neck and an

elegant earring, contrasting with her short

salt-and-pepper hair. An open book in front of

the sitter, echoing the screen, is momentarily

discarded as Elizabeth Tollinton glances

serenely over it. The thin transparent curtain

that mysteriously covers part of her face was

added later, apparently in order to disguise

parts of the composition Motesiczky was not

happy with and to lend a feminine touch to

the sitter’s reserved and masculine air. For

John le Carré the portrait ‘has her guarded,

self-mocking look, but does not do justice

to her beauty’. 4

It has been suggested that Elizabeth

Tollinton did not like her portrait. Motesiczky

subsequently donated it as a permanent loan

to New Hall (now Murray Edwards College)

in Cambridge, which was in the process of

putting together a collection of women’s art.

The fact that, of all Motesiczky’s work, this

painting was selected was pure chance and

simply due to the artist’s willingness to part

with that particular picture.



charitable trust

Valerie Pearl, New Hall, Cambridge, to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, 22 April 1992: ‘I enjoyed talking to Mr. Peter

Black when he came here the other day, and I have

been much impressed by your paintings as shown in

the catalogue produced for your exhibition in London

in 1985. As you will recall from my earlier letter, we

asked a limited number of leading women artists

if they would like to donate one of their works for

permanent retention in the college. We have been

greatly heartened by the very warm response of the

artists. Among the many who have most generously

given works (to name a few at random) are Dame

Elisabeth Frink, Paula Rego, Tess Jaray, Sophie Ryder,

Maggi Hambling, Evelyn Williams, Laetitia Yhap and

494

Judith Cowan. We plan to hold an exhibition of the

works between 19 th and 27 th September 1992 and to

produce a catalogue to mark the occasion. Mr. Black

said in a letter that you might be able to paint a

portrait of me as your contribution. I hope that

you will not think it presumptuous of me to say

that I would be delighted to accept such a splendid

arrangement if you can give your time and effort to it,

and if you think that I am a suitable subject for your

work. Obviously you will want to make your own

decision on that matter. We would be very pleased

to offer you accommodation in a college house

while the portrait was painted. If you can come to

Cambridge to discuss the matter further I would

be delighted. Please let me know and do come to

luncheon in the college.’

Christopher Stevenson, New Hall, Cambridge, to Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, 1 September 1992: ‘May I first of

all write with my personal thanks – for so much – your

kind reception when I called with the President and

with Dr Ian Shaw, the tea, coffee and cake, your most

interesting reminiscences, a chance to see some of

your lovely pictures, particularly “The Greenhouse”,

“Swimming Pool” and “The Workman” and, of course,

“Portrait of Elizabeth”. I feel myself immensely privileged.

But I am really writing to thank you on behalf

of the whole College for the loan of the most stunning

picture, “Portrait of Elizabeth”. I have been watching

and guarding it closely since Friday and I can say that

it is the one from all the works made available for the

New Hall collection that I would first select. I liked

it straight away and I have had no cause to alter my

initial judgement. I am confident it will bring as much

pleasure to Fellows, graduates, undergraduates and

staff at New Hall who are fortunate enough to see it

both now and in the future. We are very grateful to

you for the loan of such a special picture. I shall take

it to the Fitzwilliam Museum tomorrow morning

when they are open and arrange for its framing in

accordance with your wishes. Dr Shaw and I already

have some ideas as to where it should hang to maximum

advantage and we shall be putting these ideas

to the “Hanging Committee” as soon as it can be

reconvened. The President asked me to say that she

would like to sit for her portrait and is very excited

at the prospect … I do hope we shall have the pleasure

of seeing you for the opening of our exhibition by

Professor Griselda Pollock on 19 September 1992;

it is at 4 pm. If you are able to come we should be

pleased to organise transport and I am sure the

President would like you to stay overnight in the

President’s Lodge. Until then, it only remains for me

to thank you once again on behalf of all of us at New

Hall for your very great generosity and to hope that

the beautiful picture as a source of very great pleasure

to the whole College will be some recompense for

your very great generosity.’

Valerie Pearl, New Hall, Cambridge, to Marie-Louise von

Motesiczky, [1992]: ‘I write to express our thanks for your

generous action in loaning us the Portrait of Elizabeth.

It is a splendid choice – we are having it framed at the

Fitzwilliam and I am sure it will be seen as a worthy

part of what is being regarded as a unique and distinguished

collection – Women’s Art at New Hall. I do

hope that you will be able to come to the opening on

19 September. We would be delighted to put you up

here at the President’s Lodge if you so wish. It also

gives me great pleasure to think that it is possible

that you would paint my portrait. As I think the Bursar

told you I will be happy to come to Hampstead at

convenient times.’

Christopher Stevenson, New Hall, Cambridge, to Marie-

Louise von Motesiczky, 30 October 1992: ‘Now that we

recovered from all the excitement and have a little

more time to think, I feel I must write to all the artists

who have so generously given or loaned us works of art

to thank you once more for your part in our marvellous

exhibition. We all enjoyed the Opening tremendously

and it was great fun meeting so many of you again. If

you were not able to be here for the Opening, please

do feel free to come to look at all the works – or indeed

to come again at any time. The Fellows feel they have

become quite expert on modern art! We are all enjoying

so much having the pictures around us in our day-today

routine – and many of the students too have

commented on what a difference they make to the

environs of the College. They have a “Skin and Blister”

Appreciation Society which is to encourage interest

in modern art. It was very gratifying to have so much

press coverage, and articles are still being written

(e.g. last week’s Spectator), with both The Times and the

Guardian showing interest in the past few days. There

was a steady stream of visitors during the week we

advertised as open to the public, and we are still getting

a trickle of people, including whole groups from Art

Departments. I am enclosing a copy of the catalogue

for those who we think did not come to the Opening –

there were so many people that if I have forgotten a

long discussion with you please forgive me! If you

haven’t had a copy, though, or would like another,

please let me know and we will send it straightaway.’

notes

1 John le Carré to Ines Schlenker, 15 September 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

2 Elizabeth Tollinton, undated note: Motesiczky archive.

3 Elinor Tollinton to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky,

[December 1995]: Motesiczky archive.

4 John le Carré to Ines Schlenker, 15 September 2004:

Motesiczky archive.

provenance

Artist; New Hall, now Murray Edwards College (on loan

since 1992, presented by the Marie-Louise von Motesiczky

Charitable Trust in 2009).

bibliography

Women’s Art at New Hall, exh. cat. 1996, p. 65, illus. p. 65;

New Hall Art Collection, exh. cat. 2003, p. 70, illus. pp. 70

and plate iv (col.).

495

309

Portrait Frau Pauzenberger

1990




graphite on paper, 217 × 170 mm


Maria Pauzenberger, born in Austria in 1912,

joined the Motesiczky household in April 1958

to look after Motesiczky’s ageing mother

Henriette and act as housekeeper and cook.

She was to become a substitute for the

artist’s wet-nurse and ‘second mother’ Marie

Hauptmann who had died in March 1954 and

whom Motesiczky used as the model in two

paintings (Girl by the Fire, 1941, no. 52, and

Marie in Doorway, after 1954, no. 134). In early

1958 Motesiczky had travelled to Vienna in

order to find a suitable person. On her first

encounter with the artist Maria Pauzenberger

left a good impression: ‘She is a simple woman

for whom I felt a strong sympathy after only

two minutes. She is 46 years old, was married –

but now does not have any ties to Austria –

only a brother in Styria. For twelve years she

worked for a family, then four years somewhere

else, then again for the same family

and now wants to improve herself. She is no

company for mother but since there is no such

woman among all the others it is surely right

to choose one who is really likeable.’ 1 Among

the Motesiczkys’ friends Maria Pauzenberger

was soon to become famous for her cooking,

especially her delicious Viennese specialities

including Apfelstrudel and chocolate cake.

One recalled in 2000: ‘I fondly remember

the formidable Bauzen, the housekeeper, with

her passion for perfumed soap, with which

I bribed my way to Bauzen’s cakes!’ 2 Maria

Pauzenberger, who spoke no English at

first and was known by the abbreviated nickname

‘Bauzen’ or ‘Pauzen’, stayed with the

Motesiczkys for two decades. After leaving

the Motesiczky household when Henriette von

Motesiczky died in 1978, Maria Pauzenberger

married Mr T. Timbury, said to have been her

driving instructor, and moved to New Malden

in south London and then to Rustington on

the Sussex coast. She died in 1998.

The portrait was painted when Maria

Pauzenberger was no longer living and working

at Chesterford Gardens but during a time

when she occasionally came to visit the artist.

At one of these reunions Motesiczky took

photographs, which have survived in the

artist’s estate and which she presumably used

in the process of creating the portrait in the

absence of the sitter (fig. 246). In the portrait,

the artist focuses on the well-known head of

a former member of the household, who is

seated in an armchair, while the background

and the sitter’s clothes are left undefined.

Under the carefully combed soft white hair

appears a face whose right half is in shadow.

The sitter has a severe expression, with vertical

wrinkles between her dark eyebrows and the

straight line of a mouth under a long nose.

Fig. 246 Maria Pauzenberger in the dining room at

Chesterford Gardens, photograph, c. 1990


notes

1 ‘Es ist eine einfache Frau zu der ich schon nach 2 Minuten

eine starke Zuneigung fühlte. Sie ist 46 Jahre war

verheiratet – hat aber jetzt keine Bindungen in Osterreich –

nur ein Bruder in Steiermark. Sie war 12 Jahre bei einer

Familie im Dienst dan 4 Jahre wo anders dann wieder

bei der selben Familie und möchte sich jetzt verbessern.

Gesellschaft ist sie keine für Mutter aber da unter all den

andern auch keine solche darunter ist, so ist es doch richtig

sich für eine zu entscheiden die wirklich sympatisch ist.’:





496

497

310

Child with a Candle, Birthday Cake and Dog

Kind mit Kerze, Geburtstagskuchen und Hund

1990



In this portrait of a toddler, Motesiczky depicts

Louise Black, the daughter of a Dutch relative

of the artist, Jantien Black née Salomonson,

and Peter Black, an art historian who, in the

1980s, lived in the artist’s house in Chesterford

Gardens. The Black family must have visited

the artist in Hampstead in July 1990 when

Louise celebrated her first birthday, since at

this event, commemorated in the portrait,

several photographs were taken and have

survived in the artist’s estate (fig. 247). For the

composition of the scene Motesiczky referred

to these photographs: the blonde child is

enjoying a meal, seated at the table, presumably

in the Hampstead dining room. She is

wearing a knitted jumper with red, pink and

white stripes, protected by a white bib. Her

head is turned towards her raised right hand,

which holds a piece of food, and the birthday

candle burning brightly at eye level. The child’s

mother, who in the photograph sits on her left,

has been replaced in the painting by a longhaired

dog that has no link to the family and

was invented by the artist. In the greenish

hue of the animal’s fur, a hint of the mother’s

presence, namely the olive colour of her

jumper, survives.

exhibitions




bibliography


Fig. 247 Jantien and Louise Black in the dining room at

Chesterford Gardens, photograph, 1990 (Motesiczky archive)

498

311

Still-life with Flowers and Oil-lamp

1990/1



In the foreground, a slender blue vase with a

mixed bunch of flowers takes pride of place.

Further back, leaves and flowers from another

bouquet, which must have been placed in the

brown vase on the right, can be made out.

An oil-lamp, which has survived in the artist’s

estate, sits on a ledge behind the flowers

half-way up the wall. The window high up in

the wall allows a glimpse of a grey evening

sky, bare trees and the setting sun. With the

inclusion of the photograph of an unidentified

person on the table, cut off just below the head,

Motesiczky introduces a personal touch, albeit

in disguise. A similar device was employed

in Baron Schey at the Races, 1989 (no. 298),

although there the identity of the model

is known.

499

312

Daffodils and Narcissi

1991


Signed (bottom left): Motesiczky 1991.


This unusually horizontal still-life is dominated

by the extreme close-up view of a bunch of

white and yellow daffodils and narcissi. The

flowers are placed in a large green jug of which

only the rim is visible. To the right and a little

further back a second vase, bulbous and grey,

displays more flowers. Several brushes are

placed against the vase at various angles, thus

suggesting that the arrangement is situated on

a table in the artist’s studio. The painting has

a dark and sombre mood which is not much

enlivened by a little blackbird, perched on a

flower in the top left corner, or the little wheel

that might be part of the pattern on a vase in

the bottom left corner.

exhibition

Manchester 1994, no. 33, shown as Still Life with Narcissi.

313

Still-life with Dahlias

Stilleben mit Dahlien

1991



This still-life is dominated by the close view

of a squat, sturdy vase, placed on a table in the

middle of the composition. It holds a bouquet

that consists of two large dahlias, orange and

deep red, and some smaller flowers that might

be sweet peas. An empty chair is drawn up

to the edge of the table behind the vase. Its

curved wooden back displays an ornately

carved head looking down on the bunch of

flowers. Frowning with effort, its mouth pursed

and its cheeks inflated, it seems to be intent

on blowing away the flowers in front, which,

of course, remain unmoved.

500

314

Fruit and Rose

Obst und Rose

1991



Motesiczky arranged this still-life on the

wooden boards next to the sink in her scullery.

Two photographs in the artist’s estate, probably

taken by the artist herself, record the original

arrangement (fig. 248). In front of a grey

window-frame stands a tall glass vase displaying

a single full white rose, presumably harvested

in the artist’s own garden. An oblong, shallow

basket made of thin wooden slats contains a

selection of fruit: pears, apricots, apples, peaches,

plums and grapes. The blue dome of a metal

meat safe (also used in Still-life with Strawberries,

1982, no. 276) is just visible behind the basket.

exhibition

Manchester 1994, no. 34, shown as Still Life with White Rose.

Fig. 248 Rose in a vase and a basket of fruit in the scullery,


501

315

Portrait Elias Canetti

Porträt Elias Canetti

1992


National Portrait Gallery, London (npg 6190, Elias Canetti)

Elias Canetti (1905–94), writer and Nobel

Laureate for Literature in 1981, met Motesiczky

at the beginning of the Second World War

when they had both come to England as

refugees. Their intimate and artistically fruitful

friendship, which would become difficult at

times, lasted until the end of their lives. This

portrait mirrors a defining relationship and

expresses Motesiczky’s admiration for Canetti,

whose career she had faithfully accompanied

and supported over decades. When Canetti,

who was frequently asked by artists to sit for

a portrait, commissioned Motesiczky to paint

him in 1990, he wished to help her recover

from a recent bout of illness and to honour

an artist he regarded to be the very best living

portrait painter and the person who knew

him better than anyone else. 1 Motesiczky had

already executed several portraits of Canetti.

An earlier portrait, dating from 1960 (no. 165),

and Self-portrait with Canetti of the 1960s (no.

237) were both painted from life, but Canetti,

who did not want to sit for his portrait, was

living in Zürich at the time of this portrait

and only rarely came to London. Motesiczky

therefore decided to paint the sitter from

memory using a press photograph as an

aide-mémoire (fig. 249).

Although already in his mid-eighties,

Motesiczky presents the author as a still powerful

character with a commanding physical

presence. His massive, over life-size and

slightly intimidating figure, emerging from

a shadowy background, fills the entire canvas.

Immaculately dressed and sporting a shock

of salt-and-pepper hair, Canetti’s age seems

indeterminable. His grim, curiously enquiring

yet intensely sceptical look testifies to a

ceaselessly active and inquisitive mind.

From the wording of the commissioning

letter it is unclear whether Canetti intended

to acquire the work himself or saw his role

as a mediator between the artist and an art

institution that would eventually house the

work. However, when the finished portrait

was presented to the sitter, Canetti declined to

accept it for, allegedly, Motesiczky had used

a photograph that he particularly disliked. 2

The portrait was subsequently offered to the

National Portrait Gallery in London. The artist

wished thus to express her thanks ‘to Britain

for giving a home to my mother and me’. 3 After

an initial misunderstanding about whether the

author was still living (the National Portrait

Gallery takes only portraits done during the

sitter’s lifetime), the gift was accepted.



charitable trust


1990: ‘Ich glaube, Maler Mulo, was Sie unbedingt

brauchen, ist ein Ziel in Ihrer Arbeit, etwas, das Sie

sich fest vornehmen und woran Sie wirklich, sobald

die Krankheit etwas besser geworden ist, tagtäglich

arbeiten. Der allgemeine Wunsch oder Vorsatz zu

arbeiten genügt nicht. Dieses Ziel soll nun eine

Bestellung von mir sein. Ich werde immer wieder um

ein Porträt gebeten, auch von nicht ganz schlechten

Künstlern. Ich lehne immer ab, aus zwei Gründen,

einmal weil ich an den allerbesten Porträtisten denke,

der mich so gut kennt wie niemand anderer, aber dann

auch, weil ich nicht sitzen kann. Ich gebe Ihnen also

den Auftrag, aus der Erinnerung ein Porträt von E.C. zu

malen. Ich glaube, das könnte besonders gut werden.

Es würde die Dinge in Ihnen kristallisieren, statt dass

sie sich zerfransen. Dein Honorar wäre gering, bloss

£ 5000. Aber das wäre es bestimmt, und wenn eine

Institution das Bild ankauft, was beinahe sicher ist,

wäre es mehr und der Unterschied würde natürlich

ganz Ihnen gehören. Lieber Maler Mulo, machen Sie

das wirklich, fangen Sie gleich mit Zeichnungen an.

Sie müssen sich rasch dazu entschliessen und dabei

bleiben.’

Elias Canetti to Marie-Louise von Motesiczky, 24 June

1992: ‘Johanna hat mir alles über das Gespräch erzählt

und schämt sich sehr. Sie ist sonst scheu und diskret,

geradezu verschlossen, aber damals war sie in grosser

Angst um mich und hat alles gesagt, worüber sie hätte

schweigen müssen. Sie hätte nie etwas über das Porträt

sagen dürfen, denn ich will Sie ja immer zum Malen

ermuntern und nicht entmutigen. Aber da Sie es jetzt

wissen, bleiben wir besser bei der Wahrheit. Ich will

nie wieder über die Foto sprechen und auf keinen Fall

eine Diskussion darüber führen. Aber es ist richtig,

dass ich darüber erschrocken bin. Sie konnten nicht

wissen, dass die Foto, die Sie als Vorbild benützt

Fig. 249 Elias Canetti, photograph, undated


502

503

Marie-Louise Von Motesiczky: Catalogue Raisonne of the Paintings

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