All Under the Same Moon - Esther

There is something about night time that fascinates artists. Perhaps it’s the darkness holding the unknown or the excitement of imagination. Whatever it is, some of my favourite artists, visual, musical & literary have been inspired by night. Just as the bright colours & wildness of psychedelia  attract me, so does the calm & quiet of the night. Or indeed the nightmares, the creepy unknown. 

The Nightmare (Henry Fusili)

In an urban setting at least, there can be something seditious about being out at night knowing that everyone else is tucked up in bed. It’s colder somehow, clearer & crisper. Sounds feel amplified & streetlights give everything an odd colour. The darkness of the countryside is a potentially fearful matter. How many horror films take place in a rural setting where not only can’t you see the danger, there is no-one to help, nowhere safe to run?

The treatment of night in art varies wildly, despite its apparent constraints. I like to imagine how the earth’s first peoples responded to night, one of the two available ways of telling the man-made construct of “time.” I wish we still gauged the passage of time as “dark” & “light.” It’s the most honest way of time-telling & the most elegant. How did we get from “sun down” to “23.46”? The frenzy of our age.

The theory that cave paintings of animals might symbolise comet strikes & astrological figures lend the night time the magic it deserves…although I imagine pictures of the comet strikes spell a rather more practical & very real problem for anyone depicted in them. 

I’ve picked out a short list of paintings that show different aspects of night – defined not by horror, not by mere Darkness, but when the sun has gone down, when all natural light has evaporated & when artists have gone out with their brushes & almost inexplicably managed to capture the state of it Not Being Day.

Moonlit Night on the Dnieper

Having grown up in a coastal town, I can’t imagine ever living away from water. In Scotland’s Aberdeen, we’re cordoned off by the sea. Expansion can only happen in three directions. Equally - for now at least - the sea has sustained the city in the form of offshore resources. Trade & fish got us here in the first place, oil & gas made us grow. In addition, we have two rivers running through the city, the Dee & the Don. All that constantly moving water creates a certain mentality, a restlessness, a sense of transience. There is a lot of leaving & arriving.

For a night painting of watery calm, you couldn’t get better than Arkhip Kuindshi’s Moonlit Night on the Dnieper. The Dnieper River it may well be, but it could so easily be the quieter parts of the River Dee or a tranquil night on the North Sea (it happens). Or any sea you’ve been beside at some time. (Perhaps someone has just sunk there without trace of course…) There is a universality about this painting, a serene realisation & acceptance of being a tiny speck in the Cosmos.

Café Terrace at Night

I must confess to being interested in rather than a great fan of Vincent van Gogh’s café society wobbliness. It’s as if he was trying too hard to have a good time. I find that with all his supposedly uplifting subjects – the flowers, the night scenes, the landscapes. I sense the quivering undercurrent of his desolation & it just serves to make them more queasy & unsettling.

It’s impossible to imagine him larking about in these places, poor soul. There is optimism in his colour, confidence in his line, cheeriness in all that yellow…but isn’t it a little too forced, rather too bright?

That said, his assertion that, “Now there’s a painting of night without black,” sounds like a passion to strive for something other, something exciting & life affirming & I can’t deny him that.

Of course, aesthetically I prefer the drawing but aesthetically, I always prefer the drawing.

The Empire of Light

As you’d expect from a top surrealist, René Magritte produced a more deliberately ambiguous night painting. It was an image he copied over & over. This work portrays a blanket of night over a house & street light, yet at the top is a springtime burst of blue sky & decidedly Magritte-clouds. It has all the potential danger & disquiet of a night horror scene & I’ve read it inspired the poster art for The Exorcist.

The Empire of Light causes a lot of discussion in our household. It’s what Aberdeen looks like in the height of summer. The sky is light even at 11pm - it’s important to stress this occurs only in summer. It’s an odd & lovely phenomenon to have nature stretch your evenings in this way, even if you do end up going to bed in the light. So although René was going for a surrealist masterpiece - & it is – it touches me every summer because it’s also our reality.

Nighthawks

One of Edward Hopper’s most celebrated works, Nighthawks is often assumed to be a depiction of loneliness & isolation. In my opinion he has other works that depict those more effectively. This is downright crowded in comparison with some of his other night paintings. 

I see Nighthawks as a picture of fear of night. You can apply an uneasy narrative quite quickly.

I’d posit that it has a much more creepy, menacing aspect rather than fear of aloneness. Everyone is under suspicion. How long before things go wrong? Who is that guy across the bar? Will there be a stick-up? What’s been put in their drinks? Who will end up dead?   

Christ in Gethsemane

For me, the painting that most represents the eerie peace of outdoor night is Christ in Gethsemane. By the Limbourg brothers, it appears in their unfinished Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry illuminated prayer book. With the tiny stars, even the odd shooting star, the limited light & blue/black background, it is what night time ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE no matter where you are in the world.

Despite its initially calm appearance, there is a stack of Roman soldiers at Jesus’ feet. But it’s a painting of silence. The sort of silence you only hear in the dead of night. The sort of silence appropriate for finding out one of your friends has grassed you up & you’re shortly for the chop.

The Murder of Love (Esther Green)

We’re living in a time on planet earth where we’re understanding the importance of our similarities over our differences. The importance of what unites us rather than divides us. We’re realising how truly dependent we are on each other & we’re understanding what is most important. We’re all under the same moon & I find that reassuring.

The night. A time to rest & reflect, to dwell & to dream. We all have it. We should all cherish it.

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