I have seen many of Klimt's paintings in person at Neue Gallery in New York City. I was not aware of just how many drawings he made. I think I could look at them all day. I love "Half-figure of a Young Woman".
This really stayed with me. Klimt’s refusal to make a self-portrait, while producing thousands of drawings that reveal how he looked, feels like such a powerful reminder that self-portraiture isn’t always about depicting your own face. As an artist who works with the body, I think a lot about this: we reveal ourselves through what we choose to notice, repeat, obsess over, and return to.
Maybe the self-portrait is less an image of the artist than a record of their attention. And that final idea, that another person’s loving attention can complete the portrait, is beautiful.
These rare sketches feel incredibly intimate - like brief, unguarded glimpses of the man behind all the gold, beauty and sensuality. A beautiful and thoughtful read, truly engaging.
Mi piace moltissimo Klimt. L'ho sempre associato all'oro, ma soprattutto alle pelli chiare screziate di porpora. Adesso so che non sapevo nulla di lui, che lo vedevo dove c'era meno. Il finale è bellissimo. Mi hai emozionata, grazie.
Vittorio Zappa’s article blends Gustav Klimt’s unwillingness to create or sit for any direct self portrait, and that with the writings of Herman Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund. Ultimately, the act of portraiture of the artist fell to Egon Shiele, who on Kilmt’s mortuary table, drew him three times.
The connection to Goldmund and Narcissus is an interesting parallel. I happen to know this is one of Vittorio’s favorite books. It dove-tails perfectly in this article. The translated quote from Goldmund of ‘Look at what my looking made.’ Is a beautiful illustration of a very fundamental part of drawing, perhaps the most. Klimt was a master see-er. Vittorio uses this example to illustrate something adjacent as well but I found this part particularly astute.
“Then 1945 delivered its verdict. In the war’s final days, the Faculty Paintings perished with the castle that sheltered them; that same year, a second fire found its way to Emilie Flöge’s apartment and claimed fifty of his sketchbooks, the private Klimt she had protected for decades.”
On a personal note, this happened to me at the beginning of 2025. A fire swept through our apartment from below and destroyed 30 years of my art. Perhaps this is why Vittorio included this passage. He is a very thoughtful guy. It must have been devastating for Klimt.
“Morning, Vienna, in the last years of the empire. At the end of a garden where the grass grows as it pleases, a low studio hides behind fruit trees, and a heavy man in a long blue smock crosses the lawn with cats at his heels. Inside, the day’s quiet routine has already begun. Models drift through the rooms, clothed or unclothed, dozing on sofas, the whole studio like an orchestra still awaiting the director’s cues. No one performs. Even the light sits down in the studio quietly.”
This I will say is also a beautiful bit of writing.
Beautifully written.
I have seen many of Klimt's paintings in person at Neue Gallery in New York City. I was not aware of just how many drawings he made. I think I could look at them all day. I love "Half-figure of a Young Woman".
Thank you so much. Indeed his sketches are wonderful
Loved reading this....
Thank you!
Very well written, they feel really deep.
This really stayed with me. Klimt’s refusal to make a self-portrait, while producing thousands of drawings that reveal how he looked, feels like such a powerful reminder that self-portraiture isn’t always about depicting your own face. As an artist who works with the body, I think a lot about this: we reveal ourselves through what we choose to notice, repeat, obsess over, and return to.
Maybe the self-portrait is less an image of the artist than a record of their attention. And that final idea, that another person’s loving attention can complete the portrait, is beautiful.
Hi Sally, thank you so much. I am very well that it resonated with you
These rare sketches feel incredibly intimate - like brief, unguarded glimpses of the man behind all the gold, beauty and sensuality. A beautiful and thoughtful read, truly engaging.
Thanks
Mi piace moltissimo Klimt. L'ho sempre associato all'oro, ma soprattutto alle pelli chiare screziate di porpora. Adesso so che non sapevo nulla di lui, che lo vedevo dove c'era meno. Il finale è bellissimo. Mi hai emozionata, grazie.
Ciao Marcellas, grazie per il bellissimo commento.
What a beautifully written essay!
I find Klimt's sketches infinitely expressive. The eye can wander and explore without ever tiring.
Vittorio Zappa’s article blends Gustav Klimt’s unwillingness to create or sit for any direct self portrait, and that with the writings of Herman Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund. Ultimately, the act of portraiture of the artist fell to Egon Shiele, who on Kilmt’s mortuary table, drew him three times.
The connection to Goldmund and Narcissus is an interesting parallel. I happen to know this is one of Vittorio’s favorite books. It dove-tails perfectly in this article. The translated quote from Goldmund of ‘Look at what my looking made.’ Is a beautiful illustration of a very fundamental part of drawing, perhaps the most. Klimt was a master see-er. Vittorio uses this example to illustrate something adjacent as well but I found this part particularly astute.
“Then 1945 delivered its verdict. In the war’s final days, the Faculty Paintings perished with the castle that sheltered them; that same year, a second fire found its way to Emilie Flöge’s apartment and claimed fifty of his sketchbooks, the private Klimt she had protected for decades.”
On a personal note, this happened to me at the beginning of 2025. A fire swept through our apartment from below and destroyed 30 years of my art. Perhaps this is why Vittorio included this passage. He is a very thoughtful guy. It must have been devastating for Klimt.
“Morning, Vienna, in the last years of the empire. At the end of a garden where the grass grows as it pleases, a low studio hides behind fruit trees, and a heavy man in a long blue smock crosses the lawn with cats at his heels. Inside, the day’s quiet routine has already begun. Models drift through the rooms, clothed or unclothed, dozing on sofas, the whole studio like an orchestra still awaiting the director’s cues. No one performs. Even the light sits down in the studio quietly.”
This I will say is also a beautiful bit of writing.
_Solomon Whitaker