Robert Bechtle: California immersion

Robert Bechtle spent almost his entire life in the Bay Area of ​​San Francisco. His pictures capture the atmosphere of life there. However, no one is at home.

A few terraced houses with neatly trimmed lawns, clean driveways and green areas in front of the sidewalk from which young trees are growing. Bright, almost glaring sun, noticeable heat, possibly for days. You wouldn’t want to sit in the two parked cars.

A corner of a house in the very early twilight. The lanterns have only just been switched on and are dabbing their halo of light into the evening sky, as if someone had poured some milk into blue coffee. A round, bushy tree is growing between the bright wall of the house and a row of parked vehicles. Even at a very low level, the trunk branches out and unfolds the crown, which is far too large for this spot. If a man were to squeeze himself into the greenery, his body would only protrude from his chest.

The two scenes mentioned, “House on Clay Street” and “20th and Texas, Early Evening,” are late works by Robert Bechtle, the first watercolor on paper from 2008, the second oil on canvas from 2004. It was only in September 2020 that one of the earliest photorealists ever died at the age of 88, thus sparing himself the final transformation of the world into an absurd theater. The painter and graphic artist, born in San Francisco in 1932, began his artistic activity as a teenager at a time when the horror of the Second World War had just ended. At the end of the 1950s, he briefly stayed in Berlin with the US Army, absorbed the art of European galleries and decorated the canteen with murals. It would certainly be an overinterpretation to say that his art lives from the longing to find a stasis of peace. However, it is striking that his motifs are very calm. Almost eerily calm.

A ’63 Chevrolet Bel Air in the driveway in front of a whitewashed house belonging to fairly well-off people. The four steps lead into a round arch, the lawn is once again immaculately maintained. A ’64 Impala, on the other hand, is parked in front of a building that looks more like a social housing project or a motel. Robert Bechtle cannot have imagined that around three decades later, two demon hunters in an American cult series called “Supernatural” would also drive an Impala and, as a leitmotif, often stay in motels. The pictures ’63 Bel Air and ’64 Impale are from 1973, but they have a similar mood to the…