Process Over Product: Unfinished Works as Windows

           Unfinished works of art hold a process-over-product ethos, one that gives the viewer a glimpse into the creative process, as if the viewer stumbled upon an artist’s studio and peeked in before the grand reveal. In some cases, it seems that life, rather than just the art, has been interrupted. Why did the artist refrain from finishing this piece? Would it have been a terrible inconvenience to fill in that lone blank spot? The answer lies in the fact that “unfinished” is a relative term. Ordinarily, artists stop work when they feel they’ve done enough, but in rare cases, the processes are cut short by a creative block, death, heartbreak, commissions falling through, or troublesome models. As our taste for the unfinished becomes stronger, we don’t regret the incompletion; rather, we are happy that the artist didn’t add another touch, as it means we as the viewers get the rare chance to fill in the blanks. These works seem to enjoy special status, open to the viewer to be seen as worthy of filling in the blanks, or to be seen as a historical ruins of sorts. Leonardo da Vinci is quoted as saying, “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” These pieces seek to answer the questions surrounding the differences between works cut off by tragedy, and works simply and truly abandoned.

Alice Neel, James Hunter Black Draftee, 1965, Oil on Canvas, Met Breuer. 

The unfinishedness of this painting is especially striking, since nobody knows what happened to its subject. Alice Neel was known for asking strangers on the street if they would come in and sit for her, and one day she stumbled upon the featured man, James Hunter. He had recently been drafted for the war, and subsequently, never showed up for his second sitting. The subject’s head is intricately rendered, with the remainder of his body as only a sketch. With nothing she could do to remedy the situation, Alice signed the back and declared it as finished. James Hunter’s whereabouts are unknown, but there is a chance he is still alive today, as his name is not on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, in Washington, D.C.

Daniele da Volterra, Michelangelo Buonarroti, 1544, Oil on wood, 1977.384.1, on view at the Met.

Michelangelo held the notion that, “It is necessary to keep one's compass in one's eyes and not in the hand, for the hands execute, but the eye judges." Could this explain why Volterra crafted Michelangelo’s head and hands to completion, but refrained from moving beyond a base layer of paint for the remainder of the painting? The outline of the seated subject has become the basis for many copies, all trying to imagine what the blank spaces almost held. Look closely at the areas of unpainted surface, and you’ll see the very faint traces of fragmented figures — a Madonna, a child, St. Joseph — a portrait of the Holy Family. The reasons for why the Holy Family was covered and the current unfinished nature of the top layer are unknown, but Michelangelo’s affinity for the hands and head have persuaded many experts to believe that it was abandoned at this point on purpose.

William Turner, Two Recumbent Nude, 1828, Oil on canvas, The Tate Gallery.

Painted during a trip to Rome in 1828, this 5ft by 8ft oil painting is Turner’s attempt at portraiture in the style of the old masters, though he was a British Romantic Landscape Painter at heart. Two Recumbent Nude depicts a reclining woman wearing only a red earring, with the penciled beginnings of another figure behind her. The sketched figure is a textbook example of an “Academy Figure”, consistent with depictions of Venus. The head of the finished portrait is turned away from the unfinished one, and several parts of the finished figure are severely damaged due to improper care. This portrait shocked viewers, primarily because Turner had worked nearly exclusively on landscape and shipwrecks, but even unfinished, it was received well. Two Recumbent Nude is believed to have remained in his studio for over 20 years, until his death in 1851, when a number of his works were moved to the basement of the National Gallery. 

Gustav Klimt, Frauenbildnis (Ria Munk lll), 1917-18, Oil on canvas, Privately owned.

As one of the last full-length portraits done by Klimt, this piece provides invaluable insight into his creative process. Frauenbildnis was crafted as the third and final painting of Ria Munk, all commissioned by the Munk family. Ria’s mother was a close friend of Klimt’s most important patron, so when Ria committed suicide in 1911, her parents reached out to Klimt for a series of commemorative portraits. Klimt poured immense and powerful beauty into these portraits, with this one specifically leaving Ria Munk to rest in a sea of flowers. The face and surrounding details are complete, while the dress and floor are traced in charcoal, revealing that at this point in his career, he was spontaneous and impulsive, drawing directly unto the canvas without intensive planning. This series fits well within Gustav’s form of pale nudes, allegorical gardens, and subtle eroticism, and was found unfinished in his basement studio after his death in February of 1918.

Egon Schiele, Seated Woman with Bent Knee, 1917, Gouache, watercolor and black crayon on paper, Narodni Galerie, Prague, Czech Republic.

Egon Schiele was a close friend and protégé of Gustav Klimt, and Klimt’s influence is visible in Schiele’s early pieces. Schiele quickly developed his own style of painting, often trending towards sketch-like portraits, and focusing nearly exclusively on the anatomy of the female body. Seated Woman with Bent Knee is a rare exception to his typical style, as the figure is fully dressed and propped up. His wife, Edith Harms, is shown sitting on the floor, with her cheek resting on her knee. The fiery tones of her messy hair provide a stark contrast to the green of her shirt, and her casual pose creates an intimate moment with onlookers. Schiele had a controversial career, as his unveiled eroticism portraits in place of the accepted beauty notions sparked strong reactions from authorities and conservative viewers. This painting, as well as many others from 1917-18, were left unfinished at the time of his death in October of 1918.

Ford Madox Brown, Take Your Son, Sir, 1851-92, Oil on canvas, Tate Gallery, London.

The pose in Take Your Son, Sir is reminiscent of a traditional Madonna and Child portrait, but the strained expression on the wife’s face suggests otherwise. This enigmatic portrait shows Brown’s own wife offering their newborn son, Arthur, to the husband reflected in the mirror as having open hands to receive the child. The mirror, reminiscent of one featured in Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait forms a halo behind the mother’s head, adding to the question of the intent of a Madonna-type portrait. Most critics see this piece as an image of a wife offering the child to her husband, an interpretation supported by the sacred symbolism and by the fact that Brown depicted his own wife and their newborn son. Others, however, interpret it as more confrontational image, in which an abandoned mistress presents her baby to its father. With unknown intentions, Brown started this composition when Emma was pregnant, but when Arthur died at 10 months old in 1857, Brown abandoned this painting due to the amount of grief.

Elizabeth Shoumatoff, The Unfinished Portrait, 1945, Watercolor on paper, Little White House (Legacy Exhibit).

Elizabeth Shoumatoff was commissioned to paint this portrait when Roosevelt’s health was rapidly declining, and so it was decided that he should model outside in the natural light. His face and the rough outlines of his coat were completed that afternoon, but before she could get any further, FDR silently slumped down his chair and Shoumatoff ran to alert the secret service. In the days following Roosevelt’s death, Elizabeth remained calm and avoided the press as much as she could, but the experience left her with a fear of painting heads of state for several years following. Due to the fact that it was painted outdoors it could never be completed, but this famed piece has lasted through history, known as one of the last glimpses of FDR before his death. This pensive portrait currently hangs on a wall at the Little White House where he died, with the president looking distinguished as his head and shoulders disappear into the swath of the blank canvas.