Gustav Klimt (1862–1918)

Give me an oversized art book about an artist whose work is larger than life, and I’m one happy reader. I’ve read at least a dozen books about Klimt, and yet I’ll never stop coming back for more! Besides the monumental Taschen publication that’s almost too heavy to lift (and yet, I lugged it home from the library in the middle of a snowstorm), this edition is a close second in terms of page spread - if not in overall volume. Author Maria Costantino keeps the introductory text manageable, with a preamble that describes Klimt’s life and social/cultural surroundings without getting into the weeds. Interspersed are a selection of photographs of Klimt, works that inspired him, and a scattering of his own works that are crucial to exemplifying the text or which aren’t worth getting into the details of later. This is a bit of an odd move, by all standards for art books, but I actually appreciate it, as it gives us some additional context without spending too much precious whitespace later on. Once we get into the real meat of the book, I was impressed by the simple layout which paired brief text with well-reproduced artworks. Costantino’s commentary may not have been the most engaging (she’s a fan, but the passion is less pronounced than in other books), but her words provide quality insight into a great range of material. The large size of the reproductions was an obviously pleasurable indulgence, since Klimt’s embezzled and intricate work deserves as minute as possible observation by viewers, and the range of pieces reproduced here spanned the prolific artist’s earliest (derivative) work to the portraits that remained unfinished after his death. I may tend to get caught up in his richly embellished “gold era” - and the stories of the characters who were his subjects - but the chronological presentation here revealed a lovely evolution of style and the full breadth of the artists’ capabilities.… (mere)