The Rabbit That Changed My Mind
Unfortunately, we live in an age where art has become more of a publicity stunt than an act of creation—an elaborate spectacle designed to monetise confusion rather than convey meaning. Walk through a modern art museum, and you’re bound to encounter pieces that are not just devoid of aesthetic value but insultingly empty. The sheer prevalence of such works makes honest people sceptical of art altogether, seeing it as a field of charlatanism and fraud. Some go so far as to reject art entirely, much like one would reject pseudoscience or mysticism, seeing both as scams. Others, like myself, react by becoming wary of contemporary art.
As I saw a painting by the German Expressionist Franz Marc for the first time, I had the same reaction I’d had to so many other so-called modernist works: Blue horses? Another piece of random modernist absurdity, I thought.
I realised my dismissal had been premature when I encountered one of Marc’s lesser-known works in Darmstadt. Until then, I only knew of Marc’s famous Blue Horses and his other boldly, unrealistically coloured paintings. But then I saw a stunning depiction of a rabbit resting on vibrant yellow and green grass, nestled next to a lush green bush. What struck me most wasn’t just the beauty of the scene—the perfect harmony between the colours, the serene balance of nature—but the name on the plaque: Franz Marc. I was stunned. This was the same artist who painted those strange blue horses?
The realisation felt like a revelation. The neutrally coloured rabbit seemed so alive, so at one with its surroundings. There was a quiet energy radiating from the scene as if Marc had perfectly captured the life force of that small patch of nature.
That moment changed how I viewed Marc’s work. I realised he was a painter of genuine skill and a true love for the art. He wasn’t just another gimmick-driven showman like the modernists I was accustomed to.
Marc was a skilled painter with a deep, almost reverential approach to his art. He took his Protestant beliefs seriously, viewing nature and animals as vessels of his religious views. His paintings were not just aesthetic experiments but symbolic expressions of what he viewed as his ideal—a world untouched by human “corruption.” Through colour and form, he sought to capture a sense of divine harmony, believing that animals, in particular, embodied a purer existence than man.
Tragically, his life was cut short when he was killed in combat during World War I in 1916. Ironically, just before his death, the German military had marked him for removal from the front lines due to his significance as an artist—but the order arrived too late. Though his career was brief, his work left an enduring legacy, shaping future abstract movements.
Setting aside my philosophical objections to Marc’s anti-human worldview, that doesn’t diminish the aesthetic significance of his work. Unlike many of his contemporaries who put forward the idea of ‘abstract art’ without purpose, Marc had a genuine artistic ideal—a vision he pursued with skill and sincerity. You can look at the Blue Horses and see that there’s a notion of an ideal being conveyed, regardless of how corrupt the meanings of the actual ideas are. Much like Van Gogh, Marc’s paintings possess a unique quality of profound honesty and passion. (for more on Van Gogh).
Take Dog Lying in the Snow, for example. Like most of Marc’s paintings, an animal is at its centre—a serene yellow dog resting on the soft snow. The dog has no concerns, no fears; nothing threatens him. It is a moment of pure tranquillity, a perfect harmony between the creature and its natural surroundings. But there’s no randomness in Marc’s work—his compositions are meticulously crafted to embody his vision, every shape and colour deliberately chosen to convey his ideal.
The strong angular shapes that define the dog's form hint at Marc’s Cubist influence, a style he deeply admired and incorporated into several of his works. Yet, despite these geometric elements, the painting exudes warmth and tenderness. The dog’s closed eyes radiate a quiet grace, as if Marc has captured not just an image but a state of being. His choice of a yellow-green palette further reinforces the sense of unity—the dog belongs to this landscape, inseparable from it.
Whether one shares Marc’s spiritual beliefs or not, this painting reveals his profound reverence for the natural world. It is not just an image of an animal; it is an expression of awe, a tribute to the purity and peace he saw in nature.
Marc had a distinctive, first-handed style—one that prioritised the primacy of his ideas over strict adherence to realism. Yet, his art, for the most part, fulfilled art’s essential role: it was a recreation of reality, shaped by his own metaphysical value judgements. He took elements from the real world—horses, foxes, and dogs—and infused them with his spiritual vision, layering his religious beliefs onto nature itself. His work reflected both his profound reverence for the natural world and his disdain for human intrusion upon it.
Despite my strong disagreements with such an anti-human worldview, I can set that aside and appreciate the sheer vitality of his work. His paintings pulse with energy, conviction, and an undeniable passion—qualities that transcend ideology and make his art truly remarkable. If nothing else, Marc was a man who painted with conviction, and in a world of ever-growing artistic cynicism, that alone is worth admiring.
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In 1909 his paintings that rabbit and deer in the dusk seem more like post-impressionism art to me. Probably 1910 was the year when his art too a strong turn into expressionism - by itself or after meeting with Macke, and so did the animals and the bush. The rabbit sits under one of van Gogh's bush yet in 1909.
Thank you so much. I absolutely relate and agree with your first paragraph. It is such a great explanation as to why it is so challenging to sell abstract art. I am an abstract artist. My paintings are aesthetic but maybe challenging to understand. I do sell quiet a bit though and I create out of a philosophy and personal values. Understanding the audience skepticism really helps me frame and engage with art audience better. Thank you