Waterman Gallery of Fine Arts, London 1991
Bernhard Vogel has a rare talent. An instinctive master of watercolour, that notoriously difficult medium, he possesses the enviable ability to interpret light in terms of colour. Harnessing this ability, Vogel creates a private, painted universe in which the viewer, having been enticed by an image's spontaneous appeal is subtly seduced by its underlying sense of contemplative spirituality. Vogel is still a young man, but already his, ever increasing, assurance in the handling of his chosen medium has marked him out as an artist of consummate skill.
Although it is clear that Vogel's works contain an implicit refusal to be classified into any traditional use of watercolour, they are imbued with a distinctive luminosity, of the sort so often attempted by lesser watercolour artists but so rarely achieved. Vogel is able to manipulate this technique as, with an apparent effortlessness he conveys the particular character of every place which has caught his discerning eye, whether it be Venice, New York or his native Salzburg. In the past the artist has taken us through Italy, France and Austria. Now he allows his gaze to wander further afield to Greece, Tunisia, Bali and the United States, from downtown new York to the Nevada desert and the bright lights of Las Vegas. The resulting watercolours do not disappoint.
Vogel is not afraid of colour. So many watercolourists employ their materials with a timidity which denies them fulfilment. Vogel is fearless. He realises that timidity is not a prerequisite for sensitivity. But Vogel does not simply luxuriate in the deep pools of colour which give his work its dramatic intensity. His intuitive draughtsmanship enables the artist to articulate his feelings with a faultless, though sometimes quirky line, redolent of wit and character.
Quite apart from this skill with line, light and colour, Vogel has an unerring eye for composition-always selecting the salient points which will encapsulate his thoughts on the surrounding view. It says much that, notwithstanding their perfect composition, Vogel's images appear pleasantly unconfined, their lack of constraint serving to emphasise their actuality, as, from the edge of the paper the viewer's imagination extends each vignette into the surrounding space.
Despite this ability to particularise, Vogel does not seek to idealise his subject matter. He shows it to us warts and all and does not neglect the tram wires, cars, trains and other apparent "eyesores" which form such an integral part of our modern landscape. He manages to create images of great beauty which at the same time are truthful to the scene before him. While undeniably visual records of a particular moment, his paintings still have a profound sense of timelessness. The tower of a skyscraper or the chimneys of a power station are as faithfully recorded as if they were the spires of a cathedral. Vogel seems to acknowledge the place of the dominant symbol in the modern world.
There is also an abstract quality at play in these works. Every element of Vogel´s paintings adds to their sense of harmony. The trees in a park cast strange, ungovernable shadows. The blocks of their own, as their primary reds and blues bleed into paler themselves take on the peculiar patina of age.
On yet another level the viewer can interpret Vogel´s town streets as mysterious places, which recall the Gothic palaces of the underworld which lurks in every city, however sanitised it might seem to the layman. Vogel sees what is happening beneath the surface and through these pictures he is able to open our eyes. Whether town or village, hillside or desert, Vogel´s watercolours are stage sets for high drama which cannot fail to delight.
(Ian Gale is art critic for the "Specatator")