The Globe Theatre in London 1888

Curator: Here we have "The Globe Theatre in London," a painting realized in 1888. Oil paint, naturally. Tell me, what is the sensation that washes over you at first sight? Editor: Somber, overwhelmingly so. The subdued palette and dramatic lighting certainly contribute, but it's more than that. It feels like we are intruding on a private moment of grief on display for entertainment. The theater adds another level of distancing from these deaths, both staged and implied. Curator: Exactly! There's a layered narrative, a play within a painting. But Gustav Klimt, more widely known for his gold-infused, swirling canvases, actually created this when he was quite young—before he moved away from those established, academic styles. Editor: That's interesting, considering how many artists, specifically in painting, sought commissions in theatre. This could have very easily been completed as part of a series of theatrical depictions with emphasis placed on set building and construction of costumes for the upper-class clientele attending these plays. Curator: Klimt and his studio were well-versed in stagecraft. If we were to dig beneath the artifice, beneath the elaborate garments and the grief on display, it feels very much about that relationship between actor and audience—almost uncomfortably so. And not just what the audience sees, but who they are. Editor: Agreed, that hierarchy is blatant—those in the boxes and galleries versus those presumably in the cheap seats below. And that contrast certainly feeds into the overall mood. It really begs the question of, What is the true tragedy happening here? And is it staged at all? Curator: Perhaps the true tragedy lies in our own compulsion to spectate, to dissect the sorrow of others for our own amusement—an inclination Klimt reveals so masterfully. Editor: It becomes less about theatrical stage, and all the trappings involved, and more about dissecting a system propped up by production and spectacle, as we so keenly see and participate in today. Thanks, Gustav!