The Girl Who Painted: Artistic Themes in Doctor Who
Guest contributor Paddy Brennan looks at how Doctor Who is influenced by art.
Why would a Doctor Who fan want to know anything about art? Art history is a vast canvas (excuse the pun) through which we have boldly stated our own existence and presented our humanity throughout the ages yet with wildly varying ideas and approaches – and so, more than any other programme, is Doctor Who. The real question is, why wouldn’t a Doctor Who fan want to know anything about art?
Rather than cramming in the countless points that could be made this wide topic, I have instead decided to isolate specific examples to explore in detail. Feel free to discuss anything important that I might have left out in the comments below.
Artistic Influences and Themes
The Silence creatures first introduced in The Impossible Astronaut are deeply embedded into human existence and culture, we simply can’t remember them. However, through their constant meddling in our everyday lives it is entirely possible that the memory-proof monsters might occasionally have some impact on our subconscious minds.
Steven Moffat was inspired by Edvard Munch’s famous painting The Scream (1893) for the appearance the Silence. Said painting is a masterful expression of the anxiety and depression from which Munch suffered and it still transfixes the public to this day – so much so that in 2012 a version of the painting broke auction records when it was sold for $119.9m.
Munch described the painting’s underlying emotions in visceral terms: “I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set suddenly. The sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous infinite scream of nature.” It would be inappropriate to dismiss the artist’s psychological issues entirely in favour of Doctor Who discussion but nonetheless fans can have fun speculating on the fictional implications of an encounter with the Silence with Munch. Perhaps like Dr. Renfrew in Day of the Moon, Munch was troubled by constant exposure to the creatures and perhaps, using his perceptive skills as an artist, Munch was able to maintain some visions of his tormentors.
Moving on to more Moffat-scripted episodes, Silence in the Library/ Forest of the Dead may seem to be an ode to literature from the outset, yet if we look a little closer the story is revealed to be an eclectic mixture of allusions to 20th century art.
The Library Information Nodes appear highly similar to the smooth stone monoliths of the the British sculptor Henry Moore although there is a disturbing organic twist- a human face protruding from the smooth granite plinths. This bizarre combination of flesh and stone emphasises that there is something deeply wrong within the Library and foreshadows the identity of CAL- the mind of a young girl wired up to a vast computer at the core of the planet.
The Concept of the Vashta Nerada reanimating dead bodies or as the Doctor puts it, “a swarm in a suit,” is reminiscent of Damien Hirst’s rather morbid artwork (that is, if it can be called art), particularly A Thousand Years (1990). In this installation, maggots devour the the severed head of a cow until they hatch into bluebottles and are promptly electrocuted by a fly trap. I told you it was morbid.
Finally, in Forest of the Dead the face of ‘saved’ Miss Evangelista becomes horribly warped and swollen. This grotesque image owes something to the figurative and highly expressive style of Francis Bacon whose nightmarish art portrayed human flesh as vulnerable and meat-like. I single out in particular Bacon’s representation of a friend and contemporary, Three Studies for Portrait of Lucian Freud (1952). Across the three panels of this triptych, every angle and perspective of Freud’s face fills the frame as if his face is horribly bruised, yet simultaneously, perfectly normal. Almost as if he has been incorrectly downloaded to the data core of a planet-sized library!
Returning to Freud, my last example of how Doctor Who reflects ideas from the history of art is unlikely to be one intended by the programme’s writers. Freud’s early portraits place great importance on the eyes to establish the emotions and tone of a particular piece. For example in Portrait of John Minton (1952) the sitter’s wide, melancholy, staring eyes are the most prominent feature of his gaunt face.
Likewise, the show in recent years has dwelled on how the Doctor’s eyes allow some insight to his experiences and the impact they have had on him. Matt Smith is often commended for how his portrayal of the Doctor juxtaposed a zany persona with pained and ancient eyes, hinting at what lies beneath the youthful veneer. Ironically, in The Day of the Doctor Clara is able to tell that the War Doctor (played by veteran actor John Hurt) has not yet activated the moment because his eyes are “so much younger”.
The critic Martin Gayford wrote of Freud’s intricate rendering of the iris, “the whorls, spokes and spots differ slightly in every member of the human race,” so the motif of eyes in Doctor Who emphasises the individuality of the Doctor and of each Doctor. After all, the tantalising snippet of Capaldi’s intense glare in Day of the Doctor certainly indicated that he would be a Doctor like no other.
I couldn’t write this article without discussing the most art-centric episode in the history of Doctor Who, Vincent and the Doctor.
Van Gogh was loathe to use the colour black when painting night-time scenes so as to portray the life and effervescence of the evening sky. Upon completing Café Terrace at Night (1888) he wrote jubilantly to his brother, Theo, “there you have it – a night painting without having used the colour black, only beautiful blue, violet and green”. Therefore when the Doctor and Amy see a Starry Night (1889) version of the night sky unfold before their eyes on the hillside with Vincent they are seeing that the darkness is not just an empty void, but rather, is dynamic and alive.
On another note, Van Gogh was an ideal choice of artist to feature in the show simply because his ethos is aligned with that of the Doctor himself. A genius often mistook for a madman, the exaggerated colours, wild brushstrokes and rich textures of Van Gogh’s art all reflect the passion for life as well as the loneliness and torment that defines the character of the Doctor. Upon researching this article I found a quotation from Van Gogh himself which is surprisingly similar to the Doctor’s monologue in The Power of Three:
“There is so much to see, Amy, Because it goes so fast. I’m not running away from things, I am running to them. Before they flare and fade forever.”- The Doctor
“My plan for life is to make paintings and drawings, as many and as well as I can – then, when my life is over, I hope to depart in no other way than looking back with love and wistfulness and thinking, oh paintings that I would have made.”- Vincent Van Gogh, 1883
I hope reading this article may have inspired some interest in art for Doctor Who fans and, if they’ve happened to stumble upon it, perhaps it will alight in art experts a passion for Doctor Who. Both art and Doctor Who have the ability to enrich our lives and there’s an artist or art movement to cater for every type of Doctor Who fan; for timey-wimey twists try the 4d paintings of the futurists such as Balla, for terrifying monsters try the grotesque distortions of Bacon, for stripped-back, character-driven pieces try Lucian Freud and for breathtakingly beautiful (seemingly) alien planets glance at some Van Gogh.
