Gerhard Richter at Tate Modern By Polly Allen

Gerhard Richter Aunt Marianne (Tante Marianne) 1965 (CR 87) Yageo Foundation, Taiwan © Gerhard Richter

Yes, it’s another big retrospective at the Tate to get your teeth into, and this one will attract fans of minimalism, modernism, war art, Dadaism and conceptual art. Gerhard Richter’s work, which predominantly consists of paintings, is undoubtedly arresting – on the day of my visit it seemed to be standing room only around some of the exhibits, and the fever doesn’t look to be dying down any time soon.

We begin with Richter’s links to his childhood, which was spent growing up during World War Two and living in fear of the Allied bombers as well as the Nazis. The exhibition’s first room pulls no punches, giving us paintings littered with war references from soaring planes to dead bodies. Yet perhaps the most arresting image is much more subtle in its references to conflict and tragedy – Aunt Marianne (Tante Marianne, 1965) is a portrait of Richter’s aunt holding him as a baby, depicted in his typical soft focus brushstrokes, which resemble a blurred but fondly-remembered photo. On reading the accompanying information, we discover that Marianne suffered from mental health problems and was not only sterilized by Nazis, but later killed. Suddenly this gives the image a new poignancy and it becomes a testament to what Aunt Marianne was; a loving person who was part of the family unit, not someone to be treated like a parasite and forcibly removed. There’s also a comparable study of Werner Hyde, a champion of eugenics and euthanasia, simply called Mr Hyde (Herr Hyde, 1965), where his status as a doctor is not given to him. By refusing to give Hyde a medical title and showing him at the point of re-arrest by the authorities, Richter is removing any trace of power from this man.

Gerhard Richter Mustang Squadron 1964 (CR 19) Private Collection © Gerhard Richter

It wasn’t just perceptions of people that fascinated Richter: it was buildings and everyday objects too. Even a humble Toilet Paper Roll (Klorolle, 1965) becomes a sensitive and strong portrait, whilst his many townscapes also seem strangely profound, with thickly applied paint to suggest rubble, or blurry and fuzzy shapes that seem to vibrate in front of your eyes. In later rooms of the exhibition we see mundane items take on a new significance, such as the Record Player (Plattenspieler, 1988) which belonged to a man called Baader who was murdered for being a member of the Red Army Faction. His gun was concealed inside, so this was not an innocent object that reflected his personal interests, but something that told us about the lengths that he would go to in order to carry out political actions. The accompanying notes tell us that Richter was not drawn to painting the murder victims due to any sympathy with their cause, but he was saddened by the violence of their deaths. The theme of mortality is intensely present in so many of his paintings, whether it’s a desire to give something permanence or to indicate its fragility. He even over-painted his own photographs and canvases, obscuring much of the detail and destroying areas that he wasn’t happy with, giving the underneath layers a short life span.

Gerhard Richter: Betty. 1988. Oil on canvas, 101.9 x 59.4 cm. The Saint Louis Art Museum. Copyright Gerhard Richter

You’ll probably recognise his most famous painting, Betty (1988), which many people assume is a photograph because of its incredible level of detail. This is a great portrait because Richter is not afraid to be unconventional and give us a sitter who is not engaging with the viewer at all – she has her back to us.

We can’t see her face, but we can get a sense of her from her hair and clothes. She seems to be glowing, with golden tones and a lightness of the paintbrush that resembles the soft focus treatment of a camera. His self-portrait is similarly teasing, giving us a version of himself with a grime-like layer of paint over the top and his head bent down. Whereas an artist’s own likeness is normally very exposing, this is a sign that Richter is determined to keep his cards close to his chest. We are only given a glimpse of his self-image.

The later rooms carry paintings that are pushed much further into abstraction, some of which are difficult to enjoy because they seem quite lazy in comparison to his earlier painterly works. Forest (Wold, 1990) is a blue-green mess with paint dragged across, a bit like a toddler’s first artistic efforts, and I couldn’t work out if he was trying to be clever or he was just showing us something that resembled doodling that should act as a starting point. Much more stimulating is 2005’s September, which depicts the Twin Towers on 9/11 without showing the horrific fireballs. Instead, Richter has given us streaks of blue and a barely visible first tower. This feels like a dignified way of representing the atrocity.

Seeing this exhibition will really open your eyes to the sheer amount of creative output that Richter has produced, and how much modern artists owe him. It’s a very inspiring collection and it really does make you think about the difference between sharp and soft focus, and revealed or concealed layers of images. The subtle touch that he has is also a welcome distraction from the obviousness of modern society, with its reality TV and tabloid kiss-and-tell stories. Sometimes it’s better to leave something to the imagination.

Gerhard Richter Cage 4 2006 (CR:897-4) Tate. Lent from a private collection 2007 © Gerhard Richter

Gerhard Richter: Panorama

Exhibition ends 8 January 2012

Tate Modern

Bankside

London SE1 9TG

Tel: 020 7887 8888