Why is this painting of a black square famous? - Allison Leigh
On December 19th, 1915,
an exhibition of radical artworks
opened in what’s known today
as St. Petersburg, Russia.
Many of these pieces pushed
the boundaries of form and style,
but one was particularly controversial.
Hanging in the room’s corner—
symbolically occupying a space
traditionally reserved
for religious icons—
was Kazimir Malevich’s “Black Square.”
One attendee scoffed
at the painting’s simplicity,
claiming that even a child
could have done it.
Another went further, writing that
the “Black Square”
would “lead us all to our doom.”
Such critiques have plagued paintings
like Malevich’s ever since,
their outward simplicity inspiring
outrage and confusion.
But a closer look reveals that
not only is Malevich’s work
more complicated than it first appears—
it may not even be a painting
of a black square at all.
Despite its name, you’ll find
the painting’s central form
is neither perfectly black
nor perfectly square.
Its sides aren't parallel
or equal in length,
and the shape isn't quite
centered on the canvas.
Instead, Malevich placed the form
slightly off-kilter,
giving it the appearance of movement
and the white surrounding it
a living, vibrating quality.
Technical analysis has revealed that
Malevich already used the canvas
for two other paintings.
Today, cracks in the aging paint—
known as craquelure—
reveal fragments of dusty yellows,
vibrant reds, and faded emeralds,
hinting at all the stages Malevich
went through
before arriving at the
painting’s final form.
His creative process is also evident
in the vigorous brushstrokes,
which are displayed proudly
and move in a multitude of directions.
Fragments of hair
and Malevich’s fingerprints
are also ingrained in the paint,
adding both metaphorical
and literal texture to the work.
In many ways, Malevich’s whole history
is embedded in the “Black Square.”
Born to Polish-speaking
parents in Ukraine,
he lived there until he finally saved
enough money to afford the trip to Moscow.
Upon arrival in 1904, he plunged
into all the avant-garde styles
swirling around the city.
He painted in the style of Impressionism
and absorbed Post-Impressionism.
He passed through a Futurist phase and
then became influenced by the Cubists.
And by 1913, he was on the verge
of a breakthrough.
Malevich realized that even
the most cutting-edge artists
were still just painting objects
from everyday life.
But he was irresistibly drawn
to what he called
the “desert, where nothing is real
except feeling.”
And so, feeling became the substance
of his work.
The result was the “Black Square”
and a new style he named “Suprematism,”
where feeling alone was made supreme.
This would be achieved through what
he called non-objectivity—
a departure from the world of objects
so extreme it went beyond abstraction.
Malevich believed the simplification and
distortion that characterized abstract art
was ultimately meaningless,
since these styles were still focused
on depicting real world objects.
To him, only the completely
non-representational would truly be new.
While this radical approach
alarmed critics,
Malevich was undeterred.
He spent the next decade explaining
his Suprematist works in essays,
and teaching his ideas
to a new generation of artists.
But after Stalin's rise
to power in the 1920s,
avant-garde approaches like Suprematism
were deemed unproductive
to the Communist state.
And eventually, it became dangerous to
produce any art outside Socialist Realism—
an enforced artistic style celebrating
Soviet leaders and heroic workers.
In 1930, Malevich was arrested
by Soviet authorities
for spreading subversive ideas.
Under severe pressure,
he returned to figuration,
painting peasants standing robotically
in barren spaces.
But even these later paintings retained
glimmers of his earlier ideas.
Gradually, the figures lost
their arms and faces—
disintegrating as mechanization
gripped the countryside.
During this time,
Malevich also painted a self-portrait
that seemed to have abandoned
Suprematism completely.
But his open hand formed a quadrilateral,
and in the painting's corner
was a tiny black square.
This was the symbol of a man who suffered
through wars and revolutions,
but never stopped pushing
to create a new art—
a refuge of pure feeling that lay
beyond the burden of objects
and the suffering of a divided world.
