A strong first half consisting of a wonderfully dreadful march through the halls of time, from 'old art' in the 14th to 17th century, to its heir, what we know today as 'modern' art, when it emerged from its cocoon, the Age of Reason (17th to 18th centuries), unfurling leg-and-wing from movement to movement, from Naturalism and Positivism, to Expressionism, to Abstraction and Cubism, to Surrealism, to Pop and Op, to finally in the 20th Century, the Apocalypse: to anti-Art. "And when it is full grown, gives birth to death."
Like Charles Taylor, Rookmaaker here is unafraid to square a great deal of blame upon the Church, and particularly the Protestant Reformation, which of course unleashed both good and bad forces through time: the influence of mysticism upon Calvinism led to a Gnostic-withdrawal from the arts, which were regarded as earthly, material, connected with the passions, and to be escaped.
The historical soil was mixed: Aqinas' scholasticism (dualism of nature and grace), the Reformation, mysticism, Humanism, the Counter-Reformation. From such fertility came the Enlightenment, the century of no known terminus.
From here, art changes. The first step to modern art: It becomes more photographic, fixated on naturalistic reality. There is a death of dogma, and the second death: of theme. The world becomes closed, the frame becomes immanent. The second step is the response: the world becomes ghostly and immaterial, a sign of tension between Positivism and the reaction against it, the conflict between the sense-perception of the Enlightenment (which taught all understanding begins with our senses) and the innate hunger for human freedom, a sort of humanist humanity.
Things get a bit complicated. But the reaction, the response to the 'boxing' of man within the immanent frame, cannot itself be held in check. Expressionism gives way to Abstraction and Cubism, giving way then to Surrealism. The third and final step to modern art culminates the journey from naturalistic reality to surreality: the loss of humanist humanity and our plunge into abstraction and its bitter conclusion, which is nihilism, the loss of absolutes and the universal. These movements are at once irrational and extremely intellectual.
There are strange indicators along the way, often more subtle than the obvious trend toward abstraction. Artists begin to prefer animals over human subjects, and in their work degrade women and femininity in particular. Delicious breadcrumbs dot the path: Marc, the German Expressionist, is quoted: "I found man to be ugly, animals are much more beautiful... Each year trees, flowers, the earth, everything showed me aspects that were more hateful, more repulsive, until I came at last to a full realization of the ugliness, the uncleanness of nature."
And the mystic ecstasy of Miller's Tropic of Cancer: "I am inhuman...A man who belongs to this race must stand up on the high place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails. It is right and just, because he must! And anything that falls short of this frightening spectacle, anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less made, less intoxicated, less contaminated, is not art."
Rookmaaker, again unafraid, suggests the roles that legends we in the West typically admire, such as Monet or Picasso, played in connecting one frightful movement to the next. It is sickening. It like watching human genius from a cosmic point of view, its current traveling downstream in hideous ways. It is not a natural perspective.
The book is a haunting tour aided by cited paintings and works visually referenced for your viewing pleasure every several pages, revealing perfectly both the 'degeneration' of art in time and the generation of new cultural movements and revolutionary forces in play. Today, "we live in a society," as they say, where there is a cultural revolution looking for something more, for escape from a new cocoon: a mystic nihilism of our own making. Art reflects the spirit of the age. The Age of Reason has been exorcised, but a new spirit, that of Nihilism, has found the culture "swept clean and put in order", and being more wicked than the last, has come to live there. But ultimately we come to see an art, from a culture, possessed by a spirit, that is, in all of its agony, crying for truth—of which the Church is the pillar and buttress.
As guide, Rookmaaker shrinks neither from past nor future. He was less pessimistic than his title suggests. Perhaps we should be too.