In 1820–21, Dresden experienced an exceptionally severe winter, causing the Elbe to temporarily freeze over. This rare natural phenomenon deeply fascinated Friedrich. While he usually went outdoors with a pencil and his sketchbook and only later – far away from what he had observed – applied color to his compositions in his studio, on this occasion he had the necessary painting materials with him when he visited the bank of the Elbe. Three irregularly cropped oil sketches have survived, which Friedrich in all probability produced then and there. (1) They show various ice floes up close, in the rendering of which the artist had his eye not only on the angular forms but also on the different color values of the frozen water.

Several years later, Friedrich based The Sea of Ice on these studies – one of the most ambitious and modern compositions in his oeuvre. (2) Although various connections can be established between the oil sketches and the finished painting at the level of motif, Friedrich took the proportions in the latter to the extreme, causing them to become monumental. In front of the painting, we confront the perpetual ice of a boundless polar landscape, in whose center rises an iceberg of mighty sheets of ice, burying beneath it a sailing ship.

Subject matter such as this was in the air. In those years, various expeditions were launched, many of which were brought to a halt in pack ice. However, it appears as though Friedrich did not want his painting to make reference to any specific undertaking. (3) His composition, as fantastic as it is unsettling, can be understood as much more than a fundamental commentary on the relationship between the subject and nature. With his depiction of a catastrophe, Friedrich exposed the attempt to develop a Northwest Passage as an expression of human hubris. At the mercy of the forces of nature, human beings have to ultimately submit to its power. The urge to advance into hostile regions is doomed to failure.

Researchers have frequently associated Friedrich’s painting with the debate surrounding the aesthetic of the “sublime,” which was particularly lively at the time. (4) However, participation in a sublime experience requires a certain stance. Although the steplike-layered ice floes in the foreground initially invite us to engage with the pictorial space and even tread it in our imagination, we soon notice how difficult it is to define our position vis-a-vis the painting. Instead of the sublime sensations we hoped for, a feeling of uncertainty sets in. (5)

The question remains as to whether Friedrich understood his work as a contribution to this discussion. It is quite conceivable that he wanted to put the expectations of the public to the test with his unusual composition. In any case, this is in accord with his fundamental reservations toward a style of art that makes a point of suggesting the illusion of an experience of nature to its viewers. Instead, Friedrich insisted on a clear distinction between the areas of nature and art.

Markus Bertsch, in: exh. cat. Hamburg 2023, p. 182–185.

(1) Börsch-Supan/Jähnig 1973, p. 386; Rautmann 1991, pp. 14–17.
(2) For this painting, see, among others Börsch-Supan/Jähnig 1973 pp. 386 f., no. 311; Rautmann 1991; Grave 2001; Busch 2003, pp. 116–18; Grave 2018; Grave 2023, pp. 197–99.
(3) Börsch-Supan/Jähnig 1973, pp. 386 f.; Rautmann 1991, pp. 17–20; Busch 2003, pp. 116 f. Friedrich may have also been inspired by panorama paintings on display at the time, including in Dresden, that ordinarily made reference to specific exhibitions. See Börsch-Supan/Jähnig 1973, p. 387.
(4) On this, see, among others, Rautmann 1991, pp. 20–25. For a critical treatment of the question of a possible compatibility of The Sea of Ice with the aesthetic of the sublime, see Grave 2001; Busch 2003, pp. 116 f.
(5) Grave 2001, pp. 145–49; Busch 2003, pp. 117 f.; Grave 2023, pp. 198 f.