The ambitious exhibition “Harmony and Dissonance: Orphism in Paris, 1910-1930,” now on view at the Guggenheim in New York, tackles the evolution of a movement that, in truth, might never have existed as a coherent whole. The title, especially its emphasis on “dissonance,” feels particularly apt as the various approaches showcased in the Guggenheim’s spiraling rotunda highlight each artist’s individuality more than any unified vision of Orphism. Yet, intriguingly, the exhibition succeeds in unraveling the threads connecting these artists to broader early 20th-century sensibilities—a world in flux, a society demanding new aesthetic languages. It’s within this shared intellectual resilience and boundless creativity that the countless “-isms” of the period flourished, each aiming to translate the dynamic energy of a rapidly modernizing era.
In 1912, art critic and poet Guillaume Apollinaire coined the term “Orphism” in an attempt to categorize a group of artists whose works deconstructed and reassembled reality into compositions alive with kaleidoscopic color harmonies. These layers of fragmented light seemed to pulse with musical energy, capturing the spirit of a new epoch. The poetic name harks back to the Greek myth of Orpheus, the superhuman bard and musician who joined the Argonauts, saved them from the Sirens, and nearly rescued his lover Eurydice from the underworld. The myth’s themes of light, music, and transcendent beauty resonate with Orphism’s aspirations: an art form seeking not only to reflect the progress of the early 20th Century but also to illuminate a path forward, chasing the eternal promise of creation overcoming darkness.
This interplay of myth and modernity, light and fragmentation, lends “Harmony and Dissonance” its spark, inviting visitors to revel in the creative chaos that defined the period and the audacious hope embedded within its many artistic pursuits.
From an art historical lens, Orphism is often defined as a movement centered on color, light and abstraction, embracing a more spiritual response to the dynamism of modern urban life. It introduced vivid palettes and radiant energy to the muted, tactile qualities of Cubism. While Orphism is frequently characterized as seeking a complete break from Cubism’s lingering ties to reality, Robert Delaunay himself acknowledged that the direct observation of nature’s luminous essence was central to its approach. Rather than severing ties to physical reality, Orphism remained anchored in a multisensory perception of the world, blending abstraction with a deep connection to the material realm.
Early works associated with the movement often feel more closely aligned with Cubism than entirely distinct from it. For instance, Robert Delaunay and Marc Chagall’s depictions of the Eiffel Tower—featured in the exhibition—come across as more sentimental and poetic reinterpretations of the iconic structure. Their disarticulation of the tower’s form allows for the infusion of unconscious, perceptive movements, enriching the work with emotional and psychological layers. This evolution builds on Cubism’s exploration of multi-perspectivism, pushing it toward a more personal and subjective vision.
As Apollinaire described it, Orphism offered “a more internal, less intellectual, more poetic vision of the universe and life.” This characterization resonates especially with Chagall, whose symbolic and mystical style captures Orphism’s spiritual aspirations. His Hommage à Apollinaire (1913) underscores this connection, evoking Delaunay’s radiant disks while drawing from biblical symbolism.
The inclusion of early works by Marcel Duchamp, such as the iconic Nude Descending the Staircase No. 2 (1912), feels particularly audacious—and arguably debatable—in the context of this exhibition. These pieces, exploring the body and movement, seem firmly rooted in the aesthetic crossroads of Cubism and Futurism. Yet, the show aligns itself with Apollinaire’s interpretation, which noted Duchamp’s shift away from discernible subject matter toward abstraction. This, combined with his esoteric titles, loosely connected him to the Orphic group—a classification Duchamp himself explicitly rejected. Similarly contentious is the inclusion of artists like Francis Picabia, whose chameleonic career often feels more entrepreneurial than consistent in its aesthetic, and Fernand Léger, whose works lack the harmonious prismatic coherence and simultaneity exemplified by the Delaunays’ synthetic approach.
Orphism’s signature lyrical application of color, however, finds its roots in emerging optical and color theories of the time. Thinkers such as Charles Henry and chemist Michel Eugène Chevreul developed theories that post-Impressionists like Georges Seurat and Paul Signac had already applied with scientific precision. Meanwhile, many Orphic artists were equally inspired by the era’s philosophical and spiritual currents. Henri Bergson’s concept of élan vital, describing a continuous flow of time and experience, was a pivotal influence. Theosophical ideas also permeated the period, inspiring mystical and spiritual approaches to abstraction in movements like Der Blaue Reiter and in Piet Mondrian’s quest for universal forms and transformative color.
These “Orphics” frequently navigated the intersection of mysticism and science, seeking to transcend material reality and explore unseen dimensions through new tools such as microscopes and telescopes. They also embraced contemporary optical theories to investigate how the human eye perceives color and form in a physical and psychological sense. As the exhibition catalog aptly notes, early 20th-century Paris was a city in a state of intellectual and cultural enlightenment. It became a crucible for what Robert Brain called “psychological aesthetics,” fostering the emergence of Modernism through a rich dialogue between artists and scientists.
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Bergson’s concept of continuous creative evolution—a dynamic, unpredictable force driving the diversity and complexity of life—seems to pulse through much of the work and many of the artists featured in the exhibition. Above all, the artists appear united in their poetic and artistic attempts to capture simultaneity, a shared fascination that aligns them with the contemporaneous Italian Futurists. This overlap did not go unnoticed. Umberto Boccioni, one of Futurism’s leading figures, criticized Orphism as “just an elegant masquerade of the basic principles of Futurist painting.” Boccioni dismissed the movement as Cubists attempting to rebrand their work as “Impressionism of forms”—a thinly veiled plagiarism of the simultaneity central to Futurist art.
As the art world of the early 20th Century grappled with fluid definitions and movements, criticism of Apollinaire’s top-down labeling of Orphism emerged from both within and outside the group. František Kupka, for example, expressed surprise at being suddenly classified under the lofty term “orphic.” Finding it reductive, he remarked that it must have come “out of the head of a man poorly informed.” Sonia Delaunay similarly distanced herself from the term, opting instead to describe her work with the more precise “simultanéité,” a concept grounded in the simultaneous contrasts of color.
František Kupka, Disks of Newton (Study for “Fugue in Two Colors”) (Disques de Newton [Étude pour “La fugue à 2 couleurs”]), 1912; Oil on canvas, 39 1/2 × 29 in. (100.3 × 73.7 cm). The Philadelphia Museum of Art: The Louise and Walter Arensberg Collection, 1950. © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris. Photo: The Philadelphia Museum of Art
She was also a pioneer in extending the Orphic principles beyond the boundaries of painting. Her synthesis of high and decorative arts manifested in designs for clothing, textiles, and home decor, championing the integration of art into everyday life. She conceived an aesthetic universe that encapsulated the speed, energy and dynamism of modernity, blending form and function with remarkable innovation.
Despite the ongoing debates surrounding the term “Orphism,” the artists associated with the movement benefited from the Delaunays’ relentless commitment to its principles. The couple organized regular gatherings or “salons,” fostering cross-pollination among like-minded artists, while modernist journals such as Montjoie! provided a platform for publishing artworks and writings. It was during this period that Apollinaire famously proclaimed, “The reign of Orpheus is beginning.”
The First German Autumn Salon, held in Berlin in 1913, showcased a diverse group of artists challenging the boundaries of representation. Alongside Sonia and Robert Delaunay, the exhibition featured works by Francis Picabia, Russian avant-gardist Natalia Goncharova, and expatriates Patrick Henry Bruce and Marsden Hartley. This was also the venue where Robert Delaunay debuted his fully abstract disk-shaped canvases, which Apollinaire dubbed “Windows.” In these works, Delaunay abandoned any trace of objectivity, using prisms of light and the physics of color to explore a cosmic order of matter and energy, eliciting profound optical and psychic reactions.
Through the use of stereoscopy and prismatic techniques, Orphism’s explorations of simultaneity laid the groundwork for a visionary representation of reality. This approach sought to expose the intricate interconnections between the atomic and molecular realms and the relationship between psychological and physical energies organizing the universe—whether understood through a spiritual or scientific lens. Yet, Orphism’s foundation was firmly rooted in the philosophical and scientific ideas of its time, reflecting the knowledge and intellectual currents available during its brief flourish.
As the exhibition demonstrates, Orphism was less a cohesive movement and more a loosely connected group of artists united by a shared interest in transcending concrete reality to present a fluid vision of simultaneity and flux. These artists adopted varying degrees of physics- or psychology-based approaches, depending on their individual practices. Despite its luminous optimism, the movement’s utopian ideals clashed with the brutal realities of war. This tenuous nature is perhaps why Alfred H. Barr, the founding director of MoMA, relegated Orphism to an awkward and reductive placement on his famous “Map of Modernism,” wedged between Cubism and Futurism as a temporary, transitional phenomenon.
Still, the exhibition at the Guggenheim credits Orphism with influencing a wide range of artists and movements across regions, tracing its translational and cross-cultural character from the outset. Orphism’s abstract approach to painting was not solely French but emerged from a dynamic interplay of international voices. Robert Delaunay, French by birth, collaborated closely with Sonia Delaunay, a polymath and Jewish émigré from present-day Ukraine. Francis Picabia, of French and Spanish heritage, and František Kupka, from Bohemia (now the Czech Republic), also contributed to this aesthetic dialogue. Across the Atlantic, Americans Stanton Macdonald-Wright and Morgan Russell, who were also influenced by Orphic ideas, developed Synchromism—an approach merging notions of color (chroma) and musical symphony.
Portuguese artists Amadeo de Souza-Cardoso and Eduardo Viana also feature in the show, absorbed the Delaunays’ influence after the couple moved to Portugal during the war. Their works transformed Cubist and Futurist experimentations into kaleidoscopic compositions infused with vibrant rhythms reflective of their cultural heritage. Folk elements often found their way into these pieces, adding a distinctly regional flair to their interpretations of Orphic principles. Together, these artists and their works underscore Orphism’s ability to bridge geographic and cultural divides while extending its influence well beyond its ephemeral moment in the early 20th Century.
Ultimately, while the exhibition may struggle to convincingly argue that Orphism was a bonafide movement within Modernism, it succeeds in thoroughly documenting and examining how these interconnected artistic tendencies captured the spirit of an entire historical period. By delving into the collective consciousness and perceptions of the time, the show underscores the richness of early 20th-century debates that birthed countless “-isms,” each driven by manifestos, publications, and interdisciplinary exchanges. These efforts were animated by a belief that art could have a profound societal impact or, at the very least, reflect the zeitgeist with precision and depth. It was a period of vibrant creative ferment, often infused with a sense of militancy, that feels conspicuously absent in today’s art world.
In contrast, contemporary artistic production appears more fragmented and disconnected, lacking the unifying debates and manifestos that once defined Modernism. The diminishing role of critics and other traditional gatekeepers has further complicated our ability to identify emerging tendencies or determine whether any cohesive “movement” is taking shape in response to our current historical moment. This exhibition serves as a poignant reminder of a time when art sought to engage deeply with the world it inhabited—an ambition that feels increasingly rare in today’s diffuse cultural landscape.
“Harmony and Dissonance: Orphism in Paris, 1910–1930” is on view at the Guggenheim Museum in New York through March 9, 2025.