I find it easy to forget that Piet Mondrian is a Dutch artist. The linear, gridlocked works he is famed for seem to beat with the energy of the New York metropolis. But it was not always so. His path to abstraction was a precarious one that bumped into a number of styles drifting round during the early 20th century. And, in the beginning, his work was Dutch — pastoral, domestic, earthy.
To see this progression, head to Margate (Margate!) where you will find an exhibition of Mondrian’s work at Turner Contemporary, which commemorates the 70th anniversary of his death. The title sounds generic — Mondrian and Colour (artist — tick! Artistic property — tick!) — but in many ways, it’s confusing. After all, Mondrian is hardly known for his broad range of colours. In his celebrated neo-plastic works, he practically avoids all pigments, focusing only on the primary colours, and boxing them in with black and white. Even before, it is reserved. His paintbrush rarely dips into green.
The emphasis here is on the 25 years that led up to his breakthrough with the grid paintings in 1919. After this point, he settled into abstraction, and built a lifestyle around it. His prominent position in the avant-garde is determined by this earlier stage but, truth be told, few of his works from that period are that remarkable. It is what they led to that is astonishing.
What is Mondrian’s relationship with colour? It is always restrained, even when it is bright. He liberated colour from its traditional role of creating shade and volume, and gave it a plastic quality. Exposure to theosophy led him to explore the idea that absolute laws rule the universe, and his paintings became meditations on this philosophy.

Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in