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World War I Centennial: Turks Defeated at Kirk Kilisse and Kumanovo

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The First World War was an unprecedented catastrophe that killed millions and set the continent of Europe on the path to further calamity two decades later. But it didn’t come out of nowhere.

With the centennial of the outbreak of hostilities coming up in 2014, Erik Sass will be looking back at the lead-up to the war, when seemingly minor moments of friction accumulated until the situation was ready to explode. He'll be covering those events 100 years after they occurred. This is the 41st installment in the series. (See all entries here.)

October 22-25, 1912: Turks Defeated at Kirk Kilisse and Kumanovo

Bulgarian gives water to dying Turk at Adrianople.

After Montenegro declared war on the Ottoman Empire on October 8, 1912, the situation began to unravel rapidly for the beleaguered Turks.

On October 11 and 16 the Montenegrins occupied the towns of Bijele Polje and Berane, respectively (both located in the Sanjak of Novibazar, the narrow strip of territory separating Montenegro from Serbia). On October 18 the other members of the Balkan League – Bulgaria, Serbia, and Greece – declared war on the Turks and mounted simultaneous invasions on multiple fronts. On October 20-21 the Montenegrins occupied the towns of Plav and Gusinje, also in the Sanjak, and the Greeks landed on the islands of Tenedos and Lemnos in the Aegean Sea, giving them a strategic position which threatened the Turkish Straits. Meanwhile Bulgarian armies poured over the border into Thrace and Serbian armies overran Macedonia, where they seized Priština, the capital of Kosovo, on October 22.

Faced with enemy forces advancing on all sides, the Turkish commander-in-chief, Nazim Pasha, rushed to destroy the main Bulgarian and Serbian forces with two simultaneous attacks in Thrace and Macedonia. These offensives pitted Turkish armies which were only partially mobilized against stronger enemy forces, resulting in two catastrophic defeats for the Turks at the battles of Kirk Kilisse and Kumanovo.

Kirk Kilisse

In Thrace the local Ottoman commander, Ferik Abdullah Pasha, confronted Bulgarian armies attempting to bypass the fortified city of Adrianople (Edirne). The Bulgarians planned to leave enough forces to besiege Adrianople and keep moving southeast towards the big prize, the Turkish capital at Constantinople. To do this, the Bulgarians first had to pass between Adrianople and another Turkish strong point located 36 miles to the east, the fortified town of Kirk Kilisse (Bulgarian Lozengrad, today known as K?rklareli in Turkish). Abdullah Pasha planned to envelop and destroy the advancing Bulgarian armies with a pincer movement as they passed through the gap, with a small left wing coming from Adrianople and a large right wing coming from near Kirk Kilisse.

However, Abdullah Pasha underestimated the strength of the Bulgarian forces facing him. Like other Ottoman commanders, he assumed that the main Bulgarian attack would fall against Macedonia, not Thrace – a reasonable guess, since Macedonia was supposedly the main object of the war. But the Bulgarians were actually going all in on Thrace, hoping to deliver a knockout blow by defeating the Turks close to their heartland. Thus instead of three Bulgarian infantry divisions, Abdullah Pasha’s incomplete Turkish armies near Adrianople were actually facing six divisions, with two more on the way, pitting around 110,000 Turkish troops against roughly 176,000 Bulgarians (although not all these forces were engaged). The Turks were soon apprised of the enemy’s actual strength.

On the morning of Tuesday, October 22, the Turkish right wing got off to an unpromising start as it marched north from near Kirk Kilisse, with some units receiving their orders late, others departing without their artillery, and everything slowed even further by mist and rain, which turned primitive Balkan roads to mud (rain would be a recurring theme in the First Balkan War). After making contact with Bulgarian formations around 11:30 a.m., the Turkish advance units soon found themselves subjected to withering rifle fire and artillery bombardments, and by mid-afternoon most were either pinned down by Bulgarian fire or in retreat. By nightfall the commander of the Turkish right wing, Muhtar Pasha, realizing that the enemy forces were much larger than expected, ordered his army to fall back to defensive positions. Meanwhile the smaller left wing made more forward progress, but was ultimately forced to retreat by a Bulgarian night attack (one half of a pincer can’t achieve much on its own anyway).

In other words, Abdullah Pasha’s plan didn’t survive the first day; now the final outcome was just a matter of time. Early on the second day, October 23, the superior Bulgarian forces took the offensive, trickily including Turkish-speaking troops with their advance units to deceive the Turks into allowing them to approach within a few hundred meters. The Bulgarians quickly overwhelmed the hastily-constructed Turkish trenches, and Muhtar Pasha’s right wing was forced to fall back, giving up Kirk Kilisse. Meanwhile the Turkish left wing mounted another attack but was again forced back by massed Bulgarian artillery and rifle fire, and ended the day withdrawing into the Adrianople fortifications. The next day, Thursday, October 24, Abdullah Pasha, recognizing defeat, ordered a general retreat to the southeast, towards Constantinople. Luckily for the Turks, after three days of hard fighting the Bulgarians were too tired to pursue them right away; on the other hand, Adrianople was now cut off and besieged by the Bulgarians.

Turkish casualties at Kirk Kilisse came to 1,500 killed and 3,000 taken prisoner, versus a mere 887 killed and around 5,000 wounded and missing for the Bulgarians. These losses were light by the standards of the coming Great War, thanks to the Turks’ decision to withdraw in the face superior enemy forces – but it counts as a major defeat because they were forced to give up the best defensive position in Thrace outside Constantinople, and also lost contact with Adrianople, a key city of the Ottoman Empire.

Kumanovo

Ottoman troops.

Some 250 miles to the west, the Turks suffered another decisive defeat at the hands of the Serbians in the battle of Kumanovo in northern Macedonia. Here the 65,000-strong Turkish Vardar Army (named for the Vardar River valley where it was stationed) faced Three Serbian armies numbering 132,000 troops. Once again, Nazim Pasha’s intention to bring the fight to the invaders resulted in Turkish forces attacking before they were fully mobilized – although at least in this case the local commander, Zeki Pasha, had better intelligence about the enemy’s strength, which was also dispersed at first, as Serbian troops arrived in waves.

On October 23, amid heavy fog and rain (again), Zeki Pasha took advantage of a temporary numerical advantage and launched an attack on the Serbian right flank along a ten-mile front to the northwest of the town of Kumanovo, which initially succeeded in inflicting heavy casualties on the Serbs. However, in the afternoon newly-arrived Serbian reinforcements rushed into battle with fierce, human wave-style attacks, eventually stabilizing the situation by evening.

On the morning of October 24 the Serbs, who now enjoyed numerical superiority, continued their attacks with crucial artillery support which helped break Turkish resistance. Now outnumbered by two to one, Zeki Pasha was forced to retreat southwards, effectively ceding northern Macedonia to Serbian control. Turkish casualties in the battle of Kumanovo included 12,000 dead and wounded and 300 POWs, compared to Serbian casualties of 687 dead and roughly 4,000 wounded and missing.

Less than two weeks into the First Balkan War, the Turks had suffered two major defeats which essentially spelled the end of the Ottoman Empire in Europe. Needless to say, this momentous change provoked immediate reactions from all the European Great Powers.

Austria-Hungary Reacts

The strongest reaction came in Vienna, the capital of Austria-Hungary, where diplomats and military men alike were seriously alarmed by the rise of Serbian power. With a good deal of justification, they feared that the Serbs aimed to unite the Slavic populations of the Balkan Peninsula under Serbian rule in a pan-Slav (“Yugoslav”) state. After liberating their ethnic kinsmen in Macedonia from Ottoman rule, the next logical step was freeing the millions of Slavs living in Austria-Hungary – dismembering the Dual Monarchy in the process.

These fears were expressed in criticism of Austro-Hungarian Foreign Minister Count Berchtold, who was reviled by other officials in Vienna for failing to nip Serbian aggression in the bud – for example, by preemptively occupying the Sanjak of Novi Bazar to prevent Serbia from joining forces with Montenegro. To rescue Austro-Hungarian prestige, not to mention his own reputation, Berchtold was now forced to take a more assertive approach.

On October 25, 1912, Berchtold told a meeting of top officials that Austria-Hungary was drawing a new line in the sand: although it was too late to prevent Serbia from conquering the Sanjak and Macedonia, he would enforce some limits on Serbian power by denying the Serbs their coveted outlet to the Adriatic Sea at Durazzo. This would prevent Serbia (or its patron, Russia) from threatening Austria-Hungary’s own access to the Mediterranean. Berchtold also intended to prevent Montenegro from taking the ancient city of Scutari, which lay near the Adriatic.

But if Serbia didn’t get Durazzo, and Montenegro couldn’t have Scutari, who would? Berchtold proposed that both cities would be part of a new, independent Albania, which would include the Muslim-majority population of this region. Of course, denying the Serbs one of their main national aspirations would only worsen the antagonism between Austria-Hungary and Serbia. In 1914 this would result in disaster.

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WWI Centennial: Germans Capture Riga, Kornilov Revolt

Erik Sass is covering the events of the war exactly 100 years after they happened. This is the 287th installment in the series.

September 5-9, 1917: Germans Capture Riga, Kornilov Revolt

September 1917 saw the chaos in revolutionary Russia reach a fever pitch, as a major new German offensive on the Baltic coast triggered yet another unsuccessful coup attempt against the beleaguered Provisional Government, which had just fended off a far-left uprising instigated by the Bolsheviks in July. This time it was a rightwing military revolt led by the recently appointed commander-in-chief General Lavr Kornilov (although Kornilov claimed it was actually intended to strengthen the Provisional Government against the rival Petrograd Soviet). The end result was to further discredit and destabilize the Provisional Government, now facing open opposition on both the left and right, setting the stage for the Bolsheviks’ final successful coup attempt in November 1917.

Fall of Riga

Kornilov was spurred to action in part by the German capture of Riga (now the capital of Latvia) on the Baltic coast – a major blow that brought the Germans closer to the Russian capital of Petrograd and threatened the breakup of the northern sector of the Eastern Front. An advance here would also shorten the frontline, freeing up German forces needed to fend off the British assault at Passchendaele on the Western Front.

The German Riga offensive wasn’t a walkover: while indiscipline and rock-bottom morale prevailed throughout the Russian Army, ordinary Russian soldiers were still willing to stand and fight in defense of their homeland, at least for now. However German superiority in morale – not to mention heavy artillery, aerial reconnaissance, and logistics – left little doubt about the final outcome.

Europe and the Near East, September 1917: Germans capture Riga, Kornilov Revolt
Erik Sass

The attack began on September 1, 1917 with a sudden, punishing bombardment by the artillery of the German Eighth Army, targeting the defensive positions of the Russian Twelfth Army behind the River (Daugava). As the shelling reached its climax German pioneers moved up with pontoon bridges and boats to ferry the assault force across the broad, fast-flowing river, in another testament to German engineering and tactical skill.

One German soldier, Dominik Richert, described the preliminary bombardment as well as the Russian response:

As it became brighter I was able to see the water of the Düna, which was flowing quite quickly here. The Russian position on the opposite bank was not yet visible as white fog prevented us from seeing further. We were all tense about what was about to happen. All at once, the German artillery, which had been concentrated here, started to fire. The shells whizzed over us and exploded on the other side of the river with a booming din. A number of mortars, mainly heavy ones that shoot two hundred-weight shells, joined the dance. There was such a crashing, whizzing and roaring that my ears started to hurt. As the sun rose, the fog gradually disappeared and I was able to see the Russian position on the opposite bank. It was completely shrouded in black smoke, constantly and everywhere there were abrupt flashes and enormous clouds of smoke shot into the sky… Then the Russian artillery started to fire, so that we were forced to duck down in the trench.

Like many of his peers, Richert knew little of the battle plan, and seemed to be just as surprised as the enemy by the sudden arrival of boats to ford the river:

In the middle of this din came the order: ‘Get ready!’ We looked at each other. ‘We can’t possibly swim the river!’ said some of my neighbours. Then behind us we heard a yelling as if horses were being driven forward. I looked back and saw that the bridge train was arriving. They rapidly drove the waggons, which were laden with metal boats… down to the river. A large number of sappers came up at the double behind them and in no time at all the boats were unloaded and in the water.

Then came the daunting task of crossing the river under fire:

It was very frightening on the water. We all ducked down into the boats. The shells whoosed overhead while under and around us the water gurgled. Wherever I looked the whole river was seething with boats which were heading as quickly as possible to the opposite bank. Russian shells landed between the boats in the river throwing huge columns of water into the air. Another boat upstream from our suffered a direct hit and sank in a few seconds. The occupants who had not been wounded fought with the waves for a short time and then all disappeared. It sent shivers up my spine.

Finally, after a seeming eternity spent crossing the water the attackers arrived at the opposite shore, where they were happy to discover the remaining defenders had already withdrawn:

Now we had to storm the Russian trenches. That was an easy task. We did not encounter any resistance at all. The trench had largely been flattened. Mutilated corpses of the Russian infantrymen were lying around. Every so often you would encounter an unscathed Russian sitting in the corner of a trench and he would raise his arms in the air when we appeared, in order to surrender.

Over the next few days the German offensive pushed forward from these bridgeheads over the Düna to the east of Riga, threatening to encircle the Russian Twelfth Army. However a fierce holding action, fought in large part by Latvian riflemen, held up the German attackers long enough for the Twelfth Army to retreat towards Petrograd, still mostly intact.

Nonetheless the fall of Riga on September 5, 1917 was a major defeat for the Russians and another demoralizing setback for the Allied war effort, which even official propaganda couldn’t sweep under the rug (top, German troops enter Riga). Marian Baldwin, an American woman volunteering with the Red Cross in France, wrote home on September 8:

Isn’t the Russian news fierce? I’ve never seen anything like the way it has taken the punch out of every one. I was down at the Gare du Nord yesterday doing a little work for the Red Cross, distributing cigarettes, etc., among the outgoing French soldiers. We couldn’t seem to cheer them, and I didn’t see any of the usual smiles. The ray of light which the U.S. troops brought when they began coming over has, for the moment, been completely obliterated. The papers don’t deny that it is the worst blow the Allies have received since the war began, and it is as though a black cloud has descended upon every one.

Of course the effect on Russian morale was even more pronounced. After the disastrous outcome of the Kerensky Offensive, the loss of Riga seemed to show that the Russian Army was essentially unable to defend the homeland. Meanwhile conditions for ordinary soldiers had hardly improved, and in many cases worsened, since the February (March) Revolution. Finally the infamous Order No. 1, issued by the Petrograd Soviet in March 1917, which effectively abolished military rank and with it officers’ authority, encouraged mutiny and insubordination and resulted in a steady stream of dispirited officers resigning their commissions and going home.

Charles Beury, an American representative of the YMCA who visited Russia during this period, painted a portrait of complete disarray in the military:

The demoralization was most noticeable in the army. That fundamental characteristic of any army – discipline – was gone… It was quite unusual to see soldiers marching in uniform ranks. On the contrary, masses of these men were aimlessly wandering about the streets, eating sunflower seeds, overloading the street-cars, and crowding, without tickets, into first-class compartments on passenger trains… In many places we noted the lack of authority of superior officers… Many officers had been shot by their men in payment of old scores…

With disaster looming, the Provisional Government appeared irrelevant while the Petrograd Soviet seemed more concerned with “protecting the revolution” than fighting the external enemy. Against this backdrop one of the last bastions of conservatism in Russia mounted a final, desperate attempt to restore order – and failed spectacularly.

The Kornilov Revolt

For months rumors had been circulating of a military coup to replace the feeble Provisional Government and crush the growing power of the Petrograd Soviet. The flashpoint for the failed military revolt came when Prime Minister Alexander Kerensky asked Kornilov, recently appointed commander-in-chief, to move troops loyal to the Provisional Government from the front to Petrograd in order to shore up the government’s authority versus the Soviet, increasingly dominated by radical socialists including Lenin’s Bolsheviks (below, Kornilov).

Kornilov, reasoning that such half-measures were no longer appropriate, instead led a large force of loyal troops in a march on Petrograd with the intention of purging the Provisional Government of radical elements, suppressing the Soviet, and calling a new Constituent Assembly, claiming that he was doing so at Kerensky’s invitation. However this action was far more extreme than Kerensky had envisioned, and the prime minister feared (probably with good reason) that Kornilov in fact meant to establish himself as a military dictator. Kornilov also earned the hatred of troops loyal to the Soviet with his support for the reinstatement of capital and corporal punishment within the Army.

Unfortunately for the coup plotters, Kornilov’s plans were an open secret, allowing the Provisional Government and Soviet to take measures to suppress it. Ivan Stenvock-Fermor, at the time a 19-year-old junior officer, noted that the coup preparations were widely known in Petrograd, giving the whole thing a distinctly amateurish feel: “… Conspiracy? But what kind of conspiracy was it? Once when I went to have lunch in one of the restaurants… all the people I met there were also discussing the details of the same conspiracy… This plot and the impending coup seemed to me very childish, and childish it was.”

Nonetheless the Kornilov Revolt threatened to galvanize conservative opposition to both the Soviet and the Provisional Government. Anton Denikin, commander of the southern sector of the Eastern Front, recorded Kornilov’s message to the Russian people after Kerensky tried to remove him from command, moving him to open revolt:

People of Russia. Our great Motherland is dying. Her end is near. Forced to speak openly, I, General Kornilov, declare that the Provisional Government, under pressure from the Bolshevik majority in the Soviets, is acting in complete accordance with the plans of the German General Staff and simultaneously with the landing of enemy troops near Riga, is killing the Army, and convulsing the country internally. The solemn certainty of the doom of our country drives me in these terrible times to call upon all Russians to save their dying native land… I, General Kornilov, son of a peasant Cossack, announce to all and everyone that I personally desire nothing save the preservation of our great Russia, and vow to lead the people, through victory over our enemies, to a Constituent Assembly, when they themselves will settle their fate and select the form of our new national life. I cannot betray Russia in the hands of her ancient enemy – the German race! – and make the Russian people German slaves… People of Russia, in your hands lies the life of your native land!

Faced with this apparent attempt at counter-revolution, Kerensky took the extreme – and extremely unwise – measure of arming radical forces loyal to the Soviet, including the Bolsheviks, who had already been building their own paramilitary force in the form of the Red Guards. He also submitted to the Soviet’s demand that the government release leading socialists imprisoned after the unsuccessful Bolshevik coup attempt in July, including Trotsky. Kornilov and his associates were imprisoned by socialist troops loyal to the Soviet, and dozens of officers suspected of supporting the counter-revolution were arrested.

Ever the opportunist, Kerensky then presented himself to the conservative elements of Russian society as the only force able to contain the looming Bolshevik menace. In the short term this move allowed Kerensky to make himself virtual dictator of Russia, while declaring the country a Republic as a fig leaf for this power grab – but in reality it spelled the end of his authority, as both left- and rightwing factions now distrusted him for what they viewed as serial betrayals. Bolshevik power was growing by leaps and bounds: by the end of September 1917 Lenin’s party had 400,000 members, up from 24,000 at the beginning of the year.

The days of the Provisional Government were clearly numbered. On September 13, 1917, the anonymous Englishman believed to be the diplomatic courier Albert Henry Stopford wrote in his diary:

As the Kornilov attempt to bring order has failed, I will tell you what I foresee now, for the cards are shuffled again. Kerenski is already in the hands of the Soviet. The Soviet now have virtually full power, and the Bolsheviki will become more daring and try to turn out the Government; then would come anarchy, with 70,000 workmen fully armed. With the Bolsheviki are all the criminal classes. The failure of Kornilov has completely knocked me over, yesterday I could not walk. I still foresee an ocean of blood before order comes.

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15 Facts About Franz Marc's Yellow Cow
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Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

To gaze upon German Expressionist Franz Marc's Yellow Cow is to take in a surreal and spirited painting, alive with color. But within its bold brush strokes and envelope-pushing aesthetic lies the unexpected story of a complicated love between two artists, and the path that led them together.

1. YELLOW COW IS WILDLY DIFFERENT FROM FRANZ MARC'S EARLY WORKS.

Philosophy student-turned-painter Franz Marc attended the Munich Academy of Art during the turn of the 20th century. There, he studied natural realism, striving to capture his subjects in portraits true to dimension, gesture, and color. In 1902, he created Portrait of the Artist's Mother, which immortalized homemaker and devout Calvinist Sophie Marc. Sitting in profile, she leans over a book, reading by the light of an unseen lantern. Though Marc would become known for his vibrant color choices, here he favored darker shades that gave the painting a flat appearance, and a somber mood.

2. YELLOW COW'S CREATION WAS INSPIRED BY GERMAN NUDISTS.

In the early 20th century, Germany was in the midst of a back-to-nature movement, which saw several new artist collectives and nudist colonies pop up around the country. This celebration of the glory of the land and its natural inhabitants spoke to Marc, who later explained, "People with their lack of piety, especially men, never touched my true feelings. But animals with their virginal sense of life awakened all that was good in me."

3. HE VIEWED ANIMALS AS GOD-LIKE CREATURES.

Like the naturalists, Marc came to value the rural wonders of the country. He abandoned the bustle and urban intellectualism of Munich, and sought the spirituality and peace he believed could be found in living simply, as animals do. He began to think of them as having a "god-like presence and power." In a 1908 letter, Marc attempted to detail how this belief was informing his work, writing, "I am trying to intensify my ability to sense the organic rhythm that beats in all things, to develop a pantheistic sympathy for the trembling flow of blood in nature, in trees, in animals, in air—I am trying to make a picture of it … with colors which make a mockery of the old kind of studio picture."

4. ANIMALS BECAME A SIGNATURE MOTIF FOR MARC.

This is an image of Dog Lying in the Snow by Franz Marc
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

By 1907, Marc was focusing his work on capturing the spiritualism found in animals. Other notable works in the vein include The Fox, Dog Lying In The Snow, The Little Blue Horses, The Red Bull, Little Monkey, Monkey Frieze, Wild Boars in the Water, and The Tiger.

5. YELLOW COW IS A VERY LARGE PAINTING.

Measuring 55 3/8 by 74 1/2 inches, it's nearly 5 by 6 feet wide.

6. MARC DEVELOPED HIS OWN COLOR SYMBOLISM.

This is an image of Self-portrait by August Macke.
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Colors would recur in Marc's work and speak to different emotions or themes. In 1910, he explained his use of color in a letter to friend and colleague, artist August Macke. Marc wrote, "Blue is the male principle, astringent and spiritual. Yellow is the female principle, gentle, gay, and spiritual. Red is matter, brutal and heavy and always the color to be opposed and overcome by the other two."

7. YELLOW COW MIGHT BE AN UNCONVENTIONAL WEDDING PORTRAIT.

Exploring the painter's works and statements on his use of color, art historian Mark Rosenthal declared that the frolicking cow is actually a veiled depiction of Marc's second wife Maria Franck, while the distant blue mountains are meant to represent the painter himself. Painted the same year the couple were married, it times out to potentially be representative of their nuptials. The blending of the blue into the cow's spots suggests the joining of masculine and feminine.

8. FRANCK WAS A RECURRING MUSE FOR HER LOVER.

In 1906, before they were married, Marc had sketched a more traditional portrait of his wife-to-be, titled simply Mädchenkopf, which translates—rather unsentimentally—to "girl's head." That same year, he captured Franck in the abstract painting Two Women on the Hillside. Later, he created Maria Franck in a White Cap.

9. MARC AND FRANCK HAD A COMPLICATED ROMANCE.

An artist in her own right, Franck met Marc at a costume ball in Schwabing, Germany. The pair hit it off, and also befriended illustrator Marie Schnür, resulting in a shared Bavarian summer of creativity (and rumored three-way trysts). Schnür was the other woman who modeled for Two Women on the Hillside, as well as the other woman captured in a NSFW photo from their formative season in the sun. Marc ended up marrying both women, starting with Schnür.

Theirs was a marriage of convenience, meant to aid her in securing custody of her bastard baby boy, whom she had with another man. Details on this marriage are scant beyond that it was brief, lasting from 1907 to 1908. However, because Schnür accused Marc of infidelity, he was barred from remarrying until a special dispensation was granted, which took years. So while Marc and Franck had tried to wed in 1911, their official "I do" didn't come until June 3, 1913, in Munich.

10. TWO WOMEN ON THE HILLSIDE WAS A SIGN OF MARC'S TRANSITION TO HIS SIGNATURE STYLE.

This is an image of Two Women on the Hillside by Franz Marc.
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Looking back on 1906's Two Women on the Hillside, it seems to foretell Yellow Cow. Depicting the two women who, in their own ways, would inspire Yellow Cow, Marc moved away from the German realist art he studied in college. Instead, looser brush strokes speak to Post-Impressionist interests, and the willful abstractness of its subjects predicts the evolving German expressionism movement of which he would become a part. It also shows repetition in the lines—of the woman's hip to the hill beyond—that would be revisited in Yellow Cow, whose haunches mirror the rise and fall of the mountains behind her.

11. YELLOW COW WAS A PART OF THE DER BLAUE REITER ART MOVEMENT.

Named for a Wassily Kandinsky painting, this movement boasted members like Kandinsky, Marc, Macke, Alexej von Jawlensky, Marianne von Werefkin, and Gabriele Münter. Der Blaue Reiter (translating to The Blue Rider) had no hard manifesto, but its members shared a common urge to express spiritualism through their work, and often specifically through color. Turned away from exhibitions, they toured with their own, and published an almanac that celebrated contemporary, primitive, and folk art, along with children's paintings.

12. DER BLAUE REITER WAS DEVASTATED BY WORLD WAR I.

The Blue Rider movement only lasted from 1911 to 1914, in large part because the tensions growing between nations chased Russian artists back to their homeland, while Germans, including Marc and Macke, were conscripted into military service. As these artistic colleagues scattered, their movement faded. But it proved fundamental to the evolving Expressionism, and its works would remain.

13. MARC DID NOT LIVE TO SEE HIS LEGACY SECURED.

Marc's animal paintings would go on to awe viewers for decades to come. They'd become coveted by collectors and museums. And a plaque would be placed on the Munich home where he was born, remembering him as a founder of Der Blaue Reiter. But Marc was killed on March 4, 1916, during the Battle of Verdun. He was 36 years old.

14. FRANCK SAW TO IT THAT HIS WORKS WOULD BE PRESERVED.

This is an image of art historian, Klaus Lankheit.
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Marc's widow gave records of his life and writing to German art historian Klaus Lankheit. She called on German writer/gallery owner Herwarth Walden to exhibit her late husband's works in a posthumous show in October of 1916. While continuing to create and exhibit her own work, she collected Marc's letters from the war's front, and in 1920 had them published in a two-volume book called Briefe, Aufzeichnungen und Aphorismen (translating to Letters, Records, and Aphorisms). According to the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, where a copy of each is preserved, "The first volume contains letters written from September 1914 to March 1916 as well as records alongside color plates, and the second presents the artist’s sketchbook." Franck preserved Marc's legacy in whatever way she could, and in doing so, gave him to the world.

15. YELLOW COW IS REMEMBERED AS A JOYFUL MASTERPIECE.

While it might not sound complimentary to compare your wife to a cow, the consensus on Yellow Cow is that it signifies the happiness and bliss Marc's bond with Franck brought to his life. The bovine's bright colors are jubilant and yet the colors of her body jibe with those in her environment. She belongs here. Her pose is enthusiastic and bold—almost dance-like. If you look closely, you can even see a small smile play across her lips. It's an unusual love letter, but one that's outlived its lovers, and now hangs on the walls of the Guggenheim in New York City, to inspire many more.

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