Monday

2025 19th C Realism, Daumier and Courbet

 

 

Gustave Courbet came from a wealthy family. His father was a landowner and wanted him to study law and become either a lawyer or a scholar. He sent Courbet to law school, but Courbet hated it. He told his father that he didn’t want to continue. His father agreed to support him anyway, saying that if Courbet failed, it would be on his own terms. So Courbet’s father paid for teachers and helped him move to Paris to become a painter.

By then, it was too late for Courbet to get into the École des Beaux-Arts, the main official art school in Paris. He started working on his own. His father paid for his studio and helped him show his work in galleries. This was unusual at the time, since Courbet was basically promoting himself with his family’s money.

If you would like access to the complete essay, quizzes, study guides and other videos, please visit my Udemy course. 

https://www.udemy.com/course/art-history-survey-1300-to-contemporary/?referralCode=251FBD782FEC91A50EB1 

 

One of Courbet’s most famous paintings has been lost. It was likely destroyed during World War II bombings. Only photographs of it remain, but it is well-documented. You can still see what it looked like through those prints. Courbet made other paintings in a similar style, and some of them are still around.

One thing about his paintings is the surface texture. He often used a method called impasto—a way of applying thick paint to the canvas. Courbet sometimes used a palette knife, like a flat butter knife, to spread the paint. This gave the painting a rough surface.

 

That roughness became a recognizable part of his work. It’s connected to the idea of showing the roughness of everyday life. Courbet’s painting style is similar to some social realist artists. The painting uses earth tones, like brown and dark yellow. Some of the colors are like those used by Diego Velázquez. The figures in the painting are arranged like actors on a stage, with a dark background that makes them stand out. It looks like a staged scene, with the foreground tilted slightly, almost like a platform.

Now let’s talk about what Courbet might be saying with this painting. Even though Courbet came from a rich background, he often painted poor laborers. The scene probably shows something he could have seen on his father’s land. In the painting, one person is clearly too young to be doing hard labor. He’s carrying a basket of rocks. Another figure is much older than you’d expect for that kind of work. They are breaking stones, probably for clearing farmland or making roads.

You can’t see their faces, which makes them feel anonymous. They represent the working poor—people who are often ignored. Courbet might be showing how hard their lives were.

This relates to something I noticed when judging a high school art show. Students from wealthy areas had taken photos of homeless people, trying to make them look dramatic or emotional. But it seemed like the students didn’t really understand the lives of the people they were photographing. Courbet may have been doing something similar. He came from wealth but painted scenes of poverty. That doesn’t mean his art isn’t meaningful—it just raises questions about how artists represent people with less power or privilege.

Courbet’s use of rough textures and muted colors supports the subject matter. This painting is called realist because it tries to show life as it really is.


 

A lot of what’s happening in Courbet’s work connects to the literature being written in the nineteenth century, especially when he was painting. For example, Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables includes scenes showing people from the lower class who are poor and mistreated. The main character, Jean Valjean, is chased by a policeman for years because he once stole a loaf of bread to feed a child.

Other writers during this time also focused on realism. Émile Zola and Gustave Flaubert are two of them. Flaubert, especially in his novel Madame Bovary and in a short story called A Simple Heart, tells stories in a direct, plain style. A Simple Heart is about a servant woman and how she sees the world. It’s around 30 to 40 pages long and easy to read. The story shows her life in a very straightforward way. Depending on how you look at it, she can seem like a kind, sympathetic person or like someone who doesn’t fully understand what’s happening around her. Some readers may feel sorry for her; others might not take her seriously.

Courbet’s paintings often have a similar feeling. One of his major works, A Burial at Ornans, shows poor people from the countryside attending a funeral. The painting is large—about 58 by 58 inches. In the center is a grave. The way the scene is arranged makes it look like a stage, with all the figures lined up like actors.

The crowd includes a variety of people. On the left, there are lawyers wearing red robes. There’s a priest present too. If you look closely, the people’s faces look rough and weathered. They don’t appear idealized or polished. A cross stands tall in the background.

Some teachers have pointed out that the cross could be a symbol of hope for these people—like the cross in Théodore Géricault’s Raft of the Medusa. In that painting, the mast looks like a cross. Here, too, the cross might represent how these people see faith as a way to find meaning. That connects with the character in A Simple Heart—someone whose simple belief gives them a sense of purpose.

Courbet may have felt sympathy for the lower class, but it’s possible he also questioned religion. He could be showing how religion works as a way to keep people calm and controlled, similar to the idea suggested by Karl Marx—that religion is used to manage and influence the working class.

At the same time, another viewpoint exists. A preacher from an inner-city church once said that religion isn’t the real opiate of the masses—drugs are. That perspective suggests that what truly distracts or numbs people is substance use, not faith.

This painting uses rough textures and local colors to show the difficult lives of these people. It’s meant to highlight their everyday experiences through the techniques and materials Courbet chose.

Something else was happening in the nineteenth century that Courbet was likely reacting to. A cartoon and painting on the right help show what he was pushing back against.

In earlier lectures, we talked about how the academic art tradition was established. It started before Jacques-Louis David, but the official academic style focused on classicism and orientalism. These styles often used historical or exotic themes, but many people believed they were just excuses to show off idealized nude figures. In some cases, these artworks were seen as tools for promoting political control.

In one cartoon by Honoré Daumier, this idea is made clear. It shows middle-class women walking through the Salon, which was the official yearly art show for accepted academic works. Above them are paintings of nude women, and the women in the cartoon throw up their hands and say something like, “Venuses again this year.” The joke is that even though the figures are clearly just naked women, they’re labeled as Venus, the Roman goddess of love, to make the artworks seem respectable. People could look at them because they were presented as “classical” art.

 

This shows that critics at the time were aware that the academic art world was not really focused on high ideals anymore. Instead, it was repeating old themes that some people thought were being used for inappropriate or shallow reasons.

There was also a larger conflict happening between the romantics and bohemians—who wanted change—and the official academic art world, which was supported by the government, including King Louis-Philippe. The academic school kept promoting classical traditions that had been in place for over a hundred years.

On the other side, the romantics were starting to shift toward realism, which we see in the work of Courbet. These artists and writers wanted to show real life and social problems. Some poets like Charles Baudelaire were also part of this movement, trying to push for change in society through their work.

This is the context behind some of the changes in art at the time.

If you would like access to the complete essay, quizzes, study guides and other videos, please visit my Udemy course. 

https://www.udemy.com/course/art-history-survey-1300-to-contemporary/?referralCode=251FBD782FEC91A50EB1 

 

Saturday

Reflections on Versailles

Versailles made me think.  It had everything I teach in my survey classes, but, I was surprised by my feelings that it's a bit of a shell.  
Of course I was overwhelmed by the experience but what I also noticed that it felt kind of like a looted site. 

Like the Coliseum and even the School of Athens, there's vandalism.  If you look closely at the windows in the Hall of Mirrors, people over the centuries have etched their names into the glass.
At Assisi, the Vatican, the Doumo of Florence they all had tourists' impotent scratching of their names and dates into the softer vulnerable almost inconspicuous parts of the monuments.
 A little bit like the Coliseum.   The bones are all there, and some of the furniture and freestanding stuff is there, but mostly it felt like walking through an old mansion or house that the occupants had moved out of.  
The walls are still painted and a lot of the fixtures and ornaments are still intact, especially the super big unmovable bulky paintings of Napoleon, everything else has been stolen moved out.  The house is in repair and some things have been replaced with lower quality stuff.
For example, the floors and chandeliers in the Hall of Mirrors and the bronze sculptures in the gardens are all newer replacements, although to be fair, the garden sculptures are 19th century. 

Wednesday

How my Portfolio of Older Work relates to What I'm Doing Now

This portfolio brings together selected earlier works that relate to concerns I am now returning to in a new body of work. These paintings and studies reflect my long engagement with the figure, masculinity, self-presentation, vulnerability, and the expressive possibilities of paint.


I’m currently developing a new project that builds on some of the formal and symbolic content in these older works while moving in a more personal and expanded direction. That newer work draws on self-portraiture, aging, memory, embodiment, and the emotional and cultural meanings carried by the male figure.


What connects these pieces to the current project is not just subject matter, but structure and method: direct figuration, visible brushwork, distortion, cropped compositions, physical presence, and an interest in how identity can be conveyed through posture, flesh, scale, and paint handling. Some of these older works also contain symbolic or archetypal elements that continue to matter to me as I think through the newer paintings.
I see this portfolio as background and foundation: a record of earlier work that helps clarify where the new body of work is coming from and what it is beginning to become.

















 

Vincent van Gogh

 Following up on my earlier post.  When I was in high school I read the gigantic book by Irving Stone called "Lust for Life," and was constantly lookin


g him up, reading stuff, and even writing short stories.  

 


When I finally got to see the Kirk Douglas flick based on the book, my fate was sealed.  All through college, my roommate, Davis, and I quoted the movie to each other.


It's funny how his miserable tough life was somehow something to aspire to.



Tuesday

Giotto, the Scrovegni (Arena) Chapel in Padua

Yesterday evening I went to the Arena Chapel in Padua and finally got to see the frescoes by Giotto in person. I’ve been teaching this material for around 35 years, so it was a big deal for me. It was exciting in the obvious art historical way, but it also hit me on a more personal level.
I booked an evening slot, around 7:20. That turned out to be a good choice because the chapel was very well lit and the whole experience felt a bit calmer. The visit is tightly controlled. Before you enter the actual chapel, they put you in a sort of glass airlock with about 20 other people and show a 15-minute overview video while everyone sits in comfortable chairs. At first, the arrogant part of me was thinking, “I know all this already. Grumble, grumble.” But I didn’t. Not really.
The video was excellent. It included a lot of additional information and some very high-resolution images of the frescoes, including close telescopic details that you would never really get on your own while standing in the chapel. It was genuinely worth it.
Once you get inside, you only have 20 minutes in the chapel itself, and you view it from a raised carpeted platform. That sounds brief, and it is, but it was still enough to really get to me, both emotionally and intellectually.
What struck me most was how complete, saturated, and colorful the frescoes are. Reproductions don’t really prepare you for that. I was also able to take some close-up shots of details that are harder to find, especially Hell and the Virtues and Vices.
My photos are of mixed quality, but the experience itself was not. It was one of those moments where something I’ve taught for decades suddenly felt fresh again.
If you want to learn more about Giotto and the Arena Chapel, I do a deep dive into it in my online art history courses.

I’ll probably end up remaking and rewriting some of those videos and texts when I get back to the USA, assuming all this still feels as vivid in a month or so.

Feel free to use, distribute or publish these images without having to credit me.  It drives me nuts that it's so hard to get copyright free images.