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Cezanne, The Father of Cubism
Context: According to art critic Robert Hughes,
Vincent Van Gogh Van Gogh's work and the details of his biography are so linked to his paintings iconography that it would be almost impossible to discuss Van Gogh without a brief overview of his life. The following is an excerpt from the Encyclopedia Brittanica.
oil on canvas 28x36" Metropolitan New York
Form: The texture of this painting is fairly rough because Van Gogh used thick impastos of paint. Van Gogh also used straight umodulated out of the tube colors. The dominant colors here are primary tones. Van Gogh rendered most of the forms using outlines and contour lines and did not rely on value or chiaroscuro to define or describe his subjects. In a way, this is more of a drawing with paint than a painting. The brushstrokes in the sky are designed in sweeping large curvilinearcounterbalancing strokes. Van Gogh's application of short dashes of colour one next to another is a demonstration of impressionist style optical mixing. This is demonstrated especially in how he applied the blues of the sky. The composition is asymmetrical. The large cyprus tree in the foreground dominates the image and its shape is echoed by the church's steeple in the background.
Iconography: This was painted while Van Gogh was locked up in an asylum in Saint-Remy, France. It was, of necessity, painted from memory unlike most of the rest of his work, which was painted either outdoors or as a still life.
The dominant elements in this painting are the sky, the stars in it, and the cypress tree in the foreground. The fact that the sky is like a sea in motion could be read in any number of ways: as a clue as to the turbulence of Van Gogh's state of mind and or possibly an illustration of the unknown forces that move the universe. The moon seems to radiate energy, but it does not appear friendly, or gentle, as one would imagine moonbeams to be. Instead it imitates the radiating waves one would find when a stone is dropped in a pond, disruptive.
The cypress tree in the foreground were often used as gravemarkers and were planted as memorials over graves. In my interpretation, (Mencher's) the large tree in the foreground seems to connect the earth and the sky in a way that the steeple in the background cannot hope to. This may possibly be Van Gogh's own ideas of the role of man in the world versus the role of nature in God's plan. This idea being very similar to St. Augustine's ideas concerning the "City of Man and the City of God." This is similar to Masaccio's interpretation in his painting The Tribute Money.
Context: Van Gogh was extremely religious in his early years, before he took up painting as an avocation. There is speculation that there is significance to the fact that there are eleven stars in the sky, taken from the Old Testament in the bible; the story of Joseph, " 'Look, I have had another dream,' he said, ' I thought I saw the sun, the moon and eleven stars bowing to me,' " Genesis 37:10
Seurat, The King of the Dot
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Cezanne, The Father of Cubism
Paul Cezanne, Still Life with Peppermint Bottle 1890-1894 Oil on canvas 25 5/8 x 31 7/8 in National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C Paul Cezanne, The Basket of Apples, 1895 Oil on canvas 65 x 80 cm Art Institute Chicago |
Form: According to art critic Robert Hughes;
Cezanne admired the Impressionists, especially Pissarro and Renoir, and derived inspiration from them; it is hardly possible to imagine his landscapes of the 1870s without their quantum of Impressionist freshness. But the whole thrust of his work is about something other than the delight in the fleeting moment, the "effect" of light, color and atmosphere, to which Impressionism was dedicated. Underneath the delectable surface was structure, like reefs and rocks beneath a smiling sea, and that was what Cezanne sought and obsessively analyzed--the bones and masses of the world. His famous remark about seeking in nature "the cylinder, the sphere, the cone" need not be taken literally--he was never a geometric painter, still less an abstract one, though later abstractionists would build on his work. And yet his greatest paintings bear abstract constructions of tremendous amplitude and sureness. Early Cezanne the stumblebum turned into one of the finest manipulators of paint who has ever lived. Perhaps manipulator is the wrong word--it suggests trickery, whereas in Cezanne the relation between the paint surface and the imagined surface of the object (a rock, the side of a house, an apple) is astonishingly direct and candid. This doesn't come across in reproduction. It rises from the paint itself, that discreet paste in which every trace left by the brush seems to help create the impression of solidity, so that you feel you could pick the apple--which is both a rosy sphere of light and a ball as heavy as plutonium--off the table. And yet the surface is never closed, never overdetermined; that is part of the magic. Modernism's patriarch. by Robert Hughes, Time, 6/10/96, Vol. 147 Issue 24, p72, 4p, 7c CEZANNE, Paul -- Exhibitions; ART museums -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia Iconography: Cezannes' still life works were the beginning of cubism. They are often credited with inspiring Artists like Picasso and Braque to go further with the ideas that Cezanne had already laid out. When one looks at these still life's', one is inclined to say that Cezanne could not draw accurately. The left side of the table does not meet up with the right, the wine bottle is misshapen, and the fruit looks like it is in danger of rolling off the tilted tabletop. But, according to Stokstad, it wasn't that he couldn't draw, it was Cezanne showing 'willful disregard for the rules of traditional scientific perspective.' They say that he is merely observing the still life from many different angles and attempting to incorporate them all into a cohesive whole. As Cezanne would say, " Something other than realty-a construction after nature.' |
"The greater the artist the greater the doubt; perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize. "As a painter, I become more lucid in front of Nature," Paul Cezanne wrote to his son in 1906, the last year of his life. "But that realization of my sensations is always very painful. I cannot attain the intensity which unfolds to my senses. I don't have that magnificent richness of coloration which animates nature." As Picasso famously said, it's Cezannes anxiety that is so interesting. But not only the anxiety. There are anxious mediocrity's too. It's the achievement that counts. If Cezanne was not a heroic painter, the word means nothing. This was evident to some of his friends and contemporaries, such as Emile Zola. They saw, as later generations have seen, that his painting was also a moral struggle, in which the search for identity fused with the desire to make the strongest possible images of the Other--Nature--under the continuous inspiration and admonishment of an art tradition that he revered. He compared himself, not quite jokingly, to Moses: "I work doggedly, I glimpse the promised land. Will I be like the great Hebrew leader, or will I be able to enter it? "He was indeed the Moses of late 19th century art, the conflicted, inspired, sometimes enraged patriarch who led painting toward Modernism--a deceptive Canaan sometimes, not always flowing with milk and honey, but radically new territory all the same. The essential point, however, is that just as Moses died before reaching Canaan, so Cezanne never lived to see Modernism take hold--and he might not have liked what he saw, had he lived. It used to be one of the standard tropes of art history that Cezanne "begat" Cubism, and it is a fact that no serious painter since 1890 has been able to work without reckoning with Cezanne. But the idea that Cubism completed what Cezanne began is an illusion. It may be that Cezanne was reaching for a kind of expression in painting that did not exist in his time and still does not in ours. Instead of theory, he had "sensation," the experience of being up against the world--fugitive and yet painfully solid, imperious in its thereness and constantly, unrelentingly new. There was painting before Cezanne and painting after him, and they were not the same. But Cezanne's own painting matters more than its consequences. Inevitably, this deep innovator claimed he invented nothing. "In my opinion one doesn't replace the past, one adds a new link to it." Yes and no. Modernism's patriarch. by Robert Hughes, Time, 6/10/96, Vol. 147 Issue 24, p72, 4p, 7c CEZANNE, Paul -- Exhibitions; ART museums -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
Vincent Van Gogh Van Gogh's work and the details of his biography are so linked to his paintings iconography that it would be almost impossible to discuss Van Gogh without a brief overview of his life. The following is an excerpt from the Encyclopedia Brittanica.
Vincent Van Gogh, The Starry Night, 1889Early life
Van Gogh, the eldest of six children of a Protestant pastor, was born and reared in a small village in the Brabant region of southern Netherlands. His early years in his father's parsonage were happy, and he loved wandering in the countryside. At 16 he was apprenticed to The Hague branch of the art dealers Goupil and Co., of which his uncle was a partner. Van Gogh's working life can be roughly divided into two periods. The first, from 1873 to 1885, during which he wrestled with temperamental difficulties and sought his true means of self-expression, was a period of repeated apprenticeships, failures, and changes of direction. The second, from 1886 to 1890, was a period of dedication, rapid development, and fulfillment, until it was interrupted by a series of mental crises from 1889 onward.
He worked for Goupil in London from 1873 to May 1875 and in Paris from then until April 1876. Daily contact with works of art aroused van Gogh's artistic sensibility, and he soon formed a taste for Rembrandt, Frans Hals, and other Dutch masters, although his preference was for two contemporary French painters, Jean-François Millet and Camille Corot, whose influence was to last throughout his life. Van Gogh disliked art dealing. Moreover, his approach to life darkened when his love was rejected by a London girl in 1874. His burning desire for human affection thwarted, he became and remained increasingly solitary. He became a language teacher and lay preacher in England and, in 1877, worked for a bookseller in Dordrecht. Impelled by a longing to give himself to his fellowmen, he envisaged entering the ministry and took up theology but abandoned this project for short-term training as an evangelist in Brussels in 1878. A conflict with authority ensued when he disputed the orthodox doctrinal approach. Failing to get an appointment after three months, he left to do missionary work among the impoverished population of the Borinage, a coal-mining region in southwestern Belgium. There, in the winter of 1879-80, he experienced the first great spiritual crisis of his life. He was sharing the life of the poor completely but in an impassioned moment gave away all his worldly goods and was thereupon dismissed for a too-literal interpretation of Christian teaching.
Penniless and with his faith destroyed, he sank into despair, cut himself off from everyone, and began seriously to draw, thereby discovering in 1880 his true vocation. Van Gogh decided that his mission from then on would be to bring consolation to humanity through art, and this realization of his creative powers restored his self-confidence.
The productive decade
His artistic career was extremely short, lasting only the 10 years from 1880 to 1890. During the first four years of this period, while acquiring technical proficiency, he confined himself almost entirely to drawings and watercolours. First, he went to study drawing at the Brussels Academy; in 1881 he moved to his father's parsonage at Etten, Neth., and began to work from nature.
Van Gogh worked hard and methodically but soon perceived the difficulty of self-training and sought the guidance of more experienced artists. Late in 1881 he settled at The Hague to work with a Dutch landscape painter, Anton Mauve. He visited museums and met with other painters. Van Gogh thus extended his technical knowledge and experimented in the summer of 1882 with oil paint. In 1883 the urge to be "alone with nature" and the peasants took him to Drenthe, a desolate part of northern Netherlands frequented by Mauve and other Dutch artists, where he spent three months before returning home, which was now at Nuenen, another village in the Brabant. He remained at Nuenen during most of 1884 and 1885, and during these years his art grew bolder and more assured. He painted three types of subjects--still life, landscape, and figure--all interrelated by their reference to the peasants' daily life, to the hardships they endured, and to the countryside they cultivated. Émile Zola's Germinal (1885), a novel about the coal-mining region of France, greatly impressed van Gogh, and sociological criticism is implicit in many of his pictures--e.g., "Weavers" and "The Potato Eaters." Eventually he felt too isolated in Nuenen.
His understanding of the possibilities of painting was evolving rapidly; from studying Hals he saw that academic finish destroys the freshness of a visual impression, while the works of Paolo Veronese and Eugène Delacroix taught him that colour expresses something by itself. This led to enthusiasm for Peter Paul Rubens and a sudden departure for Antwerp, where the greatest number of Rubens' works could be seen. The revelation of Rubens' simple means, of his direct notation, and of his ability to express a mood by a combination of colours proved decisive. Simultaneously, van Gogh discovered Japanese prints and Impressionist painting. His refusal to follow academic principles led to disputes at the Antwerp academy, where he was enrolled, and after three months he left precipitately in 1886 to join his brother Theo in Paris. There, still concerned with improving his drawing, van Gogh met Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Paul Gauguin, and others who were to play historic roles in modern art. They opened his eyes to the latest developments in French painting. At the same time, Theo introduced him to Camille Pissarro, Georges Seurat, and other artists of the group.
By this time van Gogh was ready for such revelations, and the changes that his painting underwent in Paris between the spring of 1886 and February 1888 led to the creation of his personal idiom and style of brushwork. His palette at last became colourful, his vision less traditional, and his tonalities lighter, as may be seen in his first paintings of Montmartre. By the summer of 1887 he was painting in pure colours and using a broken brushwork that is at times pointillistic. Finally, van Gogh's Postimpressionist style crystallized by the beginning of 1888 in masterpieces such as "Portrait of Père Tanguy" and "Self-Portrait in Front of an Easel," as well as in some landscapes of the Parisian suburbs.
After two years van Gogh was tired of city life, physically exhausted, and longing "to look at nature under a brighter sky." His passion was now for "a full effect of colour." He left Paris in February 1888 for Arles, in the southeast of France.
In his pictures of the following 12 months--his first great period--he strove to respect the external, visual aspect of a figure or landscape but found himself unable to suppress his own feelings about the subject. These found expression in emphatic contours and heightened effects of colour. Van Gogh's pictorial style was not calculated, however, but spontaneous and instinctive, for he worked with great speed and intensity, determined to capture an effect or a mood while it possessed him. His Arles subjects include blossoming fruit trees, views of the town and surroundings, self-portraits, portraits of Roulin the postman and other friends, interiors and exteriors of the house, a series of sunflowers, and a "starry night."
Van Gogh knew that his approach to painting was individualistic, but he also knew that some tasks are beyond the power of isolated individuals to accomplish. In Paris he had hoped to form a separate Impressionist group with Gauguin, Toulouse-Lautrec, and others whom he supposed to have similar aims. He rented and decorated a house in Arles with the intention of persuading them to join him and found a working community of "Impressionists of the South." Gauguin arrived in October 1888, and for two months they worked together; but, while each influenced the other to some extent, their relations rapidly deteriorated because they had opposing ideas and were temperamentally incompatible.
On Christmas Eve 1888, van Gogh broke under the strain and cut off part of his left ear. Gauguin left, and van Gogh was taken to a hospital. He returned to the "yellow house" a fortnight later and resumed painting, producing a mirror-image "Self-Portrait with Pipe and Bandaged Ear," several still lifes, and "La Berceuse." Several weeks later, he again showed symptoms of mental disturbance severe enough to cause him to be sent back to the hospital. At the end of April 1889, fearful of losing his renewed capacity for work, which he regarded as a guarantee of his sanity, he asked to be temporarily shut up in the asylum at Saint-Rémy-de-Provence in order to be under medical supervision.
Van Gogh stayed there for 12 months, haunted by recurrent attacks, alternating between moods of calm and despair, and working intermittently: "Garden of the Asylum," "Cypresses," "Olive Trees," "Les Alpilles," portraits of doctors, and interpretations of paintings by Rembrandt, Delacroix, and Millet all date from this period. The keynote of this phase (1889-90) is fear of losing touch with reality and a certain sadness. Confined for long periods to his cell or the asylum garden, having no choice of subjects, and realizing that his inspiration depended on direct observation, van Gogh fought against having to work from memory. At Saint-Rémy he muted the violent colours of the previous summer and tried to make his painting calmer. As he repressed his excitement, however, he involved himself more imaginatively in the drama of the elements, developing a style based on dynamic forms and a vigorous use of line (line often equated with colour). The best of his Saint-Rémy pictures are thus bolder and more visionary than those of Arles.
Van Gogh himself brought this period to an end. Oppressed by homesickness--he painted souvenirs of Holland--and loneliness, he longed to see Theo and the north once more and arrived in Paris in May 1890. Four days later he went to stay with a homeopathic doctor-artist, Paul-Ferdinand Gachet, a friend of Camille Pissarro and Paul Cézanne, at Auvers-sur-Oise. Back in a village community such as he had not known since Nuenen, four years earlier, van Gogh worked at first enthusiastically; and his choice of subjects such as fields of corn, the river valley, peasants' cottages, the church, and the town hall reflects his spiritual relief. A modification of his style follows: the natural forms in his paintings are less contorted, and in the northern light he adopted pale, fresh tonalities. His brushwork is broader and more expressive and his vision of nature more lyrical. Everything in his pictures seems to be moving, living. This phase was short, however, and ended in quarrels with Gachet and feelings of guilt at his inescapable dependence on Theo (now married and with a son) and his inability to succeed. In despair of ever overcoming his loneliness or of being cured, he shot himself and died two days later. Coincidentally, Theo died six months later (Jan. 25, 1891) of chronic nephritis.
oil on canvas 28x36" Metropolitan New York
Form: The texture of this painting is fairly rough because Van Gogh used thick impastos of paint. Van Gogh also used straight umodulated out of the tube colors. The dominant colors here are primary tones. Van Gogh rendered most of the forms using outlines and contour lines and did not rely on value or chiaroscuro to define or describe his subjects. In a way, this is more of a drawing with paint than a painting. The brushstrokes in the sky are designed in sweeping large curvilinearcounterbalancing strokes. Van Gogh's application of short dashes of colour one next to another is a demonstration of impressionist style optical mixing. This is demonstrated especially in how he applied the blues of the sky. The composition is asymmetrical. The large cyprus tree in the foreground dominates the image and its shape is echoed by the church's steeple in the background.
Iconography: This was painted while Van Gogh was locked up in an asylum in Saint-Remy, France. It was, of necessity, painted from memory unlike most of the rest of his work, which was painted either outdoors or as a still life.
The dominant elements in this painting are the sky, the stars in it, and the cypress tree in the foreground. The fact that the sky is like a sea in motion could be read in any number of ways: as a clue as to the turbulence of Van Gogh's state of mind and or possibly an illustration of the unknown forces that move the universe. The moon seems to radiate energy, but it does not appear friendly, or gentle, as one would imagine moonbeams to be. Instead it imitates the radiating waves one would find when a stone is dropped in a pond, disruptive.
The cypress tree in the foreground were often used as gravemarkers and were planted as memorials over graves. In my interpretation, (Mencher's) the large tree in the foreground seems to connect the earth and the sky in a way that the steeple in the background cannot hope to. This may possibly be Van Gogh's own ideas of the role of man in the world versus the role of nature in God's plan. This idea being very similar to St. Augustine's ideas concerning the "City of Man and the City of God." This is similar to Masaccio's interpretation in his painting The Tribute Money.
Context: Van Gogh was extremely religious in his early years, before he took up painting as an avocation. There is speculation that there is significance to the fact that there are eleven stars in the sky, taken from the Old Testament in the bible; the story of Joseph, " 'Look, I have had another dream,' he said, ' I thought I saw the sun, the moon and eleven stars bowing to me,' " Genesis 37:10
Iconography: As in the "Starry Sky" the formal elements may be an expression of Vincent's internal world. This painting was done in Vincent's own room in Arles. Note the cramped composition, the disproportion of the bed, the saturation of colors, and the odd angle of the paintings hanging over the bed. This, while done from life, does not accurately represent an external reality, it seems to represent his own 'internal' reality. Van Gogh was taken care of by his older brother Theo. As a result, he was allowed a certain amount of self-pity and malaise that other men his age and bearing could not afford to indulge themselves in. Theo sent him to Arles to 'rest', and Van Gogh was in a state of poverty and under-nourishment while living there, as well as hallucinations and acute depression. This resulting painting, nervous and cramped appearing as it is, is an accurate reflection on how he felt at the time, like the walls were pressing in on him, and all he could do was sleep. Like the religious fervor he had embraced earlier in life, Van Gogh became as equally obsessed with painting once he had decided it was his true calling, and felt that he must put on canvas the myriad demons within his own troubled mind.
Context: According to www.vangoghgallery.com,
" Vincent's Bedroom in Arles is one of the artist's best known paintings. The striking colours, unusual perspective and familiar subject matter create a work that is not only among Van Gogh's most popular, but also one that he himself held as one of his own personal favourites.. because Van Gogh was so pleased with the painting he described it at great length in letters to his family. In fact, Vincent describes this painting in no less than thirteen letters and, as a result, a great deal is known about the artist's own feelings about the work. In a letter to his brother, Theo, Vincent wrote:
' My eyes are still tired by then I had a new idea in my head and here is the sketch of it.
Another size 30 canvas. This time it's just simply my bedroom, only here colour is to do
everything, and giving by its simplification a grander style to things, is to be suggestive here
of rest or of sleep in general. In a word, looking at the picture ought to rest the brain, or rather
the imagination. The walls are pale violet. The floor is of red tiles. The wood of the bed
and chairs is the yellow of fresh butter, the sheets and pillows very light greenish-citron.
The coverlet scarlet. The window green. The toilet table orange, the basin blue.
The doors lilac. And that is all--there is nothing in this room with its closed shutters.
The broad lines of the furniture again must express inviolable rest. Portraits on the walls, and
a mirror and a towel and some clothes.
The frame--as there is no white in the picture--will be white.
This by way of revenge for the enforced rest I was obliged to take.
I shall work on it again all day, but you see how simple the conception is. The shadows and
the cast shadows are suppressed; it is painted in free flat tints like the Japanese prints. It is
going to be a contrast to, for instance, the Tarascon diligence and the night café.'
Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)
Lyrics and Music by Don McLean
Starry, starry night Paint your palette blue and gray Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and daffodils Catch the breeze and winter chills In colors on the snowy linen land Now I understand What you tried to say to me And how you suffered for your sanity And how you tried to set them free They would not listen, they did not know how Perhaps they'll listen now Starry, starry night Flaming flowers that brightly blaze Swirling clouds in violet haze Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue Colors changing hue Morning fields of amber grain Weathered faces lined in pain Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand Now I understand What you tried to say to me They did not listen, they did not know how Perhaps they'll listen now Starry, starry night For they could not love you But still your love was true And when no hope was left inside On that starry, starry night You took your life as lovers often do But I could have told you Vincent This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you Starry, starry night Portraits hung in empty halls Frameless heads on nameless walls With eyes that watch the world and can't forget Like the strangers that you've met The ragged men in ragged clothes The silver thorn of bloody rose Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow Now I think I know What you tried to say to me How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free They did not listen they're not listening still Perhaps they never will... |
asym.met.ri.cal or asym.met.ric adj [Gk asymmetria lack of proportion, fr. asymmetros ill-proportioned, fr. a- + symmetros symmetrical] (1690) 1: not symmetrical 2 usu asymmetric, of a carbon atom: bonded to four different atoms or groups -- asym.met.ri.cal.ly adv -- asym.me.try n ¹coun.ter.bal.ance n (1611) 1: a weight that balances another 2: a force or influence that offsets or checks an opposing force ²counterbalance vt (1611) 1: to oppose or balance with an equal weight or force 2: to equip with counterbalances
cur.vi.lin.ear adj [L curvus + linea line] (1710) 1: consisting of or bounded by curved lines: represented by a curved line 2: marked by flowing tracery <~ Gothic> -- cur.vi.lin.ear.i.ty n
Gauguin
from Encyclopædia Britannica "Gauguin," (Eugène-Henri-)
Paul
Early years. Gauguin was the son of a journalist from Orléans and of a mother who was half French and half Peruvian Creole. After Napoleon III's coup d'état, the Gauguin family moved in 1851 to Lima, and four years later Paul and his mother returned to Orléans. At the age of 17 he went to sea and for six years sailed about the world in freighters or men-of-war. In 1871 he joined the stockbroking firm of Bertin in Paris and in 1873 married a young Danish woman, Mette Sophie Gad. His artistic leanings were first aroused by his guardian, Gustave Arosa, whose collection included pictures by Camille Corot, Eugène Delacroix, and Jean-François Millet, and by a fellow stockbroker, Émile Schuffenecker, with whom he started painting. Gauguin soon started going to a studio to draw from a model and receive artistic instruction. In 1876 his "Landscape at Viroflay" was accepted for the official annual exhibition, the Salon. He developed a taste for Impressionist painting and between 1876 and 1881 assembled an impressive group of paintings by Édouard Manet, Paul Cézanne, Camille Pissarro, Claude Monet, and Johan Barthold Jongkind. Gauguin met Pissarro in 1875-76 and began to work with him, struggling to master the techniques of drawing and painting. In 1880 he was invited to contribute to the fifth Impressionist exhibition, and this invitation was repeated in 1881 and 1882. He spent holidays painting with Pissarro and Cézanne and made visible progress, though his early works are often marred by clumsiness and have drab colouring. Gauguin thus became more and more absorbed by painting, and, in 1883, when the Paris stock exchange crashed and he lost his job, he decided "to paint every day." This was a decision that changed the course of his whole life. He had a wife and four children, but he had no income and no one would buy his paintings. In 1884 Gauguin and his family moved to Copenhagen, where his wife's parents proved unsympathetic, and his marriage broke up. He returned to Paris in 1885, determined to sacrifice everything for his artistic vocation. From then on he lived in penury and discomfort, his health was undermined by hardship, he became an outcast from the society to which he had belonged and could never establish himself in any other, and he came to despise Europe and civilization. In 1886 the expressive possibilities of colour were revealed to him in the pictures of Georges Seurat and Paul Signac, and he began to occupy himself with this aspect of painting at Pont-Aven, Brittany. Gauguin then had two decisive experiences: a meeting with van Gogh in Paris (1886) and a journey to Martinique (1887). The one brought him into contact with a passionate personality who had similar pictorial ideas and tried to involve him in working them out communally; this attempt came to a disastrous end after a few weeks at Arles in 1888. The other enabled Gauguin to discover for himself the brilliant colouring and sensuous delights of a tropical landscape and to experience the charm of a primitive community living the "natural" life. Gauguin decided to seek through painting an emotional release, in consequence of which he reacted against Impressionism. The key to his artistic attitude from 1888 on is to be found in these significant phrases: Primitive art proceeds from the spirit and makes use of nature. The so-called refined art proceeds from sensuality and serves nature. Nature is the servant of the former and the mistress of the latter. She demeans man's spirit by allowing him to adore her. That is the way by which we have tumbled into the abominable error of naturalism.Break with Impressionism. Gauguin therefore set out to redeem this error by "a reasoned and frank return to the beginning, that is to say to primitive art." A possible method for arriving at a new form of pictorial representation was suggested to him by Émile Bernard, a young artist well acquainted with stained glass, manuscripts, and folk art. He pointed out that in these arts reality was generally depicted in nonimitative terms and that the pictorial image was made up of areas of pure colour separated by heavy black outlines. Such was the origin of the style known as Cloisonnism, or Synthetism, which attained its most expressive possibilities in such paintings by Gauguin as "The Vision After the Sermon" , "Bonjour Monsieur Gauguin!," and "The Yellow Christ" (1889).
When Gauguin broke with his Impressionistic past, he gave up using lines and colours to fool the eye into accepting the flat painted image as a re-creation of an actual scene and explored instead the capacity of these pictorial means to induce in a spectator a particular feeling. His forms became ideated and his colours suggestive abstractions. Maurice Denis, in Théories (1920), described a small painting executed by Paul Sérusier under Gauguin's direction in 1888; this landscape seemed to have no form as a result of being synthetically represented in violet, vermilion, Veronese green and other pure colours. . . . "How does that tree appear to you?" Gauguin had asked. "It's green isn't it? All right, do it in green, the finest green on your palette. And that shadow? Isn't it blue? Well then, don't be frightened of making it as blue as possible." Thus [writes Denis] was presented to us for the first time, in a paradoxical but unforgettable manner, the fertile conception of a painting as "a flat surface covered with colours arranged in a certain order." Gauguin indulged in "primitivism" because he could make a more easily intelligible image; his simple colour harmonies intensified this image; and, because he wanted his pictures to be pleasing to the eye, he aimed at a decorative effect. His purpose in all this was to express pictorially an "idea." It was as a result of this that he was acclaimed as a leading painter of the Symbolist movement. Gauguin's whole work is a protest against the soul-destroying materialism of bourgeois civilization. "Civilization that makes you suffer. Barbarism which is to me rejuvenation," he wrote (1891) to the Swedish playwright August Strindberg. So Gauguin installed himself in Brittany (Pont-Aven and Le Pouldu, 1889-90, 1894), Tahiti (1891-93, 1895-1901), and the Marquesas Islands (1901-03), where he could paint scenes of "natural" men and women. Before 1891, Gauguin tended to flatten things deliberately, and his effect was often strained, but throughout the 1890s his primitivism became less aggressive as the influences of J.-A.-D. Ingres and Puvis de Chavannes led to increasingly rounded and modeled forms and a more sinuous line. This process can be followed in works such as "Nafea Faa Ipoipo" (1892; "When Shall We Be Married?"), "Nave Nave Mahana" (1896; "Holiday"), and "Golden Bodies" (1901). Simultaneously, Gauguin's images became more luxuriant and more naturally poetic as he developed his marvellously orchestrated tonal harmonies. His chief Tahitian work--"Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?"--is an immense canvas painted in 1897-98. This is the consummate expression of much that he had painted in the previous six years, and the aura of dreamlike, poetic inconsequence which surrounds this semiphilosophical allegory of primitive life is most powerful. From 1899 on, Gauguin became increasingly ill and was continually in pain; he was also involved in frequent rows with the governing authorities for siding with the natives against them. Yet despite melancholy, his last pictures still have serenity and hope. Influence. In 1889-90 a group of young followers had gathered round him at Pont-Aven, including Sérusier, Charles Filiger, and Denis, who transmitted Gauguin's ideas to Édouard Vuillard and Pierre Bonnard. The Norwegian painter Edvard Munch owed much to Gauguin, as did the painters of the Fauve group--Henri Matisse in particular--who profited from his use of colour. Gauguin's primitivism and stylistic simplifications greatly affected the young Pablo Picasso and led to the aesthetic appreciation of black African art and hence to the evolution of Cubism. In Germany, too, Gauguin's influence was strong. Gauguin was unique in his ability to hold a mysterious balance between idea, perception, and visual image. His pictures make their effect visually, not as a result of literary overtones. He was a great stylistic innovator, and, when he rejected the conception of a picture as a mirror image of an actual scene and turned from an empirical to a conceptual method of pictorial representation, his influence was wide and long-ranging. (D.C.) Copyright © 1994-2001 Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc. |
Seurat, The King of the Dot
Georges Seurat, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande
Jatte
1884-86 Oil on canvas Art Institute of Chicago Pointalism/Post Impressionism According to art critic Robert Hughes, The "scientific" painter with his abstruse color theories recedes somewhat, and an inspired lyricist comes to the fore--a 19th century Giorgione. As the art historian Robert L. Herbert puts it in his catalog essay, Seurat "wanted to be perceived as a technician of art, and so he borrowed from science some of the signs of its authority, including regularity and clarity of pattern. "But, as Herbert points out, Seurat's dots are not really dots either. Far from laboring away at a mechanical surface programmed in advance by theories of complementary color, Seurat displayed the most intuitive and mobile sense of the relations between sight and mark. One of the miracles of his art is his ability to analyze light, not through the simple juxtaposition of dabs of color but by a layering of tiny brush marks built up from the underpainted ground, so that the eventual surface becomes a fine-grained pelt, seamless and yet infinitely nuanced, from which captured light slowly radiates. Against the cult of the moment. by Robert Hughes. Time, 9/23/91, Vol. 138 Issue 12, p74, 2p, 3c, 1b HTML Full Text Iconography: Seurat was disdainful of the practice of Sunday afternoon strolls in the park, as they were covers for peoples' naughtiness. Much like an 'afternoon delight', the park was where married men would go to dally with their mistresses, unemployed men would lay on the grass and smoke, and women would bring their unruly children to run rampant. If you look at the right side of the painting, you will see the woman with the umbrella walking with the man. She has a pet monkey on a leash and there is a dog frolicking near it. The woman is the mistress, the monkey is a symbol of an 'exotic pet', which the woman would herself be considered to be, and the dog is a symbol for fidelity, of which the man seems to have none of. According to www.artchive.com "Seurat spent two years painting this picture, concentrating painstakingly on the landscape of the park before focusing on the people; always their shapes, never their personalities. Individuals did not interest him, only their formal elegance. There is no untidiness in Seurat; all is beautifully balanced. The park was quite a noisy place: a man blows his bugle, children run around, there are dogs. Yet the impression we receive is of silence, of control, of nothing disordered. I think it is this that makes La Grande Jatte so moving to us who live in such a disordered world: Seurat's control. There is an intellectual clarity here that sets him free to paint this small park with astonishing poetry. Even if the people in the park are pairs or groups, they still seem alone in their concision of form - alone but not lonely. No figure encroaches on another's space: all coexist in peace. "This is a world both real and unreal - a sacred world. We are often harried by life's pressures and its speed, and many of us think at times: Stop the world, I want to get off! In this painting, Seurat has "stopped the world," and it reveals itself as beautiful, sunlit, and silent - it is Seurat's world, from which we would never want to get off."Context: According to art critic Robert Hughes, Seurat, like Masaccio or Mozart, was a true prodigy. Born in 1859, he succumbed to an attack of galloping diphtheria in 1891, at 31. This all too early death has had the effect of concentrating his life around a single stylistic effort, the invention of pointillism. The one thing everyone knows about Seurat is that he painted rather stiff pictures composed of dots, in the belief that this system of breaking down color into its constituent parts was scientific and not, like Monet's Impressionism, intuitive. Had he lived as long as Monet, Seurat would have been a hale duffer of 70 when his many heirs, like Mondrian, were coming into their maturity as artists. What would he have left behind him by then? Possibly--if one can guess from his last big paintings like Chahut, 1889-90, and Cirque, 1890-91-something quite different from the calm,composed "Egyptian" classicism of his best-known work, the sublime Un Dimanche a la Grande Jatte of 1884-86. For the last paintings are more frenetic, more consciously urban and, above all, more influenced by mass culture (the posters of Jules Cheret, for instance) and working-class entertainment (fairgrounds, circuses, cafes concerts) than anything he had made before. We would then remember Seurat not only as a great synthesizer of classical order and modernist perception but also as the artist who fused both with the exacerbated delights of the mass culture that was emerging at the turn of the century: the true "painter of modern life," as anticipated by Baudelaire. The history of modern art, in terms of its engagement with "low" culture, might then have been quite different. Because he died so young, we have the first artist but only hints of the second. Against the cult of the moment. by Robert Hughes. Time, 9/23/91, Vol. 138 Issue 12, p74, 2p, 3c, 1b HTML Full Text |
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