My Kid Could Paint That

IsolationSolitude and Painting
Curated by Tommy Dunn

Edgar Degas, The Absinthe Drinkers, 1876

Edgar Degas, L'Absinthe, 1876

The late 1870s saw a panic in French society. The art-loving nation had just had its army and its pride absolutely crushed by the Franco-Prussian war, and the ensuing political turmoil had done nothing to help the self-esteem of the nation at large. The Third Republic was still in its infancy, and the to many the nation seemed headed on a course towards political and economic ruin. Naturally, people looked for somewhere to lay blame. Political figures came quickly to mind, and turnover in the government ranks was quite high. However, many began to go beyond individual problems and believed that there were deep cracks in French society threatening to tear the nation apart. This is the environment in which Degas painted his L’Absinthe, five years after the end of the Franco-Prussian war. The painting depicts a man and a woman of one might say questionable moral fiber sitting at the table of a bar and staring dejectedly into their drinks. Both look like they have seen better days. The light is doing them no favors, but even without the harsh, dull light in which they are bathed, their skin seems to have an unhealthy pallor about it. The ugliness and depressing nature of this painted relate pretty clearly to fears circling the intellectual and policy circles about the state of French society. The woman—who was actually a model but who many thought to be a prostitute—stares dejectedly into her glass of absinthe while the man stares off into the distance, puffing sadly on his pipe. The isolation in the picture is almost palpable; the couple may sit right next to one another, but they both seem quite alone. The painting feels sad.

Critics of the time missed the boat, as they always seem to do. The picture was slandered as dirty and immoral. For some reason, critics confused depiction with endorsement and thus believed that Degas was propounding this sort of debauchery when he was quite obviously doing the opposite. The public and critical reaction grew so harsh that Degas had to remove the painting from exhibition, and even when he re-showed it 16 years later, it was universally panned.

While it may show the darker side of Belle Epoque Paris, a painting like this is important as a display of Parisian culture nonetheless. Post-Haussmann Paris abounded with bars of this sort where drinking, singing, and other pleasures awaited for just a few francs. While critics of the time may have wished to pretend that life and art consisted of only beautiful things and beautiful people, painters like Degas quite effectively showed the underside of high French society.

Carolus-Duran, Portrait of Mademoiselle de Lancey, 1876

Carolus-Duran was not only “sought after as a portraitist because he knew how to make his subjects look attractive and important but not at all boring or conventional,” (Davis 65) but he expressed their sexuality in an acceptable fashion. He chose that Mademoiselle de Lancey follow the lead of Titian’s Venus of Urbino and Manet’s Olympia. Her lounging position and direct eye contact lure the viewer inside the frame. Although there are two major alterations from the preceding masterpieces that boosted her reputation: clothing and isolation.

Paris was at the height of fashion in the later parts of the 19th Century. Mademoiselle de Lancey chose a flamboyant and risqué ensemble, exposing her enticing bust and slender crossed ankles, to illustrate both her financial stability and personal confidence with her place at the height of society. The white (or in her case dirty white) sheet of virginal beauty does not lie beneath her, but wraps around her tiny corseted frame. Similar fabric folds and bunching of the train lead viewers gaze toward her, ahem, mid-section. Her isolation commands all of the attention as she resumes responsibility for her actions. Without the watchful eye of a maid or family member, she is free to act as she pleases during afternoon visiting hours.

The alluring sexuality exudes from the hand gestures of the women. Mademoiselle de Lancey does not need to cover herself like Olympia and Venus of Urbino. Instead her right hand grasps a fan and places it suggestively ­­below her waist. The left does not rest at her side, which would create a barrier between her and the viewer, but rather supports her head with an enticing expression. One finger points up as a “come here” gesture, ensuring the command of her invitees.

Carolus-Duran accomplished portraying Madamemoiselle de Lancey with “an increased sense of life and personality” (Davis 79). His inspiration drew from Titian’s Venus of Urbino, and Manet’s Olympia where he succeeded in suppressing the naked sexuality and replacing it with sensual silks. A draping of red, which reveals the passion, appears in each of the four works. This beneath the innocent (or not so innocent) white fabric succeeds in making each woman alluring.

Camille Pissarro, The Garden of Les Mathurins at Pontoise, 1876

Camille Pissarro was a French Impressionist painter. Although he was born on St. Thomas, an island in the US Virgin Islands, he moved the Venezuela at the age of 21. The Garden of Les Mathurins at Pontoise was painted in 1876, while Pissaro was living in France. This painting is primarily a landscape, noted for its definitive division of color. Joachim Pissarro, Camille Pissarro’s great grandson is a curator at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. With regard to The Garden of Les Mathurins at Pontoise he stated, “Essentially complex, his work made use of a phenomenal imagination, an unusually rich, innovative visual mind, a vast curiosity about techniques of all sorts, a profound poetic sensitivity, and an unquenchable passion for painting, as well as a strongly defined set of intellectual positions.”

Pissarro had a unique set of interests and talents that are all apparent in The Garden of Les Mathurins at Pontoise, the most interesting of which is his imagination. This scene is breathtaking, the use of color, and the whimsical nature of the subject matter all allow the viewer to be swept into a world of wonder and beauty. The woman who stands in the right half of the painting twirls what seems to be a fan. This is the most captivating part of the composition. The mystery that it creates in the painting kept me sitting in front of it at the Nelson for hours. It could be simply a fan that shows the woman’s status in society, or it could be a ball that symbolizes the mystery of 19th century French life. The circle glows and creates an aura around the woman that is paralleled in the sky, which only adds to the light feeling of the painting.

It seems that at any moment the woman could place the mysterious circle above her head and fly away, leaving all her worries behind. Her feeling of freeness and serenity in the moment of flight would be much like the feeling of calm and relaxation I felt sitting with this work.