House and Factory of M. Henry in Soissons

House and Factory of M. Henry
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, House and Factory of M. Henry in Soissons, 1833

By LILI TUCKER

To live like this is to live brightly and leisurely under an azure sky, in a sun-soaked house, over marmalade hills of dust and delight.

Despite being a factory, there is no labor here. No grimy peasants with bleeding fingers; grinding cogs and squeaking gears. No exhaustion, or desperation, or feelings of futility dripping down the brow. 

Instead, Corot paints a scene of lingering laissez-faire. The sharp perspective and crisp lines curiously convey a dreaminess indicative of Corot's later works. However, known as the last Neo-classicist and the first Impressionist painter, Corot produces works with both the precision of realism and the artistic interpretation of impressionism.

Corot believed deeply that feelings should be an artist's guide in painting and his main goal, early in his career, was to “capture the appearance of the physical world with an unblinking directness." 

The reason I chose this work of Corot's (and not one of his other more hazy paintings) is I've found my taste in art stems from this "unblinking directness." Sharp lines and blocks of color, where there is no confusion, no labor of the mind. Just feelings and folly. 




















  • 7:00 AM

First Leaves Near Mantres

First Leaves Near Mantres
Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot, First Leaves Near Mantres, 1855
By KATHERINE GRABOWSKY

Two wanderers stroll towards the village of Mantes, France, as the bare trees hang over them. Painted in 1855, Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot’s First Leaves Near Mantes invokes feelings of calamity and peace. Throughout his life, Corot kept a strong relationship with his parents. Their countryside house in Ville-D’Avray inspired him to paint scenes of French country sides. During a time of political turmoil, this was just the kind of artwork the people wanted. As realism was on a steady rise, so was Corot’s artwork. In the 1850s, he shifted to dreamier paintings with lighter brushstrokes, as demonstrated in First Leaves.

The background uses soft brushstrokes and yellowish green for the trees, adding a certain warmth which follows along with the feathery grass in the foreground. In contrast with this warmth, the trees take over the painting, adding structure with a more precise brushstroke. The trees frame the wanderers into the painting and form an arch, while the laborer on the bottom right side of the painting blends in with the grass. Corot used brownish colors for the people that blend in with the trees and grass to show humans and nature as one. In the distance, the town of Mantes clearly shows civilization but the countryside seems to overtake it with trees.

The curved tree represents the beauty in nature through its imperfections. Without the curved tree, the painting would lack depth and would seem one-dimensional.  Corot invites the viewer to stop and spend time with the people in the painting. The scene seems to come to life, and without words or movement, Corot paints the people as unhurried and leisurely. Though they stay two-dimensional and unmoved on the canvas, Corot evokes these emotions to make the image come to life. He invites you to take a break from your busy life and join the pair on their unhurried journey to Mantes.
  • 7:00 AM

Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld, 1861
By LISA MAEDA

Ah, nothing quite like a trip to the underworld. Fiery pits, bone-filled deserts, and the cries of the dead — a truly unforgettable, inescapable place. Or not.

Only the most charming musician can charm Hades, and that musician is Orpheus. He had just married the love of his life, Eurydice. Unfortunately, not even hours after the wedding, she strays from Orpheus and gets bitten by a snake. Virgil's version of the story blames Aristaeus, keeper of the bees, for chasing Eurydice as she denies his affections. Pretty uncool, considering she literally just married another guy. Ovid's telling simply states she went to pick flowers with her bridesmaids. Either way, Eurydice dies tragically, leaving a brokenhearted Orpheus. Unable to cope with the death of his late wife, he decides to ask Hades, "Hey, can I have my wife back?" in song form, and it actually works. There's only one catch: Orpheus must lead Eurydice and cannot look back at her until they have reached the surface.

We watch the reunited couple as they ascend on their trek upwards. The scenery is lush, a harsh contrast to the blazing inferno that we usually associate with the underground. Yet, tension overpowers any semblance of hope.

  • 7:00 AM