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The fauves (gnv64)


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The fauves (gnv64)

  1. 1. Nathalia Brodskaïa The Fauves
  2. 2. Author: Nathalia Brodskaïa Layout: Baseline Co. Ltd 61A-63A Vo Van Tan Street 4th Floor District 3, Ho Chi Minh City Vietnam © Confidential Concepts, worldwide, USA © Parkstone Press International, New York, USA © Auguste Chabaud, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Othon Friesz, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Henri Manguin, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © André Derain, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Louis Valtat, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Georges Rouault, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Kees van Dongen, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Albert Marquet, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Maurice de Vlaminck, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Raoul Dufy, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Jean Puy, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © René Seyssaud, Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris © Succession H. Matisse, Paris / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York © Henri Le Fauconnier, all rights reserved All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or adapted without the permission of the copyright holder, throughout the world. Unless otherwise specified, copyright on the works reproduced lies with the respective photographers, artists, heirs or estates. Despite intensive research, it has not always been possible to establish copyright ownership. Where this is the case, we would appreciate notification. eISBN: 978-1-78042-806-2
  3. 3. Nathalia Brodskaïa THE FAUVES
  4. 4. CONTENTS A History of Fauvism 7 Henri Matisse 67 Maurice de Vlaminck 85 André Derain 95 Albert Marquet 105 Raoul Dufy 117 Othon Friesz 125 Henri Manguin 137 Kees Van Dongen 145 Georges Rouault 153 Jean Puy 159 Louis Valtat 167 Henri Le Fauconnier 175 René Seyssaud 181 Auguste Chabaud Georges Dupuis Henri Lebasque Pierre Girieud 185 Notes 192 Index 196
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  6. 6. A HISTORY OF FAUVISM D ecade follows decade in art, like waves breaking on a beach, each bringing its own “deposits” which, in turn, cover those that came before, dimming what had once seemed strikingly brilliant. But time does not work on everything with equal force. The art of the Fauves has not faded. Born within French painting at the turn of the century, Fauvism immediately demanded attention. The stormy reaction it provoked on its emergence in Paris in 1905 was, in itself, an acknowledgement of the strength of this new phenomenon in the fine arts. Fauvism was a real danger to academically congealed art calculated to appeal to the narrow-minded customer, to all painting which sought after prosperity by carefully absorbing innovation, turning it into the fashionable that would shock no-one through unwarranted boldness. Two or three years proved sufficient for the Fauvist painters to acquire — if not a permanent public, then at least their own dealers and admirers. The hostile voices which continued to make themselves heard were not enough to hinder the Fauves from competing freely with other trends. Each of them lived a life in keeping with his character and the unique features of his work, yet none of them experienced long years of hopeless poverty or a sense of impotence in the struggle with the might of official art. None of the Fauves left a studio full of works piled up and never sold — in this sense fate was kinder to them than to Gauguin, Van Gogh, or Toulouse-Lautrec. Even during their lifetimes, the Fauves’ paintings had found a place in the greatest private collections and then in museums, while they themselves were written about in the press and respected by contemporaries. The Fauves were acknowledged masters before they reached the age when grey locks and a noble bearing often stood substitute for true measures of talent. It might seem that when the general public would become more familiar with them, the intensity of the first reaction would diminish, but this was not the case. They are all long since gone, yet one still experiences a sense of shock on encountering their paintings. Fauvism received its name in 1905. In October of that year, a number of young painters — about ten altogether — presented their works at the Salon d’Automne in Paris. Their unusually bright works vibrant with colour were assembled in a single hall. In his account of the exhibition for the 27 October edition of the magazine Gil Blas, critic Louis Vauxcelles wrote: “In the centre of Room VII stands a child’s torso by Albert Marquet. The candour of this bust is striking in the midst of an orgy of pure colour: Donatello among the wild beasts.”1 This unexpected description from the pen of an art expert — “wild beasts,” fauves — proved so apt that within just a few days it was taken up by the press, its originator forgotten, and began a life of its own. In his account of the same exhibition in November 1905 another critic, Jean Aubry, already used the term as if it were self-explanatory: “At last, those that someone, I’ve forgotten who, called the wild beasts.”2 A simple explanation, then, in which chance played a significant role, and from that moment on, the names of Matisse, Derain, Vlaminck, Van Dongen, Camoin, Puy, Marquet, Manguin, Rouault, Dufy, Friesz, Valtat and a few others were generally associated with the word Fauvism. The very way in which the term originated is positive proof that the phenomenon it described already possessed definite recognizable characteristics. Nobody at that time, including Vauxcelles himself, was able to indicate its boundaries or predict the full Henri Matisse, Goldfish, 1911. Oil on canvas, 147 x 98 cm. Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 7
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  8. 8. Henri Matisse, Blue Pot and Lemon, 1897. Oil on canvas, 39 x 46.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 9
  9. 9. Henri Matisse, Fruits and Teapot, c. 1898. Oil on canvas, 38.5 x 46.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. André Derain, Still Life with Earthen Jug and White Napkin, c. 1912. Oil on canvas, 61 x 50 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 12) André Derain, Table and Chairs, 1912-1913. Oil on canvas, 88 x 86.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 13) 10 significance of what had emerged. Most likely, the fact that interest in Fauvism has remained keen for more than three-quarters of a century causes us to reflect again on what essentially occurred at the Salon d’Automne and who it was that Vauxcelles christened “wild beasts.” In the second half of the twentieth century, reminiscences about the Fauves and the assessments of contemporaries inevitably gave way to the research of art-historians, yet this process revealed a surprising quality of Fauvism: even with the test of time, it remains as hard as ever to define precisely its chronology and characteristics which defy consistent classification. It is no coincidence that, despite the existence of an extensive literature, scholarly publications devoted to Fauvism appear with titles like The History of Fauvism Reviewed and Corrected or Fauvism Re-examined.3 It is no coincidence that, from the middle of the century on, one exhibition has followed another as testimony that interest in Fauvism now extends beyond Paris, beyond even Europe. Fauvism is linked to other artistic phenomena of the same period, while, time and again, scholars return to the assembly of canvases with which it all began in 1905. The reasons for this attention lie, most probably above all, in two obvious facts: with the passage of time, new aspects of the revolution which took place in painting at the beginning of the century are being discovered and, no less important, the “young wild beasts” of the opening years of the century all, without exception, became major figures in French twentieth-century painting. Cause enough to carry out one more examination of Fauvism as a conglomeration of unquestionable individual artistic talents and as an artistic association which brought about not the levelling of talents but, on the contrary, the development of each of the artists’ own creative strengths. For the outside observer, the background in Paris was still undoubtedly formed by the exhibitions of the official Salons, both by virtue of the great quantity of works presented at them, the large number of participants, and because of the predominant interest of the critics in them and their influence on the art market. This situation endured right up until the end of the nineteenth century and it seemed that nothing, even in the future, would be powerful enough to shake this stronghold of the Academy. It is enough to recall how many of the Impressionists, who were opposed on principle to academic art, nevertheless, dreamt of getting into the Salon since that meant hope, if not of being bought, then at least of becoming known to a certain extent within the circle of potential patrons. The situation changed somewhat in the final years of the century. An even greater number of artists were working outside the circle of the Salon. By the beginning of the twentieth century, earning a living was no longer directly linked to success at the Salons for the younger generation of artists. New art found its own dealers who acted as middle-men between buyers and artists. It is not possible, then, to say that at the time of the Fauves’ appearance, the Salons were still what they had been, although the changes that had taken place did not markedly affect their art. In 1905, as before, the Goupil publishing house produced magnificent surveys of the Salons with high-quality reproductions, while printed critical reviews of the Salon appeared in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, L’Art et les artistes, and other respected periodicals. By this time, though, the grandeur verging on megalomania of the Salons, coupled with the conservative academic style, was often regarded with unconcealed irony. Even the Impressionists — men of the recent past, although by now they were one by one going to their graves — and the peaceful artists of the Nabis group who had not involved themselves in the struggle (Edouard Vuillard, Pierre Bonnard, Maurice Denis, and the others) found themselves in a position of resistance, yet could not discover another place to exhibit besides the often derided Salon des Indépendants.
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  12. 12. Henri Matisse, Painter’s Family, 1911. Oil on canvas, 143 x 194 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 14
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  15. 15. By 1905, the Salon des Indépendants already had a history of its own. It had been founded in 1884 by artists rejected by the official Salon and was an exhibition which opened its doors to all the aggrieved without exception, promoting the principle of equality by not having a jury or awards. The established critics devoted much effort to creating a reputation for the Salon des Indépendants as they did acquiring a fantastic assemblage of works by certain cranks which might be visited so as to amuse oneself at the naive paintings of Douanier Rousseau and others like him. Yet the impenetrable conservatism of the official exhibitions was of unexpected service to the Salon des Indépendants: by the early twentieth century the latter’s emphatic objectivity, equally hospitable to all, had given way to a quite definite tendency. The path taken by this association of artists led to their Salon des Indépendants becoming a bastion of new trends; even the Impressionists found themselves no more welcome there than at the official exhibitions. However, at the moment, the fate of the Impressionists is not our concern. They could no longer be numbered among the ranks of the rejected while the younger generation badly needed an opportunity to demonstrate their art and to have André Derain, Drying the Sails, 1905. Oil on canvas, 82 x 101 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. Matisse Henri, View of Collioure, c. 1905. Oil on canvas, 59.5 x 73 cm State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 17
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  17. 17. Henri Matisse, Woman on a Terrace, 1906. Oil on canvas, 65 x 80.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 19
  18. 18. Henri Matisse, Bouquet (Vase with Two Handles), 1907. Oil on canvas, 74 x 61 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. Henri Matisse, Bouquet of Flowers on a Veranda, c. 1912. Oil on canvas, 146 x 97 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 22) Henri Matisse, Calla Lilies, Irises and Mimosas, 1913. Oil on canvas, 145.5 x 97 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 23) 20 some sort of association to stand up in defence of it, even if that association was still without a definite aim or programme. In the early years of the twentieth century it was no longer possible to overlook the Salon des Indépendants. Even the lumbering state machinery was obliged, if not to reckon with it in the full sense of the word, then at least to make a gesture in its direction. Even earlier, the Direction des Beaux-Arts had sent its commissioners to the Salon des Indépendants to select pieces for purchase by the state, but they had never once found anything suitable. In 1902 the commissioner was Léonce Bénédit, curator of the Musée du Luxembourg, but he, too, found it possible to acquire only some “très delicates”4 sketches by Édouard Vuillard. Yet the choice at the 1902 Salon des Indépendants was a fairly wide one. Among the many others, there were almost forty works by five of the future Fauves led by Henri Matisse, and an attentive eye would have discovered them the year before as well. However, they were probably not yet perceived as a distinct phenomenon or even as an association, more so since they themselves did not make an aim of exhibiting together. In 1902 they failed not only to disturb anyone, but even to attract any great attention at all. The Salon des Indépendants was then simply one of the possible places for showing their work — a few of the future Fauves managed to get a work or two into the official Salon de la Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts (Van Dongen, Manguin) or even into the International Exhibition held in Venice (Dufy, Friesz, Rouault). The nascent Fauves had not been noticed due to the fact that they were still outsiders, even for the Salon des Indépendants where in the course of time they would establish their own authority and preferences. For the future Fauves, however, these first public appearances, for all their failure to create an impression, did play a major role: a process of formation was underway, formation not simply of their grouping, but of their artistic outlook. Their complex, yet definite conception of their own painting, three years later would attain not only perceptible form, but also recognition. On 31 October, in the Petit Palais, a new exhibition opened which had not previously existed — the Salon d’Automne. Also founded by painters who had been rejected by the official salons, this exhibition was, at the moment of its creation, a strange combination of the most progressive forces in art and others which were quite conservative by the standards of the time. In contrast to the Salon des Indépendants, here there was a jury, selected five days before the exhibition. The deputy chief curator of the Petit Palais, Yvanhoé Rambosson, managed to secure premises for the new salon in the basements of his museum. From the very onset, the exhibition committee included a number of Moreau’s former pupils — Georges Desvallières, Henri Matisse, Albert Marquet and Georges Rouault. In 1903 only four of the future Fauves exhibited here — Matisse, Marquet, Rouault and Manguin; however, these artists not only took advantage of a new opportunity to exhibit, but at once began to look on the Salon d’Automne as the main venue for presenting their work. In contrast to the already customary Salon des Indépendants, the Salon d’Automne attracted both visitors and critics through its intriguing novelty. So it became their principal exhibition place and this was the start of a new era in their lives. In 1904 and subsequent years, the Grand Palais accepted the Salon d’Automne. Additionally, 1904 saw an extensive and brilliant display of art by the future Fauves in some of the private galleries of Paris, Berthe Weill playing the leading roll in presenting these works, became effective propaganda centres for their art: some definite new trend was in the process of emerging from the latest art.
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  21. 21. Henri Matisse, Path in the Bois de Boulogne, 1902. Oil on canvas, 65 x 81.5 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 24
  22. 22. The Salon des Indépendants, which opened on 24 March 1905, can be reckoned the first real display of Fauvist painting as a fully-formed phenomenon and was truly triumphal: one hundred works by fourteen artists, each of whom became a prominent figure in Fauvist painting! The group had grown in size by comparison with the previous year and the two new members who joined not only intensified the radiance of what already existed, but also injected some brilliant and original talent into it. After a century has gone by, it is hard to imagine whether without them the group of Fauves could have produced the bombshell in European art that was their emergence in 1905. The two figures in question are André Derain and Maurice de Vlaminck, two friends from the Paris suburb of Chatou who had become acquainted with Matisse as early as 1901 but had never before exhibited with him. Despite all that has been said, the Fauves were not recognized as a group in the spring of 1905. Naturally, the critic Roger-Marx cited the names of many of them together with highly sympathetic appraisals of their painting, showing respect for free manifestations of individuality, but his tastes were for art of a more customary kind, with clear links to Classical tradition. Due to this, Fauvism was not yet seen as a whole. The outlines of the new trend in general, and Fauvism in particular, emerge far more tangibly in the critical comments of those hostile to the Salon des Indépendants. First and foremost they were anarchists striving after the free expression of their individuality, taking a stand against tradition and generally accepted standards of beauty. Colour prevails over the rules of craftsmanship in their paintings, more than that, colour intoxicates them and the paints boil on their canvases. Even the immediate sources of their art become clear against the background of this Salon’s retrospectives. Even the idea of “wildness” had already been raised when it was applied to Van Gogh, but a single step remained before it was applied to the younger generation. Why was Fauvism not distinguished as a phenomenon and given its name here, at the Salon des Indépendants? Suffice it to say that in 1905, 4,269 works were on display, representing 669 artists, twice as many exhibits and exhibitors as the year before. How would the standard-sized canvases of young artists be noticed as the chief quality of which — colour — required light above all things for its effect! As a result, the display by an already completely formed group of a large number of works of what was fully-fledged Fauvist art at the 1905 Salon des Indépendants turned out to be no more than a dress rehearsal for the spectacle which took place a few months later at the Salon d’Automne. Little, it would seem, could have changed in that brief interval, nevertheless in the autumn the art of the “wild men” first made a real impact. Above all, the Salon d’Automne was truly their exhibition. As a result of the change of membership which took place in 1905, the committee now included, among many others, Matisse, Rouault, Roger-Marx, Vauxcelles and, as proved highly important, a loyal friend and pupil of Gustave Moreau — Georges Desvallières, who became vice-president of the Salon. Evidence of the growing authority of the Salon d’Automne can be found in the scale of the exhibition in 1905: it was enormous — 1,625 works (although still three times less than the Salon des Indépendants). Matisse’s group was represented by a smaller number of artists than at the Salon des Indépendants. First the dress rehearsal had given each of them the opportunity to understand that there were those close by who shared their ideas and that, taken together, their art acquired an impressive power — something the critics may have missed, but not the artists. United by common tastes and strivings, they, without being aware of it themselves, influenced each other, especially if we bear in mind that some of them had worked together previously. André Derain, Martigues (Harbour in Provence), 1913. Oil on canvas, 141 x 90 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 26) André Derain, Landscape with a Boat by the Bank, c. 1915. Oil on canvas, 100 x 65 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 27) 25
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  27. 27. André Derain, Path in the Forest of Fontainebleau, 1911. Oil on canvas, 92 x 65 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 28) André Derain, The Old Bridge, c. 1910. Oil on canvas, 73 x 92 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 29) André Derain, The Castle or The New Castle in La Roche Guyon, c. 1910. Oil on canvas, 66 x 87 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 30 Even more significant was the place they occupied at the exhibition of the Salon d’Automne. In memory of Moreau, Desvallières decided to bring his pupils together — the post of vice-president gave him great opportunities. And that is how the hall appeared, in which side by side were displayed canvases by Matisse, Marquet, Valtat, Manguin, Camoin, and probably also Matisse’s friend, Jean Puy. Two writers with attitudes toward the Fauves, which were poles apart, recognized them as a distinct group. Camille Mauclair acknowledged nothing which came after Impressionism, contemptuously called them all artists of the class of Ambroise Vollard, thinking of the “vulgar” tastes of the dealer who had presented Gauguin’s work to the Parisian public.5 While Maurice Denis, the Nabis artist, referred to them as Matisse’s group which seemed to him “the most lively, most new and most controversial.”6 The layout of the exhibition not only united the Fauves’ painting — at one and the same time, it set it in opposition to everything else which appeared at the Salon d’Automne. Without doubt, the contrast with the surroundings was intensified to the highest degree by the fact that they took the stage in closed ranks. Matisse, Derain, and Vlaminck were supported by Valtat charmed by the scorching Mediterranean sun, conveying the dazzling brilliance of the Bay of Anthéor, sharp shadows on yellow sand alongside an improbably blue sea, Manguin with landscapes of his beloved south, and even the restrained Marquet. Their painting brought out the very thing inherent in the medium: the capacity of oil paints to set in pastose clots or to spread in a thin layer making it possible for one colour to penetrate into another without losing its purity and resonance in the process. They were united by a genuine, feverish delight in the possibilities offered by a bare canvas and tubes of oil paint — one needs no more than to see Kees van Dongen’s Red Dancer (p. 147) and Maurice Vlaminck’s Barges on the Seine (p. 87) alongside each other. “In the orchestra I was conducting,” Vlaminck wrote in his old age, I decided in order to be heard to use only the trumpets, the cymbals, the bass drum, which, in this sphere of work, meant tubes of paint. Just as I would have instructed the musicians to blow the saxophone, cornet, and slide trombone with all their might, I made the tubes of paint burst upon my canvas and used nothing but vermilions, chromes, greens, and Prussian blue to snarl out what I wanted to say.7 Mockery and insults came from the most varied quarters and expressed themselves in different words, but the meaning boiled down to the same: the Fauves’ art was daubing, which had nothing in common with painting; it was denied a place among the creations of normal people and was thus worthy only to be the butt of malicious laughter. One of the critics, J. B. Hall, reviewing the source of the scandal defined the Fauvist hall at the exhibition as the focus “of pictorial perversion, of colour-madness, of the unspeakably bizarre fantasies of people who, if they are not mystificators, deserve the remedial regime of the École.”8 In contrast to the Impressionists or Manet, the Fauves belonged to the new twentiethcentury generation — mockery and insults did not hurt them, quite the opposite, they received them with satisfaction as a sign of the start of the battle they intended to wage. In Vlaminck’s words, their intentions included “composing triumphal revolutionary marches, to advance on the École des Beaux-Arts and to set fire to the ‘firemen’s house.”9 It must be admitted that in the heat of the battle which had commenced, they set fire to more than they intended. Only a very small amount was necessary for the artists of the official Salons to perish in the flames of the new art — their demise had been prepared by preceding generations. But the strength of the reaction to Matisse’s group set both the Nabis and the future innovators in the shade. This can be sensed clearly in
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  30. 30. the comments by critics of all shades of opinion, and, as usual, more vividly in the negative ones than in the positive. Besides this, Fauvism was perceived by enemies and friends alike as a new young force, the only movement which had really come to maturity and one which set itself in opposition to absolutely everything that had existed until that time, both in the “rightwing” camp and on the left. And despite the contradiction within the movement itself which the critics remarked on, it was a single whole. Even, so it would seem, the incompatible co-existence of spontaneity and rationality became its distinguishing feature, one which no one previously had ever displayed to such a degree. Even their demonstrative taking of the public stage without a leader or a programme, united only on the basis of “a spirit of intimate kinship,”10 was, in itself, the program to which most of the Fauvist artists were to adhere all their working lives, far beyond the brief time that is customarily called the Fauvist period. For the next three years the Fauves used both the Salon des Indépendants and the Salon d’Automne for joint displays of their work, each time effectively organizing their own exhibition within the general one. In 1906 they presented about 150 works at the Indépendants and slightly fewer at the Salon d’Automne; in 1907 and 1908, practically unchanged in terms of membership, the group exhibited again, maintaining the same ratio. No less than twice each year the galleries run by Berthe Weill and Druet exhibited Fauves either in groups or singly. Other Parisian dealers also turned their attentions to Albert Marquet, Paris in Winter, The Quai Bourbon, 1907. Oil on canvas, 65 x 81 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. Albert Marquet, The Pont Saint-Michel in Winter, 1908. Oil on canvas, 61 x 81 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 33
  31. 31. Albert Marquet, Flood in Paris, c. 1910. Oil on canvas, 33 x 41 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 34
  32. 32. Albert Marquet, The Pont Saint-Michel in Paris, The Quai des Augustins, 1908. Oil on canvas, 65 x 81 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 35
  33. 33. André Derain, Houses on the Waterfront, 1910. Oil on canvas, 61 x 102.3 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. André Derain, Cliffs, 1912. Oil on canvas, 60.5 x 81 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 36 them: apart from his annual personal exhibition of René Seyssaud, in 1908 Bernheim Jeune presented about one hundred works by Kees van Dongen. From 1906, the Fauves began little by little to become known outside of France. In small groups, most frequently made up of pupils of Moreau, they displayed works at La Libre Esthétique exhibition in Brussels and in a private gallery in Vienna, while in 1910 the Manes Gallery arranged a display of Fauvist painting in Prague. At the 1909 Salon des Indépendants in Paris, the Fauves were again present in full number. At the Salon d’Automne, although their ranks had thinned some-what, they occupied the central position as before and were now perceived as a single whole. The peaceful position and conception about the freedom of art which now prevailed no longer prompted them into the fray. The Fauves began a gradual withdrawal — not from the course they had selected, nor from the principles of which they were convinced — from the struggle for a slice of the cake, which, until then, had been divided up by the overwhelming mass of official artists of every hue. One after another they acquired their own regular dealers who provided them with the material wherewithal to live and work; one after another they ceased presenting their creations at collective exhibitions. From 1910 onwards, the number participating in the Fauvist displays at both the Salon des Indépendants and the Salon d’Automne steadily declined. The peak of group appearances had passed. Even the name they had won themselves in 1905 did not have the former audacious ring to it: “...the painters who for some time were called les fauves” is how they are described in a very serious review written in the summer of 1910 by a critic close to them — Michel Puy, brother of the painter Jean Puy, who had constantly and closely observed the Fauves development over seven years of joint exhibitions. Nevertheless, he
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  35. 35. Louis Valtat, Girls Playing with a Lion Cub, c. 1905. Oil on canvas, 81.5 x 100.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 38
  36. 36. Louis Valtat, Sunlight under the Trees, c. 1908-1909. Oil on canvas, 66 x 82 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 39
  37. 37. Louis Valtat, The Farm, c. 1907. Oil on canvas, 82 x 100 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 40
  38. 38. was not yet ready to draw a final conclusion as to the nature of Fauvism. But Puy considered its most important qualities to be already indisputable. Undoubtedly, the concept of Fauvism includes both, the brief period when the group as well as the qualities of colour common to the painting of the majority. But the mighty impulse, known as Fauvism, which became one of the strongest foundations of twentieth-century painting is in fact far more complex and encompasses a sum total of many qualities. It was precisely the variety of these which attracted artists of very different kinds to Fauvism. It embraced Matisse, who was engrossed in the science of his painting — in Salmon’s words, “a bearded painter in gold glasses, who brought a tone of severity, of professional gravity to the discussion,”11 and the spontaneous Vlaminck who provoked the envy of friends from Montmartre for just the opposite reason: “How does that bugger Vlaminck manage to be so modern without the help of the least intellect. On the contrary!”12 The ironical Van Dongen, susceptible to any kind of fame, be it scandalous or worldly, “...the painter of wenches, risen through the ranks to become portraitist to the great tarts, to achieve at last the glory of immortalizing dressmakers and duchesses who compete as patrons of the arts.”13 And finally, the humblest of the humble, Marquet, who confided to Vlaminck: “I want to become a cab driver! I would earn enough to keep me and while I was waiting for a fare I could draw...”14 We can extend the picture — and this unique combination of brilliant personalities already in itself becomes one of the characteristics of Fauvism. With this range of Louis Valtat, In the South of France, c. 1908. Oil on canvas, 60 x 73.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. Henri Matisse, Nude, Black and Gold, 1908. Oil on canvas, 100 x 65 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 42) Henri Matisse, Seated Woman, 1908. Oil on canvas, 80.5 x 52 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 42) Henri Matisse, Nude, Study, 1908. Oil on canvas, 60.5 x 50 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 43) 41
  39. 39. 42
  40. 40. Henri Matisse, Girl with Tulips, 1910. Oil on canvas, 92 x 73.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 44) Henri Matisse, Woman in Green, 1909. Oil on canvas, 65 x 54 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 45) Henri Matisse, Spanish Girl with Tambourine, 1909. Oil on canvas, 92 x 73 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 46 characters, artistic and purely human, for all the highly subjective approach each of them had to evaluating life and art, we nevertheless find in their comments a unity and a certainty with regard to the value of certain characteristics which they jointly acquired. It not only forces us to listen to the creators of Fauvism, but in all probability in doing so we will also find the answer to the question of what the movement as a whole was about. The Fauves became the only association of artists in the history of art to join together in order to protest their right to work without any sort of common program, declaring their program to be complete freedom for each individual personality, complete creative independence both from any theoretical direction and from their like-minded friends. The turn of a century seems a mere symbolic boundary, yet much did indeed change at the dawn of the twentieth century. The international art world of Paris became so motley and varied, so independent with regard to official artistic life and traditional society that the idea of the artist becoming an outcast completely disappeared, faded into the past together with the nineteenth century. Now the right to individuality in art became something that went without saying and there was no longer any need to unite in defence of it. Nevertheless they did unite, despite Vlaminck’s vehement declaration of his dislike of associations, but not in the least so as to “cross a dangerous spot.” They needed to proclaim the creed of individual freedom loudly and that was best done in chorus. Because, if we try to be precise, it must be admitted that they formed neither a school, nor even a group as such. True, they were called Matisse’s group, but that designation appeared in the press only in order to have some way of setting them apart and defining them. There was no group; they never assembled especially to decide common questions. They did not arrange to dine as a group like the Nabis artists. They did not have a regular meeting place in some particular Parisian cafe. They met in each other’s studios, but there was no regularity with regard to who came. In their arguments about art, which were as much chance occurrences as they were natural ones, totally contradictory views were expressed. Although they were called Matisse’s group, the reason was not the role he played in the organization of the association. He did not dictate a program to anyone and did not oblige anyone to follow in his footsteps. The probable impetus for this was the system of painting which was specifically Matisse’s, the achievement of harmony in painting through the juxtaposition of patches of pure colour. And if a leader needed to be found, the most reliable thing was to let one’s choice settle on the artist whose works betrayed a theoretical basis. That, however, was no more than the view from outside. When we are thinking of the coming together of the Fauves, would it not make more sense to postulate the leadership of “le plus authentique des Fauves”15 [the most authentic Beasts]— Maurice de Vlaminck who himself declared: “Ce qu’est le fauvisme? C’est moi!”16 [What is Fauvism? It’s me!] And it was Vlaminck, of all people, who wanted to force others to follow his course, however paradoxical that may sound, since, after all his course was defined as the absolute non-subordination of the painterly element to any rules whatsoever. But Vlaminck was never the head of the group either — on account of his individualism, the very thing which he repeatedly proclaimed and in which, in point of fact, laid the cause of his joining his Fauvist friends. They really did not have a leader, and not in the least because there was no-one among them capable of taking the lead — it simply contradicted the very essence of Fauvism. Perhaps this association of young men was the realization, albeit short-lived, of the Utopian dream of a disinterested collaboration between equals which had more than once been voiced aloud by the most direct and sincere of artists — Van Gogh, Douanier Rousseau, the Georgian naïve painter Niko Pirosmani. Each was left to his own devices, for them
  41. 41. 47
  42. 42. Henri Matisse, Seville Still Life, c. 1910-1911. Oil on canvas, 90 x 117 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 48
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  45. 45. there could be no other program; they met any suggestion that something else existed with protest. “We had no doctrine, any of us,” Van Dongen stated. “For the Impressionists you can use the word ‘school’, because they had certain principles. We did not have any; it only seemed to us that their colours were a bit too insipid, that’s all.”17 In denying the existence of a doctrine. Van Dongen here in fact confirmed a principle important for Fauvism. On the one hand, their painting proceeded directly from that of the Impressionists for whom they felt sincere respect. On the other hand, the Fauves occupied an anti-Impressionist position, just as they were anti-Nabis, as had already been noted by the critics at the time. The route from the Old Masters to Fauvism, running from the Venetians and Francisco Goya, inevitably passes through Eugène Delacroix. It was no mere chance that contemporary researchers compare Fauvism with Delacroix’s painting,18 all the more so since the Fauves turned to him in a completely conscious manner. “Delacroix is especially worthy of our efforts and our understanding; he opened the doors of our era,” the young Derain wrote to Vlaminck.19 Fritz Vanderpyl, a poet from Montmartre, called Fauvism “wild Impressionism.”20 It is true the Impressionists’ revelation of the possibilities of pure colour, the unconstrained and expressive aspect of texture, were a stage which led to the emergence of the Fauves’ chromatic approach. Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Cézanne brought painting to a position where accumulated ideas about the possibilities of creating with paints had to be resolved in a flood of new works. And the means of the Fauves protests against being considered Impressionists, the hub in which all their charges against their predecessors were concentrated, became colour, which attained such an intensity and expressive force that all other means faded into the background alongside it. Colour became the banner of the Fauves, the symbol of the liberation of their painting from all fetters. It was a part of that very programme, the existence of which they denied. The Fauves’ colour carried optimism within it in contrast to that of their German Expressionist contemporaries. To them, one thing that remained unshakeable in painting was that it was born out of life and reflected life which was its true source. “The goal we set ourselves is happiness, a happiness which consequently we should create,” Derain said.21 In order to create it, one must have a love of life itself, be endowed with that “Flemish sense of joy” which Apollinaire found in Vlaminck’s painting.22 “I love life more than anything,” Jean Puy bashfully confessed.23 He was boldly seconded by Van Dongen: “Oh! Life. It is perhaps even more beautiful than painting.”24 It was just this irrepressible striving after joy which attracted them to the work of Auguste Renoir. It is evident that Renoir’s influence was not only on individual Fauves, but also on the movement as a whole. This fact has not been fully appreciated. Nevertheless, it was in him, not yet as distant in time as the works in museums, that they found the qualities which in their totality comprised the core of the visual expression of Fauvism: joie de vivre and the triumph of the element of colour. At the start of the century the Fauves were the first to proclaim preference for the intuitive course in painting; the power of the painterly element over the artistic, as one of the inseparable qualities of the freedom after which they were striving. Even the most rational of them — Matisse, who was most inclined to make experiments in painting on a par with scientific research — asserted: “It is through colour that I feel.”25 Despite its many-layered complexity, Fauvism had an entirely definite orientation. Cubism, which appeared alongside after an interval of two years, not only overshadowed Fauvism, but also placed both phenomena in a definite position in the general historical succession. Cubism appeared as a variety of Classicism, superseding the Romanticism of Henri Matisse, Still Life with Blue Tablecloth, 1909. Oil on canvas, 88.5 x 116 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 51
  46. 46. Henri Matisse, Statuette and Vases on Oriental Carpet or Still Life in Red of Venice, 1908. Oil on canvas, 89 x 104 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 52
  47. 47. Henri Matisse, Spanish Still Life, c. 1910-1911. Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 116.3 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 53
  48. 48. Henri Matisse, Still Life with ‘The Dance’, 1909. Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 117.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 54
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  50. 50. Henri Matisse, The Dance, 1909-1910. Oil on canvas, 260 x 391 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 56 the Fauves. Both these currents continued to flow in parallel, gathering strength in turns, overtaking one another, changing in form but retaining their essence. Not one of the Fauves called himself a Romantic. Nevertheless, the paintings produced by the majority of them make it possible to relate their work to the Romantic tendency, to the line of Delacroix, whom they all valued highly, in contrast to the Cubists, who preferred Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres. As regards the terminology being a hangover from the nineteenth century: for the Fauves the concept of “Classicism” had not lost the meaning which it had for the Romantics of the previous age. “I wanted to bring about a revolution in morals, in contemporary life, to show nature at liberty, to free it from the ancient theories of Classicism whose authority I hated as much as that of a general or a colonel,” Vlaminck said.26 And while in the nineteenth century literature and music formed a single powerful Romantic union, in the new upsurge of Romanticism at the beginning of the twentieth century, it was painting which dominated. No small part of the significance of Fauvism lies in the fact that, created by young artists at the turn of the century, it became, in turn, a medium that nourished and educated them. Fauvism signified a path of natural development without any kind of force or compulsion. It taught the ability to listen to oneself, to take a pride in what was one’s own, the individual, and to hold firmly to it. Leaving aside the eloquent examples of Matisse and Van Dongen, we must pay tribute to the courage of Dufy, Marquet, Puy, Manguin or Chabaud — their work became the embodiment of precisely that which Vlaminck said in verse: “The nightingale doesn’t sing into the phonograph.”27 The range of the Fauves’ creativity is fairly broad, encompassing everything which came into an artist’s field of vision at the beginning of the twentieth century. Although they began as “anti-Nabis,” it was the Nabis who gave the Fauves an interest in applied and graphic art. These spheres had a need for real artists and Matisse’s generation possessed a large stock of energy. The primacy of colour in Fauvist painting prompted the idea of decorative art from the outset. Almost all the Fauves went through a phase of being interested in applied art, but neither Fauvism in general nor the artists themselves lost their individuality. None of the Fauves overlooked either the graphic arts, beginning with the newspaper and magazine caricatures with which many of them earned money in their youth, through the drawings, watercolours, and gouaches, which naturally accompanied their work throughout their lives, to prints and book illustrations. If one regards Fauvism only as a period of shared enthusiasm for the element of colour, graphic art would seem to have only a fairly tenuous connection with it. As a major phenomenon in the fine arts in general, as a continuation of the tendencies and lines of Romanticism in the twentieth century, Fauvism gave a powerful impulse to all forms of art. Even Derain’s quick pen-and-ink drawings carry in them a sense of vital force and thoroughness characteristic of the “school of Château.” Every one of Marquet’s landscape sketches possesses the constancy, modesty, and restraint which were the hallmark of his painting. Raoul Duty’s prints are sincere and naive. Vlaminck’s wood engravings are spontaneous, unrestrained, and energetic. As far as Matisse’s astonishing line is concerned, immediate and free, yet at the same time precise and thoroughly considered, it was perhaps the very thing which drew the critics’ attention to the particular role drawing played for the Fauves. The book called Jazz (Paris, 1937), which Matisse created at the end of his life, demonstrates in its integrity of conception and unity in the assembling of pictorial means all the qualities of Fauvism with no less force than the painting of his youth. Fauvism started life together with the twentieth century — a sober, technical century full of complex machinery and immense speeds, the most savage of wars, violence
  51. 51. 57
  52. 52. Henri Matisse, Conversation, 1908-1912. Oil on canvas, 177 x 217 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. Henri Matisse, Entrance to the Casbah, 1912-1913. Right Panel of the Moroccan Triptych. Oil on canvas, 116 x 80 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 60) Henri Matisse, Arab Coffeehouse, 1913. Tempera on canvas, 176 x 210 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 61) 58
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  57. 57. against nature and man. In the twentieth century, in art, too, more or less significant new systems began to appear one after another, beginning with Cubism, Futurism, and Surrealism, systems less enduring but not in the slightest less strict and tyrannical than Classicism. The very fact of their presence, the formation of definite groupings around them naturally evoked reaction. In each generation there are young artists who tend towards intuitive, spontaneous, and sincere self-expression. It is a characteristic of many of them that they strive to link themselves with the Fauvist tradition — there are even echoes in the names they give themselves, be it the “Neue Wilden” in Germany or some groups that appeared in Paris, St Petersburg, or Moscow. For us, the Impressionists, Van Gogh, and Cézanne are almost as distant as Rembrandt and Rubens. They have entirely withdrawn to the museums, but Matisse, Vlaminck, Dufy, Van Dongen, Rouault, and Manguin belong to the twentieth century. Vlaminck said: I bequeath to young painters all the flowers of the fields, the banks of the streams, the clouds black and white which float above plains, rivers, forests, and great trees. ... These blessings, these inestimable blessings which with every season are reborn, blossom, tremble ... should we not on occasion recall that they are our inestimable heritage, the inspiration for masterpieces? Have you admired it enough? Have you tasted fully the emotion of the breaking dawn or the day that will never be seen again, so as to capture on your canvas a feeling profound and eternal?28 This sounds like the testament of the Fauves and of all those whose legacy they absorbed. Henri Matisse, Portrait of Lydia Delectorskaya, 1947. Oil on canvas, 64.5 x 49.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. Henri Matisse, Young Woman in a Blue Blouse (Portrait of Lydia Delectorskaya), 1939. Oil on canvas, 35.4 x 27.3 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. Henri Matisse, Still Life with a Seashell on Black Marble, 1940. Oil on canvas, 54 x 81 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (pp. 64-65) 63
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  61. 61. HENRI MATISSE 1869-1954 “F auvism is when there is a red,”29 said Henri Matisse concisely putting into words the most straightforward notion held of Fauvism. Matisse has in fact become Fauvism’s leader over the years as a result of his contemporaries and researchers persistently perpetuating such an idea. Consequently, Matisse’s work has been scoured through in a search for the ultimate Fauvist painting. Matisse never pretended or aspired to such a role, and on the question of what Fauvism represents in theory and in practice, he never came to a final conclusion. With the other Fauvists it can be argued that their art was dominated by either reason or emotion. Matisse’s intellect, however, continuously searched for a direction where both reason and emotion became reconciled so balance and order might be found. Henri Matisse was born on 31 December 1869 into a stallholder’s family in CateauCambrésis in northern France. He began his education at the secondary school in SaintQuentin and continued at Paris University where he read law. Upon graduating, he returned to Saint-Quentin where he worked in a lawyer’s office. During this period Matisse began to attend his first drawing classes and at the age of twenty, when an illness confined him to bed for nearly a year, he painted his first work. Returning to Paris in 1891, Matisse started to take lessons at the Académie Julian, working as a law tutor to help pay his way. In 1892 he abandoned Bouguereau’s totally uninspiring lessons and transferred to Gustave Moreau’s classes at the École des Beaux Arts. During the evenings, Matisse also attended classes in applied art and there he made friends with Albert Marquet, who soon also became a pupil of Moreau. It was at these classes that a group of artists came together and formed friendships that would endure all the trials and tribulations of their respective lives. From 1896 onwards, Matisse not only began to exhibit his work in official salons, but he also became a member of the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts. He was interested in the Impressionists and he also began to travel, going to Brittany and even as far south as Corsica. At this time, too, he married and started a family. After Moreau’s death, Matisse briefly attended Professor Ferdinand Cormon’s classes, before joining Eugène Carrière Académie, where in 1901 he became friends with Jean Puy and Andre Derain. Matisse saw the twentieth century in as a father of three young children, a man in poor financial straits, an artist who had made only a limited name for himself, but nonetheless a highly respected member of the circle of artists in which he moved. In 1901 Matisse and his friends started to exhibit their work at the Salon des Indépendants and in Berthe Weill’s gallery. In 1903 they were involved in the founding of the Salon d’Automne, where, two years later, Vauxcelles would see their work and dub them “les fauves.” Exhibitions of Matisse followed each other around Europe and America. The paintings, sculptures, ceramics, and graphic works displayed attested to the amazing breadth of his creative abilities. As well as constantly painting, he simultaneously worked in theatrical design, sculpted, produced lithographs, and during the Second World War, Matisse illustrated a great number of books. In 1948 he presented his first exhibition of Henri Matisse. Photograph. 67
  62. 62. Henri Matisse, The Red Room (Harmony in Red), 1908. Oil on canvas, 180.5 x 221 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 68
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  64. 64. Henri Matisse, Dishes and Fruit, c. 1901. Oil on canvas, 51 x 61.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 70 “Engraved Gouaches” which brilliantly rounded off his lifelong experimentation in the realm of colour. Henri Matisse died in 1954 in Nice, already acclaimed as a great artist. Matisse’s work undoubtedly shows how, in his nature, rational intellect maintained constant hold over creative talent. Perhaps it is this facet that makes his work so difficult to interpret. The decisiveness he so evidently showed in his art means that he left no loopholes through which his individual emotional world can be reached. Matisse was convinced that “an artist’s thinking should not be discussed without reference to the means he uses to depict it, because it is only of intrinsic value when it is borne out by these means... which as a result become fuller... just as the idea becomes more profound.” 30 The paintings Matisse produced between 1897 and 1901 demonstrate the mastery of his predecessors’ techniques, from the Impressionists through to Cézanne — bringing each one into line with his own creative spirit. Fascination with the colours used by the Impressionists on the flatness of an object in Cézanne’s work (e.g. Fruit and Coffeepot, c. 1898, Hermitage), could impede his consistent movement towards the creation of his own painterly space on the canvas. This is borne out by the following works which hang in the Hermitage: Crockery on a Table (1900), Dishes and Fruit (1901) and The Luxembourg Gardens (c. 1901) where the abstraction and the simplification of colour, which by 1908 became Matisse’s own distinctive hallmark, become ever more apparent. Such extreme emotional responses were rare occurrences for Matisse, though. The logic of Matisse’s artistic development can be quite clearly traced even within the limits
  65. 65. of the Russian collections. The still life Dishes and Fruit on a Red-and-Black Cloth (1906, Hermitage) heralds the beginning of a period when Matisse experimented with using large areas of colour to construct a space, which was almost as flat as the canvas and yet did not lose the feeling of three dimensions. In Statuette and Vases on an Oriental Carpet (p. 51) the carpet hanging on the wall and covering the table gave Matisse the opportunity to split the space he had created. In this painting the standing objects are the only means used to denote the transition from the horizontal surface to the vertical. However, in Fruit and a Bronze (1910, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts) these objects — the jugs, vases, statue, and fruits — become more and more a part of the general ornamental structure, so that this relative boundary dividing the surface is gradually smoothed over, as it were. This searching process produced the painting The Red Room (pp. 68-69) which optimally attained the target Matisse had set himself. “I want a balanced art which is pure and tranquil. I want a man who’s tired, over-worked, and on his last legs to find peace and repose in my work.”31 So he said though: “The full potential of colour is only realized when it is organized, when it reflects the artist’s emotional intensity.”32 Matisse continued the process of subduing a large area of colour in Conversation (pp. 58-59). This painting goes the way of further simplification. Matisse discarded the pattern which adorns The Red Room, and now employed two areas of colour to disrupt the dark blue surface, one light blue with a white stripe and the other black. Red appears only as a fine sprinkling on the landscape seen through the window, considerably less in scale Henri Matisse, Dishes and Fruit on a Red and Black Carpet (Le Tapis Rouge), 1906. Oil on canvas, 61 x 73 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 71
  66. 66. Henri Matisse, Music, 1910. Oil on canvas, 260 x 389 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 72
  67. 67. Henri Matisse, Nasturtiums with ‘Dance’ (II), 1912. Oil on canvas, 109.5 x 112 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 74 than the use of dark blue on red in the preceding composition. Following Matisse’s work chronologically, one can see that each new painting is in its own way a result of his previous searches, as well as being a basis for further development. Harmony in Blue was described in the Salon d’Automne as “a decorative panel for a dining room.” Matisse’s own artistic method — the large colour surfaces correlating with pattern, — lead one to think of this painting in coexistence with architecture. The chain of thought which brought Matisse to The Dance (p. 57) and Music (pp. 72-73) can be traced within the two major Russian collections. In the 1908 painting, A Game of Boules, now in Hermitage, Matisse tried to resolve two issues: first, decorative abstraction with a strong concentration of colour — dark blue, green and ochre yellow; second, the creation on the surface of the canvas of a balanced form based upon the classical triangle. The direction taken in colour was continued in Nymph and Satyr (pp. 76-77). However, this painting also saw the introduction into the classical pyramid of crisp and vigorous arched lines capable of giving a painting balance in combination with the motion of the figures which it contains. Three paintings in Russian museums feature a depiction of a large sketch for The Dance in an Interior — a frequent motif for Matisse. They are Fruit, Flowers and the Dance (1909, Hermitage), Nasturtiums with ‘Dance’ (II) (1912) and Corner of the Artist’s Studio (1912, both in the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts). In these works Matisse appears to have completely resolved how to depict the round dance in principle. The paintings Music and The Dance are inseparable parts of a single decorative concept. The intense wild rhythm of The Dance, which confronted visitors to Shchukin’s house on the first-floor landing, was supplanted by the conciliating peace of the second panel which hung on the next landing. In Music, the level of the horizon is higher and the relative weight of the green surface has been increased. The construction is reduced to a primitive pattern — the canvas is cut by a diagonal line of orange figures framed by two vertical lines. In reducing composition to a bare minimum, Matisse made changes directly on the canvas without the use of many preliminary sketches. What is remarkable in these paintings is that the alterations of one single element — the proportional relationship in the configuration of areas of colour results in dynamic motion in The Dance and a diametrically opposed stasis in Music. Particular attention should be paid to the Eastern art and its delicate beauty coupled with a free, simple pattern and colouring, which fed Matisse’s imagination at this stage in his artistic development. The Muslim art exhibitions held in Paris in 1903 and in Munich in 1910, and also his journeys to Spain and to North Africa, laid the foundation for the development of the arabesque in his work. This was never a factor with any of the other Fauvists — Japanese art had been assimilated by preceding generations, while the previously unknown works of Muslim art aroused no more than an impression of the exotic like the African statuettes which Vlaminck discovered. But there was Pablo Picasso, the only person in whom African art found a direct outlet and there was Henri Matisse who similarly went against the grain by finding inspiration in the Muslim art exhibitions held in Paris in 1903 and in Munich in 1910. The first of these, together with Matisse’s journeys to North Africa, prompted the introduction of concrete Eastern objects in his work — the decorative qualities of which furthered the compaction and simplification of space in his still-life pieces — rather than thoughts of any sort of new possibilities in painting. Matisse was not an impulsive man by nature, and a certain length of time was required for an idea to come to fruition in his art. The new impressions he gained at the Munich
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  69. 69. Henri Matisse, Nymph and Satyr, 1909. Oil on canvas, 89 x 117 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 76
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  71. 71. Henri Matisse, Game of Bowls, 1908. Oil on canvas, 115 x 147 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 78
  72. 72. exhibition in 1910, and also from his journeys to Spain in 1910-1911 and to North Africa in 1910-1913 (in the company of Albert Marque and Charles Camoin) laid the foundation for the development of the arabesque in his work. The influence of the East finally separated Matisse’s decorative art not only from the Impressionists’ objective observation of nature but also from the intimate world of the Nabis, thus introducing one further element in the character of Fauvism. Later, Matisse will not use Eastern objects anymore, but any kind of fabric, fish in aquarium, even a pot of geraniums. Painter’s Family (pp. 14-15) is a concentrated expression of the principles of twentiethcentury European art, including Fauvism with its distinctive re-working of external influences. The painting’s motif derives directly from the work of the Nabis and even the execution in no way contradicts Édouard Vuillard’s principles, for the work clearly depicts man in his surroundings rather than being just a mere portrait. In painting the room — the carpet, couches, wallpaper, draughtboard, and objects on the mantelpiece — Matisse worked with the accuracy and spontaneity of a Primitive artist. At the same time he constructed an absolutely pure classical composition: the red patch of the boy’s clothing against a dark ground along the vertical axis is reinforced by the statuette on the mantelpiece; the centre of the work is framed by the rectangular fireplace and the two figures on its left and right sides. The sense of volume found in Classical paintings is here replaced by a flat area of colour. This is indeed the juncture where all the elements present in the painting begin to come together to form a decorative whole. Renaissance perspective is ultimately not ignored — it remains to give a three-dimensional aspect to the work, like all the real volumes subordinated to the flatness. Also present in this compositional play is the calligraphic beauty of Eastern miniatures. All the depiction of individual features like the pattern on the wallpaper and the dresses, the flowers and the design of the carpet loses its independent meaning, becoming merely one element on a colour arabesque. The painting acquires value not as an imitation of real life, but as a fresh reality created by the artist. Matisse’s experience of the natural world of the East, however, made him stray away from the abstract beauty of the arabesque. He began to paint portrait-format canvases with standing figures constructed on large areas of colour. The vibrant power of the distinctive Moroccan light and colours brought the artist fresh nuances in the combination of colour surfaces: not dark blue and red, but a cold green coupled with a subdued crimson, the crossing of which unexpectedly ignites in a sunny ochre — Moroccan Girl (Zorah Standing) (c. 1912, Hermitage). In the painting The Moroccan Amido (1911-1912, Hermitage), there is a very little green surrounded by a pale yellow and cold pink. Matisse seems to have succeeded in capturing on canvas the particular qualities of light within shadow which he found in North African interiors — a new non-European resonance of colour correlation. The Matisse collections in St Petersburg and Moscow are a sufficient, if not totally exhaustive, representation of his pre-1914 works. They contain not only all the genres he worked in, but also the main masterworks of this period. Matisse’s further creative development lies beyond the scope of the collections, with the exception of the four paintings presented by Lydia Delektorskaya. Of great value are Matisse’s book illustrations and sketches from the period of the Second World War. They are examples of the artistic freedom he achieved through stubborn work, a freedom which allowed him to construct a page, a book cover or a frontispiece, with just one line or a few vibrant patches of colour. A whole lifetime divides these works from his stormy youth as a “wild beast” and yet nevertheless these works remain intrinsically a part of Fauvism. Fauvism shaped all Matisse’s creative work and he himself defined it so well as: “the courage to find the purity of means.”33 Henri Matisse, Portrait of the Artist’s Wife, 1913. Oil on canvas, 146 x 97.7 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 80) Henri Matisse, Moroccan in Green, 1913. Oil on canvas, 146.5 x 97.7 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 81) Henri Matisse, Landscape viewed from a Window, 1912. Oil on canvas, 115 x 80 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 82) Henri Matisse, On the Terrace, 1912. Oil on canvas, 115 x 100 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 83) 79
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  78. 78. MAURICE DE VLAMINCK 1876-1958 “W hat is Fauvism? It is me; it was my style of that time, my way of combined revolt and liberation, my self-chosen alienation from schools or anyone else; my blues, my reds, my yellows, my pure colours and unmixed tones.”34 Maurice de Vlaminck had some justification in making so bold a claim for himself: Fauvism really was Vlaminck’s inherent physical and spiritual nature and he retained throughout his life the integrity of his character as “the most authentic ‘wild beast’.”35 For Vlaminck, born into a family of music teachers in Paris on 4 August 1876, it seemed natural to earn a living through music. The friends of his youth remembered him playing the violin like a gypsy in the taverns of the Parisian suburbs. Moreover, he constantly had to give music lessons because, at the age of twenty-one, he was already married with two small children. Entirely self-taught, Vlaminck doubted that he could make a living from painting until his work attracted the attention and admiration of his fellow soldiers and until he met André Derain by coincidence, who became a real friend. Back during his army days in Brittany, Vlaminck fell in with an anarchist group, to whom he remained loyal for many years. And in 1901, Derain introduced Vlaminck to Henri Matisse who visited their Chatou studio to look at their work. Matisse, feeling a spiritual bond with them both, subsequently introduced them to another group of artists — pupils of Gustave Moreau — who, together with Vlaminck and Derain, were later to be known as the Fauvists. At the 1905 Salon d’Automne, the Fauves, especially Vlaminck and Matisse, were derided by the critics for their expressive style of drawing and their riotous use of colour and textured painting. Vlaminck, as an anarchist nihilist, was naturally delighted rather than dismayed at their response. He had so long held the “respectable” art establishment in contempt that he was flattered by their public rejection of him. Negative criticism in the press had also the added advantage of attracting the public’s attention. Up until this time he would very occasionally receive ridiculously small sums for his pictures, but in 1905 Ambroise Vollard bought the entire contents of his studio for 6,000 francs and signed him up for a five-year contract. The money enabled Vlaminck to buy a small house in Bougival for himself, his wife, and three daughters, and finally to dedicate himself solely to painting. In 1907 Vollard organized Vlaminck’s first one-man exhibition, but in 1912 he changed dealers signing a contract with Kahnweiler. In 1913, the last year of peace in Europe before the First World War, he and Derain went on a painting tour to the south of France. The war broke the momentum of his nascent artistic career. He was immediately mobilized and worked as a fitter at various factories not far from his home. Despite his Maurice de Vlaminck. Photograph. 85
  79. 79. Maurice de Vlaminck, A Barge on the Seine River, 1905-1906. Oil on canvas, 81 x 100 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 86 exhaustion from the unaccustomed heavy labour, he would snatch time during breaks to paint the woods of Bougival or the banks of the Seine. During the final six months of the war Vlaminck worked in Paris, renting a studio in Montparnasse. The exhibition which took place in the Galerie Druet and proved highly successful allowed him to buy a farm called La Tourillière near the village of Rueil-la-Gadelière. Vlaminck’s life was a reflection of his character, straightforward, sincere, often unrestrained and harsh. He did not change over the years. Only one hour by car from Paris, on La Tourillière, he lived out his days with Berthe Combe and their two daughters, some-times going away but never for long, painting pictures and writing novels. He died from a serious illness in 1958 in the bosom of his family, mourned by friends and neighbours. Two early works, View of the Seine and Barges on the Seine, came into Ivan Morozov’s collection from Vollard and it is quite likely that they were in Vlaminck’s studio when Vollard bought the entire contents. View of the Seine (1906, Hermitage), depicting the river bank near the Chatou Bridge (a spot where Vlaminck often worked before moving to Bougival), is reminiscent of August Renoir’s Oarsmen at Chatou (1879, National Gallery, Washington), which Renoir painted at the same place during the Impressionist period. Renoir’s red boat cutting diagonally across the surface of the water possesses a resonance which seems impossible for the age of Impressionism. Vlaminck’s painting, constructed on the parallel, almost horizontal lines of the boats and bank, looks quieter and there are no figures in the foreground adding life. Yet, to use Vlaminck’s mode of expression, colour makes his painting a “fanfare” in contrast to Renoir’s “piano music.” His red comma of a boat burns in the centre against a river of shimmering blue, red, ochre and white vertical strokes: touches of red on the shore repeat the main melody and red reflections on the white sails quietly echo it again. The drawing of objects here is much generalized; the outlines of the trees and houses are highly abstract and the sail is inaccurately portrayed. The resulting effect is so powerful that, even after many decades, the pictures evoke the same feelings of impatience and trepidation which gripped the artist himself. Judging by the outlines of the shoreline buildings and factory chimneys, A Barge on the Seine (1905-1906, Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts), was painted at Nanterre. It possesses an unusually uniform surface texture. The river and oppressive sky, streaked with clouds and industrial smoke, are worked in heavy, curling impasto strokes of pure blue, sometimes mixed with pure white, or in pure white alone. From a light-filled foreground, almost exclusively made up of whites, the colour, like sound, builds in intensity, step by step, note by note, towards blue, culminating in the upper part of the sky, where it reaches a seemingly impossible crescendo. After 1907, Vlaminck’s painting grew more pensive and peaceful: outright protest was giving way to reflection. The greatest change in the mood of the landscape results from textural changes. The former dynamic brushwork is replaced by a priming of warm hue over which he spread a thin layer of grey-green, which gives the painting its main tone. The surface of the canvas brings to mind the lessons provided by Cézanne whose influence can also clearly be felt in the compositional balance which even suggests the wings of a theatrical stage. It was precisely in this period that Vlaminck later admitted to having been a Cézannist — as, incidentally, were many of his fellow painters. Vlaminck learned from Cézanne to be more attentive to his subject, to grasp unique, previously unnoticed qualities. The intensity of Vlaminck’s palette diminished in
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  81. 81. Maurice de Vlaminck, Town, c. 1908-1909. Oil on canvas, 73.4 x 92.3 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 88
  82. 82. Maurice de Vlaminck, Bougival, c. 1909. Oil on canvas, 73 x 92 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 89
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  84. 84. comparison to his previous works; he replaced blinding vermilions with ochres — and its juxtaposition with the purity of the adjacent greens creates that clarity of tone which the Cubists abandoned. The abstracted shapes — the massive crowns of the trees and the floating patches of reflections on the water — evoke a sense of unity and harmony in nature. The soft vibrant nuances of cold tones in the sky (Town) and dark green cypresses contrasted with the shining yellow of the houses and road fill the picture with the bright sunlight. The velvety transitions of the green-blue distances and the gentle rounded shapes of trees in the foreground lend a feeling of transparency to the air and a sense of cosiness to these places around Bougival which Vlaminck liked so much. Vlaminck changed as an artist just as any person inevitably in the course of a lifetime, and as nature itself changes. In the landscape River (c. 1912, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts), he still retains the “stage-set” composition of his “Cézannist” phase but he introduces a new element — a river receding into the distance. A road or river running into the depth of a picture was to become one of Vlaminck’s favourite motifs. The crowns and trunks of the trees are still rounded and three-dimensional, the peaceful atmosphere of his Cézanne-like works — the foliage is rendered in frenetic diagonal dashes and the texture has become uneven, in a return to the manner of his early Fauvist work. The tensions in the painting are caused by a lack of harmony in nature: the powerful tree-trunks lean, bent or broken by fierce winds. It was not that the landscape itself had changed — the change was taking place in the artist’s state of mind. On the one hand, his volatile character would not allow him to sustain a peaceful mood for a long time; on the other, Vlaminck was more sensitive than anyone to the age in which he lived — perhaps because he always retained the purity of soul natural to a true “primitive.” In 1912, war hung in the very air of Europe. Vlaminck hated the meaningless slaughter of war and blamed civilization for it. The artist produced many landscapes in the 1920s and Landscape with a House on a Hill (p. 93) is probably not one of the more outstanding examples. Nevertheless, it reveals the maturity of the painter. From a fairly restrained palette of greens, browns, yellows and greys Vlaminck manages to extract a seemingly infinite range of rich colours and tones. A stripe of yellow ochre brings light into the picture. Vlaminck no longer squeezed primary colours directly from the tube onto the canvas, his approach was more orderly and methodical, but in spite of this, the colour is still the most dominant element of the work. It is often stated in biographies of Vlaminck that the 1950s saw him return to his wild, Fauvist style. But Landscape at Auvers (p. 92), Landscape with a House on a Hill and many others like them, painted at the same time, are proof that he never entirely abandoned his wild manner. Landscape at Auvers is Vlaminck, yet again, expressing his temperament through colour and surface texture. The linear design is slightly blurred and patches of green float slightly on the road. Soft brush movements describe the foliage of the trees, the impasto layers lying so thick that the very surface of the painting seems to vibrate. This work contains everything: the physical and plastic qualities of drawing and form; the transparent air; the infinite varieties of shade and hue evoking living nature and a sense of movement. Here, Vlaminck’s reds, blues, and whites sing out with full power. Truly, the primaries are not present in such abundance in his works of 1904-1906, but even if Vlaminck was older and what had previously appeared spontaneously was now the product of long consideration and much practice gained through living, his creative individuality was still the living incarnation of Fauvism. Maurice de Vlaminck, Landscape with River, 1912. Oil on canvas, 83 x 102 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 91
  85. 85. Maurice de Vlaminck, Landscape at Auvers, 1920s. Oil on canvas, 45 x 55 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 92
  86. 86. Maurice de Vlaminck, Landscape with a House on the Hill, c. 1925-1926. Oil on canvas, 33 x 41 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 93
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  88. 88. ANDRÉ DERAIN 1880-1954 “F or us Fauvism was like an ordeal by fire... Our paints became sticks of dynamite. They were supposed to explode with light.”36 It cannot be claimed, though, that Derain simply allowed his artistic spirit to be carried away by a particular opinion. He now undoubtedly possessed a confident belief in his own artistic talent; he found a clear goal, something which his desire to paint had been lacking up until then. “The aim we are setting ourselves is happiness, a happiness that we must consistently create.”37 His paintings possessed Fauvism’s most salient hallmark — the intensity with which Derain’s colours flared up and burnt was such that it was hard to believe that they could die down just as suddenly as they ignited. Unlike Maurice de Vlaminck, though, Derain could not work relying solely on his powers of intuition and his temperament, nor could he convince himself, like Henri Manguin and Albert Marquet, that his choice of artistic direction completely suited his character. He was doomed to be tormented throughout his life, never satisfied with what he had accomplished. André Derain was born on 17 June 1880 in the Parisian suburb of Chatou. An important friendship was struck in 1898 when Derain met Vlaminck on a suburban train going from Paris to Chatou. The two immediately recognized the close similarity of their interests: they simply could not live without art. Both of them had grown up in poor, hard-working families. And both of them were large-framed and powerfully built; both were full of energy and a determination to upset conventions wherever possible. Derain was drawn to classical artistic methods, to museums, and to books: “I never lost touch with the Old Masters, and by the age of eighteen I was already familiar with all the existing reproductions of their masterpieces... for what benefit comes from a lack of culture?”38 Derain was assiduously copying the Ghirlandaios in the Louvre. It must, however, be said that the museum’s outraged visitors tried to prevent the artist’s attempts to turn the paintings into caricatures. “I was possessed by the Louvre,” wrote Derain, “and not a day would pass without my calling in there... I was in wild raptures about the Primitives. Their art seemed to me to be so true, pure and consummate.”39 Derain joined the Matisse group for the Salon d’Automne exhibition and even spent the summer of 1905 working with Matisse in Collioure and came away with a sense of the other’s exceptional personality and manner of painting and of the inner logic of his artistic system. 1907 was, in both private and creative terms, a milestone year for Derain. Most importantly, he married Alice Prense and moved to Montmartre, where he found himself in the midst of the Bateau Lavoir society of poets, artists and journalists. Additionally, around this time, seeing the birth of Cubism taking place in front of his own eyes probably is what made Derain take a jaundiced look at all his earlier work. Derain’s work as a creative artist now had to continue under the intense public gaze that came from being crowned one of France’s leading artists. In 1920, André Salmon invested Derain with the role of “regulator” in contemporary art, Picasso being the “animator.” Furthermore, Salmon considered that Derain was the figure to whom young artists looked for instruction. After having served throughout World War I, in 1919 Derain started to work in theatrical design and continued to work regularly for the André Derain. Photograph. 95
  89. 89. André Derain, Road in the Mountains, 1907. Oil on canvas, 81 x 100 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 96
  90. 90. André Derain, Port, c. 1905. Oil on canvas, 62 x 73 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 97
  91. 91. André Derain, Still Life in Front of the Window, 1912-1913. Oil on canvas, 128 x 79 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 98 theatre for the rest of his life. He also began his career as a book illustrator for the literary genre. It is true that Derain exhibitions were held in Europe and the United States from 1922 right up until the outbreak of the Second World War. However, in Paris, Derain’s work was rarely shown after 1916. Derain’s work in Russian collections does not include anything he produced after 1914. Nevertheless, the collection can lay claim to being a definitive representation of the period it covers, because it is a true reflection of one of the most interesting parts of Derain’s life, the decade between 1905 and 1914. Derain, did then, indeed shut himself away from his friends, retiring to his studio and all the African sculptures, Chinese bronzes, Greek terracottas, and Renaissance ceramics that filled it. Later still, he became a hermit, living in his house in Chambourcy. In 1954, on 8 September, Derain died in a car crash. In 1905 Derain painted in Collioure. The bright southern light led him to make the staggering discovery that when colours are exceptionally intense, there are no dark shadows and they are full of colour reflexes. In effect Derain came to totally reject shadow as it was. A direct result of this new discovery was the landscape Fishing Boats (Drying the Sails). The burning southern colours and working alongside Matisse revolutionized Derain’s way of seeing colour. The sunlight that gives rise to colour reflexes is indeed blinding and shadows do cease to exist. Derain recreated this in his painting with a precisely constructed space, at the base of which lies the white primed canvas and freely distributed daubs of red, yellow and blue. Next to these lie red and dark blue strokes of the same elongated shape, which bring to mind the techniques used in Pointillism — the method Derain had devoted great attention to the colours when studying the works of Georges Seurat and Paul Signac. But even here the red does not burn with the intensity of Van Dongen, for in some miraculous way, the adjacent complementary colours preserve a certain restraint. The painting also has a very surprising background of rounded hills gently rendered with a subtle interweaving of warm and cold light blues, pinks, and pale violets. Derain’s tendency to pursue the creation of form and to subordinate his use of colour to this can clearly be seen even in 1905. This creative line was continued in Road in the Mountains (p. 96) which was painted in the south of France in Cassis. Even in the blinding Mediterranean light, the reds now turned into clay-like orange browns, with thick, cold greens and dark blues laid alongside. These are all bordered by a stylized black outline that creates an effect like a stained-glass window or a flat decorative carpet. In the years 1909-1910 Derain worked a great deal outdoors in the company of Picasso and Braque. The Castle (The New Castle in La Roche Guyon) (p. 31), shows the geometrical approach to form which brought Derain so very close to Cubism. He created on canvas something similar to the regular-irregular shapes found in rock crystal. His construction is so refined, so perfect that it quite simply compels the viewer to admire it. The contrast between the yellow walls and the blue of the sky creates the effect of the southern sun. It almost seems as if nature has escaped, torn the artist’s control, and is drawing him back to his Mediterranean landscape days. Grove (p. 102) and Tree-Trunks (p. 103), were without doubt painted from actual sketches. According to Apollinaire, after the impertinence of his youth, Derain turned to sobriety and a sense of moderation.40 Indeed, it is true that the grey-greens and browns removed from Derain’s work its previous lightness, while an almost metallic harshness is present in the construction of the tree trunks. The trees do, however, have some secret life of their own; the branches growing before our very eyes strain upwards, the trunks, on the other hand, bend towards the ground, which has been made uneven by their roots, and this motion suggests both suffering and resilience. Derain was saying that he saw no
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  94. 94. fundamental difference between the human being and the tree, for both are born, live, and die. He also drew a parallel between the rustling of leaves and human suffering and thinking. This expression of an inner emotion combined with an ascetic use of colour and form marked Derain’s movement away from the line taken by Picasso. It was only in 1910 that Derain, somewhat belatedly, turned his attention to the still life. Despite possessing a varied and exquisite collection of applied art from all around the world, Derain limited his still life subjects to bottles, clay pitchers, and glazed vases. The still life Table and Chairs (p. 13) represents a sort of culmination to Derain’s searches in the area of colour and form and is a synthesis of all he gained from Cézanne and from Cubism. A classical pyramid construction formed of pottery and porcelain tableware is positioned on a table that is angled to the viewer’s eye. The painting is wrought with exactly that balance of green and brown-reds that would appear dull if it were not for the play of the reflexes on the white porcelain. The years 1913-1914 are often termed Derain’s “Gothic period.” In the still life View from the Window (1912-1913, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts), he used exactly the same objects as in previous works, but their meaning is changed in the new context of this composition. The perpendicular window frame which forms the axis of the painting seems to draw the tableware and the trees beyond the window with it in a vertical direction, evoking associations with Gothic church architecture. The Renaissance landscape with its playful clouds frozen beyond the window, reminds one more than anything of a theatrical backdrop. Derain creates a scene where the curtain is drawn up and the front stage flooded with the white of the primed, but unpainted canvas, while the objects are actors who people the stage. The Gothic “key” which Derain had discovered in the intervening years dominated form, colour, and even technique. Derain’s painting was founded on all his immense stock of erudition, his knowledge. Derain’s mind was attracted by the erudite path but the world he saw was too gloomy and hopeless, he himself too prey to the torments of discontent and duality. The atmosphere in pre-war Europe — a feeling of instability and impending doom — intensified Derain’s growing spiritual crisis: “The further I go the more alone I am. And I fear to be abandoned completely.”41 In Saturday (c. 1913, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts), life is concentrated in the darkness of the room where Derain’s dull greens and dark browns seem almost like flashes of light amongst the hopeless blackness of this enclosed world. The folds of needlework in the woman’s hands seem to be a frozen cascade of water. A silence of foreboding hangs over the scene, with life paralyzed in expectation of a tragic denouement. The 1914, Portrait of a Girl in Black (c. 1913-1914, Hermitage) is the final result of a number of portraits that Derain painted of the same model. This earlier would seem to have achieved Derain’s aim completely, the model’s individuality being brought out, the exclusion of everything secondary and incidental, as well as the attainment of a concise means of expression where line and colour create a classical purity and beauty. In the second portrait, little appears to have changed — only now the figure has been removed a very long way from the viewer, almost as if viewed through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars. Emptiness has appeared — a cold, pale blue space. The carefully modelled face with its large constituent forms has taken on the immobility of a wooden sculpture, thereby intensifying the harshness of the lace collar and the back of the chair. The relationship between the figure and the space, combined with this passionless inertia, impart such strength of expression to the subject’s appearance that the portrait has almost become an icon of loneliness. André Derain, Portrait of an Unknown Man Reading a Newspaper (Chevalier X), 1911-1914. Oil on canvas, 162.5 x 97.5 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. André Derain, Grove, c. 1912. Oil on canvas, 116.5 x 81.3 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. (p. 102) André Derain, Tree-Trunks, 1912-1913. Oil on canvas, 92 x 73 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. (p. 103) 101
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  98. 98. ALBERT MARQUET 1875-1947 A Fauve from the very outset, Albert Marquet was also an original Fauve, and moreover, an independent Fauve who in many ways distanced himself from Fauvism.”42 Bernard Dorival wrote those words in 1944, while Marquet was still alive and no one since has managed to define more precisely the artist’s relationship to Fauvism. “Marquet, as it has been observed and is patently evident, has nothing of the Fauve about him,” Vauxcelles wrote.43 “He does not roar, he speaks and he has always spoken in a precisely measured manner; romantic truculence is not a characteristic of the ironical man from Bordeaux. ... He only entered the ‘central cage’ at the 1905 Salon d’Automne so as not to abandon his pals...” Vauxcelles could find nothing in common between Marquet and the Fauves. “Of all the Fauves, he was the least violent,”44 Fritz Vanderpyl wrote about Marquet, and it is hard not to agree with him. It really is the case that Marquet’s painting never possessed the violent energy of Vlaminck and that Matisse’s red never rode triumphantly through it. The texture of his painting never displayed that anarchic freedom which also became one of the outward signs of Fauvism. Albert Marquet was born on 27 March 1875 into the family of a railway clerk in Bordeaux. The taste for drawing which Albert displayed in his childhood, at the secondary school, and his evident talent prompted his mother to conceive the idea of moving to Paris where he entered, in 1890, the École des Arts Décoratifs. It was there that Marquet met Matisse who was six years older than him and for that reason immediately adopted a protective attitude towards him. But with Marquet that was no easy matter: even then his character was so firmly established and independent that it was impossible to make him go against his own wishes. When, in 1895, he enrolled at the École des Beaux-Arts with Matisse, that independence came out in his painting. Professor Gustave Moreau called Marquet “mon ennemi intime” [my intimate enemy], an epithet which expressed both his inability to overcome Marquet’s stubborn spirit of contradiction and his fondness for this pupil. Marquet had a reverence for the professor, as they all did, but his acute and specific gift as a draughtsman irresistibly distracted him away from academic lessons and the copying of the classics which Moreau so insistently preached, towards living scenes of the life he saw in the street. Marquet made copies in the Louvre like all his fellow-pupils; but did not Moreau himself advise them not to waste their youth in a studio but to become themselves in the world beyond? The professor’s rare tact as a teacher perhaps played a stronger role for Marquet than for Matisse or Rouault and when Moreau died in 1898, Marquet left the École des BeauxArts and for a time attended the independent Académie Carrière, along with Matisse. By now, though, he was already a professionally mature artist and he presented his works in several places: In 1903 at Berthe Weill and at the 1905 Salon d’Automne where Albert Marquet. Photograph. 105
  99. 99. Albert Marquet, Sun Over Paris (Sun Seen Through the Trees), c. 1910. Oil on canvas, 65 x 89 cm. Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow. 106
  100. 100. Albert Marquet, View of the Seine and the Monument to Henri IV, c. 1906. Oil on canvas, 65.5 x 81 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 107
  101. 101. Albert Marquet, Rainy Day. Notre Dame du Paris, 1910. Oil on canvas, 81 x 66 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 108 Marquet was among the few about whom the critics wrote in completely favourable terms — he was mentioned by François Monod in his review for the magazine Art et Décoration, while G. Kahn in La Revue illustrée expressed his delight at Marquet’s work, as did Camille Mauclair who was anything but sympathetic to the Fauves.45 Marquet’s painting never outraged either the critics or the public. Nevertheless, the epithet “Fauve” suited Marquet as naturally as everything he did throughout a life in which he stood by the creative principle and bonds of friendship forged at the beginning of the century. In the years that followed, Marquet exhibited jointly with other Fauves in Brussels, Vienna, and Prague. For the majority of the Fauves, landscape was of primary importance and in Marquet’s case it became virtually the only genre in his painting. On rare occasions he turned his hand to the nude (under the influence of Matisse), the portrait, and the still life. Trips undertaken with his friends during this period brought him then to those places which would subsequently become the subjects of his landscapes. He journeyed all over France from Normandy to the Cote d’Azur and in London, Hamburg, Rotterdam, Naples, and Tangiers, where in January 1913 he met up with Camoin and Matisse. Like Matisse, Marquet was exempted from military service, and he spent the years of the First World War in the south of France. He worked in Collioure, the Estaque range and in Marseilles, where, in 1916, a friend let Marquet have a comfortable studio in which he established himself for a period of three years. His contract with Druet meant that he did not have to worry about money. The southern light completely captivated the artist and the end of the war found Marquet longing for North Africa — his pre-war trip had evoked a desire to work under the blazing sun there. In 1920 Marquet set off for Algeria, his decision backed by the advice of doctors who recommended that after a severe bout of influenza, he spend the winter in southern climes rather than in Paris. One of the letters of recommendation with which Marquet’s friends furnished him was addressed to Marcelle Martinet, a French woman who lived in Algeria who helped him to discover and experience the life of the Arabic world and who he married in 1923. Marquet and his wife then spent their time between Paris and Alger, as well as travelling widely. The artist introduced into his painting the landscapes of Tunisia, Norway, Egypt, Spain, Romania, and the Soviet Union. His last pre-war trips took him to Italy, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Sweden. In 1945 the couple returned to the apartment at I Rue Dauphine. It was there that the artist died on 14 June 1947. Marquet was not fond of discussing his art; for him, talking to journalists was a torment: “I don’t know how to write or speak, only how to paint and draw. Look at what I have done. Either I managed to express myself or I failed. In any case, if you can’t understand, whether through my fault or yours, there is nothing more I can do.”46 Marquet’s painting is as restrained as he himself was, but it is far from being rigid. When he was painting, his shyness receded and self-confidence appeared. In his landscapes one never senses the influence of other artists, even those close to him. While he had a warm affection and respect for Paul Signac, Neo-lmpressionism never influenced him for a moment; Cézanne impressed him no less than the others, yet he did not become a Cézannist. Marquet created his own brand of landscape in his painting and it was in that fact above all that his natural affinity with Fauvism expressed itself. The collection to be found in the Russian museums reveals not the artist’s evolution, but the specific world of his landscape just mentioned.
  102. 102. Albert Marquet, View of Saint-Jean-de-Luz, 1907. Oil on canvas, 60 x 81 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 110
  103. 103. Albert Marquet, Louvre Embankment and the New Bridge, 1906. Oil on canvas, 60 x 73 cm. State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg. 111
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