Posts Tagged ‘Monet’
“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.”*…
… Still, there are bills to be paid. Mathilde Montpetit (and here) on how the young Claude Monet made bank…
At the age of fifteen, Claude Monet was, by his own account, one of the most successful artists in Le Havre. Crowds would gather in the Norman port city to gawk at the pictures he sold through a framing shop: not paintings of haystacks or of the sea or water lilies, but slightly cruel caricatures of local bigwigs and minor celebrities. He had already learned to commercialize, charging his customers 20 francs (around 200€ in today’s money). “If I had continued”, he claimed to an interviewer in Le Temps almost fifty years later, “I would have been a millionaire.”
Spurred by profits, the young Monet was productive, creating up to seven or eight of these caricatures a day; a small collection of them is now held at the Art Institute of Chicago, most donated by the former mayor Carter Harrison IV (1860–1953). The French art historian Rodolphe Walter has claimed that his caricatures constituted a “clandestine apprenticeship”, the first attempts by a son of Le Havre’s bourgeois shipbuilders to make his way in the art world.
The earliest are anonymous: the identities of The Man in the Small Hat or The Man with the Big Cigar are now lost, although the framing shop devotees may well have been able to name them. Some of the works are imitations, like the 1859 drawing of the French journalist August Vacquerie (1819–1895) that Monet seems to have copied from Nadar (1820–1910), probably the period’s most famous caricaturist.
Monet’s own 1858 caricature of Léon Manchon, the treasurer of Le Havre’s Société des amis des arts, captures his subject’s appearance but also, in the background, both his love of the arts and his work as a notary. Most fantastical is the 1858 caricature of Jules Didier (1831–1914), which shows the 1857 winner of the Prix de Rome as a “Butterfly Man” being led on a leash by a dog. Monet scholars remain divided as to the symbolic meaning of the iconography, though more obviously derisive is the drawing of a dejected fellow applicant to an 1858 Le Havre art subsidy, Henri Cassinelli. Monet has captioned it “Rufus Croutinelli”: a slightly forced pun on “croute”, meaning a daub of paint. Monet didn’t receive the subsidy either.
Sixty-year-old Monet’s claims about how he could have made his young fortune probably had more to do with his later difficulties in selling Impressionism than the actual fortunes to be made in portraits-charge, but it was the roughly 2,000 francs (20,000€) from selling these caricatures that allowed him to, against his father’s wishes, move to Paris and begin training as an artist. (He also received a pension from his wealthy aunt Marie-Jeanne Lecadre, with whom he had been living since his mother’s death in 1857.)
Perhaps it helped him in other ways as well. In the Le Temps interview, Monet claimed that it was while admiring his admirers at the framing shop window that he first encountered the work of his mentor Eugène Boudin (1824–1898), whose paintings were also hung there. Boudin would later take him en plein air for the first time. Perhaps, too, there’s something in the quickness of the caricature that speaks to what Impressionism would become — a desire to capture not just the literal appearance of a thing, but its true essence…
“Doing Impressions: Monet’s Early Caricatures (ca. late 1850s)” from @mathildegm.bsky.social in @publicdomainrev.bsky.social.
Re: the other end of Monet’s career, readers in (or visiting) the Bay Area might appreciate “Monet and Venice,” over a hundred works– mostly the fruits of Monet’s only visit to the City of Canals, but spiced with Venetian views from artists including Renoir, Sargent, and Canaletto– on display at the de Young Museum in San Francisco through July 26.
* Kurt Vonnegut
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As we cherish cartoons, we might might send pointedly-insightful birthday greetings to Peter Fluck; he was born on this date in 1941. An artist, caricaturist, and puppeteer, he was half of the partnership known as Luck and Flaw (with Roger Law), creators of the epochal British satirical TV puppet show Spitting Image.
The show ran from 1984 through 1996. (It was revived, with a different crew, in 2020.) Here’s a BBC appreciation of the original…
“Early modern society created – and we have inherited – that paradoxical thing: a tradition of radical innovation”*…
A University of Chicago economist with a specialty in the economics of creativity, David Galenson, with an argument that the Impressionists contributed more than their works to the story of art…
Since the 1960s the art world has become accustomed to the arrival of startling new works by contemporary artists, from Yves Klein’s anthropometries created by nude models covered with blue paint, Piero Manzoni’s canned feces, and Andy Warhol’s silkscreened portraits, through Andres Serrano’s crucifix in urine, Damien Hirst’s sectioned animals in formaldehyde, and Tracey Emin’s soiled bed, to Maurizio Cattelan’s duct-taped banana. Yet few art experts understand that these radical works are only the most recent consequences of a fundamental change in the structure of art markets that occurred more than a century ago. And the artists who initiated this change are today so venerated that few people realize how radical they were in their own time…
Art historians have long recognized that a radical change occurred in the appearance of fine art during the late 19th and early twentieth centuries, but they have failed to explain why this happened when it did. The answer lies in a change in the structure of the market for art, initiated by Claude Monet and a small group of his friends. The Impressionist group exhibitions of 1874–86 effectively ended the official Salon’s monopoly of the ability to certify artists as qualified professionals, and began a new regime in which small independent group exhibitions competed for attention. The result was a new era of artistic freedom, as painters no longer had to satisfy the conservative Salon jury, and new styles challenged for leadership of the art world. The heightened demand for originality favored conceptual artists, who could innovate conspicuously and decisively. So ironically, Monet and his fellow experimental Impressionists came under attack from the supporters of Seurat, van Gogh, Gauguin, and other young conceptual artists. The growing independence of private galleries, which further contributed to fostering competition, would allow Matisse, Picasso, and their peers to consolidate this revolution early in the next century. And the products of this perpetual revolution have included such later works as Warhol’s silkscreened portraits, Hirst’s sectioned animals, and Cattelan’s duct-taped banana. Art historians have described the transformation of modern art in great detail, but have failed to recognize the causal role of economic forces, as the shift from monopsony to a competitive market gave artists a new freedom to innovate, and made the modern era a time of continuing radical innovation…
Fascinating: “Marketing modern art: how the impressionists started a perpetual revolution,” from @jcultecon.bsky.social.
Bay Area readers can peek at the process in motion at The MFA’s Legion of Honor in the “Manet & Morisot” exhibition, up through March 1.
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As we divvy up the difference, we might send avant-garde birthday greetings to a beneficiary of this emergent cultural mechanism, Francis Picabia; he was born on this date in 1879. A French avant-garde painter, poet, and typographist, Picabia experimented with Impressionism and Pointillism before becoming a Cubist. He then became one of the early major figures of the Dada movement in the United States and in France, and was later briefly associated with Surrealism.
See his work at the record of a major retrospective hung at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 2017 on their web site.
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