Based on his numerous nudes, one can surmise that Félix Vallotton loved women – he loved their beauty, their coquetry, even their flaws. But his affection for women never went beyond the canvas.
Félix Vallotton, Woman with a Black Hat, 1908
Oil on canvas, 81 x 64.8 cm
The Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg.
“Everything thunders and smells of battle,” declared Félix Vallotton in July, 1914. War was engulfing Europe and even artists, so often pictured as absent-minded beings, isolated in their studios, were inevitably embroiled along with the rest of society. Vallotton felt compelled to contribute to the war effort but, at nearly 50 years of age, was dismissed as too old for army enrolment. So instead he turned to reflecting the war through his art. Or at least, he attempted to.
Félix Vallotton, The Anarchist, 1892. Woodcut. Private collection.
Growing up in the Jura region of Switzerland and then moving to late-19th century Paris, Vallotton had experienced his share of radical political environments. → Read more
Dreams are as commonplace as breathing, but as elusive as the air. Although practically everyone dreams on a nightly basis, very few people remember or understand their dreams.
Looking at paintings from the Renaissance, it is perceivable that the interpretation of dreams predates Freud. Many paintings portray people currently sleeping, suddenly waking up or being woken up, or dreaming.
The current exhibition at the Musee du Luxembourg focuses on the little discussed aspect of sleep and dreams in the art of the Renaissance. Painters such as Veronese and Hieronymus Bosch depicted their subjects’ dreams in several of their paintings. But while Veronese used dreaming as a state to reach religious clarity, Hieronymus instead depicted gruesome, nightmarish images that could make any person voluntarily become an insomniac.
Veronese, The Dream of Saint Helena, c. 1570.
Oil on canvas, 197.5 x 115.6 cm.
The National Gallery, London.
Hieronymus Bosch, Tondal’s Vision: The Temptation of Saint Anthony, c. 1500
Oil on panel, 131.5 x 119.
Museo Nacional de Arte Antiga, Lisbon.
Men create; women inspire. While men stand behind the easel painting masterpieces rich in beauty, women have simply stood in front to model. One woman, though, Artemisia Gentileschi traversed the barrier.
Rather than paint innocent and cheery little pictures, hers is a masterpiece of violence and revenge. Judith Slaying Holofernes depicts the Biblical scene in which Judith and her maidservant murder the General Holofernes in his sleep to save the Jewish people. Artemisia’s painting stands alone in the extreme portrayal of violence, seen in the anguished face of the general and in the vividness of the blood streaming down the white sheets.
Artemisia Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes, c. 1620.
Oil on canvas, 158.8 x 125.5 cm.
National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Art exhibits our fascinations and preoccupations- what we think about, are intrigued by, and want to look at. Ever since the earliest cave paintings, the human body has been a constant subject in art. We might all have one, but that doesn’t stop us from being interested in everyone else’s. But just because it’s natural doesn’t mean there aren’t rules. Society decided (or was it Adam and Eve?) that it just wasn’t on to go around showing off everything that God gave us. And so the fig leaves were slapped on the sculptures, Venus’ flowing locks doubled as a convenient pair of knickers and photographers learnt the art of strategic angles.
David Shrigley’s exhibit at the 2013 Turner prize show in Derry. (http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2013/oct/22/turner-prize-2013-exhibition)
In his work for the 2013 Turner prize, David Shrigley is poking fun at all of that. → Read more
Rembrandt Harmensz. van Rijn, circa 1628
Oil on copper
8 3/4 x 6 3/4 in. Getty Centre, Los Angeles
‘You use a glass mirror to see your face; you use works of art to see your soul.’
George Bernard Shaw
The self portrait in its most potent form offers the viewer with a direct insight to an artist. On an superficial level we are granted a glimpse of the artist’s face. For the viewer it is interesting, exciting, and dynamic thing to be afforded this opportunity, as I believe it adds unconsciously to our perception of the artist. But why certain artists engage in this practise so frequently is a tricky one to answer. Is the self-portrait an exercise in convenience (no easier/cheaper model to arrange than yourself) or vanity?
Milan Kundera writes:
‘The serial number of a human specimen is the face, that accidental and unrepeatable combination of features. It reflects neither character nor soul, nor what we call the self.’
Immortality, 1988
With the self-portrait then perhaps it is the artist’s job then to arrange this ‘accidental and unrepeatable combination of features’ into a true expression of self. Using this, I’d like test the model against three artists generally perceived to be among the best self-portraitists: Rembrandt, Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo.
Left to Right: Rembrandt Van Rijn, Self Portrait, 1630. 15 x 12.2 cm. Nationalmuseum, Stockolm
Self Portrait, 1654. Oil on canvas, 72 x 58.5 cm. Staaliche Kunstsammlungen Kassel, Schloss Wilhelmshohe, Kassel
Self Portrait, 1642. Oil on wood, 69.9 x 58.4 cm. The Royal Collection, London
Self Portrait at the Age of 63, 1669. 86 x 70.5 cm. National Gallery, London
Sorry, this entry is only available in Spanish.
There is no doubt that Hollywood dominates the global film industry. Occasionally, popular films from other countries gain international notoriety like the French film Amélie or the Swedish film Let the Right One In, but those are rare instances.
While the United States dominates the film industry, the rest of the world, mainly Europe, dominates in art. The U.S. does have renowned artists but not as renowned as Europe. Even as an American, I find it difficult to name fellow artistic countrymen, but I can easily rattle off several European artists.
Edward Hopper, painter of the Nighthawks, is a celebrated American painter, but his international repute is an iota of that of contemporary Spanish painter Picasso. The difference between the two does not lie in the quality of their work or the prevalence of their paintings. If anything, paintings by Hopper are more recognizable by the mainstream public.
Nighthawks by Edward Hopper, 1942
Oil on canvas, 84.1 x 152.4 cm
Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago
When leafing through Felix Vallotton’s paintings, it is noticeable that he enjoyed painting group scenes. There is a group of men playing poker in The Poker Game, a group of men talking in The Five Painters, a group of men drinking in The Bistro, and a group of women bathing in The Turkish Bath and in Summer. He frequently portrayed groups of people socializing, but rarely do the genders mix. Men and women only come together if there is underlying sexual tension like in The Visit or The Red Room. Aside from that, it seems that in Vallotton’s world, men and women reside in separate spheres.
Of course, some of the segregation stems from social conventions of the period. During Vallotton’s time, it would have been highly inappropriate for a classy dame to play a round of poker or drink with the boys at the local tavern. But the segregation found in his paintings could also indicate Vallotton’s intimate thoughts on men and women.
The men can always be found in male-dominated spaces such as bars or studies, donning expensive tuxedos and perfectly manicured moustaches.
The Toast by Felix Vallotton, 1902
Oil on cardboard, 49 x 68 cm
Private collection, Paris
The women, on the other hand, are set against natural backgrounds, usually lounging about sans clothing.
Summer by Felix Vallotton, 1912
Oil on canvas, 201 x 205.5 cm
Musee cantonal des Beaux-Arts, Lausanne
As a man, Vallotton could observe and participate in the male sphere, so he could accurately represent it. But I assume he had little access to the true reality of women, so instead he painted his secret desires and impressions.
Men playing poker?Realistic.
Women playing checkers in the nude? Unrealistic (and strange)
Nude Women Playing Checkers by Felix Vallotton, 1897
Oil on pavatex, 25.5 x 52.5 cm
Musee d’Art et d’Histoire, Geneva
I can only wonder why Vallotton assumed women did daily tasks in the nude. Women do enjoy clothing as much as men, if not more.
To see more of Vallotton’s creative undertakings, check out the exhibition entitled Felix Vallotton: Fire and Ice at the Grand Palais National Galleries running until January 20, 2014. But if you can’t make it to France, you can admire his work from home – check out Natalia Brodskaia’s latest book Felix Vallotton (available in print and ebook formats).
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