Gabrielle Wearing Jewelry, 1910. 65 x 81 cm

Gathering Flowers, 1890. 65 x 81 cm

The Bathers, 1887. 118 x 171 cm

Nini in the Garden, 1876. 62 x 51 cm

Luncheon of the Boating Party, 1881. 130 x 173 cm

Le Moulin de la Gallete, 1876. 131 x 175 cm

La Loge (The Theater Box), 1874. 80 x 63 cm

Renoir: The Quest for True Painting

Pierre-Auguste Renoir was born in 1841 in Limoges, France, but his family soon moved to Paris, the center of the late-nineteenth century art world (Pach, 1983). Born into the working class, at the age of thirteen he began working as a painter of ceramics; once he saved up enough money, he attended the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, where he made friends with Claude Monet, Frederic Bazille and Alfred Sisley. Over the next few years, the four former students of the Ecole de Beaux-Arts were joined by Edourd Manet, Edgar Degas, Paul Cezanne, and Camille Pissarro. These forward-thinking artists discussed their dissatisfaction with the Salon’s stubborn preference for mythological themes in painting. The Impressionists felt that they should be painting scenes from everyday life on the Parisian streets. Some also felt that more painting should be done outside, because it was difficult to portray natural sunlight in the studio.

Perhaps Renoir’s own reasons for wanting to abandon classical Roman themes for daily life sprang from his working class background. In my opinion he wanted to convey the beauty he saw in common people and nature through his artwork, not just beauty that had been officially sanctioned as “high art.”

Although he and his friends were rejecting the establishment, the object of their rebellion was simply to create what they considered better art. For Renoir, that simply meant art that was more beautiful; he never tried to put meanings into his paintings. In fact, he deliberately avoided painting narrative pictures or allegories. His paintings are all instantaneous and vivid, hiding no subtext or symbolism. Additionally, he did not paint scenes of gloom, despair or pain of any kind. He freely altered the bodies and faces of his subjects to be more pleasing, and he often edited out the dirt and grime of everyday Paris living. When writing about the purpose of painting, Renoir said that he believed that paintings were meant to be pretty; that was their purpose as decorations.

This desire to paint what was beautiful was what inspired Renoir to develop and adopt Impressionism. His paintings that I most enjoy are those he painted when he was most involved with the Impressionists. For example, the painting of the Ball at the Moulin de la Galette, in 1876, is one of my favorites. Throughout the composition, Renoir successfully conveys the air of congeniality and festivity of the place, while also infusing a strong sense of movement and activity. In its entirety, the painting is enjoyable to look at and aesthetically pleasing. My other favorite from this period is the Luncheon of the Boating Party. Once again, Renoir achieved what he aimed for: a joyous, beautiful picture.

Renoir’s radical style was began to gain some acceptance, at long last. However, towards the 1880s, he began to experience some doubts about where he was going with Impressionism. He took a vacation in Italy and it was there that he saw the works of the classical masters, and became convinced that he had been going about painting all wrong.

The ensuing few years became known as his “sour” period. He decided to imitate Raphael and the great masters, and return to line and modeling instead of patches of color and light. From 1881 to 1888, he experimented with this concept, and in 1886 he unveiled his new style, displayed in his large Bathers picture. It was met with distress and criticism.
After the initial experiment, he eventually integrated his new respect for shading and line with his fantastic eye for color and his flowing Impressionist brushstrokes. Simply look at the painting Gathering flowers, from 1890. The country landscape, in tones of autumn gold and green, flows subtly towards the village ahead, and recalls Renoir’s earlier work. Meanwhile, the two girls have a solidity and roundness that comes directly from his handling of shading and form, and it seems like you could reach out and touch them. In fact, this effect is exactly what Renoir hoped for in his paintings. “I like a painting which makes me want to stroll in it, if it is a landscape,” he once said, “or to stroke a breast or a back, if it is a figure.”

His style continued to evolve, but it never regressed; he was always moving forward. Unfortunately, at the age of sixty, he began to have attacks of arthritis that eventually confined him to a wheelchair, but he never stopped painting until his death in 1919. When he could no longer hold a brush in his rheumatic fingers, he had a brush tied to his hand. He is quoted as having said the day before he died, “I am still making progress.” His love of art and beauty is evident in all his works, and his legacy lives on today.


Prompts

1. Do you agree with Renoir that art should be beautiful for beauty’s sake, or do you think that art should have deeper meaning? Explain.
2. Do you favor Renoir’s Impressionist style or his later, more classical style? Why?
3. Was there anything about Renoir that intrigued you, or that you wanted to know more about?
4. Write about whether or not you think Renoir achieved his quest of finding “true painting.” Explain your reasons.

Response to "Olympia's Look"

From Susan Vreeland’s story, we get several impressions of the character of Suzanne Manet. She is at times the docile wife, suspecting infidelity but never confronting Édouard, and at other times she is fierce and unrelenting, describing the horrors of Édouard’s illness to Victorine. She also has a strong sense of her Dutch identity; she sets herself apart from French women and considers many of her personality traits to be inherently Dutch. She is, in other words, a multi-faceted character.

Before Édouard’s death, Suzanne seems stifled by her sense of propriety. She suspects, but does not ask; she longs for intimacy with Édouard in everyday transactions but never tells him of her feelings. She even runs the faucet so that he cannot hear her sobbing over the news of his terrible illness. Once she comes to the realization that she will soon be on her own, however, Suzanne begins to assert herself in anticipation of the times to come. She demands to have the secret letter, and leaves it out in the open for Édouard to see. After his death, she becomes even more firm. She angrily admonishes Isabelle at the wedding, and when she visits Victorine she is strong and strangely triumphant.

There are a few passages that were particularly interesting to me. The first is on the first page of the story: “She kissed him, a brush of the lips on both cheeks in the French way she’d adopted.” Right from the start, the internal sense Suzanne has of herself is decidedly un-French. She has adopted the French ways, but she doesn’t feel French. She feels Dutch, she IS Dutch and it provides a small level of alienation from Édouard. She wonders if she had been French, if things would have been different; she warns Albert that Dutch women may seem tolerant, but they are not forgiving; she wonders if the Philippine nut that Édouard drew is a French symbol of love. All these small details serve to remind the reader that Suzanne keenly feels foreign.

A second passage that was interesting was really the whole section where Suzanne meets Victorine. It seems as though, throughout the whole encounter, she is really speaking for the benefit of her own peace of mind than to Victorine. She seems to be convincing herself that she was the most important to Édouard, that it was she who he really loved and who really loved him. Victorine does not claim otherwise; she tells Suzanne that they were merely “collaborators”, and yet Suzanne has this desperate desire to prove that she had the real relationship with Édouard. In the end I think that by cowing Victorine she is really defeating the part of herself that fears that he had completely replaced her with all of his elegant French mistresses.

We’re not really given the whole background of Suzanne’s life, but there is a very real sense of who she is and where she will go. She has plans for her life without Édouard, and she fastidiously prepares for the times ahead by asking Albert to make copies of the paintings, learning how to do things for herself, and learning how to be assertive. I think that Suzanne has a very strong will, at first hidden but brought out by circumstances. She is not just going to lie down and fade quietly away once Édouard is gone – she will have a livelihood, and make a place for herself in the world through her husband’s legacy. Though situations beyond her control have shaped her life, she is taking the reins and taking charge.

One funny final note about this story; on page 88, when Suzanne is becoming more and more intense, carried away by the idea that it was Victorine who gave Édouard the syphilis, it says, “She stroked the cat more roughly.” Two pages before it said she stroked the cat with “long, slow strokes.” I just get this image of her first petting the cat like a classic Bond villain, slow and deliberately, then petting harder and faster as she rants more and more. I can imagine the poor cat sitting there and taking it, wishing it were somewhere else. It just struck me as funny and I immediately pictured that scenario.

Children of the Screen

As a sociology major, I find the two main premises of Hannah Baylon’s article Children of the Screen to be fundamentally flawed. Firstly, the author seems to indicate that modern society is a more frenzied and destructive place than the past, and to salve our frazzled brains we turn to television, which keeps us from doing more constructive and creative things like walks in the park. Secondly, the author believes that our mass media try to dictate who we should be, and today we are pressured more and more by these media to relinquish our individuality in favor of “cultural norms.”

I beg to differ. During the pre-modern age, the time of the Roman Empire, the expected life span at birth was twenty years. Only eight percent of the population lived to age sixty-five. If such a lifestyle can be considered less stressful than our current one, than I’d like to know on who’s authority. Granted, the wealthy and elite may have lived in luxury and ease, but I think that the same follows for the wealthy and elite of today. In addition, you may recall the entertainment that the Romans came up with: gladiators, circuses, and chariot races. I don’t consider any of those intellectual or self-enriching pursuits. If you want to discuss pressure to conform to societal norms, just take a look at the persecution and slaughter of early Christians. And the next few centuries didn’t get any better; from Galileo to Oscar Wilde, those who didn’t fit into the “norm” were punished.

It’s the nature of the human condition. The majority of the population fall into a group Karl Marx called “the proletariat,” those who are forced to labor to provide for themselves. In modern times we still need to provide for ourselves; our basic needs have never changed. We have just come up with more and more complex ways to fulfill them. I agree that the degree of escapism present in our society can be frightening, but I don’t find it unusual or new. It is only our outlets for our escapism have changed. As for society telling us “who we should be,” that has remained constant throughout the ages. There are various reasons for this phenomenon, but essentially it boils down to the fact that human society is a glorified pack of wolves. There is no room for a rogue wolf; the survival of the pack depends on every wolf knowing their place and knowing their job.

We’ve evolved quite a bit from the wolves, of course. That’s why there’s so much freedom of movement in modern society. You may be pressured to conform to the norm, but in Western society you’re allowed to do whatever you want. Apparently, what we want to do is watch television. Well, more power to us then. Every vice is dangerous in excess, but eliminating one will not keep us from seeking others. Others include gambling and substance abuse, both of which have been around pretty much since we were tribes of hunter-gatherers.

We are children of the screen. I can’t deny that. However, I posit that children of the screen are better off than children of the opium trade, children of the streets or children of the mines. I also don’t believe that we would elect to take sunny walks if that darned television set wasn’t in the living room. You see, the poverty-stricken East End of Victorian London was not bustling with folks out for their daily constitutional, thinking of ways that they could better than selves and humanity with their own special creativity. Leisure is a luxury that the common (until now) could not afford. The fact that the average American watches four hours of TV a day is a testament to the radical improvements brought to our lives during the twentieth century… which is why mass media was invented. As a people we have more spare time than every before, which means there is now great money in coming up with ways to fill up that time.

The key to surviving all of this with our intellects intact is not necessarily appreciating the natural world around us, though that is a lovely pastime and you’re free to indulge in it if you wish. It’s being able to filter through the nonsense and being able to think about what you see. I admit to being fully adapted to the screen, but to me it’s not a bad thing; I’m just maximizing my leisure time. I have always had a love of performance arts and fictional stories, so to me film and television can be great art at their best. Now, at their worst they can be complete drivel, but the great ones still enthrall me.

Personally, I watch television in two ways: zoning out, and being entertained. I occasionally if not habitually watch certain shows to zone out and relax. For instance, “Spongebob Squarepants” is ideal for a cheap laugh and nice bright colors that don’t require much thought to understand. I love it. However, there are shows that I watch because they fascinate me and intrigue me. I enjoy crime shows for the intricate plots, but I only enjoy the ones that also have believable characters and premises. That’s why I abhor “CSI: Miami.” Each episode features neon lighting from below in every setting, from the lab to the interrogation room, with supposed “crime scene investigators” acting like detectives and solving all the murders, plus a gravelly-voiced redheaded man who seems only to be able to take off his sunglasses and say something dramatic. Conversely, I adore “Bones”, a show about a forensic anthropologist and an FBI special agent, along with a gang of unique lab scientists, all of whom are played by excellent actors and who back up their investigations with what is at least convincing-sounding pseudoscience, if perhaps not always technically accurate science.

As you can probably tell, I watch a lot of TV. Maybe you think that this entire tirade is a gut reaction to defend my own personal vice. Perhaps so. However, I think that the amount of time, effort, and thought that I’ve put into this argument disproves Baylon’s theories in and of itself. We don’t have to just zone out. With the advent of the internet we are more involved in our own entertainment than ever before. We can comment on our favorite shows, start grassroots campaigns to bring cancelled shows back, or create our own shows. Television watching - much like Wikipedia - is about what we put into it. Turn on the Discovery channel, or the History channel. Don’t be a passive viewer; engage, question, scrutinize, critique, be scandalized, laugh, sigh, cry, and most of all, enjoy.

Dorian Gray

The Picture of Dorian Gray is the story of a young man who sees a portrait of himself and wishes fervently that he could stay forever young and that the portrait could change instead. His wish is silently granted by an Egyptian idol, and it changes his life completely.

A naïve and innocent youth, Dorian is taken in by a corrupt man named Lord Henry, who preaches that youth is the only thing worth having in life. Dorian sets out to take in as much pleasure as he can while he is still young, and instead falls in love with a young singer named Sibyl. However, Lord Henry goads him to test Sibyl’s virtue, and when she fails his test, he breaks her heart. It is then that Dorian notices a change in the portrait - a cruel twist to the mouth. Before he can apologize and restore the painting, he finds out that Sibyl has killed herself, and he resigns himself to a life of sin.

Twenty years later he still looks as innocent and young as he did when the picture was made, but London’s high society whisper about the atrocities he is rumored to have committed. Basil, who painted the portrait, cannot believe these rumors, and neither can his young niece Gladys, who is in love with Dorian. When Dorian reveals the changed and malicious portrait to Basil, he realizes the extent of Dorian’s sins and begs him to change his ways. Dorian, unfortunately, is terrified of Gladys learning his secret and kills Basil, further staining the portrait.

Soon afterward, Dorian and Gladys become engaged, but his happiness is short-lived. Sibyl’s brother Jim tracks him down through Dorian’s frequent visits to the seedy underbelly of London, and he is desperate to avenge Sibyl’s death. Jim’s presence causes Dorian to relive his past sins and regret all of the evil he as done. He decides that he will live a life of sanctity and purity, and regain his soul. But first he decides to destroy the portrait, and when he stabs the heart of the portrait his own heart is stabbed. Gladys and Lord Henry burst into the room to find a grotesque old man lying dead on the floor and Dorian’s portrait pure and beautiful.

There are several messages in this story. Of course, there’s the typical “Be careful what you wish for.” Like all movies of this type, the protagonist comes to fully regret their foolhardy wish. There’s also a message that inner beauty is more important than outer beauty, and that those who do evil things cannot hide the evil in their visage. In a way, the movie at once maintains and refutes Lord Henry’s message about youth being the only thing worth having. The film seems to agree that you can never get it back; although Dorian hopes he can make his portrait beautiful again, his good intentions come too late. However, the film disagrees with Lord Henry’s claim that it’s the only thing worth having. Clearly the film shows that love and morality are more important. Finally, there seems to be a message of karma, or divine retribution. His death seems to be punishment for having held off the ugliness that accompanied his evil for so many years. Though tragic, it seems only just that his unnatural life was ended.

One scene that I liked was in the beginning, the scene where Basil reveals the portrait to Dorian. The director chose to film just the portrait in color for a moment, to display it in all its glory. This, of course, is a pivotal moment for both Dorian and the film because it is the moment he comes to envy the portrait. The moment of color really gives the sense that the picture has “a life of its own”, as Basil says, a supernatural and immortal beauty that exceeds even the man it was based on. Lord Henry exclaims, “Look at yourself, Dorian Gray!” and it seems that the painting really is himself. Dorian speaks out loud about how the portrait will stay forever young and how he wishes it could be the other way around. Basil and Lord Henry make jokes about it, but Dorian is deadly serious. It is shortly after this scene that he makes the fateful wish.

The moment of color is very ahead of its time, although I suspect that the reason that the rest of the film was in black in white may have been less artistic and more financial. However, it seems to be a predecessor later films like Schindler’s List in which the majority of the movie is in black and white to accentuate the occasional vivid flashes of color. The effect is very symbolic, poignant, and eye-catching, because as we all know “a picture is worth a thousand words,” so imagine what 24 frames per second can say.

Who Am I?

I have decided to use picture #20 in my blog, because it was the most intriguing to me. I immediately decided in my own mind that this is a portrait of Dionysus, god of wine (known as Bacchus by the Romans).

The first thing that strikes me about this portrait is the attitude of Dionysus. He leans casually against a pillow on a lounge chair, his eyes half-lidded and directed nonchalantly at the viewer. His left hand is stretched out to offer a glass of deep purple wine, his right hand idly toying with some sash or bow around his waist. This is a man of indolence and luxury, actively inviting the viewer to join him. He appreciates good company and would prefer to laze about, eating and drinking lavishly, than handle any responsibilities. He is obviously not a fighter, for he is inattentive and unconcerned, not to mention a copious lack of scars, wrinkles or worry lines.

This brings us to Dionysus’ physique. He is baby-faced, no facial hair apparent, with full lips, a rounded nose, a gentle chin, long eyelashes and fine, narrow eyebrows. His thick black curls fall gently around his face, and his cheeks are flushed - perhaps because of his drinking. His beauty is refined and delicate. Dionysus is clearly a man of tastes, a connoisseur of the pleasures in life. Though his face suggests more of a boy than a man, his upper arm displays strongly defined biceps. He is strong, much more powerful than he appears at first sight. However, he doesn’t seem to enjoy exercising that strength. Rather, prefers to lay about half-clothed and feast among friends. Still, his intensely dark eyes and lightly arched brow seem to veil an unspoken challenge; you would not refuse the glass of wine he is offering.

Finally, I will touch on the elements surrounding Dionysus. His head is crowned with grapes and autumn grape leaves, and similar grapes and leaves adorn the overflowing fruit bowl. An additional decanter of wine is ready on the table. The grapes not only hint at the identity of the god of wine, but serve as an indicator of his wealth and the sumptuousness of his lifestyle. Likewise, the fruit show that he is rich, living without a worry or care except that his desires be met. The arrangements again display his tastes, his love of excessive and showy displays of his riches. He is the kind who would spend copious amounts of money to flaunt his affluence to those around him, unconcerned about whether or not he will have anything left the next day.

Overall, one might call him a playboy (just look at him lounging there), but that’s a little anachronistic for Dionysus. He might be more appropriately described as a hedonist, as well as an aesthete. Worldly, complex, powerful, and blithe, Dionysus is a many faceted character.

Hello! Isn't this a cute picture!