Blog Archives
Pearls from artists* # 690
“Showman,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 26” x 20”
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
PC: And today, don’t you think a picture communicates primarily through its metiére? A mysterious transubstantiation takes place between the thing itself and the way in which our eye receives it. Or, more precisely, a painter’s metiére has life in it, as if it were still laden with the artist’s passion. You feel his pulse beating in it, his need to register the victory of his presence in physical space but outside the reach of time.
HM: Every painter with real talent has his own metiére, a way of laying on the paint with relish, with a certain voluptuous feel, which means that you could say that metiére of this or that painter is like velvet, or satin, or taffeta. As to manner… No one knows where this comes from. It’s magic. It’s not something you can learn. There are very rich paintings, like those of Cézanne, and others very lightly painted that have real density all the same: Velazquez, for example, with his Phillip IV. He uses a scumble for the landscape, which is very beautiful and solid with matiére—the scumble is so well proportioned that it combines with the background and harmonizes perfectly; the Rubens painting on wood in the Louvre, Portrait of Hélène Fourmont and Her Children, is painted mainly in colored oils, yet how deep and solid the colors seem!
Chatting with Henri Matisse: The Lost 1941 Interview, Henri Matisse and Pierre Courthion, edited by Serge Guilbaut
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Pearls from artists* # 685
Another of my favorite books!
*an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.
HM: The great benefit I took from visits with Renoir was realizing that even after a long working life, an artist’s curiosity could remain unquenched. The hope of some further progress, something to be added to his œuvre, was what kept Renoir alive. He was painting a “bathing” picture (now, finally, in the Musée du Louvre) and doing it with some difficulty because the picture was quite big and Renoir’s hands weren’t very nimble. But it’s only now, when I think about it, that I realize he must have found it hard; it would never occur to you when you saw him at his canvas – there was such intellectual urgency about everything he did.
Another big lesson I learned from visiting Renoir was that this man, riddled with pain and infirmity – his legs were so stiff he couldn’t walk a single step – could still be happy working and talking about his work. When you were with him for a while and he’d warmed to the conversation, you hadn’t the least sense that you were talking to an old man; his eyes were so full of life and intelligence that you forgot his age.
Henri Matisse in Chatting With Matisse: The Lost 1941 Interview, Henri Matisse with Pierre Courthion, edited by Serge Guilbault
Comments are welcome!
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