Читать книгу Claude Monet - Nina Kalitina - Страница 5

During the early and mid-1860s these young painters were still searching for an identity and were still rather uncertain as to where their rejection of academic clichés and Salon painting would lead them; but they were fully prepared to follow boldly in the steps of those who, before their own involvement in art, had begun the struggle for new ideals outside of the artistic establishment. At the outset they were particularly attracted by, in Monet’s words, the “naïve giant” Courbet, but by the late 1860s they were beginning to show a preference for Manet, whose pupil, Berthe Morisot, joined their circle. The complete antithesis of the noisy provincial Courbet, Manet was an elegant member of Parisian society, and one of the central figures in the French art world during these years. He struggled constantly in search of an art which was true to life and attracted an ever-increasing number of followers from the ranks of young painters seeking novel means of expression, while often provoking open hostility on the part of official critical circles and the Salon jury. The main stages of this struggle are well-known: The Luncheon on the Grass at the exhibition of the Salon des Refusés in 1863, Olympia in the 1865 Salon, and his one-man show at the time of the World Fair in 1867. By the end of the 1860s Manet was the recognised leader of the Batignolle group of artists and critics, who met in the Café Guerbois and included Edgar Degas, Henri Fantin-Latour, Armand Guillaumin, Louis Endmond Duranty, Zola and Pissarro, as well as the friends from Gleyre’s studio. Manet and Monet knew one another’s work long before they were introduced, and although at first very guarded in his attitude to Monet’s artistic experimentation, the Batignolle group’s leader soon became interested in him and began to follow the development of his work very attentively. As far as Monet was concerned, he did not so much imitate Manet as imbibe the older artist’s spirit of delving into the essence of one’s subject, gaining the impetus to release the powers latent within him. Monet’s development was also influenced by his active contacts with Bazille, Renoir, Sisley and Pissarro. Discussions, arguments and, most importantly, working together served to sharpen the individual skills of each and facilitated the development of certain general principles.

Poppies, 1873.

Oil on canvas, 50 × 65 cm.

Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

Printemps (Springtime), 1872.

Oil on canvas, 50 × 65.5 cm.

Walters Art Gallery, Baltimore.

During the 1860s Monet had not yet determined his personal subject-matter, but he had no wish to turn to historical, literary or exotic subjects as were popular with the Salon’s jury. Instead, he made it his priority to serve the truth and to keep pace with the times, and only experienced a slight uncertainty in deciding whether the landscape or rather scenes with figures should be the genre central to his work. During the 1860s Monet occasionally also visited his parents’ home in Normandy. He would sometimes go with Bazille to the farm in Saint-Siméon, where a sort of club foregathered in which Courbet and Baudelaire participated. They painted at the little port of Honfleur, which Boudin and all the other Normandy landscapists so loved. “As soon as we arrived in Honfleur we looked for landscape motifs,” wrote Bazille to his parents. “They were easy to find, for the country here is paradise. One could not possibly see lusher meadows and more beautiful trees. Everywhere there are cows and horses roaming free. The sea, or rather the Seine greatly widened, provides a charming horizon for these torrents of greenery” (F. Daulte, op. cit., p. 41).

For Monet these were motifs that had been familiar and dear to him since childhood, and he would revisit them throughout his life. Naturally Monet introduced Bazille to his parents. “I have had lunch with Monet’s family,” Bazille wrote his mother. “They’re charming people. They have a charming estate at Sainte-Adresse, near Le Havre (…) I had to refuse their gracious invitation to spend the month of August there” (F. Daulte, op. cit., p. 41). Monet’s parents shared this estate with his Aunt Lecadre. Monet knew days of happiness there, but also of sorrow. His disagreements with his family were a source of continual distress for him. In 1864 he wrote Bazille, “What I’ve been telling you, about the break with my family, is going to happen any day now. Last night at Sainte-Adresse I was asked to leave and not to return anytime soon. I’m even afraid I won’t be receiving any more money. With all the effort I’m putting forth now, that would truly be painful” (F. Daulte, op. cit., p. 42).

Camille Doncieux, born in 1847, was seven years younger than Monet, and therefore still in her teens when she met and began modelling for him in 1865. Soon after their meeting, as so often goes the story with artists and their models, Monet fell in love with the dark-haired, dark-eyed Camille.

However, the fact of Camille’s humble means (especially when contrasted against Monet’s family’s relative financial stability) soon became an obstacle in their relationship. Being of different social classes, Monet and Camille might have just enjoyed an acknowledged love affair; however, Monet was enamoured with Camille’s intelligence and beauty and insisted on having her as his wife. The family arguments which erupted due to Monet’s choice of bride would take an emotional toll on Monet.

In 1867 Monet’s father ordered him to spend the summer at Sainte-Adresse under his aunt’s surveillance to keep him away from Camille, who was just about to give birth to their first son, Jean. His father threatened to withdraw financial support completely if he married. Monet was in despair, and in such a state of nervous agitation that he even began to lose his vision – the worst misfortune possible for a painter. He was fortunate to find a doctor in Le Havre who would treat him for his anxiety. And yet, all this time Monet was under the spell of Sainte-Adresse, about which he wrote, “It’s charming, and I’m discovering things still more beautiful every day. It’s driving me mad, there’s so much I feel like doing” (L. Venturi, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 21).