(Review of Exhibition On Screen: Dawn Of Impressionism, Paris 1874)
EXHIBITION ON SCREEN: DAWN OF IMPRESSIONISM, PARIS 1874/
You can't say that the good people at Exhibition on Screen haven't given Impressionism a fair crack. In addition to Manet: Portraying Life (2013), The Impressionists: And the Man Who Made Them (2015), Painting the Modern Garden - Monet to Matisse, Renoir: Revered and Reviled (both 2016), I, Claude Monet, The Artist's Garden: American Impressionism (both 2017), Degas: Passion For Perfection (2018), The Danish Collector: Delacroix to Gauguin (2021), Pissarro: Father of Impressionism (2022), and Mary Cassatt: Painting the Modern Woman (2023), the series has also devoted time to several Post-Impressionists. Now, in Dawn of Impressionism, Paris 1874, director Ali Ray goes back to the beginning to examine how the most influential movement in the history of modern art came about.
Ray starts with words of dejection from Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Camille Pissarro, and Édouard Manet, as the camera surveys the scene in galleries thronged with people. She next introduces Mary Morton and Kimberly R. Jones, the co-curators of the `Paris 1874: The Impressionist Moment' exhibition at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and Sylvie Patrie and Anne Robbins, the co-curators of the Musée d'Orsay's `Paris 1874, Inventing Impressionism'. They explain the motives behind their shows, as they seek to understand the impact that the Impressionists had on French art and why their work remains so popular worldwide.
Frustrated at being overlooked by the Académie des Beaux-Arts Salon, a group of `artistes peintres, sculpteurs, graveurs, etc.' formed La Société anonyme in order to mount their own exhibition. While they only had space to hang a fraction of the pictures on view at the Salon that had set artistic standards for 200 years, it was the rebel exhibition that has been remembered and the curators duck out at this juncture to leave the floor to the artists, critics, and commentators who witnessed events at first hand.
Critic Georges Lafenestre describes the way the Salon works and how it has been undergoing a crisis since the days of Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres's `Oedipus and the Sphinx' (1808-27) and Eugène Delacroix's Fourth Crusade: The Capture of Constantinople By the Crusaders in 1204' (1840). Works like Alexandre Caban's `The Birth of Venus' (1863), Albert Anker's `Little Girl Sleeping in the Woods' (1865), and Victor Giraud's `A Slave Trader' (c.1867) felt derivative and stale. Fellow critic Jules `Champfleury' Fleury-Husson say items like Tony Roberts-Fleury's `The Last Day of Corinth' (1870) possessed a common craftsmanship that emphasised the lack of originality in a show of 2000 canvases. Writers Eugène Viollet-le-Duc and William Burger blamed the academies for their bland teaching of old ideas.
Yet 5000 items were submitted to the Salon each year and Émile Zola had little doubt that the judges were culpable for the poor quality of the selections. He suggest cliques ensured certain styles remained in vogue, while pictures like Monet's `Women in the Garden' (c.1866) and `Quai de Louvre' (1867) were overlooked, even though they were painted from life with passion.
Edmond Renoir admits it wasn't through a lack of trying that outsiders like his brother sought to break down the barricades and Pierre-Auguste recalls Manet sending `The Luncheon on the Grass' to the 1863 Salon des Refusés, which was largely mocked by the establishment and critics like Louis Étienne. Manet's `The Absinthe Drinker' (1859) was rejected by the Salon and his bid to stage a solo exhibition resulted in a boycott by the press and no sales, even though items like `View of the 1867 Exposition Universelle' were available.
Irish writer George Moore celebrated café society in Paris in the 1860s and suggested that it was the nexus of innovative artistic activity. Over portraits by Alphonse Legros (1863) and Henri Fantin-Latour (1867), Moore explains how he was a wealthy man who shunned polite society to be with his friends at the Café Guerbois, while critic Louis Edmond Duranty marvels at his talent over a shot of `Olympia' (1863), which had been rejected by the Salon and trashed by critics accusing him of seeking to scandalise. But journalist Felix Deriege recognised his significance, even though he never sold a painting for the entire time Moore knew him.
Among his acolytes was Monet, who acknowledges the debt of such Eugène Boudin seascapes as `Fishermen's Wives' (c.1855-60), `Ships in the Port of Honfleur' (1856), and `The Beach At Trouville' (1865) on his outlook on art and on such specific works as `Mouth of the Seine At Honfleur' (1865). Convinced to paint en plein air, Monet refined his style in `Cart on the Snowy Road in Honfleur' and `Road Toward the Farm Saint-Siméon, Honfleur' before he began experimenting with the sub-division of colour in pictures like `Garden At Sainte-Adresse' (all 1867). This boldness led to `Fishing Boats At Sea' (1868) being rejected by the Salon, even though Manet dubbed him `the Raphael of water'. Also spurned was `La Grenouillère' (1869) and, as we see Renoir's 1875 portrait, Moore recalls how Monet nearly starved because he sold so little.
Through Manet, Monet met Renoir, Degas, Paul Cézanne, Duranty, and Zola, while brought Alfred Sisley and Frédéric Bazille. The latter painted Renoir's portrait in 1867 and we hear his brother's account of his time at the École des Beaux Arts over Tancrede Bastet's `Cabanel's Studio At the School of Fine Arts' (1883). Much to his surprise, `Portrait of William Sisley' (1864) was accepted by the Salon, but `Mother Anthony's Tavern' (1866) and `Diana' (1867) were declined.
Moore considered Pissarro to be the kindest of the group and he commended his ability to capture the `pathos of peasants', as we see `La Varenne-Saint-Hilaire', `Village Corner' (both 1863), and `Jalais Hill, Pontoise' (1867). The latter was accepted by the Salon after its predecessor had not and he continued to seek beauty in unsuspected places. Doubtless, he would have approved of Monet's `Road At Louveciennes, Melting Snow, Sunset' (1870) and Sisley's `Early Snow At Louveciennes' (1870-71), which are contrasted here with Pissarro's `Route de Versailles, Louveciennes, Winter Sun and Snow' (1870), as poet Armand Silvestre offers his insights into their styles.
Moore found Degas to be a sardonic personality and highlights his clashes with Manet over instinct and intellectuality, as we see `Family Portrait' (1858-60), which was accepted by the Salon, while `Madame Camus At the Piano' (1869) was spurned. Critic Edmond de Goncourt noted the modernity of `Laundress' (1869) and `The Dance Foyer At the Opera on Rue Le Peletier' (1872).
Seen in Manet's `Berthe Morisot With a Bouquet of Violets', the only female member of the group had `Rosbras (Finistere)' (1866-67) accepted by the Salon, as was `The Artist's Sister At a Window' (1870). Berthe Morisot confides in a letter to sister Edna that she was cross with Manet for touching up `The Mother and Sister of the Artist' (1869-70) so it came up to his standards. She was appalled when it was accepted for display and was unamused by her mother's pleasure that such a great artist was taking an interest in her, as she was tired of men refusing to treat her like an equal.
Moore admits to not having seen Cézanne at the Café de la Nouvelle Athènes and considers him to be a bit rough. As we see `The Murder' (1867-70), Renoir concedes that he was on the periphery of the group, despite sharing many ideas. He recalls putting his own spin on works by other artists in `Landscape of the Aix Countryside and the Caesar Tower' (c.1862) and `The Barque of Dante (After Delacroix)' (c.1870) and retained the view that a knowledge of the past provided a solid grounding for evolving one's own vision. Pissarro and Monet influenced the likes of `River Bend' (c.1865), but he considered himself `the primitive for a new art'. Perhaps not surprisingly, he only had one work accepted by the Salon and that was in 1882.
As we see `Landscape At Chailly' (1865), we hear Frédéric Bazille writing to his mother about day-long outdoor landscape sessions with Monet and his pleasure in improving steadily. But he knows works like `Young Girl At the Piano' - which he painted over and can now only be seen in X-ray - will be rejected by the Salon because it was biased against his desire to capture modern life. He also sumitted `Still Life With Fish' (both 1866) as a safer option and it was accepted.`The Terrace at Méric' (1867) and `Fisherman With a Net' (1868) were also declined and Bazille (seen in an 1867 Renoir portrait) refused to subject himself again to the caprices of a jury. In a letter home over `Bazille's Studio' (1870), he explains the plan to rent space to show the work of the select few and bypass the Salon altogether. However, the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War on 19 July 1870 put paid to the plan.
Monet and Pissarro fled to London. But Bazille and Renoir enlisted, while Degas and Manet joined the National Guard, as Paris was besieged. Over Auguste Lançon's `Dead in Line' (1873), Bazille expresses his disgust at the slaughter, while Manet and Morisot describe the harshness of life over Etienne-Prosper Berne-Bellecour's `A Cannon Shot' (1872). Friends write to tell Pissarro that pictures like `Louveciennes With Mount Valérien in the Background' (1870) were safely stored, although others have been treated like a carpet.
Napoleon III surrendered on 2 September and the Second Empire ended. Morisot informs her sister that Bazille was killed at Orléans (as we see `Studio in the Rue Faubourg', 1869), but she is relieved that everyone else survived. However, the Commune began on 18 March 1871 and lasted until 28 May, when the uprising was quashed at the cost of 10,000 lives and massive damage to the city.
Over Morisot's `View of Paris From the Trocadero' (1871-73) and Monet's `Boulevard des Capucines' (1873), Zola confides in Cézanne that great art often comes after upheavals and that he believes their time has come. Writers Victor Fournel and Maxime Du Camp sensed the same shift in mood and the new energy manifested itself in Monet's `Train in the Countryside' (1870), Renoir's `Le Pont Neuf', Degas's Orchestra Musicians' (both 1872), Manet's `The Railway' (1873), and Pissarro's `Banks of the Oise at Pontoise' (1867).
Yet, as George Moore shrewdly pointed out, collectors tended to like pictures because they continued established trends rather than because they broke new ground. As France underwent an economic, industrial, and political transformation under the Third Republic, artistic tastes proved harder to shift, as the nouveau riche sought to emulate their new social equals rather than expose their conservatism. Consequently, the likes of Monet, Morisot, and even Manet found themselves scraping by and it was only the intervention of dealer Paul Durand-Ruel that improved their circumstances.
He had met Monet and Pissarro in London and acquired works by Manet and Renoir on his return to Paris. But patrons and the press alike refused to tolerate their new approach and Durand-Ruel risked bankruptcy on several occasions in order to keep supporting them. Ultimately, with the Salon and other gallerists uniting against them, the artists formulated a plan to go it alone.
Writers Paul Alexis and Émile Cardon expounded upon the benefits of a joint-stock syndicate, while Renoir explains his insistence on calling themselves La Société anonyme in order to prevent the press describing them as a new school and using any generic name as a stick with which to beat them. Degas encouraged Jacques-Joseph Tissot (whose portrait he had painted in 1867) and Giuseppe De Nitis to exhibit with them. But Pissarro and Morisot were not alone in being advised by well-meaning friends not to put their heads above the parapet and risk the ire of the press, the public, and the artistic hierarchy. Nevertheless, 31 artists submitted work the exhibition that opened on 15 April 1874 in the former studio of photographer Félix Nadar at 35 Boulevard des Capucines (the same street on which Louis and Auguste Lumière would project moving pictures to the first paying audience 21 years later).
Cardon and Philippe Burty were among the critics to see the 165 paintings, drawings, watercolours, and engravings on show. But before we hear their views on the work, the four co-curators return to reveal that nobody has ever recreated the 1874 show before. As the catalogue contained titles only, it has taken some research to identify everything and discover that the landscapes that are so often associated with Impressionism were actually in the minority in the Capucines selection. Morton and Jones also point out the multi-media nature of the exhibits, with pastels, prints, sculptures, and enamels also being included. The latter avers that the only thing the artists from different backgrounds and aged between 27-64 had in common was a desire to have their work be seen.
Only seven of the group went on to be branded `Impressionist' and Cardon and Ernest Chesnau suggested at the time that this was to temper the shock of the new by having some less radical painters on the team. The latter thought this hinted at a lack of conviction, but Manet wanted nothing to do with the rebels and advised Morisot to avoid tainting herself by association. Thus, while Burty could pick out `Hide and Seek' (1873) for commendation, former teacher Joseph Guichard lamented the presence `The Cradle' (1872) in `this pernicious milieu' created by `mad men'.
Marie-Amélie Chartroule (who reviewed as Marc de Montifaud) was appalled by Cézanne's `A Modern Olympia' (1873-74). But, while Fernand de Gantès was enchanted by Renoir's `The Dancer' (1874) and Degas's `The Dance Class' (c.1870), Armand Silvestre thought Renoir's `The Parisian Girl' was little more than a vague promise. Jean Prouvaire was taken by `The Theatre Box', while Gantè and Burty purred over Degas's eye for detail in `The Dance Rehearsal' (all 1874). Yet Jules Antoine Castagnary tutted about his fascination with dancers and laundresses, despite Morton arguing that the quotidian nature of pictures like `At the Races in the Countryside' (1869) made them groundbreaking in response to Charles Baudelaire's demand for art to `reflect the epic qualities of everyday life'.
Curiously, Manet responded most vigorously to this call. Yet, even though `Masked Ball At the Opera' (1873) had been rejected by the Salon, he was the one to shun the independent show, as he felt he would make more impact on the grander stage. He was justified in having `The Railway' chosen in 1874, despite the hostility of the critics. Yet, according to Jones, the Salon of that year also included a number of paintings that reflected the mood of the nation in the light of recent events, with Lawrence Alma-Tadema's `The Death of the Pharaoh's Firstborn Son' (1872) centring on a grieving father. Similarly, Augustine Lançon's `Dead in Line!' (1873) depicted the aftermath of the Battle of Bazeilles on the day before Napoleon III surrendered, while Édouard Desaille's `Charge of the Ninth Cuirassiers at the Village of Morsbronn, August 6, 1870' is pretty self-explanatory.
However, Morton notes that while commemoration is one way to deal with bereavement, another is to look forward and that was the aim of pictures like Monet's `Boulevard des Capucines', which showed how the scene of fierce fighting during the Commune been restored to vigorous normality (a feat lauded at the time by Ernest Chesnau). Émile Cardon commented on the aim of conveying an impression rather than a concrete shape - although he considered the result to be a mess that defied the most elementary rules of painting.
Salon items like Jules-Élie Delaunay's `David Triumphant' and Jean-Léon Gérôme's `L'Éminence grise' (both 1874) continued the tradition of storytelling through art, unlike Pissarro's `Hoarfrost', which snatched at a sensation or a fleeting moment. Items like Cézanne's `House of the Hanged Man' (both 1873) reflected a shift in visual culture, yet it could also be detected in such Salon offerings as Daubigny's `The Fields in June' and Jules Breton's `The Cliff'', which stressed a new interest in nature. Morton claims Sisley's `Apple Trees in Flower At Louveciennes' (all 1874) as the exemplar of this fresh approach, as the area had been replanted with saplings to replace the trees lost in the war.
Only about 60 critics visited the 1874 exhibition and many were hack journalists rather than art specialists. Most were neutral in their response, although there were dismissive and enthusiastic notices. Only four paintings sold, with Monet's `Impression, Sunrise' going for a thousand francs. It was Louis Leroy's scathing review for Le Charivari that coined the term `Impressionism', although not in a complimentary way, as he wondered how anyone could have the brass neck to sign something for display that was such an obviously unfinished mess. The group didn't embrace the name until the fourth show, as they felt it reflected the spontaneity of the work.
Anne Robbins suggests the connection with light, hope, and beauty has given Impressionism its longevity, as it no longer seems radical. Presciently, Chesnau called the show a clarion call that resounds far into the future and it's that meld of positivity and romance that gives Impressionism its cachet - it makes us nostalgic for a past that can help us cope with our present traumas.
Written by Ali Ray and Phil Grabsky, this is a typically astute and assured survey of a key moment in art history. Yet the combination of dissolving views and mellifluous voiceovers sometimes makes this resemble a son et lumière presentation. The use of contemporary writings gives an immediacy to proceedings, but little perspective or personality, as so many unfamiliar figures are cited that the line readings acquire a frustrating unspecificity. Moreover, the absence of curators and critics for much of the time means that there's little to no insight into the contrasting techniques and preoccupations of the different artists.
As, for the most part, there are no gallery glides to act as pillow shots, the onrush of information can seem relentless. Even the presentation of the paintings feels prosaic, with fewer close-ups than usual to enable the audience to appreciate the texture of the brushwork or the significance of a detail. The archive line drawings and engravings used to provide historical context are brilliantly researched and apposite, as are the quoted texts. No one does this kind of film better than Exhibition on Film. But the series has covered so many aspects of the Impressionist era that this feels more like a recap than a revelation.
Unusually, the segment providing thumbnails of the individual artists feels listy and listless, while the section on the Salon needs to delve deeper into its past to avoid it being reduced to the pantomime villain of the piece. Starting in 1667, the official art exhibition of the Académie des Beaux-Arts came to dominate taste in French art after the jury system was introduced in 1748. As it survived the French Revolution (which saw entry extended to foreign artists), it must have been doing something right. Indeed, the admission criteria had been relaxed during the 1848 Revolution that had resulted in Napoleon III taking power. He backed the Salon des Refusés in 1863, which predated the 1874 show of defiance. So, why had the Salon become so conservative in this 15-year interim and why did the critics take its part rather than champion the newcomers?
The closing analysis succinctly shows how lines were blurring in 1874, with the four speakers having an eloquence to match their enthusiasm and expertise. Yet they never quite explain how Impressionism came to be accepted (in France and beyond) or who it influenced and how. Also, by focusing on the big guns, they downplay the randomness of the catalogue while selling short those who didn't go on to become household names. When it came to this show, art mattered less than autonomy and the reverence the film-makers have for the work rather prevents them from doing justice to its prevailing attitude.
Comments