DOI issue:
Special winter-number 1896-7
DOI article:Mourey, Gabriel: Some French artists at home
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17298#0348
Some French Artists at Home
puvis de chavannes in his studio
the Man and the Artist; and this principle of the loveliest of dreams, the noblest of thoughts ! On
subjectivity of the plastic arts is showing itself more the walls, drawings and sketches and photographs
than ever to-day, in this individualist age of ours. of his works; and for furniture, simply a big table,
" Every painter paints himself," remarked Savo- a few arm-chairs and a sofa. But the presence of
narola ; and all contemporary work emphasises the the artist himself gives an air of nobility to the
truth of the saying. place, and one crosses the threshold with reverence.
Thus, I have tried to present very simply—as an Here it is he receives his friends every morning
addition to the photographic "documents," show- before nine o'clock. He will open the door himself,
ing the exact personality of some ot our French robed in a long brown dressing-gown like a monk's
painters, and the actual aspect of their studios—■ garment; and as he dresses, he will talk, and talk,
certain of the predominating characteristics both of art or literature, or the latest news, anything in
of the men themselves and of their productions. I fact, and always with rare depth of thought and the
have intentionally ignored the purely technical side most charming bonhomie. Never a spiteful word
of the question, and have confined myself exclu- about any man, or any man's work, for he is full
sively to the attempt to produce from out of each of kindliness and indulgence towards every artistic
artist's work a sort of psychological diagnosis. effort. Truly there is in this great man an extra-
Beyond this my remarks have no pretensions what- ordinary simplicity of feeling and a most lively
ever. freshness of impressions. Unceasingly absorbed
M. Puvis de Chavannes. his own P^id imaginings he has been kept
aloof from the ugly side of life. And yet he
The very heart of Montmartre, No. 11 Place had to struggle hardest of them all before his
Pigalle, has been for more than thirty years the triumph came.
home of the painter of the Bois Sucre. Besides His old friend, Marcellin Desboutin, the painter-
his large studio, he has two apartments, a bed-room engraver, pays him a visit every morning—a quaint
and a dressing-room; nothing more. And in this figure, pipe in mouth, with a Florentine cap stuck
sumptuous home lives the magical inspirer of the anyway on his long grey curls, and in winter time
2 5
puvis de chavannes in his studio
the Man and the Artist; and this principle of the loveliest of dreams, the noblest of thoughts ! On
subjectivity of the plastic arts is showing itself more the walls, drawings and sketches and photographs
than ever to-day, in this individualist age of ours. of his works; and for furniture, simply a big table,
" Every painter paints himself," remarked Savo- a few arm-chairs and a sofa. But the presence of
narola ; and all contemporary work emphasises the the artist himself gives an air of nobility to the
truth of the saying. place, and one crosses the threshold with reverence.
Thus, I have tried to present very simply—as an Here it is he receives his friends every morning
addition to the photographic "documents," show- before nine o'clock. He will open the door himself,
ing the exact personality of some ot our French robed in a long brown dressing-gown like a monk's
painters, and the actual aspect of their studios—■ garment; and as he dresses, he will talk, and talk,
certain of the predominating characteristics both of art or literature, or the latest news, anything in
of the men themselves and of their productions. I fact, and always with rare depth of thought and the
have intentionally ignored the purely technical side most charming bonhomie. Never a spiteful word
of the question, and have confined myself exclu- about any man, or any man's work, for he is full
sively to the attempt to produce from out of each of kindliness and indulgence towards every artistic
artist's work a sort of psychological diagnosis. effort. Truly there is in this great man an extra-
Beyond this my remarks have no pretensions what- ordinary simplicity of feeling and a most lively
ever. freshness of impressions. Unceasingly absorbed
M. Puvis de Chavannes. his own P^id imaginings he has been kept
aloof from the ugly side of life. And yet he
The very heart of Montmartre, No. 11 Place had to struggle hardest of them all before his
Pigalle, has been for more than thirty years the triumph came.
home of the painter of the Bois Sucre. Besides His old friend, Marcellin Desboutin, the painter-
his large studio, he has two apartments, a bed-room engraver, pays him a visit every morning—a quaint
and a dressing-room; nothing more. And in this figure, pipe in mouth, with a Florentine cap stuck
sumptuous home lives the magical inspirer of the anyway on his long grey curls, and in winter time
2 5