Perhaps I should begin a series called 'Works By Artists I Thought I Didn't Like'. That was my reaction when I discovered this painting by the French academic artist Jean-Leon Gerome (1824-1904) from the Museum of Fine Arts, Rouen. Gerome is remembered today, though not very kindly for his florid paintings of historical subjects and his exotic, or Orientalist, pictures. His initial dismissal and later grudging acceptance of Impressionism ("it was not so bad as I thought') put him on the wrong side of art history. By the time Gerome created Portrait of My Father Pierre and My Son Jean (c. 1866) the artist had received the Legion of Honor for his work and was married to Marie Goupil, daughter of the art dealer Adolph Goupil, with whom he would have five children.
The elder Gerome, also an artist, sits, dressed for the afternoon and leans on his cane as the toddler Jean looks on, caught in a moment of indecision - come or go? Two dogs, one sleeping, the other sitting at attention - momentarily - complete the charm of this domestic moment. The simplicity of the scene suggests verisimilitude; I know of no other picture by Gerome that is so free of extraneous detail, perhaps because this is how the scene actually looked. When Gerome unleashed his imagination, things got overheated.
Come to think of it, this painting could also be part of a series of 'Paintings That Show the Influence of Photography.' What do you think?
The elder Gerome, also an artist, sits, dressed for the afternoon and leans on his cane as the toddler Jean looks on, caught in a moment of indecision - come or go? Two dogs, one sleeping, the other sitting at attention - momentarily - complete the charm of this domestic moment. The simplicity of the scene suggests verisimilitude; I know of no other picture by Gerome that is so free of extraneous detail, perhaps because this is how the scene actually looked. When Gerome unleashed his imagination, things got overheated.
4 comments:
Oh, you brilliant seeker of insight! The influence of photography? Yes, indeed. If not, then it must have influenced many a photographer itself. I enjoy peeking into your blog/mind. What treasures you always show us. - Jeanne
Jeanne, it wasn't me, but thank you. In 1981 an exhibition ar MOMA in NYC called "Before Photography", was curated by Peter Galassi. (There's a book, too, if you're interested.) At the time, there was some peevish criticism that just showed how people were jealous that Galassi had plucked this idea out of the ether before they did. Also, artists working in other media picked up cameras - Pierre Bonnard, Rene Lalique, and Arthur Wesley Dow, to name just a few. As for Gerome, he didn't think much of photography, so it's interesting that he found the device of cropping irresistible - or maybe it was just the charm of his 'enfant'.
I'm so interested to see this, Jane. As you say, it's utterly unlike Gerome's usual over-fussified work. The invention of photography of course profoundly influenced the course of fine art, but it is fascinating to see that influence at work here. In a way, it's hard to see how history painters were threatened by photography, because although their work was hyper-realistic in terms of imagery, it was completely imaginary in terms of actuality. Early photographers tried to replicate their work and couldn't. So you would think they were safe from any threat from the new technology - yet they were swept away so completely they are now regarded with scorn and contempt. But it's clear from this picture alone that Gerome was not just a skilled but a truly talented painter. Thank you.
A nice thing about not being an academic writer is that one can appreciate a work without having to use it to make a case about its creator. I noticed that the painting was donated to the Rouen museum in 1975, so perhaps it was in private (family?) possession until then. When I first saw this painting, I thought of Fernand Khnopff's "Portait of Jeane Kieffer (1885) - the child, the door. I wonder if Gerome set out to paint his father and little Jean wandered by, causing the artist to change course. A sad note is that young Jean died in 1891.
I don't know what to make of Gerome's comment that, "Thanks to photography, Truth has at last left her well."
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