The Musée d’Orsay: Rebels on the fifth floor
[View from the fifth floor of the Musée d’Orsay] |
It can sometimes
be difficult to imagine art as a form of rebellion. For example, modern society
often associates “painting” and especially “painters” with the attitudes of the
refined upper-class and all things prim and proper. Thankfully (for me), this
is not always the case. In my studies, I have learned that art has transformed
from the perfect image of society to its antithesis. I am writing today to tell
you about the impressionist rebellion on the fifth floor of the Musée
d’Orsay.
Beginning in the mid
to late 19th century, a new form of art began to take form. This new
style of art came kicking and screaming into the world to the sounds of staunch
criticism, mainly due to its stark contrast with the “academic style” of art
which was globally accepted as “good” painting.” At this time, paintings deemed
to be “acceptable” (accepted by an academy or presented for royalty, for
example) focused mainly on realistic imagery such as historical scenes or
religious depictions. Images were lifelike, mimicking the human form as closely
as possible They also included intricate details and precise color choices.
Artists sought to remove themselves from their work leaving few traces of
personality or intended craft – as if their work was being seen by the human
eye itself. Painters of a new “impressionist” style, such as Claude Monet and Edgar Degas (perhaps the most famous in the Musée d’Orsay) have since become
some of the most celebrated painters in world history – all because they
decided to bend the rules a little. Monet, while likely not the first, is well-credited as the founder and most celebrated painter of the “impressionist” movement. This new style of art took the accepted foundations of “academic painting” and turned them on their heads. For the first time, artists began to forego the conventions of historical and biblical subjects and realistic imagery for real life. The result was jarring. Monet, and his contemporaries, were immediately rejected from the Academy of Arts. This did nothing to quell the rising rebellion in the world of painting. Soon, impressionism began to take hold and artists enjoyed the freedom they found in exploring real life subjects such as landscapes and living people.
The Musée d’Orsay holds the largest collection of
impressionist paintings in the world. Here, one can find most of the pre-and
post-impressionist paintings an amateur art scholar is familiar with – Monet’s
“Les Nymphéas” (water lilies),
Degas’s famous “Dancer” paintings and sculptures, and even some of Vincent van
Gogh’s
famous pieces such as “Self Potrait” and “Bedroom in Arles.”[Orsay from the Seine river - note the multiple archways (former train entrances/exits.)] |
Interestingly the museum itself was previously a train station,
making the architecture an interesting choice for its current purpose. A look from the Seine river reveals the
names of major French cities over archways – train destinations from a previous
time. A ook from the fifth floor vista reveals an arched ceiling and, with eyes
closed, a bustling railroad station plays out easily before the sense (see header picture.) The
walking paths of the exhibits, however, hide this original structure entirely.
Modern marble staircases, removable walls, and elevators have replaced the
technology of yore. The impressionist paintings are located up your choice of
escalator or elevator on the fifth and uppermost floor of the museum. As one
could expect, this is where most visitors are found.
After visiting the prestigious exhibits in the Louvre and
finding myself entranced by the realism and
[“Paysage à Éragny” - Pisarro] |
[“Les Dindons” - Monet] |
I loved this painting – “Les Dindons” – Claude Monet for this exact
reason. When compared with the triumphant aura of grand format paintings by people such as Louis David and Eugene
Delacroix, “Les Dindons” looks like it could have been painted by a toddler.
Many of the features of these turkeys are unclear, out of focus, perhaps even
incomplete. For me, this renders the painting approachable and believable. Who
really encounters turkeys in nature and is so
close that they can examine every minute detail of their face and feathers?
Nobody. Monet decided to paint these turkeys as we all seem them – fast moving,
blurred shapes darting across your field of vision for only half a minute
before they disappear back into the road. It may be less than anatomically
correct, but its infinitely more allied to the human experience than a
perfectly depicted turkey.
Giverny
On Tuesday, I visited the luscious gardens in
Giverny, France – about 50 miles northwest of Paris - the former home of Claude Monet himself. While winding my way up to the Monet house, I passed a small group of students taking in a quick lecture before entering. Their professor was asking them to reflect on what their “dream location” to live and
work would be. What would you want there? How would you live? Oftentimes, questions like these amount to nothing but daydreaming. However, they are not without purpose. Claude Monet was already an
established painter when he found his “dream location” in the countryside town
of Giverny. For the latter part of his life, he set up shop here with his
family and continued to paint outdoors in his gardens until his death in the
early 1900s. But why Giverny, why here?
Though it is a bit hard to imagine in its modern setting, Giverny must have been an absolute parricide while it was the private property of Claude Monet. The grounds are a sprawling expanse of well kept lawns, colorful flowers and buzzing bees. The Japanese bridge and pond are present as well. They are subjects of several famous Monet paintings, "Les Nymphéas" for example - a painting I had seen just a few days ago behind glass in a museum. Unfortunately, I must have arrived on field trip day or something. The grounds were absolutely crawling with school age children who filled the walkways skipping and screaming with glee. This, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. I was only hoping for a bit of peaceful meditation. Obviously I underestimated the popularity of this particular tourist destination. I followed the paths (and little feet) outlined on the cartoon map. The Japanese bridge and all paths around the lake were extremely crowded, but I had to stop and reflect in a silent spot once or twice. Monet was long gone, but he was here - I am seeing exactly as he was seeing. Despite the crowds, I am in nature and I feel at home here. Regardless of what I see when I open my eyes, it is important to imagine that spots like this – quiet, serene, outposts of nature’s beauty were not always the artist's workshops. It slowly developed that way through a series of small, artistic rebellions. No longer did painters feel they had to shut themselves inside a studio for hours at a time painting people they didn’t know or lives they had never seen. For the impressionists, it was out to the world: bars, train stations, fields, farms, where inspiration and the true human essence could be found and depicted as it exists in reality.
I like that we can think of impressionists as the first “rebels” of the art world. They destroyed the academic, claustrophobic confines of “accepted” art and paved the way for millions to follow them for generations to come – there is no way Andy Warhol or Jean-Michel Basquiat would have been able to create the jarring and ground-breaking works they have become famous for had it not been for this small circle of painters in the late 19th century. The impressionists opened the doors of creativity so others could enter. For that, we can all thank them.
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