Tai: What's a monet?
Cher: It's like a painting, see? From far away it's okay, but up close it's a big ol' mess.
While this is a pithy dialogue excerpt from a great 90s movie, it is also a good starting point to discuss an Impressionist painting. For most people, Claude Monet (1840-1926) is the most recognizable name associated with French Impressionism, an outgrowth of the Realist movement. (Future posts will be dedicated to Realism, and also how Impressionism is also realism.) Here is his painting that led a critic to coin the term "Impressionism." It debuted in 1874 at what is now recognized as the first Impressionist exhibit:
Claude Monet, Impression: Sunrise, 1873, oil on canvas, 19 5/8 x 25 1/2 inches.Musee Marmottan, Paris.
Impression: Sunrise was shocking and crude to the 19th century eye. This is more apparent when looking at the highly-finished Academic canvases like this one, which debuted to critical acclaim at the Salon of 1874:
William Bouguereau, Nymphs and a Satyr, 1874, oil on canvas,9'3/8" x 5'10 7/8".
Sterling and Francis Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA.
Bouguereau's classical subject, large size, inclusion of nudes, and the naturalistic style were all the hallmarks of the conservative Academy's tastes. In contrast, Impression: Sunrise defiantly rejected the Academy's expectations. The canvas is relatively small (19 1/8 x 25 1/2 inches), and landscapes were viewed as impromper subjects for ambitious painters.
Most insulting to critics were Monet's brushstrokes because they weren't paint pretending to be flesh or water, but just boldly declaring their material as paint. Monet uses paint to suggest the changing light and and atmosphere at sunrise, and anyone who has seen the moment when a sun bursts on the horizon knows how quickly the phenomenon happens. As the viewer, we get the sense that the artist is working very quickly to capture that specific moment; notice how the speed of the artist's hand is indicated by the direction of the brushstrokes, and the distance in between the individual strokes. Suddenly, the brushstroke becomes a vehicle to capture not just the physical appearance of a scene but also the artist's gut response to visual sensation. In that regard, Monet's brushstroke is complex because it is both objective and subjective.
The total effect when viewing Impression: Sunrise is that we expect a three-dimensional representation of a real place, but the brushstroke prevents our eye from sinking into illusionistic three-dimensional space. In other words, we want to see a "real" view but the blatant marks on the top of the canvas deny any recessive space. This effect is what art historians and critics call "visual tension." The brushstroke is our entry into the painting, and also what prevents us from seeing anything but a flat surface. For some critics and historians, a defining characteristic of modernism in any artistic medium (poetry, sculpture, etc.) will be evidence of the creation of process, and the self-referentiality of the medium. The visual paradox of an Impressionist painting lies in visual and mental tension: knowing that it is a finished product vs. the sketch-like appearnce; the desire to see Impression: Sunrise as a three-dimensional view but being acutely aware of the two-dimensional nature of the canvas.
However, we know this because of our retrospective perch in 2009. At the time, 19th century writers couldn't handle Monet's style. Critic Louis Leroy dismissed it as "wallpaper in its embryonic state." To critics, it looked like an oil sketch but Monet indicates the finished status by signing and dating the lower left corner. It was perceived by Leroy as a slap in the face to 400 years of artistic development that stressed modeling, line, and perspective.
Finally, Bouguereau's Nymphs and a Satyr offers a safe, objective view of the subject. To 19th century critics and Salon-goers, the artist's intelligence is implied through this restraint and objectivity. By comparison, Monet's Impression: Sunrise is a sensual plunge into atmosphere, light, color, and tactility. The durability (lasting appeal) of Impression: Sunrise hinges on Monet's ability to let the 21st century see what he saw, to feel what he felt as he painted the Port of Le Havre.
Most insulting to critics were Monet's brushstrokes because they weren't paint pretending to be flesh or water, but just boldly declaring their material as paint. Monet uses paint to suggest the changing light and and atmosphere at sunrise, and anyone who has seen the moment when a sun bursts on the horizon knows how quickly the phenomenon happens. As the viewer, we get the sense that the artist is working very quickly to capture that specific moment; notice how the speed of the artist's hand is indicated by the direction of the brushstrokes, and the distance in between the individual strokes. Suddenly, the brushstroke becomes a vehicle to capture not just the physical appearance of a scene but also the artist's gut response to visual sensation. In that regard, Monet's brushstroke is complex because it is both objective and subjective.
The total effect when viewing Impression: Sunrise is that we expect a three-dimensional representation of a real place, but the brushstroke prevents our eye from sinking into illusionistic three-dimensional space. In other words, we want to see a "real" view but the blatant marks on the top of the canvas deny any recessive space. This effect is what art historians and critics call "visual tension." The brushstroke is our entry into the painting, and also what prevents us from seeing anything but a flat surface. For some critics and historians, a defining characteristic of modernism in any artistic medium (poetry, sculpture, etc.) will be evidence of the creation of process, and the self-referentiality of the medium. The visual paradox of an Impressionist painting lies in visual and mental tension: knowing that it is a finished product vs. the sketch-like appearnce; the desire to see Impression: Sunrise as a three-dimensional view but being acutely aware of the two-dimensional nature of the canvas.
However, we know this because of our retrospective perch in 2009. At the time, 19th century writers couldn't handle Monet's style. Critic Louis Leroy dismissed it as "wallpaper in its embryonic state." To critics, it looked like an oil sketch but Monet indicates the finished status by signing and dating the lower left corner. It was perceived by Leroy as a slap in the face to 400 years of artistic development that stressed modeling, line, and perspective.
Finally, Bouguereau's Nymphs and a Satyr offers a safe, objective view of the subject. To 19th century critics and Salon-goers, the artist's intelligence is implied through this restraint and objectivity. By comparison, Monet's Impression: Sunrise is a sensual plunge into atmosphere, light, color, and tactility. The durability (lasting appeal) of Impression: Sunrise hinges on Monet's ability to let the 21st century see what he saw, to feel what he felt as he painted the Port of Le Havre.
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