Bonnard... Japonard

My visit to the exhibition Bonnard et le Japon in the Villa Caumont, almost a year ago, left a strange and lasting impression on me. The beautiful setting, in the bright early summer light made the display of the work of the ‘painter of happiness’ all the more striking. Yet although this artist is lauded for his stunningly colourful paintings, his art goes far beyond his choice of colours.

The year of Pierre Bonnard’s birth, 1847, saw the presentation of Japanese art to a Parisian public for the first time during the seventh Universal Exhibition of Art and Industry. Images and prints from the Land of the Rising Sun led to a wave of Japanism in Western art as new aesthetic principles and approaches influenced artists in Europe. From the late 1880s, Bonnard too, turned to Japanese work, finding himself not only inspired by the aesthetics of the ukiyo-e woodcuts, for example, but also the philosophy that underpinned this artistic vision. Part of this philosophical manner of viewing and rendering the world was the consciousness of the ephemeral aspect of life, and the will to contemplate and capture this essence in art.

While Bonnard never visited Japan, one art critic labelled him “the most Japanese of all French painters”. Alongside other artists that he met during his preparatory studies at the Académie Julian and then the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris – namely Paul Sérusier, Maurice Denis and Edouard Vuillard – Bonnard embraced the Nabi Movement, becoming ‘Le Nabi très Japonard’.

Seeking to renew artistic vision, the Nabis (from the Hebrew word for ‘prophet’ or ‘visionary’) were post-impressionists particularly influenced by Japanese art that favoured a calligraphic style, of fluid lines on a flat surface that largely rejected Western linear perspective based on relief and shadow.

In 1891, Bonnard’s poster France-Champagne - using colour lithography commonly used by Toulouse-Lautrec - caught the critics’ attention, as too did his work, Femmes au Jardin. This success marked a turning point in Bonnard’s life as he finally abandoned the law studies he had previously undertaken, in order to devote himself exclusively to art. A few years later, he went on to meet the woman who would be his main model in life – albeit not his sole muse or love – Marthe. It is she, the largely enigmatic Marthe ‘de Méligny’, who figures in most of his domestic scenes, appearing frequently in nude studies, yet rarely presented face-on, over their fifty-year relationship, ever present yet strangely elusive.

During his artistic career, Bonnard explored and revised the possibilities of colour and composition through his subjects – be they figures, landscapes, intimate interior settings or outdoors, whether in Paris, Normandy or the South of France. This desire to rework and relive his work – often altering and pieces created earlier -became an integral aspect of his artistic approach and his fluid vision of life itself and the creative process. In this respect, his stance resembles that of the ukiyo-e he so admired – ukiyo meaning ‘floating world’ – to the extent that his technique itself underlines the state of impermanence with each alteration.

One of the best examples of that are the four panels that form the Femmes au Jardin, initially started around 1921 but still being revisited some twenty-five years later! A fleeting quality that characterizes Bonnard’s work is also inspired by his interest in photography and his use of a Pocket Kodak to compose and frame his vision.

Yet, photographs enabled him to flee a restrictive representation of the reality of the present moment, not capture it slavishly.

Unlike his friend Monet, Bonnard rejected painting plein air, preferring to note impressions to help him recreate scenes from memory once back in his studio; “Before I start painting, I reflect, I dream”. In this way, an odd static quality in Bonnard’s work is present in both the vivid painting and the black-and-white studies. Colour, nevertheless, remained key to his work, with Bonnard admitting that he “sacrificed form to it almost unconsciously’.

Whilst such vibrancy set in unconventional compositions fills us with wonder and joy, Bonnard himself seemed to dismiss these as signs of jollity and light-heartedness, by remarking; ‘He who sings is not always happy’. Whether this was an allusion to his melancholic nature or not is hard to say but it certainly makes Bonnard’s art even more intriguing and unique.

A Glance Above the Doorways of Historic Aix-en-Provence...

Wandering around the old streets of Aix-en-Provence this summer, I yet again admired the incredible historic doorways that are monuments in themselves, witnesses to so much over their centuries of existence. The fact that works of such incredible skill, beauty and imagination have withstood the passage of time proves how robust and resiliant they are.

Most of these vast, majestic doorways lead onto an interior courtyard or into an imposing hallway, giving you the impression that you could enter another period if you merely stepped in across the threshold... If only!

Sometimes it is the carved wood that catches your attention, as you marvel at its intricate crafstmanship, unique aesthetic quality and remarkably well-preserved state. Is there anything even vaguely comparable today?

At other moments, it is the massive stonework that is astounding, with its height bearing down on you, but often with delicate sculpted features giving it a sophistication and odd lightness...

As you look at the worn flagstone steps, you wonder about all the lives that were spent at that address, each gradually leaving its mark.

The weight of the building is sometimes borne by the figures of caryatids (for the female forms) or atlantes (for the male equivalent), in place of a pillar. Some seem to bear this with greater ease than others, who toil under the burden...

Their massive hands gripping onto the architecture as they gaze on intently...

Some entrances are guarded over by strange creatures, of mythological character...

Not necessarily menacing...

But a presence to be reckoned with and respected...

Others are just plain strange!

Or joyous, despite their rather delapidated state...

Comic faces watching down in amusement at our antics...

And then, of course, there are the door knockers of impressive shape and size...

Creating an impression of grandeur and elegance that does not exist anymore...

How could anything compete with these?

Even when in a rather sorry condition due to ignorant 21st century neglect, their majesty shines through...

May these stunning doorways live on for years ahead...

18th Century Refinement: Hôtel de Caumont... Aix-en-Provence.

One of the many old streets in the historic centre of Aix-en- Provence leads off from the Cours Mirabeau, meandering into the Mazarin quarter, once the quartier of the aristocratic families of the town. Whilst many of the hôtels particuliers from the 17th and 18th century open directly onto the street from their impressive Baroque dooorways, the magnificent Hôtel de Caumont is set beyond high sun-scorched walls, shaded by majestic trees.

As the Hôtel de Caumont is now the Centre d'Art of Aix, it hosts many exhibitions, one of which I came to visit; Bonnard et le Japon. Unfortunately (for me), that meant that I was one of many visitors, making my desire to escape into the unique atmosphere of the place a little difficult, and rendering photo-taking without these same individuals even more so! Loud chat, tittering and selfies did not lend itself to the mood... or mine!

The vast doorway leads into the grand entrance hall and offers an airy, calm impression with the extremely tall windows that stretch between two floors and allow the warm Provençal light to flow in.

On the right, there is now the elegant Salon des Putti, with the gardens beyond. Sadly I did not have the time to visit either of these, nor the Salon des Rinceaux or the Grande Galérie but I do intend to return at a later date.

In the hallway, two sculpted figures of Atlas frame the architectural structure of the ceiling, their expression typically Baroque, and one that is seen in other grand buildings across the historic centre of the city as they toil to hold up their burden; enduring the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Their straining torsos are incredibly life-like and although they form a pair, the two figures are not matching since the younger of the two (below) looks outward to welcome those entering, whilst the older one (above) looks towards the stairway, possibly with the allusion to the passing of time and the hardship that entails.

Sweeping along the walls is the imposing wrought-iron balustrade on the magnificent stairway which was classed as a protected feature in the Inventaire des Monuments Historiques, along with the main gateway and hôtel façade in 1925. To create a dramatic effect, and to mark the tone of the hôtel, the staircase can be seen from the outside of the building. As you ascend the stairs, you feel the typically provençal hexagonal tomette floor tiles underfoot, with their characteristically rich terracotta colour. These are largely visible throughout the building...

The stairway occupies the central axis of the building and is positioned on the left-hand side, contrary to common practice, and as such is but one of several features that sets the hôtel apart from other aixois grand buildings. Equally visible on the stairway rail is the ornate hôtel insignia, with the letters 'R' and 'C' intertwined, to honour the names Réauville and - more obviously - Caumont. Again, these appear to feature throughout the building.

Réauville is in fact in reference to a certain François Rolland de Réauville, Marquis de Cabanes, the president of the Cour des Comptes who sought to have a hôtel constructed to reflect his status and work commenced on the grounds in 1715, almost three hundred years ago! As can be seen from the photo below, even what I presume were once the service stairs seem to highlight Réauville's grand position in the city of Aix, although I doubt very much he ever descended these steps himself!

In order to have a building worthy of his honourable self, Réauville commissioned the French architect Robert de Cotte (1656-1735) to design the hôtel. The latter was an architect of considerable repute for not only did de Cotte work alongside his brother-in-law, Jules Hardouin-Mansart, at Versailles under Louis XIV's reign, he later became Mansart's successor. He went on to complete impressive architectural projects across France and even present-day Germany and indeed also oversaw the transformation of the Palais du Tau in Reims into a classical archiepiscopal palace at the end of the 17th century...

The plan of the residence and its grounds were based around one that originally appeared in 16th century Paris - 'entre cours et jardin', meaning the principal building was set between the courtyard at the front, positioned to receive residents and guests arriving by carriage, and the grand gardens behind. As such, this layout corresponded to an urban-scaled classic château and park ' and lead from a public space - the court yard - to the private ones - hôtel and gardens.

Although the 'entre cour et jardin' design had fallen out of favour and fashion in Aix-en-Provence around 1680, it was nevertheless the one considered worthy of the Réauville name and it was given a particularly intimate Rococco feel that would characterise much of de Cotte's later residental work.

Under Rococco influence, the dramatic Baroque features gave way to gentle, intricate curvilinear designs and details, where luxury was combined with comfort and intimacy. Following the death of Louis XIV, boudoirs, alcoves and private corners began to take precedence over the ostentatious public displays synonymous with Versailles, and the furnishing and ornamentation of the rooms were an integral part of this evolution, naturally.

There are subtle elements of Rocaille decoration of the rooms with golden scrolled forms and shell shapes used along panelling. Today, this is particularly apparent in the bedroom of Pauline de Caumont, and the ornate ceiling plasterwork - les gypseries du plafond.

After the demise of the last generation of the Réauville, the hôtel passed into the hands of the de Bruny family, whose emblem - a running deer - can be seen in the wrought-iron work on the balcony above the main entrance of the residence.

The marriage of one of the daughters, Pauline de Bruny, to the Marquis de Caumont in 1795 lead to the remark that he had indeed taken from the region of Provence, "its most beautiful woman, its most magnificent hôtel and its largest fortune"!

The room that honours Pauline de Caumont features a grand yet relatively delicate lit à la polonaise and the furnishings reflect the same warm, relaxed aspect whilst the rocaille ornamentation harmonizes the whole...

On my way out of the hôtel, I paid a visit to the toilet area that turned out to be so pretty that I returned just to admire the decor!

And the Bonnard exhibition? Well, that will another post!