John Singer Sargent: An Observant Lad

"Muddy Alligators" by J.S. Sargent

"Patriotic motives decided FitzWilliam Sargent to send his son, John, into the Navy. The arrival of United States ships of war at Nice, France, gave a chance of testing the boy's taste for the sea. But it was found that he was much more interested in drawing the ships than in acquiring knowledge about them.

The fire within him, burning to record and express, was already at work. Every day was quickening his powers of observation and his precocious aptitude. In a letter written to his friend Ben del Castillo in May of 1865 nine-year-old John wrote from Biarritz:

May 18th, 1865  Dear Ben, Day before yesterday we went to San Sebastian where there is a fort on the top of a hill. Near the foot there are a great many English soldiers' graves. I have a little picture of one in my album. I also made a little picture of the Battery, and a good many ships. While I was sitting down drawing one of the tombstones, Mamma and Papa went up to the fort on the top of the hill, leaving Emily and me, because the hill was too steep for Emily to go up. While I was drawing something some of the workmen who were making a new road up to the fort, came and hid Emily and me under a rock, because they were just going to blast a rock half way up the hill...

Later in the summer Mrs. Sargent and her children went to London to await the return of Mr. Sargent from America. In October they were in Paris, and another letter to his friend records the sights and events which had impressed him during his first visit to London.

Oct. 13th, 1865  Dear Ben, We spent several weeks in London and the things which interested me most there were the Zoological Gardens, the Crystal Palace, the South Kensington Museum. At the Zoological Gardens we saw the Lions fed, and I rode on a camel's neck, and Emily and I rode on an elephant. I made several drawings of the animals there. At the Crystal Palace we saw models of some of the animals which lived upon the earth before man. I copied several of them, the Iguanodon, Labyrinthodon, Pterodactyle, Ickthyosaurus, Megalosaurus and Mammoth... At the South Kensington museum we saw some very fine paintings of Landseer, the celebrated animal painter, and a very fine picture by Rosa Bonheur called The Horse  Fair...

The letters are slight, but not without significance. There is no irrelevance or comment. He catches the essential trait of what has roused his interest, and records it with few words. It is no ordinary boy of nine who, on dismounting from the elephant at the Zoological Gardens, sets to work 'to make several drawings of the animals there.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John Sargent" by Evan Charteris.)

John Singer Sargent: Migration to Europe

"Violet Paget (Vernon Lee)"
by J.S. Sargent

"Europe, in the words of Henry James, had by this time been 'made easy for' Americans. Just as in the seventeenth century the drift of movement had been from East to West, so now, two hundred years later, the tide had turned from America to Europe. The new world, animated by the impulse to track culture to its sources and discover for itself the origins of artistic inspiration, had begun that steady pilgrimage which has continued to the present day. But by the middle of the nineteenth century the precursors had accomplished their work. The traditions, the institutions and customs of Europe had been reported upon by numberless explorers. 

Migration to Europe was an established practice. Rome and Florence already bore abundant witness to the process of American infiltration. It was, therefore, as an already recognized type of pilgrim that the Sargent family arrived in the old world, though it was long before they were to find a last and settled home in Europe. Florence, Rome, Nice, Switzerland, the watering-places of Germany, Spain, Paris, Pau, London and again Italy, were in turn visited by the family in their wanderings. It is possible to find in John Singer Sargent's art qualities certainly congruous with such an exceptionally restless childhood. 

In 1862 the family was at Nice at the Maison Virello, Rue Grimaldi. In a neighbouring house with an adjoining garden was living Rafael del Castillo, of Spanish descent, whose family had settled in Cuba and subsequently become naturalized Americans. Rafael's son Benjamin was of an age with John Sargent and the two became close friends. He also made friends in these early days with the sons of Admiral Case, of the American Navy, and with Mr. and Mrs. Paget, and their daughter Violet (Vernon Lee). With these and others John and his sister Emily (born at Rome in 1857) were constant associates."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John Sargent" by Evan Charteris.)

John Singer Sargent: Roots

"Dr. FitzWilliam Sargent" by J.S. Sargent

"Mrs. FitzWilliam Sargent (nee Mary Newbold Singer)
by J.S. Sargent

"John Singer Sargent was born at the Casa Arretini in Florence on January 12, 1856. The house stands on the Lung' Arno, within a stones-throw of the Ponte Vecchio.  Facing its windows on the other side of the river, there rises out of the waters of the Arno a row of houses tinted to the colour of amber. Above these can be seen Bellosguardo, Monte Alle Croce, and away to the east the foothills of the Apennines.

The father of John Sargent was FitzWilliam Sargent, who was born at Gloucester, Massachusetts, January 17, 1820. He graduated in medicine at the University of Pennsylvania in 1843. Eminent in his profession he published works on minor surgery which he illustrated himself. He was above all thing American. In his frequent writings on political topics, patriotism was the guiding influence; nor was this affected by his migration to Europe. On June 27, 1850, he married Mary Newbold, the only child of John Singer of Philadelphia.

Mary was a woman of culture and an excellent musician. She also painted in watercolour. She was vivacious and restless in disposition, quickly acquiring ascendancy in any circle in which she was placed. In her family she was a dominating influence. She was one of the first to recognized the genius of her son, John, and was in a large measure responsible for his dedication to art. 

As a girl she had travelled in Italy. The magic of that country never ceased to exercise its spell, and within four years of her marriage she persuaded her husband to give up his practice, and in 1854 to sail for Europe, and take up their residence in Florence. FitzWilliam had, by his practice in Philadelphia, made himself of independent means. Mary was sufficiently well off to render the pursuit of his profession on financial grounds unnecessary."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John Sargent" by Evan Charteris.)

T.C. Gotch: Notable Years

"The Child Enthroned"

"At the Academy of 1894 T.C. Gotch's 'The Child Enthroned' found many who loved it. Small wonder when one comes face to face with this serious child of the unclouded brow and the fair unadorned hair, clad in so glorious a robe, and with aureole about her head. 

"The Child in the World"

You meet her again in 'The Child in the World,' standing alone and unafraid in the innermost, horridest home of the Dragon, called the World, who is powerless against her innocence, as the lions in the presence of Daniel. 

"Death, the Bride"

In 'Death, the Bride,' of 1893, Mr. Gotch struck a deeper note. Silent is this friend, yet she speaks. She comes gliding through the poppies, emblems of rest without tears, a film of gauze about her head, which she lifts aside to show her grave face, a whisper of invitation upon it, as if she would say, 'I am a little serious, I know, and my clothes are not bright and beautiful like a bride's; but I am your friend nevertheless, and when you are ready for me you will find me ready for you.'

"Alleluia"

These pictures were heralds of the important work 'Alleluia,' which was purchased by the Trustees of the Changrey Bequest. As the meaning is plain, no description is necessary. It was painted at Newlyn, and occupied Mr. Gotch, working six and seven hours a day, for the best part of a year. Almost every eastern and western nation is represented in the rainbow robes which clothe the children. Thirteen in number, the face of each singer bearing the impress of her temperament, tney vie one with another in a song of praise.

1896 has been Mr. Gotch's Notable Year. Early in May he learnt that 'Alleluia' had been purchased for the nation. Towards the end of that month he went to Paris, to find 'The Child Enthroned' well hung upon the line at the Champs Elysees Salon. The second morning of his sojourn there he was notified from London that this picture had been purchased for an English collection, and hardly had he returned from Paris when he read in a London evening paper that the gold medal of the second class had been awarded to the painter of 'The Child Enthroned' by the Salon jury. A notable year indeed has 1896 been for Mr. Gotch.

(Excerpts from "T.C. Gotch and His Pictures" by Lewis Hind in "The Windsor Magazine.")

T.C. Gotch: Professional Painter

"My Crown and Sceptre" by T.C. Gotch

"T.C. Gotch's student days were now over. He stood upon the threshold of his career. The idea of a literary life had long been given up. His call was to paint, and he was eager to show of what he was capable. Seeking for a home with congenial surroundings, Mr. and Mrs. Gotch chanced upon Newlyn, which artists were just then beginning to frequent on account of its equable gray light and kindly climate, which permitted them if they desired to work out of doors most of the year. But a compulsory voyage to Australia spoilt this plan, and it was not till 1887 that they finally settled at Newlyn, where they found the company of painters living in the old fishing village - Mr. Stanhope Forbes, Mr. Bramley, Mr. Chavallier Tayler, Mr. Percy Craft, Mr. Norman Garstin, Mr. Fred Hall and others - much to their liking.

It was about this time, or perhaps a little later, that the Newlyn pictures began to be noticed at the Royal Academy. In Gallery XI the visitor suddenly found himself surrounded by Cornish works which had this in common - they suggested the honest and refreshing light of day, as seen in the open air, and not the second-hand illumination of a London studio.

Although he had a strong and consistent admiration for the work of his comrades at Newlyn, and the general aim and tendency of the school, he felt far from confident that his own temperament could ever find adequate expression within those lines. It was the crisis of his career. He did the pleasant thing and the wise thing. He went straight to Italy - to Florence, where he surrendered himself to the calm and radiant pictures of Botticelli and those frescoes of Benozzo Gozzolios in the Palazzo Riccardi at Florence.

There his colour sense reasserted itself, and he produced 'My Crown and Sceptre,' which was hung upon the line in 1892. With this picture Mr. Gotch found his metier - the work that was nearest to him, that he could do best, and, as it happened that best pleased and interested the public."

To be continued

(Excerpt from "T.C. Gotch and His Pictures" by Lewis Hind in "The Windsor Magazine.") 

T.C. Gotch: Student Days and Marriage

"The Exile: Heavy is the price I paid for love"
by Thomas Cooper Gotch

"Many men have sought for the philosopher's stone. Others, mechanically inclined, have striven for mastery over perpetual motion. Others, again, feel themselves drawn to speculation and experiments relating to the secret of the old masters of painting. It has been remarked that the giants of the past merely mixed their colours with brains, time doing the rest. A Mr. Samuel Lawrence who flourished some twenty years ago rose to fame on the strength of his own pronouncement that he had discovered this secret of the old masters. To his studio Mr. Gotch went on his return from Antwerp, and with Mr. Lawrence he remained three months. When I leant my elbows on the table and said coaxingly to Mr. Gotch, 'Tell me the secret,' he replied, 'Oh, it's far too technical to explain,' whereupon I shunted from that siding of our conversation, and the painter, inclining his head in recognition of my restraint, proceeded to narrate his artistic adventures at the Slade school, where he remained two years under Legros.

At that time he also came under the influence of Charles Gogin, a man hardly known to Academy patrons, but one who had considerable influence upon contemporary art and artists. He knew all about values and Mr. Gotch profited by this teaching. 

He had now reached the fourth year of studentship. What should follow? One word, one word only, rises to the lips in answer to that question. Paris! Paris the gay, the bright, where the art of encouragement is still practiced and the student's work always in some grave master's eye. Mr. Gotch sat at the feet of Jean Paul Laurens. He lived in one of those turnings decked with white houses off a wide road in the Montparnasse quarter. Three years he remained in the city on the Seine. 

There, on a certain day, a piece of very good luck befell him. He met a fellow student, who was also doing good work, and who has since done better, which has been ofttimes hung a the Royal Academy and elsewhere - a young English lady, Caroline Burland Yates. They married and lived in a little flat high up in a white building overlooking a sequestered courtyard in the Quartier Latin. Mr. Gotch owes much to his wife's intelligent and sympathetic criticism and appreciation. She brought him luck too, for in 1882 a picture of his was hung upon the line at the Royal Academy. It was called 'Phillis,' and speedily found a buyer."

To be continued

(Excerpt from "T.C. Gotch and His Pictures" by Lewis Hind in "The Windsor Magazine.")

T.C. Gotch: Pothooks and Hangers of Painting

"The Sandbar" by T.C. Gotch

"Here it may be well to say something about Mr. Gotch's life anterior to 1891. Strange as it may seem, he began with literary leanings and longings. As a youth in business with his father at Kettering, letters was his aim. But he never doubted his power to draw and paint, and in those long, long thoughts that fill the mind at twenty-one, he promised himself that he would live by art until he had amassed enough money to devote his time without reproach to literature. Fond delusion! 

He wrote at night in his bedroom by candlelight. He also drew, but it was his pictures, not his scribblings, that touched the fancy and won the approbation of his family. They were of good Nonomformist stock, his grandfather having been one of the founders of the Baptist Missionary Society. When they discovered that he honestly cared more for art and letters than for business, the family wisely gave the boy his head, and put their's together with the view of helping him all they could. 

A portfolio of early drawings were collected and dispatched to Mr. E.M. Wimperis, who since those days has blossomed into a delightful and popular painter, and who now sits in the vice-presidential chair of the Institute of Painters in Water Colours. Well, the drawings pleased Mr. Wimperis, and the youth from Kettering was advised to begin his studies at Heatherleys, the art school off Oxford Street, where so many have learnt the pothooks and hangers of painting. 

There Mr. Gotch remained eighteen months learning and assimilating after which he took the boat train to Antwerp and entered the Beaux Arts of that city. In Antwerp he remained six months. Verlat was painting professor, but the young Englishman sighed for brighter colours, and directly he had made up his mind that he was out of sympathy with the 'black school' of painting taught at Antwerp. He returned to London."

To be continued

(Excerpt from "T.C. Gotch and His Pictures" by Lewis Hind in "The Windsor Magazine.")

T.C. Gotch: The Disconsolate Year

"A Cottage Interior, Newlyn" by T.C. Gotch

"In 1891 T.C. Gotch was industrious, sincere and capable. His teaching had been thorough and eclectic, but he had not yet quite found his metier. He saw life, and he painted what he observed, all in that gray envelope of atmosphere which the Newlyn men and women have made famous at a dozen Academies. They study light direct, transfused and reflected. They paint the truth. They suggest atmosphere in their pictures, and can draw with the best, but the Newlyn colony do not concern themselves particularly with colour. The pictures that Mr. Gotch painted prior to 1891 prove him to have been Newlynite to his finger tips.

His Academy contribution of 1890, 'Twixt Life and Death,' is a typical example of that manner. Gray, sad, dramatic, obvious, it is a scene you may chance upon any stormy day at Newlyn, and one her adopted painter sons love to mirror. Mr. Gotch was to paint one more Newlyn subject, the 'Sharing Fish' of 1891, and then heyho(!) for colour, allegory, and that fine decorative quality which culminated in the 'Alleluia.'

But when I saw him in the month of May of his Disconsolate Year, he had not decided to winter in Florence, where he was to recapture that colour sense which his admiration for the practice and performance of the Newlyn men had unconsciously atrophied. He stood at the parting of the ways. Dissatisfied with the past, uncertain about the future, he looked sad and vexed, although he did not confess to it on that day in the late spring.

To be continued

(Excerpt from "T.C. Gotch and His Pictures" by Lewis Hind in "The Windsor Magazine")

T.C. Gotch: An Introduction

"The Child Enthroned" by T.C. Gotch

"Newlyn, that country of corybantic longshoremen and peaceable painters, is the home of Mr. T.C. Gotch from autumn to spring. His house is perched on high, like an eagle's eyrie, half way up the cliff that climbs from Penzance to the crest of the hills. You will find him any day between ten and six in his quiet studio, down below in the meadows, or, after working hours, in that drawing room of his with the wonderful view. Oh what a view! How it haunts one afterwards in shortening days, when early autumn fogs steal down the streets, and there is no sky but the poor parallel of gray that stretches motionless above the housetops. Oh that view! Mount's Bay below, St. Michael's sentinel upon the further shore, and away yonder beyond these waters, so tranquil, so polite that they might serve as ocean to a doll's fishing village, thunders the Atlantic.

But it is not everybody who can spare the time for a jaunt to the end of Cornwall, and although it has been my good fortune to spend long days at Newlyn, and many an hour in that eyrie hanging upon the cliff, it is not in this happy background I am thinking at this moment of Mr. Gotch. A more distracting and, shall I say, a less agreeable environment envelops him.

First I see him in London in the early summer of 1891, and then in Paris, last spring in the Champ de Mars Salon, before Dagnan-Bouveret's great picture of 'The Last Supper.' Those are dramatically before me. They range themselves into his Disconsolate Year and his Notable Year, and their story may give heart to those who, like him, know nights of heaviness, but whom morning has not yet brought any particular joy. 

It was said of John Whitgift, a former Archbishop of Canterbury, that his motto was 'vincit qui patitur' [he who suffers conquers], and he made it good. In 1891 Mr. Gotch was still enduring."

To be continued

(Excerpt from "T.C. Gotch and His Pictures" by Lewis Hind in "The Windsor Magazine" 

*corybantic: wild; frenzied.
"rock and roll's corybantic gyrations"

Lilla Cabot Perry: In Which We Say Farewell

"Edwin Arlington Robinson" by Lilla Cabot Perry

"American poet and three-time Pulitzer Prize winner, Edwin Arlington Robinson wrote to Margaret Perry, New York, March 1, 1933, on Lilla Cabot Perry's death:

Dear Miss Perry, It was a great shock and surprise to me to read this morning of your mother's sudden death. It was only a short time ago that I received what appeared to be a rather eventful letter from her, and I was confidently expecting to see her again this summer as in summers past. I knew of course that she was feeble, but I had no thought of her going so soon. 

There is perhaps no need of my trying to tell you that you have my deepest sympathy, for you know that - as you know how much her friendship has meant to me for so many years. I don't believe that any woman ever lived who had a kinder heart - and a more thoroughly generous nature. In face she was really too kind and too generous for her own happiness, sometimes; and that is a fault with which few of us are afflicted.

 She had more to bear in her later years than anyone should have to bear, and in saying this I am not forgetting you, your sense of loss will be very great, but you will hardly, for her sake, wish her back; for...far away, I feel somehow..it came as she had wished it might.

I shall think of her as long as I live as a very dear friend, and I like to believe that she knew my thoughts of her while she was living. Yours most sincerely, E.A. Robinson"

(Excerpts from "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: A Letter from Philip Hale

"Portrait of Mrs Joseph Clark Grew (Alice Perry)"
by Lilla Cabot Perry

"Through Lilla Cabot Perry's friendship with Edmund Tarbell and Frank Benson, she arranged a teaching position for Philip Hale at the Museum School in Boston in 1893. Hale was deeply grateful and wrote her this letter:"

Philip Hale to L.C. Perry, Giverny, June 1, 189

"Dear Mrs. Perry, I can't tell you half how good and kind you seem to me to have been, in looking after my prospect so vigorously. It's impossible to thank you enough; so I must ask you to take a lot on credit. Of course I shall accept: that is when I get the formal offer which has not yet arrived. As you say, it will be pleasant working under two such clever men as Tarbell and Benson. Tarbell was one of my teachers at the Museum. Since then I have not seen him. Benson, I only know by reputation. 

I had meant to come home anyway this winter and make a try for it: so your kind offices have got me this change just in the nick of time. You can't imagine what it is to have something sure - the last three years have given me enough of the hand o' mouth game. 

Since I'm talking so much about myself, you may be glad to know that I had 5 pictures received at the New Salon and pretty well hung - two on the line, etc. Good luck one sees - like misfortunes - never comes singly. I suppose you have seen or heard from the [Dawson] Watsons who left the other day. They were full of your praises and I didn't wonder, when I heard how many pictures you had helped them to sell... I thank you again for your kindness - how can I enough? 

And am Yours most sincerely, Philip Hale

As a result of the Perry's intervention on his behalf Hale began teaching cast drawing at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in 1893, where he remained on the faculty until his death in 1931. Eventually he became the chief instructor of drawing, and also offered courses in life drawing, artistic anatomy, and art history. Hale also taught at the Worcester Art Museum (1898-1910), the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (1913-1928), and Boston University (1926-1928)."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.) 

 

Lilla Cabot Perry: Family Recollections, Pt. 2

"Edith Perry" (detail) by Lilla Cabot Perry

"In Lilla Cabot Perry's indoor portrait she used earth colors, but for landscape she chose more ethereal paints. She never used black. She taught me about the juxtaposition of opposite colors in nature - glimpses of earth in a green mass look pink or rose, a wholly pink subject has green wherever the pink separates, etc Indeed, she made me find opposite colors for myself by staring at a color hard and then at a white ceiling. Opposite colors are nature's way, she explained, of resting the eyes from too much of one color. She said I should paint what I saw without mentally defining it so as not to paint it in its local color but to allow for changes brought about by the atmosphere or by the reflection of color from surrounding objects or from the sun.

She taught me how to paint a blue sky so that it actually looked like sky, not a blue wall. Where sky met earth she used viridian and white on one brush and alizarin crimson and white on another, with occasionally a little yellow and white on a third brush used close to the horizon These separate puddles of paint on her palette had to be of the exact same value. She would play them onto the canvas, keeping each brush clean by wiping it on a rag she held with her palette. Her skies were always vibrant and stayed back where they belonged in the picture. When painting a mountain against the sky she use a fine brush to outline the mountain in alizarin crimson. Within the line she painted first the sky and then the mountain. The joining looked just right.

She had observed that sun flecks on the ground are round Once when I took her to observe a solar eclipse, she was thrilled to note that the sun flecks on the ground became crescent shaped, thus confirming her observation."

(Excerpts from 'Family Recollections of Lilla Cabot Perry' by Lilla Levitt, Anita English, and Elizabeth (Elsie) Lyon in "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Family Recollections

"Boy Fishing" by Lilla Cabot Perry
White House Collection

"Often grandparents give more of themselves to their grandchildren than they do to their children. They are more relaxed with them and have more time to enjoy them. Elsie remembers posing in [Lilla Cabot Perry's] studio when she was only four years old. The grey cat Rover was in her arms and she was being entertained by her adored grandfather, Thomas Sergeant Perry, know as 'Bonpapa.' He adored his wife, and was happy to help her with her painting. He also tolerated his grandchildren quite happily.

When we posed for our grandmother she would sing to us or recite poetry, but mostly she would tell us special stories. She had the wonderful gift of being able to talk as she painted, and we loved all the anecdotes about her life. She also had a way of helping to awaken an arm or leg that had gone to sleep from being in one position too long - she would get onto her knees and squeeze the arm or leg with both hands until it was comfortable again. She had such a sweet understanding of a child's need.

Monet said that Bonnemaman's [grandmother's] forte was portraits out of doors, although she claimed it was much hard to paint en plein air - the light was hard to catch and reproduce on canvas. Also the weather did not always cooperate. Even in the warmer seasons a landscape meant carrying everything - canvas, easel, palette, paints - out from the studio each day, and this endless procession had to be repeated every day until the painting was completed. Through the years it was most often her daughter, our Aunt Marg, who made these taxing expeditions a reality.

In 1958 Lilla's granddaughter, Elsie Lyon, and her husband drove out to Giverney where Monet's stepdaughter reportedly still lived. After much fruitless questioning they eventually stood before the gate, where a little old lady was sitting in her garden. When Elsie explained, 'My grandmother was Lilla Cabot Perry,' the gate was flung open and she was embraced with warmth by Germaine Hoschede. It didn't take long to become good friends. 

In frequent trips to Giverny Elsie met good friends of Germaine's. She also was able to go into Monet's hour and garden. Now, of course, the house and garden have been beautifully restored, and crowds flock to see them. 'Alice in the Lane,' Bonnemaman's painting of our mother, hangs in Monet's bedroom. A letter from Alice as a girl tells of a weekend in which she had been invited to stay with the Monets. As the great man was away, she had been put in his room and slept in his bed. Bonnemaman brought hollyhock seeds back to Hancock from Giverny, and they have continued to bloom there for many summers since that time."

 (Excerpts from 'Family Recollections of Lilla Cabot Perry' by Lilla Levitt, Anita English, and Elizabeth (Elsie) Lyon in "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 8

"Water Lilies and Japanese Bridge" by Claude Monet

"Claude Monet was one of the early admirers of Japanese prints, many of which decorated his dining room walls. The walls were painted a light yellow which showed up the prints' delicate tonality admirably and also the blue china which was the only other decoration in the room. It was a charming room with long windows opening on the garden, windows left open at mealtimes to permit countless sparrows to come in and pick up a friendly crumb. He pointed out to me one little fellow that had lost a leg and had come for three years in succession.

This serious, intense man had a most beautiful tenderness and love for children, birds and flowers, and this warmth of nature showed in his wonderful, warm smile, a smile no friend of his can every forget. His fondness for flowers amounted to a passion, and when he was not painting, much of his time was spent working in his garden. 

One autumn we were at Giverny I remember there was much interest in a new greenhouse. The heating must have been on a new plan, for when the plants were all in place and the heater first lit, Monet decided he must watch it throughout the night, to be sure everything went smoothly. Once his mind was made up there was little hope of moving him, so Madame Monet speedily acquiesced, and made her own plans for sharing his vigil. When the daughters heard of this there were loud outcries. What! Let their parents sit up all night with no one to look after them? Unheard of neglect! It ended by the entire family spending the night with the gloxinias. Fortunately, the heater was impeccably efficient so the adventure did not have to be repeated.

When I first knew Monet, and for some years later, he used a wheelbarrow to carry about his numerous canvases. Later on he had two beautiful motor cars to take him about, but that is not the measure of his achievement, nor is it to be measured by the fact that he lived to see the French government build proper housing under his directions for his latest pictures. His real success lies in his having opened the eyes not merely of France but of the whole world to the real aspect of nature and having led them along the path of beauty and truth and light."

Finis!

(From "Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 7

"Les Glaçons" by Claude Monet

"Fauré, the singer, who was by way of being a collector, bought a landscape from Claude Monet about this time for, I believe, the sum of one hundred francs, but brought it back a few days later and asked for his money back. He said he liked the picture himself, but his friends laughed at him so much that he could not keep it on his walls. Monet said he then and there made up his mind never to sell that picture, and he never did, though often offered large sums for it by rich Americans and others. He told me he had 'la mort dans l'ame' [death of the soul] when that picture was brought back and that he would sell the last shirt off his back before he would sell it! 

When we left Giverny in 1909, it was still hanging on the walls of this studio, a charming view of the Church at Vetheuil, seen across the Seine on a misty winter's day with cakes of snowy ice floating in the water. It is called 'Les Glaçons,' and is a most exquisite and exact portrayal of nature. One can only wonder why Monsieur Fauré's friends laughed at it, and laugh at them in return.

Monet was most appreciative of the work of his contemporaries, several of whom had been less successful than he in obtaining recognition during their lifetime. In his bedroom, a large room over the studio, he had quite a gallery of works of such Impressionists as Renoir, Camille Pissarro, a most expressive picture of three peasant women done during his pointilliste period, a charming hillside with little houses on it by Cezanne, about whom Monet had many interesting things to say. 

There was also a delightful picture by Berthe Morisot, the one woman of his set I have heard him praise. And richly she deserved it! I met her only once, at Miss Cassatt's. She was a most beautiful white-haired old lady. She died shortly afterward and Monet and Pissarro worked like beavers hanging her posthumous exhibition at Durand-Ruel's. It was a wonderful exhibition, and I think that the picture Monet owned was bought at this show. Monet was a most devoted friend to dear old Pissarro, whom no one could help loving, and after his death he acquired another of his pictures which was kept in the studio, and shown and praised to all visitors."

To be continued

(From "Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 6

"Regatta at Sainte-Adresse" by Claude Monet

"Once and only once I saw Claude Monet paint indoors. I had come to his studio and, finding him at work, was for going away at once, but he insisted on my coming in and sitting on the studio sofa while he went on painting. He had posed his step-daughter, a beautiful young girl in her teens, in a lilac muslin dress, sitting at a small table on which she rested one of her elbows. In a vase in front of her was one life-size sunflower, and she was painted full length but not quite life-size as she was a little behind the sunflower. I was struck by the fact that this indoor picture was so much lower in key, so much darker than his outdoor figures or than most studio portraits and thought of this some years later when he paid the usual penalty of success by having many imitators. 

One day as he came back from a visit to the Champ de Mars Salon I asked him how he liked the outbreak of pallid interiors painted in melted butter and spinach tones for which he was indirectly responsible. As he sat there with his hands upon his knees I shall never forget the impetuous gesture with which he clasped his hand to his head and growled despairingly: 'Madame, des fois j'ai envie de peintre noir! [Madame, sometimes I want to be a painter of black!]'

My husband and I were much interested in the reminiscences of his early struggles. He told us that his people were 'dans le commerce' [in business] at Le Havre and when, a boy in his teens, he wished to become a painter, they opposed him vigorously in the approved traditional manner. He went through some very hard times. He painted portrait heads of sea captains in one sitting for five francs a head and also made and sold caricatures. 

[Eugene] Boudin saw one of these caricatures in a small shop, sought his acquaintance and invited him to out painting with him. At first Monet did not appreciate this unsought privilege and went reluctantly, but, after watching Boudin at work and seeing how closely his landscapes resembled nature, he was only too glad to learn all he could from the older man. There are still some early Monets extant which plainly show Boudin's influence. Even after he had painted many landscapes that were purely in his own style, the young Monet had the utmost difficulty in selling them at the modest price of fifty francs apiece."

To be continued

(From "Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 5

"Rouen Cathedral, West Facade, Sunset"
by Claude Monet

"One day Claude Monet referred to the many criticisms of his work, comparing it to worsted work and so forth, on account of his dragging the color onto the canvas with the long flexible brushes he had made to order for his own use. He said he was sure some of Rembrandt's pictures had been painted even more thickly and heavily than any of his, but that time with its leveling touch had smoothed them down. 

In illustrating this, he took out of one of the grooved boxes in which he kept his pictures of a view of the Rouen Cathedral that had been kept in the box practically ever since it had been painted, and put beside it one that had been hanging on the wall of his studio for some two or three years. The difference between the two was very marked, the one which had been exposed to the air and to the constant changes of temperature had so smoothed down in that short space of time that it made the other one with all its rugosities look like one of those embossed maps of Switzerland that are such a delight to children.

He said he had never really seen these Rouen Cathedral pictures until he brought them back to his studio in Giverny as he had painted them from the window of a milliner's shop opposite the cathedral. Just as he got well started on the series, the milliner complained bitterly that her clients did not care to try on their hats with a man about and that he must go elsewhere to paint, since his presence interfered with her trade. Monet was not to be daunted. He persuaded her to let him build a little enclosure shutting him off from the shop, a small cell in which he could never get more than a yard away from his canvas. I exclaimed at the difficulty of painting under such conditions, but he said that every young painter should train himself to sit near his canvas and learn how it would look at a distance, and that with time and practice this could be done. 

Monet had already had experience of this sort in painting on sixteen or more canvases one after the other for a few minutes at a time from his small boat on the Epte. Later on, in his water garden pictures he made good use of this same power. He had grooved boxes filled with canvases placed at various points in the garden where there was barely room for him to sit as he recorded the fleeting changes of the light on his water lilies and arched bridges. He often said that no painter could paint more than one half hour on any outdoor effect and keep the picture true to nature, and remarked that in this respect he practiced what he preached."

To be continued

(From "Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 4

"Les Îles a Port-Villez" by Claude Monet"

(From "Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125.)

"Claude Monet's philosophy of painting was to paint what you really see, not what you think you ought to see; not the object isolated as in a test tube, but the object enveloped in sunlight and atmosphere, with the blue dome of Heaven reflected in the shadows.

He said that people reproached him for not finishing his pictures more, but that he carried them as far as he could and stopped only when he found he was not longer strengthening the picture. A few years later he painted his 'Island in the Seine' series. They were painted from a boat, many of them before dawn, which gave them a certain Corot-like effect, Corot having been fond of painting at that hour. 

As he was showing them to me, I remarked on his having carried them further than many of his pictures, whereupon he referred to this conversation and said again that he always carried them as far as he could. This was an easier subject and simpler lighting than usual, he said, therefore he had been able to carry them further. 

This series and the 'Peupliers' [Poplar] series also were painted from a broad-bottomed boat fitted up with grooves to hold a number of canvases. He told me that in one of his 'Peupliers' the effect lasted only seven minutes, or until the sunlight left a certain leaf, when he took out the next canvas and worked on that. He always insisted on the great importance of a painter noticing when the effect changed, so as to get a true impression of a certain aspect of nature and not a composite picture, as too many paintings were and are.

He admitted that it was difficult to stop in time because one got carried away, and then added: 'J'ai cette force-la, c'est la seule force que j'ai! [I have that strength, it's the only strength I have!]' I give his exact words, they show his beautiful modesty, as great as his genius."

To be continued

 

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 3

"Water Lilies" by Claude Monet

"Claude Monet was a man of his own opinions, though he always let you have yours and liked you all the better for being outspoken about them. He used to tell me that my forte was 'plein air,' figures out-of-doors and once in urging me to paint more boldly he said to me: 'Remember that every leaf on the tree is as important as the features of your model. I should like just for once to see you put her mouth under one eye instead of under her nose!' 'If I did that,' [I retorted]' 'No one would ever look at anything else in the picture!' He laughed heartily and said: 'Vous avez peut-etre raison, Madame [Maybe you are right]!' 

In spite of his intense nature and at times rather severe aspect, he was inexpressibly kind to many a struggling young painter. He never took any pupils, but he would have made a most inspiring master if he had been willing to teach. I remember his once saying to me; 'When you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have before you, a tree, a house, a field or whatever. Merely think, here is a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow, and paint it just as it looks to you, the exact color and shape, until it gives your own naive impression of the scene before you.'

He said he wished he had been born blind and then had suddenly gained his sight so that he could have begun to paint in this way without knowing what the objects were that he saw before him. He held that the first real look at the motif was likely to be the truest and most unprejudiced one, and said that the first painting should cover as much of the canvas as possible, no matter how roughly, so as to determine at the outset the tonality of the whole. As an illustration of this, he brought out a canvas on which he had painted only once; it was covered with strokes about an inch apart and a quarter of an inch thick, out to the very edge of the canvas. Then he took out another on which he had painted twice, the strokes were nearer together and the subject began to emerge more clearly."

To be continued

(From "Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 2

"Woman with a Parasol - Madame Monet
with Her Son" by Claude Monet

Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909 by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125:

"An intense artistic conscientiousness was one of Claude Monet's most marked traits. About 1905 I took a friend to his studio. She was much taken with a certain picture and tried hard to buy it, but he said he could not sell it until the series was finished as he did not feel sure it was up to his standard. A year or two later he dropped in one afternoon and casually mentioned that he had burnt up over thirty canvases that morning. I asked him whether Mrs. Blank's picture was among those destroyed, and he admitted that it was. 'I must look after my artistic reputation while I can,' he said. 'Once I am dead no one will destroy any of my paintings, no matter how poor they may be.'

His opinion of his own work was not, however, always calmly judicial. On one occasion, particularly disgusted at his own inadequacy, he decided to give up painting altogether. He was painting from his boat at the time, so overboard flew the forevermore useless paint box, palette, brushes and so forth into the peaceful waters of the little Epte. Needless to say, the night brought counsel and the following morning he arose, full of enthusiasm, but without any painting materials! It was, of course, a Sunday (such things always take place on Sundays), but a telegram to Paris sent a sympathetic color man flying to his shop and a complete kit left by the next train for Normandy where a reconverted painter awaited its arrival with savage impatience.

There were two pictures on the wall of his studio which I particularly liked. They were of his step-daughter in a white dress, a green veil floating in the breeze under a sunshade, on the brow of a hill against the sky. He told me that an eminent critic called them the Ascension and the Assumption! Seeing me looking at them one day with keen admiration, he took one down off the wall and showed me a tremendous criss-cross right through the center of the canvas, but so skillfully mended that nothing showed on the right side. I exclaimed with horror, and asked what on earth had happened to it. With a twinkle, he told me that one afternoon he had felt thoroughly dissatisfied with his efforts and had expressed his feelings by putting his foot through the canvas. As he happened to have on sabots, the result was painfully evident at the time."

To be continued

 

(From "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Reminiscences of Monet, Pt. 1

"Cliffs at Etretat" by Claude Monet

"As Monet refused to take pupils and almost never granted interviews, Lilla Cabot Perry's article from 1927 reproduced here provides a rare insight into the work of 'the world's greatest landscape artist,' in her words. Perry's initial observations published in 1894, when her memories were far more fresh in her mind, have received much less attention. For this reason large extracts from this early text are included among the present annotations."

"Reminiscences of Monet from 1889-1909" by Lilla Cabot Perry from The American Magazine of Art, March 1927, Vol. 18, no. 3, pp. 119-125:

"Monet is dead! How well I remember meeting him when we first went to Giverny in the summer of 1889! A talented young American sculptor told my husband and me that he had a letter of introduction to the painter, Claude Monet. He felt shy at going alone and implored us to go with him, which we were enchanted to do, having seen that very spring the great Monet-Rodin exhibition which had been a revelation to others besides myself. I had been greatly impressed by this (to me) new painter whose work had a clearness of vision and a fidelity to nature such as I had never seen before. 

The man himself, with his rugged honesty, his disarming frankness, his warm and sensitive nature, was fully as impressive as his pictures, and from this first visit dates a friendship which led us to spend ten summers at Giverny. For some seasons, indeed, we had the house and garden next to his, and he would sometimes stroll in and smoke his after-luncheon cigarette in our garden before beginning on his afternoon work. He was not then appreciated as he deserved to be, in fact that first summer I wrote to several friends and relatives in America to tell them that here was a very great artist only just beginning to be known, whose pictures could be bought from his studio in Giverny for the sum of $500. 

I was a student in the Paris studios at that time and had shown at the Salon for the first time that spring, so it was natural that my judgment should have been distrusted. Only one person responded and for him I bought a picture of Etretat. Monet said he had to do something to the sky before delivering it as the clouds did not quite suit him, and, characteristically, to do this he must needs go down to Etretat and wait for a day with as near as possible the same sky and atmosphere, so it was some little time before I could take possession of the picture. When I brought it home that autumn of 1889 (I think it was the first Monet ever seen in Boston), to my great astonishment hardly any one liked it, the one exception being John La Farge."

To be continued

(From "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: We Draw to a Close

"An Easter Morning" by Lilla Cabot Perry

"A moving letter from Theodore Butler in Giverny brought the sad news of Monet's death in December 1926. Lilla was in the midst of preparations for two solo exhibitions in early 1927 - the Guild of Boston Artists show in January and her first exhibition in Washington, D.C. in February. In the first hour in the latter exhibition, she sold works to Gladys Vanderbilt, Mrs. Marshall Field and Perry Belmont. The prices received ranged from $250 to $500.

On May 7, 1928, Thomas Perry died quietly in his sleep after a brief bout with pneumonia. At eighty-three years, though his mind was as brilliant as ever, his body was worn out. 'But,' said Lilla, 'I don't find that having lived with a person you had loved for 54 years plus 1 month makes you miss them less!'

Painting was her primary solace. She explained, 'I am devoting my small remaining strength to what Monet begged me to and said was my forte, plein-air and paysage.' And so she culminated her career with landscapes, which she exhibited at the Guild of Boston Artists in 1929 and 1931. Edmund Tarbell remarked that these very late 'impressions' were among her finest works. He wrote her: 

'My dear Mrs. Perry, Your show at the Guild is perfectly beautiful, and those latest landscapes seem to me the finest you have painted. I don't know when I have enjoyed an exhibition so much... My warmest congratulations and many thanks for allowing us to see some real painting.'

Frank Benson returned five times to view her exhibition at the Guild in 1931. He wrote Lilla: 

'Dear Mrs. Perry, Good for you! I have been to see your show five times and I assure you it looks better to me every time. There never was truer, more direct and sincere painting, and I thought I should feel better to write and tell you so than simply say it when I saw you. I think it is the best show I have ever seen of your work, and I don't see how you have been able to accomplish so much when I know you have often had to lie by on account of your health. I hope you'll have many years of this kind of painting.'

Her most original late landscape is 'Mist on the Mountain,' painted in 1931. Here, an almost formless flush of muted hues suggest that both Mount Monadnock and Fuji were symbols of the same, invisible, Eternal Being. In this very last painting exhibited during Lilla's lifetime, the fusion between East and West had become a reality. Her niece Eleanor Bradly recounted 'Aunt Lilla died [on February 28, 1933] at 86 and was painting the day she died.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)

Lilla Cabot Perry: Hancock, New Hampshire

"A Snowy Monday" by Lilla Cabot Perry

"Hancock, New Hampshire, is far less familiar to most people than Dublin, only nine miles away, where Abbot Thayer's presence attracted many other fine artists, or nearby Peterborough, where a cultural elite still communes every summer at the MacDowell Colony. The views of Mount Monadnock, however, the principal natural attraction of this region, are just as lovely as seen from this quiet village. For Lilla Cabot Perry, Hancock embodied the soul of the New England landscapes, as seen through Emerson's eyes. 

In 1903 Lilla purchased a modest farm house in Hancock surrounded by 230 acres of beautiful scenery. It was not until 1910, however, the year Henry James paid a memorable visit after the death of his brother, William, that the Perrys regularly sojourned there from May through September. A stream of family and friends received a warm welcome every summer. Several even posed for Lilla's brush.

Gradually the Perrys extended their stays in Hancock through October to be able to fully savor the brilliant autumn season. 'How wonderful these mornings are,' Thomas Perry wrote, 'with the long shadows over the wet grass and the fogs in the valleys looking like lakes, and air so much like champagne... At this time Giverny was another wonder, when Monet would go and paint the dawn on the Seine; I rapturously enjoy it, and Lilla is out twice a day immortalizing it on canvas... The trees are trying to ingratiate themselves by putting on their best clothes and these are very scrumptious. They are late [this year] in changing their garments, but they have put on brilliant ones [and] now we have the full blaze.'

Snow scenes also became favorite themes. These she painted at times through her window. More often, they were completed while she sat huddled in the old Ford sedan under a heavy coat and blankets with two hot water bottles, 'to keep the paint on my palette, as well as myself from freezing stiff.' Dawn or 4 p.m. or 'when the snow and trees and mountains are bathed in a pink glow with deep blue shadows after sunset,' were Lilla's favorite hours for recording her impressions of the severe New England winter scenery."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.) 

Lilla Cabot Perry: Difficult Years

"Thomas Sargeant Perry Reading
a Newspaper" by Lilla Cabot Perry

"Lilla Cabot Perry was seventy-two years old and certainly deserved compliments for helping to supplement the family's modest income. 'Once when we were very hard up,' she recounted in 1929, 'I painted thirteen portraits in thirteen weeks, four sitters a day at two hours each.'

Along with the proceeds from her first New York solo exhibition, these funds helped ease some of the additional family expenses incurred when her daughter Edith's mental health totally collapsed, and she was transferred to a private institution. Edith's illness was the tragedy of Lilla's life. It was followed by two other traumatic events. Lilla herself became critically ill with diphtheria in late December 1923 and her granddaughter died suddenly of scarlet fever in 1924. 

These grave circumstances undoubtedly conditioned her retreat from the genteel portraits painted at her Fenway studio in Boston back to plein-air works and landscapes, which highlighted the last chapter of her life. The subtle portrait of her husband, half-hidden behind his morning newspaper, is one of the first canvases Lilla painted during her long convalescence. The delicate harmony here of muted blue and mauve tones, bathed in the softly filtered sunlight, adds a subtle note to the sensitive portrait of this distinguished New England gentleman in the twilight years of his life. Symbolically, the curtains are closed.

Charleston, South Carolina, where she continued her convalescence is far distant from Giverny, but the memories of those nine summers spent in Monet's village, 'the happiest of her life,' were constantly present as she painted some of her finest landscapes at the age of seventy-seven. 'Road from Charleston to Savannah,' for example, which depicts in the Impressionist manner a group of live oaks laden with Spanish moss along a sunlit road, definitely recalls the charm of 'Poplars,' painted thirty years before in Giverny."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.) 

Lilla Cabot Perry: Settled in Boston

"Lady with a Bowl of Violets"
by Lilla Cabot Perry

"George Moore believed that 'the story of a painter's mind may be read in every picture,' and Lilla Cabot Perry's view of the Boston State House in 1910 revealed her pleasure in coming home. She rarely painted urban views, although she had visited far more cities in Europe and Japan than most artists of her day. It is significant, therefore, that she began this new chapter in her life with a lovely landscape of the Boston skyline perceived through a delicate, almost oriental, pattern of barren trees across the Boston Commons.

This painting was included, along with landscapes from Giverny and Japan, in Lilla's solo exhibition at the Copley Gallery in 1911. This was followed by a new series of children's portraits, one of her most popular series, and which largely contributed to her bronze medal at the prestigious Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco in 1915.

With conservatism being the dominant trend of the day, it was no wonder that the International Exhibition of Modern Art, or as it is more widely referred to 'the Armory Show,' which presented a selection of European avant-garde artists in Boston, created such a negative stir in 1913. The event no doubt prompted the establishment the following year of the ultra-conservative Guild of Boston Artists. The driving force behind this collective action, led by Tarbell, was Lilla Cabot Perry. The seeds for this counterrevolution may well have been sown in Paris in 1907, when the Perrys encountered 'modern art' to their 'horror,' as exemplified by Henri Matisse. Two decades previously Perry actively contributed to impose Impressionism among Boston patrons. She now, however, bitterly opposed the latest avant-garde trends from France.

In 1920 Frank Benson, the guild's president, presented Perry with a commemorative silver bowl honoring her six years of loyal service. A congratulatory letter signed by all the members accompanied the gift: 'To your personal influence [the guild] owes its inception and to your untiring efforts on its behalf we feel its success is largely due, and with the continuation of this happy condition we are confident that its future success is assumed...' Her husband recorded the event in a letter to his daughter Alice. 'Nothing could have been more surprising for although Lilla has worked much for the Guild, we never knew they knew much about it, but they did.'

 

To be continued

 

(Excerpts from Lilla Cabot Perry: An American Impressionist" by Meredith Martindale.)