John Singer Sargent: Plein Air Abroad

"Vase Fountain, Pocantico" by J.S. Sargent

"What scenery did John Singer Sargent prefer? He concerned himself little with panorama and distance and preferred close ups. Within these limits and given bright sunshine his range was exceedingly wide. His letters contain some indications of his preferences. Writing to Ralph Curtis from the Palazzo Barbaro in 1913 he said: 'The de Glehns, my sister and I are off in a day or two to the Lake of Guarda, where we have discovered a nasty little pension on a little promontory, which is otherwise paradise - cypresses, olives, a villa, a tiny little port, deep clear water and no tourists.'

To Mrs. Adrian Stokes he wrote: 'Ronda is a most picturesque place with magnificent scenery. It is on the edge of a tremendous cliff that looks across a great hollow with fine angular rocky ranges of mountains that would just suit Stokes. The objection to it is that the small boys are perfect devils and throw stones at painters and worry them out of their wits.'

He had no liking for trim and ordered gardens. They had to be derelict or at any rate unkempt, and the more time had played undisturbed with the tresses of tree and shrub, the more was his eye satisfied. Of Aranjuez he wrote: 'The place is perfectly charming, grand gardens with cavernous avenues and fountains and statues, long neglected - good-natured, friendly people - lunch in the open air under arbours of roses."

To these tours through Europe in his chosen company he owed some of the happiest months of his life. He was away from portraits, which by 1909 had become wearisome to him. As early as 1906 he had written to Lady Lewis: 'I have now got a bomb-proof shelter into which I retire when I sniff the coming portrait or its trajectory.' Abroad he could go where his eye led him, and choose his subject. Life was plain sailing on a sea of summer. He would breakfast at 7:30 and then sally out to sketch, working till the light failed. His energy was inexhaustible. The hours of sunshine were treasured like gold. 

Sightseeing was reserved for rainy days. In the evenings he would play chess, or the piano where one was available - duets, with Mrs. de Glehn or Miss Eliza Wedgwood, from Brahms, Schumann or Albeniz. 'The only pleasure,' he wrote, 'of coming back to one's own house is the pleasure of unpacking the bibelots one has got elsewhere - good wholesome sentiment.'"

To be continued

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