Pablo Picasso, Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, 20 November 1955. Estimate: £15-20 million. © Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
LONDON.- Christie’s Impressionist and Modern Art Evening Sale in London on 4 February 2014 sets the bar for rare and important works from distinguished sources to be offered at auction this season. Presenting discerning, informed and passionate international collectors with 48 lots spanning almost a century, the sale is led by Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, 1955 by Pablo Picasso, which comes to the market for the first time in over 55 years (estimate: £15-20 million). The sale features works from exceptional collections including: Modern Masters: Works from an Important Private Swiss Collection, an historic group led by a magnificent still life by Juan Gris, Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, 1915 (estimate: £12-18 million) and Piet Mondrian’s iconic Composition No. 2 with Blue and Yellow, 1930 (estimate: £8-12 million); Trois homes qui marchent I, one of Alberto Giacometti’s famous multi-figure compositions, dating to the height of his oeuvre, from The Property of the Museum of Modern Art, New York, Sold to Benefit the Acquisitions Fund (estimate: £6.2-8 million); Les cylindres colorés, 1918, by Fernand Léger, formerly in the collection of Louis Carré, the celebrated art dealer who was closely associated with the artist (estimate: £5-7 million); and Property from the Estate of Ayala Zacks Abramov, featuring Henry Moore’s Mother and Child with Apple (estimate: £2.5-3.5 million). The enduring appeal of the Impressionist era is exemplified by L’Eglise de Varengeville; soleil couchant, 1882, by Claude Monet (estimate: £4-7 million). Estimates range from £150,000 to £20 million, with a pre-sale estimate of £94,150,000 to£134,900,000. Christie’s evening auctions of Impressionist, Modern and Surrealist Art on 4 February have a total pre-sale estimate of £137.1 million to £199.5 million.
Jay Vincze, International Director and Head of The Impressionist and Modern Art Department, Christie’s London: “This stellar sale presents international collectors and institutions with rare opportunities to acquire exceptional works with illustrious provenance by key impressionist and modern masters. The global market for this category continues to expand and deepen year on year, underpinned by passion for the beauty of the period and an increasingly far reaching appreciation and understanding of the importance of late 19th century and early 20th century art movements. We are very privileged to be offering the distinguished private Swiss collection which includes a magnificent still life by Juan Gris as well as some of the most important examples of De Stijl works ever to be seen on the market, many of which were acquired directly from the artists, with whom the collectors had significant relationships. We are also very honoured to be offering Picasso’s powerful portrait of his great love Jacqueline Roque, which comes to auction for the first time in over 55 years. Such a major work from this important series has not been seen at auction since ‘Femme accroupie au costume turc, Jacqueline’ was sold at Christie’s New York for $30.8 million in November 2007.”
Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, 20 November 1955, is one of a small group of portraits by Pablo Picasso showing Jacqueline Roque in the costume of an ‘odalisque’, a woman of the harem (estimate: £15-20 million). Having met Jacqueline three years earlier, this painting dates from relatively early in their relationship and is a colourful, sexually charged celebration of Jacqueline, whom Picasso would marry six years later and who would become one of the most important muses of the artist’s life. The theme of the odalisque derived from Picasso’s variations upon Eugène Delacroix’s celebrated masterpiece, Les femmes d’Alger dans leur appartement, now in the Louvre, Paris. Picasso had created his own versions of Les femmes d’Alger from December 1954 until early 1955 in his studio in the rue des Grands Augustins in Paris; returning to the theme with relish later that year. The present painting is one of a series of pictures in which he painted a single woman dressed as an odalisque, taking his cues from Delacroix, from Ingres, from himself and crucially from Henri Matisse who had died the previous year; the connection between this theme and the heady, orientalised world of languorous sexuality of Matisse’s fictive harem scenes is immediately recognisable.
Pablo Picasso, Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, 20 November 1955. Estimate: £15-20 million. © Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
signed 'Picasso' (upper right); dated and numbered '20.11.55. II' (on the reverse); oil on canvas; 36¼ x 28¾ in. (92 x 73 cm.).Painted in 1955
Provenance: Galerie Louise Leiris, Paris (no. 7161), by whom acquired directly from the artist.
Galerie Beyeler, Basel (no. 1791), by whom acquired from the above.
Private collection, Munich, by whom acquired from the above in 1958, and thence by descent.
PROPERTY FROM AN IMPORTANT PRIVATE COLLECTION
Literature: C. Zervos, 'Transmutations et unité fondamentale dans les oeuvres récentes de Picasso', in Cahiers d'Art, Paris, 1957 (illustrated p. 27).
C. Zervos, Pablo Picasso, Oeuvres de 1953 à 1955, vol. 16, Paris, 1965, no. 533 (illustrated pl. 182).
The Picasso Project, ed., Picasso's Paintings, Watercolors, Drawings and Sculpture, The Fifties I, 1950-1955, San Francisco, 2000, no. 55-234, p. 345 (illustrated).
E. Mallen, ed., Online Picasso Project, Sam Houston State University, OPP.55:255 (accessed 2013).
Exhibited: Basel, Galerie Beyeler, Maîtres d'Art Moderne, September - October 1958.
Munich, Pinakothek der Moderne, on loan 1975-2009.
Madrid, Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, Picasso, las grandes series, March - June 2001, no. 9, p. 362 (illustrated p. 223).
Notes: Pablo Picasso painted Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil on 20 November 1955. This picture is one of a small group of portraits showing Jacqueline Roque in the costume of an 'odalisque', a woman of the harem. The identification of the model is clear from comparison with other works from the selected series, and also with portraits that Picasso had created of her during the course of 1954 and 1955; indeed, a little over a year before he painted Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, he had drawn an intimate image of Jacqueline's face showing the nose, as here, facing to the right while the rest appeared predominantly orientated towards the left. That had been one of Picasso's early depictions of Jacqueline: while they had met in 1952, when she was assisting Suzanne Ramié in the workshop in Vallauris where Picasso made his ceramics, it was only later in 1953 that she had become established as the artist's partner, especially following the final rupture with Françoise Gilot in September that year. Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil therefore dates from relatively early in this relationship and is a colourful, tender celebration of Jacqueline, whom Picasso would marry six years later and who would become one of the most important muses of the artist's entire life.
In Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, Picasso has shown Jacqueline in the exotic garb of a woman of the seraglio. The theme of the odalisque derived from Picasso's variations upon Eugène Delacroix's celebrated masterpiece, Les femmes d'Alger dans leur appartement, now in the Louvre, Paris. Picasso had created his own versions of Les femmes d'Alger from December 1954 until early 1955 in his studio in the rue des Grands Augustins in Paris. In Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil, painted at the end of 1955, Picasso has returned to the theme of the odalisque with relish: this is one of a series of pictures in which he painted a single woman dressed as an odalisque, taking his cues from Delacroix, from Ingres, from himself, and crucially from Henri Matisse. In this string of portraits, Picasso created a new sequence of variations, showing Jacqueline sometimes more figuratively, sometimes less. She appears in profile in some pictures, facing the viewer in others, here sitting upon a chair, there upon the floor. Picasso appears to have been playfully exploring the pictorial potential of Jacqueline's striking features, for instance by inverting the nose in Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil or, in another work painted six days later and sold at Christie's New York in November 2007, by creating a heavier, more stylised impression of the head.
Picasso had long been intrigued by Delacroix's works. Gilot would recall a visit to the Louvre with Georges Salle, when Picasso had been given the chance to compare his own works to the Old Masters there. Picasso 'then asked to see some of his paintings beside Delacroix's Death of Sardanapalus, The Massacre of Chios andThe Women of Algiers,' Gilot wrote. 'He had often spoken to me of making his own version of The Women of Algiers and had taken me to the Louvre on an average of once a month to study it... I asked him how he felt about the Delacroix. His eyes narrowed and he said, "That bastard. He's really good"' (F. Gilot & C. Lake, Life with Picasso, New York, Toronto & London, 1964, p. 203). This shows the extent to which the idea of tackling Delacroix had gestated within Picasso over the decades. However, it was perhaps a number of external influences and events that finally prompted him to confront it in his own series of works, and later in the portraits of Jacqueline such as Femme au costume turc dans un fauteuil. One of these was Jacqueline (whose resemblance to the woman squatting to the right of the composition in Delacroix's original had been noted by several people) and another was the death of Matisse.
It was at the end of 1954 that Matisse had died. He and Picasso, the two towering giants of twentieth-century art, had increasingly found solace in each other's company during their later years, having earlier enjoyed a more thorny friendship heavily spiced with rivalry. Picasso was more and more willing to admit to Matisse's brilliance, even going so far as to declare that, 'All things considered, there is only Matisse’ (Picasso, quoted in J. Golding, 'Introduction’, pp. 13-24, Cowling et al., ed., Matisse Picasso, exh. cat., London, 2002, p. 24). When Matisse died, Picasso initially appeared to be in denial, refusing to answer the phone to hear the news, let alone to attend the funeral. Now, deprived of any contemporaries with whom to discuss the nature and ramifications of art, Picasso sought out the company of the long-departed masters, be it Delacroix, Edouard Manet or Diego Velazquez. Picasso, made aware of the issue of his own legacy and standing in the history of art, especially during a period of international retrospectives that were causing a constant re-evaluation of his impact upon the development of painting, turned to the pantheon of painters of the past for inspiration, company and conversation. At the same time, he was placing himself all the more firmly within that firmament.
Modern Masters: Works from an Important Private Swiss Collection
Modern Masters: Works from an Important Private Swiss Collection comprises an exceptional and historic group of works which will be offered across all four King Street sales on 4 and 5 February. Collections often reflect their collectors’ tastes and histories, but seldom do they also reflect their friendships and relationships as much as the 22 works of art assembled by a private Swiss couple. Behind almost all of these works are tales of friendship, as the collectors came to know many of the artists who are represented, meeting a number of the leading figures of the avant garde from the 1920s onwards. Living a reality confined merely to dreams for many, they were able to meet Constantin Brancusi, to see Pablo Picasso’s Guernica while it was in its studio, to support the impoverished and embattled Piet Mondrian and to entertain Hans Arp on a regular basis. Two published authors, who were authorities in their field, the couple were prominent in the cultural milieu of Switzerland and Europe as a whole, particularly in the middle decades of the 20th century. The collection is led by a magnificent still life by Juan Gris, Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, 1915 (estimate: £12-18 million) and Piet Mondrian’s Composition No. 2 with Blue and Yellow, 1930, which is an historic example of the radical Neo-Plastic aesthetic that Mondrian had developed during the previous decade and which reached a pinnacle at this time (estimate: £8-12 million). Coming to the market for the first time, the collection as a whole is expected to realise in excess of £30 million.
Juan Gris (1887-1927), Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, 1915. Estimate: £12-18 million. © Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
signed and dated ‘Juan Gris 3-15’ (on the reverse); oil on canvas; 45.7/8 x 35.1/8 in. (116.5 x 89.3 cm.). Painted in March 1915
Provenance: Galerie de L'Effort Moderne [Léonce Rosenberg], Paris (no. 5114).
Dr Gottlieb Friedrich Reber, Lausanne, by whom acquired in November 1925.
Gisela M. Reber, Lugano, 1926.
Galerie Gasser, Zurich, circa 1944.
Professor Dr Wilhelm Löffler, Zurich, by 1955.
Private collection, Zurich, a bequest from the above in 1972, and thence by descent to the present owners.
PROPERTY FROM A PRIVATE SWISS COLLECTION
Collections often reflect their collectors' tastes and histories, but seldom do they also reflect their friendships and relationships as much as this exceptional, historic group of works of art assembled by a private Swiss couple. Behind almost all of these works are tales of friendship, as the collectors came to know many of the artists who are represented here.
The couple in question were not artists in their own rights, yet were prominent in the cultural milieu of Switzerland - and indeed Europe - especially in the middle decades of the Twentieth Century. Two published authors - indeed, authorities - they met a number of the most prominent figures of the avant garde from the 1920s onwards. They were able to meet Constantin Brancusi, to see Pablo Picasso's Guernica while it was in its studio, to help to support the impoverished and embattled Piet Mondrian and to entertain Hans Arp on a regular basis. Each of the works therefore serves as a relic of deeply personal bonds between the collectors and the artists whom they admired.
Of course, not all the works in the collection were from artists whom they knew. One of the rare exceptions to this rule, the magnificent still life by Juan Gris, Nature morte à la nappe aux carreaux was in fact beyond their financial means when it was available for sale in Switzerland; instead of buying it, they were able to advise an acquaintance, the eminent Professor Doctor Wilhelm Löffler, who had known little about art and still less about such an avant garde monument of Cubism, with such enthusiasm that he bought it for himself… yet, when he died, he bequeathed it to them, stating that he had only ever considered it a permanent loan. This is a reflection of the incredible generosity of spirit of the couple in question, which was clearly appreciated by many with whom they came into contact.
Looking at the collection, it is interesting to note the architectural dimension that is often present. The couple who assembled these works were often in contact with people from that milieu, and so it seems only natural that they should have acquired works that are either architectural in character, such as the Mondrian and the Vantongerloo, or which were the creations of artists involved with architecture and design, such as Le Corbusier and Laszlo Moholy-Nagy. Indeed, those artists spent time with the couple on the SS Patris II, which had become an extra location for the fourth Congrès Internationale d'Architecture Moderne. The ship, wending its way from Marseilles to Athens, where the congress itself was to take place, became a de facto conference in its own right, stopping along the way to view various sites. This gave the collectors and the artists and architects alike, such as Moholy-Nagy, Le Corbusier, Fernand Léger, Ernö Goldfinger and others, a chance to begin or to deepen their acquaintances. It is this type of glancing insight into the cultural world of Europe during those turbulent decades at the middle of the Twentieth Century that this collection provides. It has faultless historical credentials, it provides insights into the personalities of the artists and the collectors, and it also reflects their daring, now justified support of modern art itself, ranging across Cubism, Dada, Purism and Surrealism.
Literature: Cahiers d’Art, Paris, 1927, no. 4-5 (illustrated p. 172).
C. Einstein, Die Kunst des 20. Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1931 (illustrated p. 375).
Cahiers d’Art, Paris, 1933, no. 5-6 (illustrated).
D.H. Kahnweiler, Juan Gris, His Life and Work, London, 1947 (illustrated pl. 21).
J.T. Soby, Juan Gris, New York, 1958, pp. 50 & 61 (illustrated p. 60).
D.H. Kahnweiler, Juan Gris, His Life and Work, New York, 1968 (illustrated p. 107).
D. Cooper, Juan Gris, Catalogue raisonné de l’oeuvre peint, vol. I, Paris, 1977, no. 127, p. 194 (illustrated p. 195).
Exhibited: Dresden, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, Internationale Kunst Ausstellung, June – September 1926, no. 374.
Zurich, Kunsthaus, Juan Gris, April 1933, no. 50 (illustrated).
Zurich, Kunsthaus, Europäische Kunst 13-20 Jahrhundert aus Zu¨rcher Sammlungen, June – August 1950.
Bern, Kunstmuseum, Juan Gris, October 1955 – January 1956, no. 23.
Zurich, Kunsthaus, on loan April - December 1982.
Stuttgart, Staatsgalerie, Juan Gris, December 1992 – February 1993, no. 46 (illustrated p. 203).
Notes: Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux (The checked tablecloth) is a large-scale landmark painting by Juan Gris dating from 1915, a watershed year in which he shifted further from his earlier Analytical Cubism to the more lyrical Synthetic Cubism. The importance of this picture is reflected in the fact that it has featured in a number of significant collections since its execution, including that of one of the greatest patrons of Cubism, Dr G.F. Reber of Lausanne. Gris' move away from Analytical Cubism is demonstrated in the sheer exuberant energy of Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, which features an explosion of objects, seemingly radiating from a point in the lower centre of the composition. There is a sense of dynamism to this composition, accentuated by its sheer size, which is at odds with the more static still life works that he often created; this was a characteristic that marked out his pictures of 1915 in particular. Indeed, it was making specific reference to Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux and another work from the same year that Gris' friend, dealer and biographer Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler later wrote: 'Apparently Gris' ideal of architectural grandeur can only be realised with a static subject. But during the summer of 1915 he produced a series of pictures which are full of movement' (D.H. Kahnweiler, Juan Gris: His Life and Work, trans. D. Cooper, London, 1969, p. 126).
In fact, Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux was painted not in the Summer of 1915, as Kahnweiler suggested, but instead in March, only a few months after Gris had returned to Paris following some months in the South of France after the outbreak of the First World War. This marked a new period in Gris' work, as he himself acknowledged in a letter to Kahnweiler written on 26 March 1915, during the same month that Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux was painted: 'I think I have really made progress recently and that my pictures begin to have a unity which they have lacked till now. They are no longer those inventories of objects which used to depress me so much' (Gris, quoted in C. Green, Juan Gris, London & New Haven, 1992, p. 51). This was a shift that has been noted by a number of critics as well. Of the transition of which Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux is such a prominent example, Kahnweiler explained, 'Gris finally gave up presenting the beholder with a great variety of information (acquired by empirical observation) about the objects which he displayed. He now offered a synthesis: that is to say, he packed his knowledge into one significant form, a single emblem. True conceptual painting was born' (Kahnweiler, op. cit., 1969, p. 126). Meanwhile, James Thrall Soby wrote in the catalogue for the exhibition held at the Museum of Modern Art, New York in 1958, in which Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux was reproduced although not included in the show itself:
'... for sheer variety his work of 1915 is outstanding. The strange, lovely fluorescence of The Checked Tablecloth is a long cry from the splintered complexity of the Still Life. And in connection with the compositional arrangement of the former picture, mention should be made of Gris' passion for triangles. Lipchitz has told the writer that Gris revered the triangle because it is "so accurate and endless a form." He added that once when he and Gris found a triangular-shaped drinking glass, the latter explained: "You see we are influencing life at last"' (J.T. Soby, Juan Gris, exh. cat., New York, 1958, pp. 50-57).
Those triangles help to banish any sense of the static from Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux: the various objects appear to emanate like a fan from the point down in the middle of the composition, at the bottom. At the same time, this anchoring point helps to give the impression of pictorial unity that increasingly characterised his pictures. The growing focus on coherence is clear in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux in its inclusion of various objects which are shown almost in relief against the uncluttered background, heightening the sense of cohesion. Douglas Cooper himself noted the less fragmentary nature of Gris' compositions from this time, and the greater certainty in his treatment of the spaces between the objects. Thus, Gris revealed his confidence in paint handling and composition even during a period of extensive pictorial experimentation.
Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux has a vibrancy which is accentuated by the checkering of the tablecloth, which extends into various other fields within the composition. This is a parallel version of the chessboard which featured in several of Gris' works from this period. This was a significant part of the transition from Analytical Cubism: where that earlier means of representation had involved constructing the image of the subject through a scaffolding-like armature, now the grid took on a new appearance, playfully embraced in the form of this tablecloth or, elsewhere, the chessboard; it even appears in the background of Guitare sur une table in the Rijksmuseum Kröller-Müller, Otterlo in the flagstones of the floor. At the same time, it allowed Gris to introduce the formality of the gridded armature by other means.
Against this framing device, he has shown, using a deliberately extensive and versatile variety of means, a number of objects in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux. Some, like the grapes, the wood grain or the Bass label, are shown in an almost literal manner, while others are more stylised, for instance the glasses, depicted as fragmented and almost metallic objects, or the spectral cups, saucers and guitar, which are presented in part through deceptively simple white outlines. This range of approaches to verisimilitude is given more emphasis by the life-like scale of the composition. The variety of means of representation explored in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux cuts to the heart of the transition that was taking shape in Gris' work at this time: while some objects are painted in a manner that echoes his earlier use of collage, a technique which had drawn him away from Analytical Cubism and towards a more legible aesthetic, others hint at a new idealism.
Increasingly, Gris was seeking out an almost Neo-Platonic version of his objects, no longer trusting to observation alone, but instead to memory, experience and indeed concept - hence Kahnweiler's declaration that these works marked the beginning of his 'conceptual' phase. Where Cubism had formerly been seen by Gris, and also his fellow artists, Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso, as an almost objective means of recording the world, more and more he was seeking out a modern form of classicism that cut to the heart of existence. The outlines of the guitar and the cups in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux emphasise this notion: they are idealised yet also all the more evocative for the viewer. Nonetheless, they contain shard-like facets of 'materiality', be it in the wood of the guitar or the slivers of white and shadow of the porcelain cups and the bowl.
In Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, there is a grounded quality to the depiction of the fruit and the label of the bottle of stout. The latter in particular harks back to the recent works involving collage, such as Verres et journaux of the previous year, now in the Smith College Museum of Art, Northampton, Massachusetts. Echoing the introduction of 'reality' of those works, the label in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux has been meticulously painted to the point that it approaches trompe-l'oeil. Meanwhile, the Beaujolais label in the background and the newspaper in the foreground - a staple of Gris' works - reveal a deliberately painterly quality, despite evoking those earlier collage-based works. This painterly dimension is only heightened by the increasing use of Pointillist dabs of colour, which convey a sense of shading in various areas of the picture and which would, over the following year, become increasingly dominant.
Looking at the fruit, beer, wine and guitar in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, the viewer could be mistaken for interpreting this rich and lyrical cornucopia as a reflection of a world of plenty, of sensation, of music. Instead, Gris was painting against the backdrop of the First World War and his many deprivations. As a Spanish national, Gris was not called up for service in his adopted home, France. However, he was also unable to return to Spain, as he had neither carried out national service nor paid the necessary tax in order to be exempt from it. Before the First World War had begun, he had travelled with Josette to the South of France, staying first in Collioure and then in Céret. There, he was surrounded by a number of artists and friends, several of whom helped to support him, as his dealer, Kahnweiler, was barely able to help him - as a German national, he was unable to return to France, having left shortly before the outbreak of hostilities. Various arrangements arose to assist Gris: Henri Matisse, with whom Gris had spent a great deal of time in the South, had returned to Paris and arranged for Gertrude Stein and a New York sculptor and dealer, Michael Brenner, to give Gris a stipend. However, he was loath to go against the spirit of the contract he had made with Kahnweiler. He thus found himself between a rock and a hard place until he was released from Kahnweiler and took up a contract with Léonce Rosenberg.
It was in the context of this extended period of personal upheaval that Gris created Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux and a number of other celebrated works, many of which are filled with a similar zest for life. These include Nature morte et paysage - Place Ravignan, now in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Pipe et journal, "Fantomas", now in the National Gallery of Art, Washington DC, and even the moderately more austere Le petit déjeuner in the Musée National d'Art Moderne, Paris, which nonetheless glows with an intense palette. In Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, Gris has refracted and diffracted the various colours present, in part through his use of the grid, adding an extra dimension of movement to the entirety, lending it an electric sense of buzzing energy. There is a firework-like intensity to its surface that prefigures some of the more Pointillist works of the following year such as Journal et compotier in the Yale University Art Gallery. All this opulence strikes a perplexing note when seen against the biographical details of Gris' life at that time: despite his black mood, he was creating colourful, sensual pictures. Perhaps the fruit, beer and wine were objects to which he aspired, images of hope and plenty in a time of scarcity; they may also have reflected his own desire to escape from the conflict-torn world and into his pictures, as was reflected in his final letter to Kahnweiler from the war years:
'I must apologise to you for discussing things which, at the present grave moment, must appear to you purely silly. But I have worried so much that I am now going to shut myself off and think of nothing but my work. I don't want to hear anything more, especially as everything which is now happening seems to me both useless and devoid of good sense' (Gris, quoted in Kahnweiler, op. cit., p. 28).
However, in Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, Gris has not entirely succeeded in blocking out the War: in the depiction of Le journal, a publication which appeared in a number of Gris' pictures during and after his period using collage elements, Gris has deliberately shown the ominous subtitle: 'Communiqués officiels'. He has thus allowed a rare, tangential glimpse of the war to enter Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, doubtless reflecting his own concerns, not least for the friends and colleagues about whose wellbeing he was anxious, in particular Braque, who had suffered a serious head wound while serving on the Front.
Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux was first owned by Kahnweiler's successor as Gris' dealer, Léonce Rosenberg, who himself was not exempt from service and therefore had to juggle his career with his military activities (for some time, he was attached to the British forces as an interpreter for the Royal Flying Corp). It was then acquired by Dr Gottlieb Friedrich Reber, one of the most celebrated of Cubist patrons of the 1920s in particular. Reber had originally collected works by earlier artists including Paul Cézanne, but the discovery of Cubism was a revelation for him, and he assembled a formidable collection of works by the first tier of the movement, Picasso, Braque, Léger and of course Gris. He gradually filled his home, the Château de Béthusy in Lausanne, with their pictures. While his collection diminished following the Crash of 1929, which left his finances dented, and also the Second World War, he nonetheless retained an impressive number of museum-class pictures. Indeed, many of the works he held are now in public collections throughout the world, and the reputation of Cubism was assisted by loans he made to some of the most important surveys of the movement.
Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux was later owned by Professor Dr Wilhelm Löffler, a well-known expert in internal medicine who was also an important pioneer in a number of treatments. The Zurich-based Löffler was also distinguished by inclusion in Thomas Mann's correspondence: in a 1955 letter to Theodor Adorno, Mann wrote that he had been diagnosed by the doctor (T. Mann, The Letters of Thomas Mann 1889-1955, trans. & ed. R. & C. Winston, Berkeley & Los Angeles, 1975, p. 479). During the same year, he also treated King Tribhuvan of Nepal. As well as Nature morte à la nappe à carreaux, Löffler's collection featured an early Futurist masterpiece by Giacomo Balla, a 1911 painting by Wassily Kandinsky entitled Saint George as well as a work on paper, and also a formidable group of pictures by Paul Klee including his Stricken City of 1936, now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Piet Mondrian (1872-1944), Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow. Estimate: £8-12 million.
signed with the initials and dated ‘PM 30’ (lower centre); signed and inscribed ‘HAUT Composition No. II P.MONDRIAN’ (on the frame); oil on canvas; in the artist’s frame; 19.7/8 x 19¾ in. (50.5 x 50.2 cm.). Painted in 1930.
Provenance: Private collection, Zurich, by whom acquired directly from the artist in 1931, and thence by descent to the present owners.
PROPERTY FROM A PRIVATE SWISS COLLECTION
Literature: M. Seuphor, Piet Mondrian, Life and Work, New York, 1956, no. 514.
C.L. Ragghianti, Mondrian e l’arte del XX Secolo, Milan, 1962, no. 338.
C. Giedion-Welcker, Schriften 1926-1971, Stationen zu einem Zeitbild, Mit Briefen von Arp, Chillida, Ernst, Giacometti, Joyce, Le Corbusier, Mondrian, Schwitters, Cologne, 1973, no. V (illustrated).
A. Roth, Begegnungen mit Pionieren: Le Corbusier, Piet Mondrian, Adolf Loos, Josef Hoffmann, Auguste Perret, Henry van de Velde, Basel, 1973, no. 35, pp. 160-161 (illustrated p. 161).
M.G. Ottolenghi, L'opera completa di Mondrian, Milan, 1974, no. 394.
J.M. Joosten, Piet Mondrian, Catalogue Raisonné of the Work of 1911-1944, vol. II, New York, 1998, no B 225, p. 357 (illustrated).
Exhibited: Brussels, Palais des Beaux Arts, L’Art Vivant en Europe, April – May 1931, no. 383.
Basel, Kunsthalle, Konstruktivisten, January – February 1937, no. 49.
Zurich, Kunsthaus, Ausländische Kunst, July – September 1943, no. 611.
Basel, Kunsthalle, Konkrete Kunst, March – April 1944, no. 173.
The Hague, Gemeentemuseum, Mondrian, February – April 1955, no. 117.
Zurich, Kunsthaus, Mondrian, May – July 1955, no. 96 (illustrated p. 53).
Zurich, Kunsthaus, on loan April - December 1982.
The Hague, Gemeentemuseum, Piet Mondrian 1972-1944, December 1994 - April 1995, no. 129; this exhibition later travelled to Washington, National Gallery of Art and New York, Museum of Modern Art.
Notes: Painted in 1930, Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow is an historic example of the radical Neo-Plastic aesthetic that Piet Mondrian had developed during the previous decade and which reached a pinnacle at this time. Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow forms part of a group of fewer than a dozen paintings from the late 1920s and early 1930s in which he used approximately the same armature of black lines with different colour effects, revealing his own satisfaction with this grid format. In part because of these works, this period of his career has been described as, ‘the peak of Mondrian’s classicism’ (Y.A. Bois et al., ed., Piet Mondrian 1872–1944, exh. cat., New York, 1994, p. 237). Other examples of works from the group are now in the Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam, the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, Dusseldorf, the Kunstmuseum Winterthur and the Beyeler Foundation, Riehen. Of these, several feature repetitions or variations of the same format; however, Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow is the only one to balance the colour in the upper left area with another in the lower right: in many of the other pictures from this group, the right-hand colour element is shown in the upper of the two small planes.
For Mondrian, the Neo-Plasticism which he pioneered was a means of bringing equilibrium to art and to life. Over the previous decades, he had developed an increasingly spiritual understanding of the role of art and its ability to contain universal truths. Already a trained and experienced artist at the turn of the century, he had begun to imbue his images of the Dutch landscape with an increasing mystical glow in the early 1900s. This became all the more marked during his trips to Walcheren, an artists’ colony which he had first visited with Jan Toorop. There, he had become intrigued by the almost formal manner in which landscape could be divided into various elements, and pared down to the horizontal and the vertical. The focus on these lines saw Mondrian gradually dissolving the world, for instance in his seascapes, into a shimmering, grid-like latticework that was the precursor of his Neo-Plasticism.
Mondrian had moved to Paris only a couple of years before the First World War; he had intended to make the French capital his base, but had been visiting his native Netherlands at the outbreak of hostilities, and so did not go back until after the end of the war. It was in 1919 that he returned to France, re-immersing himself in the avant garde and fully advancing the ideas he had developed during the war years, in isolation from the pioneers of Cubism in France who had earlier influenced him. Now the grids of his ‘Cubist’ works were freed from form, paving the way for the Neo-Plastic ideas that underpin Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow.
Only a year after Mondrian had painted Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow, he wrote that, ‘the new art uses forms in the manner of art (not in the manner of nature): it employs them only for their purely plastic value. It has realised what the art of the past attempted to do. In the new art, forms become increasingly neutral in the measure that they approach the universal’ (P. Mondrian, The New Art – The New Life: The Collected Writings of Piet Mondrian, H. Holtzman & M.S. James, ed., London, 1986, p. 246). Mondrian felt that form, and the depiction of form, essentially obstructed the ability of line and colour to express equilibrium. This equilibrium was to be sought as a type of enlightenment, a state that rose above the ‘tragic’, which itself was a state of disequilibrium..
Similarly, by painting a composition that was devoid of representation, that had been stripped of any sense of fictive space, Mondrian was creating a work that avoided emotions and subjectivity. He did not want to root himself in figuration, but instead sought to create an artwork that was more universal, that was not tied to interpretations but that instead was grounded, as much as art can be, in universal truths. To this end, his palette had gradually been refined over the decade he had spent based in Paris, and many of the half-tones that had earlier featured in his work had been replaced by the primary colours, alongside black, white and occasionally grey. Similarly, all except right-angled lines had been expunged from his vision: the only diagonals appeared occasionally in works painted on escutcheon-like diamond canvases, yet even in them, the lines were either rigidly horizontal or vertical.
In Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow, that rightangled structure can clearly be seen in the lines, most of which are of approximately the same width, which act like the leading in a stained glass window, emphasising the purity of colour within each grid, be it yellow, blue or white. Nonetheless, this format of painting, as exemplified here and in the other works using a similar template, manages to give a sense of the diagonal by other means, lending a feeling of upward motion that may relate to Mondrian’s desire for Man to rise to a higher form of existence, as reflected in some of his Theosophist beliefs and illustrated in earlier works such as Evolution.
In Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow, the lower-left and upper-right sections appear to be squares, the latter larger and therefore giving a sense of progression. This is echoed by the shapes on the other side. In the context of these pictures, this composition has sometimes been referred to as ‘scissored’ because of the way that the square surface area has been divided. It is through this scissoring that Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow achieves its delicate yet poetic balance, its sense of equilibrium, and therefore contains some of the idealism sought so avidly by Mondrian. In Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow, this is all the more the case, as the presence of the colour in the lower-right section, rather than the one above it (as is the case in its fellow works) heightens the directional sense of the picture, emphasising its diagonality and therefore its sense of rising thrust.
Mondrian’s dedication to his Neo-Plastic concepts was reflected in his life as well as his art. He was fascinated by jazz and dancing, enjoying the disruption of melody and seeing it as a near parallel to the abandonment of form in his pictures. Many of his works were named after dances and music, such as the foxtrot or boogie woogie. In his beliefs, he wrote extensively, trying to preach his new gospel, a notion that perhaps had its beginnings in his Calvinist upbringing. Certainly, the austere structure of pictures such as Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow can be seen to have Calvinist overtones as well as revealing an artist who was removing all that was superfluous in the quest for an underlying truth, a process that found its parallel in the search for common denominators that underpinned Theosophy, where various religions were viewed as incorporating beliefs that might point towards a single one.
For Mondrian, the structures that formed the foundation of his paintings also extended to his life. This was palpable not only in his love of jazz, but also in the rigour of the decoration of his studio in Paris. Hilla Rebay, who visited him there with Félix Fénéon and Laszlo Moholy-Nagy in June 1930, the year that Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow was painted, would write to Rudolf Bauer, saying of
Mondrian:
‘He hardly paints. He constructs 2 or 4 squares, but he is a wonderful man, very cultivated and impressive. He lives like a monk, everything is white and empty, but for red, blue, and yellow painted squares, that are spread all over the room of his white studio and bedroom. He also has a small record player with Negro music. He is very poor, and already 58 years old, resembles Kandinsky but is even better and more alone. Moholy loves him and venerates him in his quiet, intense way’ (Rebay, quoted in Y.A. Bois et al., ed., Op. Cit., p. 240).
Rebay bought one of Mondrian’s works, in part ‘to keep the wolf from the door of a great, lovable man’. Indeed, he was financially embattled enough that the following year, a group of his friends and admirers including Hans Arp, Walter Gropius and Moholy-Nagy all joined forces to raise funds for him through a lottery. Part of this was due to Mondrian’s painting process: during this period, he created only around ten paintings per year (only nine are listed from 1930 in the catalogue raisonné of his work). This reflects the rigour that he applied to his work while also explaining the relative rarity of his pictures.
This studio, with its moveable squares affixed to the walls, was photographed in 1929 with several of Mondrian’s works in the foreground, including one that resembled Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow (this is in fact believed to have been the similarly-named Composition No. 2 with Yellow and Blue of 1929, now in the Museum Boymans-van Beuningen). Pictures of Mondrian’s studio were published several times during his life, including in Palet in 1931, which reproduced the photograph in question. It revealed the immersive manner in which Mondrian lived his life, surrounded by his beliefs.
This studio impressed many of its visitors, not least Alexander Calder, who met Mondrian in 1930 and visited his working set that year, around the time that Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow was painted. For him, the studio was a revelation and an epiphany: ‘My entrance into the field of abstract art came about as a result of a visit to the studio of Piet Mondrian in Paris in 1930. I was particularly impressed by some rectangles of colour he had tacked on his wall in a pattern after his nature. I told him I would like to make it oscillate – he objected’ (Calder, quoted in C. Giménez & A.S.C. Rower, ed., Calder: Gravity and Grace, London, 2004, p. 52). Calder would go on to create his ‘Mobiles’ following this encounter - putting fields of colour into motion. However, for Mondrian, his objection was that the colours were already fast enough. This is exemplified in Composition No. II with Blue and Yellow, where the two fields of colour, the blue and the yellow, which have an intense dynamism that is propelled by their containment within the black-bounded planes.
The Property of the Museum of Modern Art, New York, Sold to Benefit the Acquisitions Fund
Trois homes qui marchent I by Alberto Giacometti is an early lifetime cast of one of the artist’s famous multi-figure compositions, showing three men passing each other as though in a street (estimate:£6.2 - 8 million). This work was conceived around 1948 and cast by 1951. It dates from what is considered to be the height of Giacometti’s creative powers, a window of several years during which he honed the iconic vision of elongated, stick-thin figures for which he is now famed, producing a string of masterpieces tapping into this new artistic solution. It is a reflection of the importance of this work that casts of it are held by several museums, as are casts of many of the related works from the era. Offered by the Museum of Modern Art, New York and Sold to Benefit the Acquisitions Fund, having been gifted by Sidney Janis in 1967, this work provides the market with a remarkable opportunity. Of all Giacometti’s subjects, it is perhaps the striding man that is most recognised; its iconic status is emblematic of Giacometti himself, who often wandered around Paris’ streets, a 20th century flâneur. In the present work, the three figures are weaving their way past each other, connected yet isolated; it is the perfect embodiment of city life and the human condition during the post-war years of existentialism.
Alberto Giacometti, Trois homes qui marchent I. Estimate:£6.2 - 8 million. This work was conceived around 1948 and cast by 1951. © Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
signed 'A Giacometti’ (on the side of the platform); inscribed with the foundry mark ‘Alexis.Rudier Fondeur Paris’ (on the base); ronze with dark and light brown patina. Height: 28 ½ in. (72.4 cm.). Conceived in 1948-1949 and cast by 1951
Provenance: Galerie Maeght, Paris, by whom acquired directly from the artist in 1951.
Sidney Janis Gallery, New York (no. 8672), by whom acquired from the above in April 1960.
The Museum of Modern Art, New York, a gift from the above in 1967.
THE PROPERTY OF THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART, NEW YORK, SOLD TO BENEFIT THE ACQUISITIONS FUND
Literature: J. Dupin, Alberto Giacometti, Paris, 1962 p. 245 (another cast illustrated).
R.J. Moulin, Giacometti: Sculptures, New York, 1964, pl. 5 (another cast illustrated).
R. Hohl, Alberto Giacometti, New York, 1971, no. 126, pp. 126 & 307 (another cast illustrated).
W. Rubin, Three Generations of Twentieth-Century Art: The Sidney and Harriet Janis Collection of The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1972, no. 30, pp. 110-111, 184 (illustrated pp. 111 & 226).
B. Lamarche-Vadel, Alberto Giacometti, Paris, 1984, no. 183, p. 129 (another cast illustrated).
Y. Bonnefoy, Alberto Giacometti: A Biography of his Work, Paris, 1991, no. 305, pp. 330-333 (another cast illustrated p. 333).
S. Pagé, Alberto Giacometti: Sculptures, Peintures, Dessins, Paris, 1991, p. 192 (another cast illustrated).
A. Schneider, ed., Alberto Giacometti: Sculpture, Paintings, Drawings, New York, 1994, no. 53 (another cast illustrated).
D. Sylvester, Looking at Giacometti, London, 1994, no. 193, pp. 149, 150 & 252 (another cast illustrated p. 193).
A. González, Alberto Giacometti: Works, Writings, Interviews, Barcelona, 2006, p. 86 (another cast illustrated p. 87).
V. Wiesinger, ed., The Studio of Alberto Giacometti: Collection of the Fondation Alberto et Annette Giacometti, Paris, 2007, no. 484, p. 364, fig. 500 (illustrated in installation view of the Alberto Giacometti exhibition at Galerie Maeght, 1951; illustrated again p. 389 in the installation view of European Artists from A to V, Sidney Janis Gallery, 1961).
M. Brüderlin & T. Stooss, eds., Alberto Giacometti: The Origin of Space, Germany, 2010, p. 127 (another cast illustrated).
Exhibited: Kassel, Documenta II, July - October 1959, no. 1, p. 75 (illustrated).
New York, Sidney Janis Gallery, XXth Century Artists, October - November 1960, no. 22 (illustrated).
New York, Sidney Janis Gallery, European Artists from A to V, January - February 1961.
New York, Sidney Janis Gallery, 2 Generations: Picasso to Pollock, March - April 1964.
New York, The Museum of Modern Art, The Sidney and Harriet Janis Collection, January 1968 - August 1970; this exhibition later travelled to the Minneapolis Institute of Art, The Portland Museum of Art, the Pasadena Art Museum, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the Seattle Art Museum, Buffalo, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, the Cleveland Museum of Art, Basel, Kunsthalle, London, Institute of Contemporary Arts and Berlin, Akademie der Kunste.
New York, The Museum of Modern Art, Painting and Sculpture Galleries, May 1974 - January 1975.
New York, Sidney Janis Gallery, Exhibition of paintings, sculpture and drawings, commemorating the tenth anniversary of the death of Alberto Giacometti, January 1976, no. 4.
Houston, Museum of Fine Arts, July - September 1981.
New York, The Museum of Modern Art, Painting and Sculpture Galleries, May 1984 - April 1986.
New York, The Museum of Modern Art, Sculptors’ Drawings, April - September 1986.
New York, The Museum of Modern Art, Painting and Sculpture Galleries, September 1986 - July 1992.
Notes: 'In the street people astound and interest me more than any sculpture or painting. Every second the people stream together and go apart, then they approach each other to get closer to one another. They unceasingly form and re-form living compositions in unbelievable complexity' (Giacometti, quoted in R. Hohl, 'Form and Vision: The Work of Alberto Giacometti', pp. 13-46, Alberto Giacometti: A Retrospective Exhibition, exh. cat., New York, 1974, p. 31).
Trois hommes qui marchent I is an early lifetime cast of one of Alberto Giacometti's famous multi-figure compositions, showing three men passing each other as though in a street. This work was conceived around 1948 and cast by 1951. It therefore dates from what is considered to be the height of Giacometti's creative powers, a window of several years during which he honed the iconic vision for which he is now famed - his elongated, stick-thin figures - and produced a string of masterpieces tapping into this new artistic solution. It is a reflection of the importance of Trois hommes qui marchent I that casts of it are held by several museums, as are casts of many of the related works from the era. Of all of Giacometti's subjects, it is perhaps the striding man that is most recognised; its fame has been increased because it is so emblematic of Giacometti himself, who often wandered around Paris' streets, a twentieth-century flâneur. Here, the three figures are weaving their way past each other, connected yet isolated, the perfect embodiment of city life and the human condition during the post-war years of existentialism.
Sculptures such as Trois hommes qui marchent I and the two versions of La place pushed forward the aesthetic that Giacometti developed as a result of, and remedy for, an impasse that had hampered him for several years. During the mid-1940s, following his association with Surrealism, he had begun to create works that he hoped would be more readily legible than his more allusive sculptures from the 1930s. Accordingly, he was making works based on the human figure in which he sought to capture the kernel of their existence; yet as Giacometti pared away the material, he found that his sculptures were shrinking to miniscule proportions. This reached an extreme when he arrived at a gallery with an array of his works held in match boxes.
Giacometti believed that his tiny figures were a result of the way he saw the world. As he explained, 'Until the war I believed I saw people in the distance life-size. Then, little by little, I realised that I was seeing them much smaller - and even when they were near to me, not only when they were far away. The first few times this happened, I was just walking somewhere' (Giacometti, quoted in D. Honisch, 'Scale in Giacometti’s Sculpture’, pp. 65-69, Alberto Giacometti: Sculpture, Paintings, Drawings, ed., A. Schneider, Munich & New York, 1994, p. 66). The idea of motion thus remains integral to his discovery. His small figures were the result of what Giacometti felt to be his attachment to a true depiction of the phenomenological world that he was experiencing and viewing. However, that distance, which resulted in the miniature figures, was clearly an issue. The solution that led to sculptures such as Trois hommes qui marchent I and the formation of Giacometti's iconic post-war aesthetic came about through an epiphany, in which he saw the world anew, having been to the cinema. He was suddenly aware of the gap between the photographic images of people and the reality around him:
'It happened after the war, around 1945, I think. Until then... there was no split between the way I saw the outside world and the way I saw what was going on on the screen. One was a continuation of the other. Until the day when there was a real split: instead of seeing a person on the screen, I saw vague blobs moving. I looked at the people around me and as a result I saw them as I had never seen them... I remember very clearly coming out on to the Boulevard du Montparnasse and seeing the Boulevard as I had never seen it before. Everything was different: depth, objects, colours and the silence... Everything seemed different to me and completely new’ (Giacometti, quoted in M. Peppiatt, Alberto Giacometti in Postwar Paris, exh. cat., New Haven & London, 2001, p. 7).
This was a great revelation for Giacometti, and a watershed in his way of seeing the world. 'That day, reality took on a completely new value for me,' he explained. 'It became the unknown, but an enchanted unknown. From that day on, because I had realized the difference between my way of seeing in the street and the way things are seen in photography and film,- I wanted to represent what I saw. Only from 1946 have I been able to perceive the distance that allows people to appear as they really are and not in their natural size’ (Giacometti, quoted in Honisch, op. cit., 1994, p. 65). Now, that distance expressed itself not in the miniaturisation of the figures, but instead in their verticality: they became threadbare, wisps of material traversing the urban planes: 'After 1945 I swore to myself that I wouldn't allow my statues to keep getting smaller, not one iota smaller. But what happened was this: I was able to keep the height, but they became thin, thin... tall and paper-thin' (Giacometti, quoted in ibid., p. 67).
This is clearly the case in Trois hommes qui marchent I, with its three walking men, each of whom has most mass around his feet. The rest of their bodies is essentially filiform, an image of man reduced to the barest necessity, and therefore all the more raw and poignant. These figures become expressions of man's vertical thrust, of life, of the drive of existence - it was no coincidence that, when Giacometti had an exhibition in 1948, around the time that Trois hommes qui marchent I was created, the foreword to the catalogue was written by Jean-Paul Sartre. These thin men show their upward thrust, yet are filled with a sense of fragility that only heightens their existential credentials. As the artist himself said, 'I always have the impression or the feeling of the frailty of living beings, as if at any moment it took a fantastic energy for them to remain standing, always threatened by collapse. And it is in their frailty that my sculptures are likenesses' (Giacometti, quoted in J. Lord, Giacometti: A Biography, New York, 1985, p. 178). It was doubtless this interest in frailty and verticality that led to the admiring words of Barnett Newman, who visited the 1948 exhibition in which the elongated figures had their first public exposure: 'Giacometti made sculptures that looked as if they were made of spit - new things with no form, no texture, but somehow filled; I took my hat off to him' (Newman, quoted in Honisch, op. cit., 1994, p. 67).
Giacometti's show at Pierre Matisse's gallery in 1948 was a retrospective that exhibited some of his older works as well as highlighting the importance of the new developments in his art. It had a huge impact and paved the way for the artist's post-war fame. In the years between that exhibition and his next with Matisse, held in 1950, he had expanded upon his filiform characters, creating a number of works such as Trois hommes qui marchent I which explored different aspects of the new aesthetic. His multi-figure compositions such as this and La place introduced a sense of interrelationship between the people depicted. The idea of placing these figures together may in part have been suggested by Giacometti's cramped studio, where all the sculptures were crammed together - certainly, his later sculpture La clairière, with male and female figures of different scales, was the result of a chance arrangement of his sculptures on the floor there. These group sculptures also tapped into Giacometti's interest in human relationships - perhaps made keener by his own relationship with Annette Arm, whom he would marry in 1949. In addition to conjuring a sense of the thread of each individual life in Trois hommes qui marchent I, Giacometti was also reflecting on the social nature of humanity. He would bristle at the suggestion that he was an 'artist of solitude,' declaring: 'as a citizen and a thinking being I believe that all life is the opposite of solitude, for life consists of a fabric of relations with others. The society in which we live in the West has made it necessary in a sense for me to pursue my activities in solitude. For many years it was hard for me to work isolated from society (but not, I hope, isolated from humanity). There is so much talk about the malaise throughout the world and about existential anguish, as if it were something new. All people have felt that, and at all periods. One has only to read the Greek and Latin writers!' (Giacometti, quoted in Lord, op. cit., 1985, pp. 309-310).
It is this social fabric that is reflected in the three men in Trois hommes qui marchent I, and indeed in the more numerous figures in the two versions of La place, where the striding men are shown in contrast to a static woman.
That connection between the people in these multi-figure works and the city is heightened by some of the possible sources for the vision. Yves Bonnefoy suggested that the striding men may have owed something to Auguste Rodin (see Y. Bonnefoy, Alberto Giacometti: A Biography of His Work, trans. J. Stewart, Paris, 1991, pp. 316-17). And the notion of public statuary with which Rodin was so associated may have also emerged from another source. For in post-war Paris, Giacometti had been nominated to create a public statue in order to replace one of the many sculptures that had been removed and melted down during the recent Occupation. Giacometti was asked to create something to replace a statue of Jean Macé; however, his suggestion was hisChariot, the figure of a woman mounted on wheels. This led to the end of the project; however, it revealed the interest in art within a public area, where people thread their ways between each other, and this may well have influenced his subsequent works such as La place I and II, and indeed, Trois hommes qui marchent I and II.
Property from the Former Louis Carré Collection
Dating from one of the most important watershed moments in Fernand Léger’s career, Les cylindres colorés was painted in 1918, at the end of the First World War (estimate: £5-7 million). The conflict, which had seen Léger exposed to great danger at the Front, had provided the artist with new ideas and subject matter. The end of the war brought a period of immense release for Léger, as a string of works that he created during that time reflected, many of which are now in museums throughout the world. Les cylindres colorés belongs to a distinguished group of pictures which share compositional details with his 1917 masterpiece, La partie de cartes, now in the Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo. The shapes in Les cylindres colorés and in related pictures in the Pushkin Museum, Moscow and the Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart, amongst others, can be seen to relate to the soldiers with whom Léger had served. It is a mark of the importance of Les cylindres colorés that it featured in several important exhibitions of his work, including the large-scale posthumous survey held in Paris the year after his death. For many years, it was owned by Louis Carré, the celebrated art dealer who was closely associated with Léger and his career, and who had a number of his works in his own home.
Fernand Léger (1881-1955), Les cylindres colorés. Estimate £5-7 million. © Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
signed 'F.LÉGER' (lower right); signed and dated 'F.LÉGER 1-1918' (on the reverse); oil on canvas; 21¼ x 19¾ in. (54.3 x 50.3 cm.). Painted in 1918
Provenance: Gaston Bernheim, Paris.
Louis Carré, Paris (no. 1366), by whom acquired from the above in 1938.
Private collection, France.
PROPERTY FROM THE FORMER LOUIS CARRÉ COLLECTION
Literature: L. Degrand, 'L'Héritage de Fernand Léger', in Aujourd'hui: art et architecture, no. 9, September 1956, p. 7 (illustrated).
Exh. cat., Architecture contemporaine, intégration des Arts, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Rouen, 1957 (illustrated).
P. de Francia, Fernand Léger, New Haven & London, 1983, p. 46.
G. Bauquier, Fernand Léger, Catalogue raisonné de l'oeuvre peint, vol. I, 1903-1919, Paris, 1990, no. 123, p. 222 (illustrated p. 223).
Exhibited: Paris, Galerie Louis Carré, F. Léger, peintures antérieures à 1940, January - February 1945, p. 25 (illustrated).
Paris, Galerie Louis Carré, Fernand Léger, 1912-1939, 1946-1948, June - July 1948, no. 2.
Lyon, Musée de Lyon, Fernand Léger, 1955, no. 10 (illustrated fig. 4).
Paris, Musée des arts décoratifs, Fernand Léger, June - October 1956, no. 25 (illustrated p. 119).
Zurich, Kunsthaus , Fernand Léger, July - August 1957, no. 17.
Paris, Galerie Max Kaganovitch, Oeuvres choisies du XXe siècle, May - June 1962, no. 36 (illustrated).
Stockholm, Moderna Museet, Fernand Léger, October - November 1964, no. 5 (illustrated).
Notes: '1918: Peace. Man, exasperated, tensed, depersonalised for four years, finally raised his head, opened his eyes, looked around, relaxed, and rediscovered his taste for life. A frenzy of dancing, of spending... able at last to walk upright, to shout, to fight, to waste... Living forces, now unleashed, filled the world.
'The yellow canary and the red flower are still there, but one no longer sees them: through the open window, the wall across the street, violently coloured, comes into your house. Enormous letters, figures twelve feet high, are hurled into the apartment. Colour takes over. It is going to dominate everyday life. One will have to adjust to it' (F. Léger, Functions of Painting, ed. E.F. Fry, London, 1973, p. 120).
Dating from one of the most important watershed moments in Fernand Léger's career, Les cylindres coloréswas painted in 1918, at the end of the First World War. That conflict, which had seen Léger exposed to great danger at the Front, had provided the artist with new ideas and new subject matter. The end of the war brought a period of immense release for Léger, as was reflected in a string of works that he created during that time, many of which are now in museums throughout the world. Les cylindres colorés belongs to a distinguished group of pictures which share compositional details and which take the form of playful yet daring variations upon details that derive from his 1917 masterpiece, La partie de cartes, now in the Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo. Thus the shapes in Les cylindres colorés and in related pictures in the Pushkin Museum, Moscow and the Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart, amongst others, can be seen to relate to the soldiers with whom Léger had served. It is a mark of the importance of Les cylindres colorés that it featured in several important exhibitions of his work, including the large-scale posthumous survey held in Paris the year after his death. For many years, it was owned by Louis Carré, the celebrated art dealer who was closely associated with Léger and his career, and who had a number of his works in his own home, which had been designed by the Finnish architect Alvar Aalto, another friend of the artist.
By the time the First World War broke out a century ago, Léger had become one of the leading protagonists of Cubism, although his version of that aesthetic had several marked differences from those of his contemporaries Georges Braque, Juan Gris and Pablo Picasso. Léger was continuing to explore movement as well as plastic contrast in his images of people on staircases, forests or smoke curling above houses. Many of these compositions featured forms reduced down to geometric essentials with a deliberately limited palette, often comprising only red, white, blue and black. This would form the basis for a number of his pictures, and indeed there are strong links between the armature of those works and Les cylindres colorés.
During that period, Léger's interest in form had been predominant. However, the War served as a colossal epiphany. Despite already being in his thirties, Léger signed up and was made a sapper, working partly as a forester but partly within forests where incredibly ferocious fighting took place. Léger, despite his initial fear, found his exposure to people from all sorts of walks of life at the Front incredibly invigorating, as he recalled:
'The war was a major event for me. There was a supra-poetic atmosphere at the front. It excited me to the core. Good God! What faces! And then there was the mud, the corpses, the artillery. I had never sketched a cannon before, but I had them right in front of my eyes. The war allowed me to sink my feet into the dirt... I had left Paris in the throes of abstraction, a period of pictorial liberation. Without any transition I was suddenly among the whole French people; my new buddies were miners, labourers of the earth, artisans of wood and iron' (Léger, quoted in G. Néret, F. Léger, trans. S.D. Resnick, London, 1993, p. 66).
Léger began to create works that were inspired by his colleagues on the Front, and also that were more relevant to the immediacy of their world. It was a mark of the importance of this experience that, having served as a sapper and a forester, he would later volunteer as a stretcher bearer at the Front, serving at Verdun, even declining the opportunity of a 'softer' role painting camouflage under the auspices of fellow artist André Dunoyer de Segonzac. For Léger, it was the combination of the people at the Front and the technology to which he was exposed that would provide his inspiration. This would come into evidence in hisSoldat à la pipe of 1916, now in the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein Westfalen, Dusseldorf, where he used a largely grisaille assemblage of cylinders and circles to create the form of a soldier puffing on his pipe; this work already serves as a clear precursor to Les cylindres colorés.
Later, while away from the Front convalescing, this new tendency would increase when Léger painted one of his wartime masterpieces, La partie de cartes of 1917 (Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo). In that work, more colour had been introduced in order to capture the forms of the various characters shown. Discussing his new-found brothers-in-arms, he explained: 'I wanted my work as a painter and the imagery which would emerge from that work to be as tough as their slang, to have the same direct precision, to be as healthy... It was in the trenches that I really seized the reality of objects. I thought back again on my first abstract studies, and a quite different idea concerning the means, the use and the application of art took root in my mind' (Léger, quoted in P. de Francia, Fernand Léger, New Haven & London, 1983, p. 31).
Once he was away from the Front in 1918, Léger retained his new attitudes, yet applied a brighter, more vigorous palette to them, taking advantage of the readier access to painterly materials. This resulted in a sequence of important pictures that blurred the geometry that hints at technology with subject matter that is, albeit sometimes discreetly, organic, even human. As he explained, 'I try to create a beautiful object with mechanical elements' (Léger, op. cit., 1973, p. 62). Thus his study for La partie de cartes, dated 1919 but ascribed by Christopher Green to 1918 and now in the Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart, shows a resemblance to one of the figures in the larger 1917 composition, not least with the spine-like assemblage of red triangles, a detail echoed in Les cylindres colorés (regarding the date, see C. Green, Léger and the Avant-Garde, New Haven & London, 1976, pp. 137 & 141). Indeed, much of the composition of the Stuttgart picture is reflected in Les cylindres colorés, ensuring that the viewer realises that this is an image of body, arms, and even, in the form of parallel pipes, fingers. Looking at the Stuttgart work, which has a cartoonish distillation of a face at the top, the viewer perceives the extra radicalism of Les cylindres colorés, where those same features have evolved into protuberances reminiscent of camera lenses.
Intriguingly, the basic compositional framework that underpins both the Stuttgart study for La partie de cartes and Les cylindres colorés, with many of the discs and cylinders in similar placement on the canvas, is echoed in another painting from 1918, Composition, now in the Pushkin Museum, Moscow. In that work, Léger had pared back any sense of modelling in order to create a 'flatter', less illusionistic impression that in fact serves as a prelude to the Purism that would increasingly come to the fore in the years following the turmoil of the First World War. Indeed, it is doubtless no coincidence that it was in 1918, the year thatComposition and Les cylindres colorés were both painted, that Le Corbusier and Amedée Ozenfant would publish their seminal text, Après le Cubisme, which served as a clarion call for many artists of the day and helped to launch Purism.
Léger would be reluctant to throw himself fully into the realm of science. Instead, his mechanical aesthetic served as a prelude to an exploration of the world around him. Léger rooted himself loosely in the visual language of science and sought a pictorial harmony therein. He also radically distilled his forms: Léger's search for directness and simplicity in his pictures, which is so in evidence in Les cylindres colorés, where the shapes of the figure are conveyed through a construction of circles, tubes and triangles. This increasing tendency towards reduction of form was reflected in his friendship with Constantin Brancusi, which began during precisely this period. Echoing Brancusi, whose works often celebrate nature and humanity, in Les cylindres colorés, the figurative content anchors the picture, albeit loosely, in the realm of the organic.
This was a link that varied over the coming years, oscillating from the extremes of pictures such as Le marinier, for instance, where the protagonist is shown absorbed within a landscape of circles, rectangles and cylinders, or the more abstract ensemble of machinery that is Les disques dans la ville of 1920, now in the Centre Pompidou, where there are mere traces and silhouettes of figures. Indeed, some of his pictures comprised machine parts with the merest traces, if any, of the human figure: increasingly, he allowed the whirring chaos and colour of the modern world to erupt in a clattering landscape of geometrical devices that teetered towards abstraction. During this period, the human element was often absorbed or even expunged, eventually culminating in works that contained agglomerations of mechanical elements without a trace of the human, for instance in the pictures titled Eléments mécaniques. With its focus on the human subject, Les cylindres colorés shares some of the characteristics of one of the pictures at the opposite end of the spectrum in Léger's output of the period, Le mécanicien of 1918, in the Musée de Villeneuve-d'Ascq (a 1920 version is in the National Gallery of Canada). Les cylindres colorés combines both tendencies, serving as an intriguing parallel both to the landscape of technology in which he occasionally immersed fragmented or tiny human figures in the coming two years and also to the insistence upon human content of Le mécanicien. Looking at Les cylindres colorés, one can understand Kazimir Malevich's praise for Léger's pictures from this time:
'we see that the sensation of metal brought Léger to metal itself, to the very elements of Futurism. He is already painting screws, motors and man himself, treating them as iron, as mechanical apparatus; his man has lost his bones, flesh and soul, instead of which Léger has invested him with his own feeling and soul, thanks to which the motor, screws and man in amongst them have been dissolved into a new order, created by the artist's sensation. Thus we cannot say that all these works are soulless or that they only have a formal side, since they have been created by the spirit and soul of the artist' (Malevich, quoted in de Francia, op. cit., 1983, p. 50).
Le mécanicien serves as an intriguing foil to Les cylindres colorés in part because of their shared use of a background partially reminiscent of the paintings of Piet Mondrian, who had in fact not yet returned to Paris but with whom Léger was friends. In Les cylindres colorés, the use of colour in the background is contained largely within panes with black boundaries, thrusting them into relief. At the same time, in the foreground, he has used the combination of blue, purple, red, yellow and green to describe the metallic forms that comprise the figure and composition, with its stretching arms and torso. Indeed, the focus on the circular forms of the discs and cylinders recalls another artist of the time whom Léger knew: Robert Delaunay. 'It was with Robert Delaunay that we fought the battle for the liberation of colour,' Léger would recall. 'Before us green was a tree, blue was the sky, and so on. After us, colour has become an object in its own right' (Léger, quoted in de Francia, op. cit., 1983, p. 26). But where Delaunay liberated colour in its entirety, Léger was determined to keep it tethered to subject matter, to the world of machines and technology. He himself would discuss this:
'When I was discharged I could benefit from these hard years. I reached a decision; without compromising in any way, I would model in pure and local colour, using large volumes. I could do without tasteful arrangements, delicate shading, and dead backgrounds. I was no longer fumbling for the key. I had it. The war matured me and I am not afraid to say so. It is my ambition to achieve the maximum pictorial realisation by means of plastic contrasts' (Léger, quoted in ibid., p. 42).
It is that sense of plastic contrast that lies at the heart of Les cylindres colorés, with its perspectival focus on the machine-parts that comprise the human form. They have disintegrated enough that they appear to have their own dynamism, yet are clearly connected, harking back to the vision of the comrade-in-arms, the Soldat à la pipe and the card-players, resulting in an image that taps into Léger's profound sensitivity to humanity and also to his visceral awareness of technology, forged in part on the battlefields of France.
Property from the Estate of Ayala Zacks Abramov
Conceived in 1956, Henry Moore’s Mother and Child with Apple leads the three works offered from The Estate of Ayala Zacks-Abramov (estimate: £2.5-3.5 million). This sculpture belongs to a series of works exploring the playful relationship between mother and child which the artist executed in the early 1950s. Ayala Zacks-Abramov was, together with her second husband Samuel Jacob Zachs, the architect of one of the most comprehensive and impressive collections of 20th century art in the post-war era; leaving an enduring legacy of cultural enrichment in both her native Israel and her adopted home of Toronto, Canada, which will be enjoyed and appreciated by generations to come. Sam and Ayala pushed the limits of their artistic exploration, enlarging their collection to staggering proportions and building a comprehensive overview of modern art. They collected with enthusiasm, passion and devotion, with an unerring eye for quality. They acquired many works which represent significant landmarks in the art of the 20th century, including masterpieces by artists such as Picasso, Derain, Matisse, Gris, Severini, Chagall and Kandinsky. Through their love of paintings they became interested in drawings and through drawings sculpture. They had a warm and close relationship with many artists, Henry Moore being one of the most prominent among them. This is reflected in the sculpture and also the drawing, Family Group, 1948 (estimate: £400,000-600,000), which are being offered.
Henry Moore (1898-1986), Mother and Child with Apple. Estimate £2.5-3.5 million. © Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
bronze with brown and green patina. Height: 28¼ in. (71.8 cm.). Base: 19¾ x 17¾ in. (50.2 x 45 cm.). Conceived in 1956 and cast in an edition of ten
Provenance: Ayala Zacks-Abramov, Toronto & Jerusalem, and thence by descent to the present owners.
Literature: W. Grohmann, The Art of Henry Moore, London, 1960 (another cast illustrated pls. 116 & 117).
A. Bowness, ed., Henry Moore, Sculpture and Drawings, vol. III, Sculpture, 1955-1964, London, 1965, no. 406 (illustrated pls. 32 & 33).
R. Melville, Henry Moore, Sculpture and Drawings 1921-1969, London, 1970, nos. 512-513 (another cast illustrated p. 359; titled 'Mother and Child No. 1: Reaching for Apple').
G. Carlo Argan, Henry Moore, New York, 1971 (another cast illustrated fig. 133).
D. Mitchinson, ed., Henry Moore, Sculpture with Comments by the Artist, London, 1981, no. 290-291 (another cast illustrated p. 141).
C. Lichtenstein, Henry Moore, Work, Theory, Impact, London, 2008 (another cast illustrated on the dust jacket).
Notes: Conceived in 1956, Mother and Child with Apple belongs to a series of works exploring the playful relationship between a mother and her child, which Henry Moore executed in the early 1950s. A mother tenderly embraces her infant as he stretches towards an apple she holds in her hand. The sculpture evokes a scene of play and learning, symbolically rich in meaning: the maternal figure is presented as a nourishing source, but also – by showing the fruit of the earth to the child – as the source of knowledge, the gate through which the new-born is introduced to the world. Although figurative, the sculpture illustrates the gentle curves and abstract roundness of Moore’s forms. Both mother and child appear as rocks polished by persistent winds and flowing waters.
Mother and Child with Apple explores a central theme in Moore’s work. The mother and child group figured among the very first sculptures the artist executed in 1922 and, together with the reclining figure, the subject would occupy Moore for his entire career. The ‘mother and child’ theme assumed even more emphasis after 1943, when Moore was commissioned to produce a ‘Madonna and Child’ for the Church of St. Matthew in Northampton. The confrontation with that sacred theme forced Moore to meditate on the theme more thoroughly: ‘The Madonna and Child should have an austerity and a nobility and some touch of grandeur (even hieratic aloofness) which is missing in the everyday Mother and Child’, Moore noted (quoted in D. Mitchinson, ed., Henry Moore Sculpture, with Comments by the Artist, London, 1981, p. 90). With its spontaneous sense of gesture and informal pose, Mother and Child with Apple seems to refute the rigid connotation of sacred art, yet the depiction of the infant Jesus playing with a fruit – usually a pomegranate or some red grapes symbolising his sacrifice – is part of the iconographic tradition of the Virgin and Child. Masaccio’s Virgin and Child (National Gallery, London) portrays the infant Christ eating some grapes, held in his mother’s hand. While working on a project for the London Underground in 1928, Moore had used Masaccio’s work as a source of inspiration and it is possible that the composition may have also influenced his 1943 Madonna and Child. With Mother and Child with Apple Moore has introduced a playful, domestic note in the theme of the mother and child, while also subtly invoking the sacred undertones of the image’s tradition.
Formally, Mother and Child with Apple offered Moore the opportunity to explore another sculptural variation of a given theme. Combining two interlacing forms of different scales, the theme of the mother and child became a recurrent, inexhaustible source of invention for the artist. Moore affirmed: ‘The “Mother and Child” idea is one of my two or three obsessions, one of my inexhaustible subjects. This may have something to do with the fact that the “Madonna and Child” was so important in the art of the past and that one loves the old masters and has learned so much from them. But the subject itself is eternal and unending, with so many sculptural possibilities in it – a small form in relation to a big form, the big form protecting the small one, and so on. It is such a rich subject, both humanly and compositionally, that I will always go on using it’ (H. Moore in 1979, quoted in A. Wilkinson, ed., Henry Moore: Writings and Conversations, Berkeley, 2002, p. 213). Mother and Child with Apple seems to explore the contrast between movement and stasis: as the child paws on his mother’s lap, she sits still with reassuring immobility. Meanwhile, the striving arms of both figures create in the air a wonderful arabesque of resonating curves. Pushing the creative boundaries of the artist, the mother and child composition ultimately becomes the very symbol of the creative act of the artist himself. As Gail Gelburd observed: ‘Moore’s involvement in this theme reaches beyond maternity to an inquiry into birth and creativity. The theme of the mother and child, the mother giving birth, the child struggling to emerge from the maternal womb, is like the stone giving birth to the form, the form struggling to emerge from the block of stone’ (Mother and Child: The Art of Henry Moore, exh. cat., Hempstead, New York, 1987, p. 37).
PROPERTY FROM A DISTINGUISHED COLLECTION
The gloriously light-saturated painting Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant by Claude Monet, exemplifies pure impressionism at its peak (estimate: £4-7 million). It was painted at a turning point in Monet’s life and career. Having returned to his native Normandy in 1882 in order to paint there, against the complicated domestic background of the death of his wife Camille three years earlier and his current love affair with Alice Hoschedé - whom he had left with his children in Poissy, it is one of several historic views of this church that Monet created that year. Filled with the delicate light of evening, this stunning painting belongs to a group of four views from similar stand-points and is the only one which is not in a museum collection, providing buyers with a very rare opportunity. The other three from the group are in: the Columbus Museum of Fine Art, Ohio; the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, University of Birmingham; the JB Speed Art Museum, Louisville. In each of these works, Monet explored a different light effect, underscoring his credentials as an Impressionist and also pioneering the serial works which he would create more and more frequently during the rest of his career, for instance his pictures of haystacks, of Rouen Cathedral or of water lilies.
Claude Monet (1840-1926), L'Église de Varengeville, soleil couchant. Estimate £4-7 million.© Christie’s Images Limited 2014.
signed and dated 'Claude Monet 82' (lower right); oil on canvas; 25½ x 31.7/8 in. (64.8 x 81 cm.). Painted in 1882
Provenance: Galerie Durand-Ruel, Paris, by whom acquired directly from the artist in 1882.
Georges Petit, Paris, by whom acquired from the above in 1883.
M. Herz, by whom acquired from the above in 1885.
Henri Vever, Paris; sale, Galerie Georges Petit, Paris, 2 February 1897, lot 81.
Durand- Ruel & I. Montaignac, Paris, by whom acquired at the above sale.
I. Montaignac, Paris, by 1899.
Jules-Émile Boivin, Paris, and thence by descent.
Acquired from the above by the present owner.
PROPERTY FROM A DISTINGUISHED COLLECTION
Literature: A. de Lostalot, 'Exposition des oeuvres de M. Cl. Monet', in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Paris, 1 April 1883, p. 346.
G. Dargenty, 'Exposition Internationale de Peinture', in Courrier de l'Art, Paris, 29 May 1885, no. 264.
P.E. Mangeant, 'Exposition Besnard, Cazin...', in Journal des Artistes, 19 February 1899, pp. 2-3.
A. Dalligny, 'L'Exposition de la rue de Sèze', in Le Journal des Arts, 25 February 1899.
J. Leclerq, 'Petites expositions, Galerie Georges Petit', in La Chronique des Arts, 25 February 1899, p. 70.
E. Bricon, Psychologie de l'Art, Paris, 1900, p. 301.
G. Geffroy, Claude Monet, Sa vie, son temps, son oeuvre, Paris, 1922, p. 108.
D. Wildenstein, Claude Monet, Biographie, et catalogue raisonné, vol. II, Lausanne, 1979, no. 294, pp. 66-67 (illustrated).
D. Wildenstein, Claude Monet, Catalogue raisonné, vol. II, Cologne, 1996, no. 726, pp. 270-271 (illustrated p. 270).
Exhibited: Paris, Galerie Durand-Ruel, Monet, 1883, no. 28.
Paris, Galerie Georges Petit, 4ème Exposition internationale de peinture, 1885, no. 72.
Paris, Galerie Georges Petit, Tableaux par Besnard, Cazin, C. Monet.., 1899, no. 47.
Paris, Galerie Durand-Ruel, Monet, January - April 1970, no. 27.
Tokyo, Galeries Seibu, Monet, March - May 1973, no. 35; this exhibition later travelled to Kyoto Municipal Museum and Fukuoka, Akarenga Cultural Centre.
Notes: Claude Monet's Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant was painted on the Normandy coast in 1882 and is one of several historic views of this church that he created that year. This light-saturated picture, which is filled with the delicate light of evening, in fact belongs to a group of four views from similar stand-points. In only one of these do the trees to the right not feature, implying some movement; of these pictures, the others are all in museum collections: the Columbus Museum of Fine Art, Ohio; the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, University of Birmingham; the JB Speed Art Museum, Louisville. In each of these works, Monet has explored a different light effect, underscoring his credentials as an Impressionist and also pioneering the serial works which he would create more and more frequently during the rest of his career, for instance his pictures of haystacks, of Rouen Cathedral or of water lilies. Monet and his dealer, Paul Durand-Ruel, appear to have recognised the importance of Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant as it was included, only the year after its completion, in the important one-man exhibition held in his gallery in Paris. Indeed, a drawing specifically created by Monet after this picture was used to furnish one of the reviews, by Alfred de Lostalot, in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts. Durand-Ruel managed to sell the picture to his rival Georges Petit, but would later buy it back. Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant also passed through the hands of several celebrated collectors, including Henri Vever and Jules-Emile Boivin. The iconic nature of this series was reflected when they were used as a springboard for the Brazilian contemporary artist Vik Muniz' 9000 Yards, Church on a Hilltop at Varengeville, after Claude Monet, which comprises a photograph taken of a reconstruction of the same view, made with 9000 yards of thread.
Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant was painted at a turning point in Monet's life and career. He had returned to his native Normandy at the beginning of 1882 in order to paint there, having left his children with Alice Hoschedé in Poissy. They had recently moved there, having left Vétheuil, but were suffering from the friction of their unusual domestic situation. In Vétheuil, Alice had been a part of the household, helping Monet with the children following the death of his wife Camille in September 1879. For her to move with him to Poissy, while still ostensibly married to Ernest Hoschedé, tore some of the veil of altruism from some people's eyes, and she found it hard, living with six children on a shoestring while Monet was elsewhere.
It may have been this fractious domestic background, including the recent bereavement, that brought about the change in atmosphere in Monet's depictions of Normandy. This was, after all, the region in which he had learnt to paint, having been taken under the wing of the great local master, Eugène Boudin. Monet had painted Normandy again and again throughout his life; yet now, at the beginning of the 1880s, he disregarded the scenes of modern life and fashion that had so fascinated him before, instead seeking out dramatic vistas that were often devoid of people and which conveyed a sense of desolation as well as intense, rugged beauty. This is certainly the case with Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant, in which the church is shown perched on a distant crag; the shoreline appears to plummet to the sea, a landscape filled with beauty but perhaps not with comfort. Like many of his landscape paintings from this campaign, Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant is devoid of people. The church of Saint Valéry, so poignantly poised, would have been a perfect expression of his mood, all the more so because of its graveyard filled with simple markers for the deceased fisherfolk (a later artistic connection would come when Georges Braque, who lived locally, created stained glass windows for the church, and after his death was buried there).
Monet was fascinated with the landscape in Normandy, rough-hewn by the weather and the waves. 'I can't help myself from being seduced by these admirable cliffs,' he declared (Monet, quoted in R.L. Herbert, Monet on the Normandy Coast: Tourism and Painting, 1867-1886, New Haven & London, 1994, p. 73). The year before he painted Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant, he had been enchanted by the views at Fécamp; the year after, he would tackle one of the icons of the French landscape, Etretat, which had previously been painted by a number of artists including another of his mentors, and indeed a witness at his wedding, Gustave Courbet. It has been suggested that Monet's return to Normandy in the early 1880s was in part a reaction to Courbet's legacy: he had died in 1877, but his Normandy landscapes and seascapes had become significant parts of the French avant garde canon, tapping into a vision of France during that troubled period following its defeat during the Franco-Prussian War and the subsequent revolutionary chaos. Certainly, looking at Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant, there is more of Courbet's grandeur than of the ephemerality of the flighty society life that had previously occupied Monet.
On his 1882 campaign in Normandy, Monet had initially arrived in Dieppe. Having been brought up in Le Havre and exposed to life in Paris, he had been disappointed by the city, although impressed by its surroundings. Soon, he had discovered and relocated to Pourville, a small town on the coast which had little other than fishermen's houses and a casino-hotel named 'A la Renommée des Galettes', in which he stayed. As he had arrived off-season, the proprietor, an Alsatian chef called Paul Graff, looked after him with enthusiasm - and crucially, for very little money. From Pourville, Monet was able to travel to a number of sites, discovering views along the coast that he was able to immortalise in his paintings. Among these were several spots at Varengeville, a little further along the coast. The church shown in Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant was one motif which obviously attracted Monet, as he painted it several times from approximately the same position, returning to it later in the year and showing it cresting the cliffs as viewed from below in three other views (interestingly, two years earlier it had also caught the eye of his friend Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who depicted it during a stay with Paul Bérard at the nearby Château de Wargemont). Monet was also struck by the customs hut at Le Petit Ailly, by Varengeville, which he painted more than a dozen times that year, visiting it both on his first trip at the beginning of 1882 and also later, when he returned to Pourville with Alice and their respective children during the Summer. He would subsequently return to the same motif in the 1890s; the house no longer exists, a victim of the erosion of the cliffs.
The customs house had been in a striking location upon the cliffs at a height designed to give it a panoramic view of the sea, from which Monet himself clearly profited. Originally, the customs house had been built there so that the coast could be surveyed as part of a campaign of vigilance ordered by Napoleon, aimed at preventing any invasion by the British armed forces at the beginning of the year. In the views of that house, Monet showed it from a variety of angles, but in many of them, he was exploring compositions analogous to that shown in Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant, with the building perched on the shoulder of the slope, a ravine dividing it from the artist or viewer, the sea occupying a significant part of the background, with a relatively high horizon giving the sense of looking downwards, emphasising the plummeting coastline.
As befits a view of a church, a more stately edifice than the customs watchman's hut, the similarities in composition belie the difference in atmosphere between the two groups of pictures: there is an informality in the latter pictures that is at odds with the more composed impression given by the four paintings of the church of Varengeville. This is especially the case in the pictures which contain the group of trees to the right: this serves as a framing device, emphasising scale and distance, while also recalling the landscapes of one of the great fathers of the genre, Claude Gellée, better known as Claude Lorrain (or even simply Claude, or 'le Lorrain'). It is a mark of the distance that Monet's art had come that he was willing to confront a composition that would certainly echo the pictures by the Old Master.
Indeed, it is a confrontation: where Claude would depict his idealised landscapes with incredible, meticulous attention to detail, usually placing some form of narrative element in the foreground, such as his picture of Hagar and the Angel, Monet was using such formality as a foil for his own far more lively presentation of his view. There is an immediacy to Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant which is conveyed through the turbulent, almost foaming brushwork of the foreground, where the bushes and foliage have been rendered with frenetic brushstrokes; at the same time, the feathered brushwork in the background conveys a softness lacking in Claude's works. In addition, Monet has avoided narrative, instead allowing the view, and his impression of it, to speak for itself.
While the trees to the right in Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant give a sense of formality, the one shown peeking into the composition on the left hints at the spontaneity of a snapshot, lending the painting a very different impression. Indeed, of the four works showing this view, it is only Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant that contains this element. This recalls the views that were made by other Impressionists such as Edgar Degas, who would often include unexpected, sometimes even brutal, vertical elements in his compositions. In Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant, the fact that the tree snakes out of the composition before curving back into it adds to the abrupt sense of surprise that it introduces. In fact, it recalls the compositions of some of the Japanese woodblock landscapes that Monet so adored and which he had collected for over a decade already by this time, for instance those by Utagawa Hiroshige. Indeed, the entire composition can be seen to echo some of Hiroshige's views. This apparent connection between Hiroshige and Monet is all the more pertinent in the case of Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant as it was owned by the jeweller Henri Vever, a great collector of Impressionist works whose interest in the movement had come through his own passion for Japanese art.
The palpable sense of spontaneity and freshness which Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant exudes is in part a reflection of Monet's desire to capture what appears to be a single moment in time, as the sun sets, causing the long shadow to be cast by the church. In this picture, those shadows appear longer than they do in the Columbus Museum of Art's example; by contrast, the shadows appear more pronounced in the Barber Institute's view. This lends the four views a sense of seriality, as though they were a sequence of images; it also reflects the working methods that Monet was honing during this period. Monet preferred to work outdoors, the quintessential pleinairiste - although in reality he would sometimes complete his works in his studio; this may also be why he relied on drawings such as that in the Musée Marmottan, showing the church of Varengeville. Despite sometimes taking recourse to those other techniques, Monet would brave the elements, carting around his various canvases and materials. Those canvases would often show the same view at different times and under different light effects, allowing him to switch from one to the other as the motif changed before his eyes. This was a technique that he would develop throughout his life, for instance with his views from the turn of the century showing the Thames shown from the same vantage point - the window of his room in the Savoy Hotel in London.
Monet's enthusiasm for the views he found in Normandy may have influenced his decision, the following year, to rent a house and land at Giverny; this would become his base for the rest of his life, and would allow him to sally forth on his various painterly campaigns, especially in his locality. Gradually, he would cultivate surroundings at Giverny, including his legendary gardens, which allowed him to find a constant supply of subject matter on his own doorstep. However, it is a mark of the importance of the views of Varengeville that he would return there again at the end of the following decade.
The money that Monet used to rent Giverny - he only subsequently managed to buy it - in part reflected his increasing importance. Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant featured in an exhibition which helped to seal his status as one of the premier landscape painters of his day. This was a one-man retrospective featuring fifty-six paintings from throughout Monet's career, held by his dealer Durand-Ruel in Paris in 1883. Intriguingly, the recent works from Pourville and Varengeville appear to have been the ones that garnered most attention. Initially, Monet was concerned at the lack of footfall and journalistic interest taken in the exhibition; this was not to last: there followed a flurry of lengthy articles by Philippe Burty, in La République Française, Gustave Geffroy, in La Justice, and Alfred de Lostalot, in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, for which Monet provided a drawing of Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant to be illustrated. Indeed, de Lostalot praised this picture as well as a few others: 'They are painted in subdued light, filtered by a mist-saturated sky that by and large intercepts the violet rays. The View at Rouen is one such… also his Views of Holland, his Effect of Snow at Argenteuil, his Church at Varengeville at sunset' (de Lostalot, 'Exhibition of the Works of M. Claude Monet', pp. 101-04, C. Stuckey, ed., Monet: A Retrospective, exh. cat., New York, 1985, p. 104). Burty said of Monet, in his review: 'Amongst the Impressionists, no other is gifted with such spontaneity and such lively impressions, and no other is able to express them with as much breadth and charm' (P. Burty, 'The Landscapes of Claude Monet', pp. 98-101, ibid., p. 98).
As well as forming a part of the celebrated collection of Henri Vever, Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant was owned by the industrialist Jules-Emile Boivin, a significant collector of Impressionist works who had founded a highly successful sugar company with a cousin. The picture also passed through the hands of Durand-Ruel both soon after its execution and also later, when it appears to have been reacquired in collaboration with the dealer and collector Isidore Montaignac, who had worked with Georges Petit (who also previously owned the work). Durand-Ruel was one of the great pioneering art dealers of the modern era; he had been the trailblazer behind the idea of abandoning group exhibitions and showing one-man exhibitions, such as that of Monet in which Eglise de Varengeville, soleil couchant featured.