Degas' work may strike one as both utterly transparent and strangely impenetrable. The subject matter, after all, could hardly be more straightforward: portraits, nudes, horses, women washing themselves or working. Yet as one walks through the exhibition of close to four hundred works assembled by the French Museums, the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, one cannot help feeling there may be more to Degas' work than meets the eye.
A self-portrait of Edgar Degas at the age of twenty-one seems to offer a clue to the man's character and, in an almost prophetic sense, to what was to be the pattern of his life. The lower part of the face, with its sulky, adolescent mouth, is that of a resentful youth tormented with self-doubt. In stark contrast, however, the upper half of his face, with the unflinching, almost tragic gaze of his dark eyes, appears utterly lucid and resolute. Throughout his long life, Degas (1834-1917) was to be both the passionately ascetic servant and, in a sense, the melancholy prisoner of his art. The early portrait conveys both the unyielding dedication and the deeply self-critical dissatisfaction that would make him so demanding on himself and at times, in the opinion of his friends, so difficult to live with.
The exhibition includes the major milestones of Degas' career. Among the earliest works shown is his monumental portrait of the Bellelli family--Degas' aunt, her Italian husband, and their two daughters--which the artist began at the age of twenty-four and finished some nine years later. It is a big painting, and reveals Degas' immense authority in matters of composition. Everything seems to have fallen into place in some tragically final way, like the grains of sand in an hourglass; with just a little more fantasy, one might perceive in the structure of the painting a figure of the Sphinx (Mr. Bellelli) scrutinizing the pyramid (Madame Bellelli and her two daughters). The family portrait has a peculiarly cold, austere mood--a reflection, in fact, of the painful relationship between the husband and wife. Degas occasionally liked to paint scenes of latent tension and bitterness. One can sense something hostile and indeed almost desperate in Madame Bellelli's expression. A basis for this interpretation can be found in her correspondence with Degas, which reveals these feelings quite explicitly. Bellelli, one learns, was an irascible man, and his wife, writing to young Degas, complained of her sad life with a husband "whose character is infinitely disagreeable and dishonest," and expressed concern about her own mental state: "I really believe that I shall end up in a hospital for the insane."
At the beginning of his career, Degas produced a number of historical painting for which he always had a certain affection. One of these, painted in 1860, depicts Queen Semiramis building the city of Babylon and reveals the influence of Gustave Moreau, whom Degas knew in Italy. Considering the date it was painted, it is quite unusual, especially in the archaic tone of its composition and style (the horse, for instance, is inspired directly by Greek sculpture) and in the economy of detail, which contrasts quite obviously with the taste of the academic painters of the day and even with the love for luxuriance apparent in Moreau's work.
Beneath the Surface
Degas' familiar portrait of his friend, the bassoonist Désiré Dihaut, playing in the orchestra of
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