Sargent and the Duchess of Marlborough

I just read an oddly entertaining historical novel, A Weekend at Blenheim, by J.P. Morrissey, that included not only Winston Churchill (as might be expected) but also John Singer Sargent! It is a gnarly tale of deceit, arrogance, lust, hate and blind ambition, and the aristocracy comes off as most unattractive to say the least. Consuelo (nee Vanderbilt) was an American heiress who was quite blatantly "married off" to the 9th Duke of Marlborough (known as "Sunny" which he absolutely was not) when they were both quite young, in 1895. Consuelo's wedding present of $2.5 million pretty much saved Blenheim from crumbling to pieces. The two were divorced, quite messily, by 1921. Anyway, in the novel, Sargent is there for the weekend, along with the purely fictional protagonist who is the plebian observer of all the wretched goings-on. Sargent is spoken of, sotto voce, as a "sodomist", yet is witnessed in flagrante with the Duchess by our intrepid observer who sees them through a window--the Duchess is posing nude while Sargent, also nude, makes ardently drawn charcoal sketches of her, then falls upon her with decided passion! (my my!)

Sargent did indeed paint an enormous portrait of the Duke's family (above)--not at all his best effort, imho--but he was "told" that it was to complement an earlier painting of the 4th Duke and his family by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Here is Reynolds' portrait, as well as a sketch of Duchess Consuelo by Sargent. 

Hmm, maybe there was something to that fictional affair after all?

Sargent at the DeYoung in San Francisco

I recently learned there are three John Singer Sargent paintings in my own backyard (almost) -- at the DeYoung Museum! Two of them were already familiar to me, and I love them.

The first is titled "The Dinner Table", with Mrs. Albert Vickers in the center and her husband not too visible on the right. Sargent painted the whole Vickers family in 1884 during the summer after the scandal and debacle of "Madame X" sent him running from Paris to England.

The second painting is a later watercolor of a man fishing in a mountain stream. After about 1906, Sargent took no more orders for portraits, though he painted or did charcoal sketches of friends; he concentrated on watercolors which he excelled in.

The third painting, below, is of Caroline de Bassano, Marquise d'Espeuiles; the portrait was painted in 1884. As usual, Sargent painted the clothing with a fine eye for lacy detail and satiny folds. From the expression on the Marquise's face, however, I'd say he kept her standing there a little too long for her liking!

Sargent at the Brooklyn Museum

Bedouins

The Brooklyn Museum of Art is about to open a major exhibition of John Singer Sargent's watercolors, from April 5 through July 28th. As described on the museum's website: "This landmark exhibition unites for the first time the John Singer Sargent watercolors acquired by the Brooklyn Museum and the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in the early twentieth century. The culmination of a yearlong collaborative study by both museums, John Singer Sargent Watercolors explores the watercolor practice that has traditionally been viewed as a tangential facet of Sargent’s art making. The ninety-three pieces on display provide a once-in-a-generation opportunity to view a broad range of the artist’s finest production in the medium."

Bridge of Sighs, Venice

I'm delighted to add that the museum gift store will have my novel, Portraits of an Artist, in stock and for sale during the exhibition.Thanks, Brooklyn!

R.I.P. Henry James

Today was the 97th anniversary of Henry James' death. He is by far my favorite "classic" writer. To Mr. James, I lift a glass of port and say, "Well lived, well written, well read, dear Mr. James!"

This famous portrait of Henry James was painted by (who else?) John Singer Sargent, in 1912. There is an earlier sketch by Sargent, too. The two met in 1883 and James was very taken by the young, handsome and talented Euro-American artist, and was instrumental in helping Sargent find many clients in England after he'd "fled" from France. I couldn't resist writing more than one scene in my novel that featured James.

Two recent books for James fans: The Master, a novel by Colm Toibin, and Portrait of a Novel, non-fiction about one of James's most famous novels, by Michael Gorra.

Excerpt from PORTRAITS

Prologue

I see them now in mirrors, on darkened windows, in waking dreams—all the faces I have painted. Children, and men, and women. Always the women, with their languid eyes, their tense, anxious lips, their serene brows and haughty noses.

John Singer Sargent, a painter of portraits, that’s who I am. I chose to be a painter of portraits because I was very good at it, because I liked the acclaim, the society, the weekends at country houses outside Paris and London and Florence—and because it paid well, very well. I died a rich man. Childless, unmarried, though not unloved—no, not unloved.

The portraits of my friends are the book of my life—my paintings are the words that I can never find to explain myself, to defend myself, even to know my very self. Two portraits in particular, painted before I reached the age of thirty, haunt me even now, more than all the rest. One became a private grief, softened by time but never truly healed. The other, a public scandal that changed everything. Together they turned me from a young man, a foolish man, into a sad and sorry shadow that only I could see when I looked in a mirror. I wonder if you can guess which ones they are? As the years dragged on, I endured as the entertaining, successful, eccentric old swell who ate too much, smoked too much—and let no one come too close.

As I cannot easily speak for myself, and as I yearn to be known, at least a little, I will allow my portraits to speak for me—their stories will illuminate mine. You may say that I am still keeping myself one step removed, so that you, reader, will not come too close—well, that’s as may be.  It is there in those portraits you must seek me, if you would know me.

I am the painter of portraits.

BOOK LAUNCH!

The Book Launch reading and party is set! If you're in the San Francisco Bay Area, please come on Thursday, Feb. 21st, 7:00 pm, to Bookshop West Portal, 80 West Portal Avenue, San Francisco. It's going to be fun!

Hercule Poirot and Lord Ribbesdale

While watching one of those delightful Masterpiece Mysteries on Christmas Eve—it was Hercule Poirot in an episode from 1995 titled “Poirot’s Christmas”, with the inimitable David Suchet, I noticed that a portrait of the (soon to be dead) wealthy old man who had hired Poirot looked rather familiar. I paused the show and captured this shot (on right) with my camera. 

 

I ran to my bookshelves to get a book of Sargent portraits by Elizabeth Prettejohn, written as the exhibition book for one of the most magnificent exhibits of Sargent paintings in the last fifty years—I saw it at the National Gallery in Washington, D.C., in 1998. Turning the pages quickly, I found the portrait I’d been reminded of in the Poirot mystery:  Lord Ribbesdale. Though not a full-length portrait, the painting used in the mystery story was undoubtedly painted with Sargent’s portrait in mind – the stance, the draped coat, even the flattened pilaster in the background mimicked the original very well. What fun to see it on TV! 

Prettejohn’s description of the Lord Ribbesdale portrait is fascinating, as she sets forth the hypothesis that while Sargent chose the traditional stance of an Englishman’s portrait, his use of hunting clothing instead of military dress—including substituting the sword with a riding crop—is a strong indication of the dramatic changes undergone by British aristocracy, who no longer held the power and sway of their forebears, but rather seemed mostly representative of the new “leisure class” whose main activity was elite sports, like fox hunting and horse racing. Sargent always insisted that he didn’t “psychologize” his sitters and only painted what was before his eyes, but we know that he spent a good deal of time choosing exactly what his sitters would wear, and arranging the background to suit his perception of a portrait. Hard to believe he wasn’t arranging a little social commentary!