a few hours with monet

To get to the Marmottan, I walk through yet another one of Paris’s beautifully kept parks. This one even has pony rides. The museum itself is an elegant mansion on the edge of the greenery. It has three floors, each featuring a different collection. There’s the illuminations from middle age religious manuscripts, the collection of art and artifacts collected over centuries from the Marmottan family and the Monet stuff.

The place is practically deserted. I begin to wonder if the end of the world happened and I missed it.   I squelch the urge to find the nearest satellite television and tune into CNN. Instead, I head for the Monets, which just happen to be in the relative safety of the basement, which has been rebuilt into a grand museum space.

This collection was donated by Monet’s son and is quite impressive. Tons of Monet paintings, sketches and even an old palette of his. Also displayed is Monet’s collection of work by his friends and peers, among them, Renoir, Morisot, Rodin, my buddy Pisarro…

Monet as painted by Renoir

I like Monet, but find a lot of his work spotty. There are periods where his work soared and then other periods, not so much. I guess that’s the curse of living a long life.

Monet lived to the ripe old age of 87. He did not die impoverished and unappreciated. I guess that’s the benefit of living a long life, if you happen to have any talent. He was making a good living which enabled him to live his final couple of decades in a gorgeous environment of his own creation—his house and gardens at Giverny (add Givererny to my “to go” list). He apparently died bitter and cranky despite the fact that he lived what seemed like a pretty idyllic existence. Of course, he did have advanced cataracts and had been legally blind for at least 10 years, which had to be a real bummer. You can actually see the effect of his cataracts on his later paintings.–they’re practically unrecognizable and there’s a reddish/mauvy cast, which is apparently how cataract sufferers see things.

 

Japanese footbridge, painted 1899

Japanese footbridge, painted 1919

Like Van Gogh, Monet tried to kill himself in his early years. But only once (Van Gogh tried all the time). In Monet’s case, at the time, his girlfriend was pregnant, he was broke and unappreciated and it seemed to be an isolated crisis rather than a way of life or being a drama queen.  He married in 1870, his first wife died in 1879 and he remarried a family friend (Alice Hoschede) who was helping him raise his sons in 1892, a year after her husband died (she died in 1911).   One cool, slightly perverse fact:   Monet’s son from his first marriage married Alice’s daughter from her first marriage.

Judging by the photographs, In his younger years, Monet appears to have been a real hottie. And now he’s single (dead, but single)!   I know all I need to know about Monet.  I must visit Giverny.

Address, hours and reviews of the Musee Marmottan

a slightly bitchy assessment of van gogh’s dr. gachet (the person, not the painting)

This is the Dr. Gachet you’re probably familiar with.   He’s at the Musee d’Orsay, wearing what Van Gogh described as “the heartbroken expression of our time.”

Dr. Gachet by Vincent Van Gogh, 1890

If you were really paying attention, you might have noticed Dr. Gachet hanging out in other famous museums, looking entirely different.

Dr. Paul Ferdinand Gachet was no ordinary artists’ model.   Nor was he an ordinary doctor.   His specialty was melancholy, professionally and personally.   Van Gogh was under his care during the last 80 days of his life (and proclaimed the doctor “sicker than I am” in a letter to Theo).

Gachet was friends with and treated Pissarro, Renoir, Manet and Cezanne just to name a few. He had amassed one of the largest impressionist art collections in Europe before he died in 1909.   Oddly, the information out there on him is pretty sketchy.

A little backstory:   He was born to a well to do manufacturing family in Lille in 1828.   He became interested in art as a teenager, but went on to study medicine in Paris.   In addition to earning his medical degree in Paris (his thesis was a study of melancholy), he became friends with some of the more revolutionary minds in Paris who acquainted him with the modern art scene brewing in the city.  He was hooked.

As he grew his coterie of artist friends (and his art collection), Gachet also married Blanche Castets in 1868.   He was said to be passionately in love with her, although I’ve yet to find a photo or evidence of her existence, except their two children, Marguerite and Paul fils (jr).   More on them later.  Here are some portraits of Gachet by his friends and patients.

Paul Gachet, portrait by Ambroise Detrez (1850/52)

 

Gachet in uniform, Regiments der Jäger zu Pferd (1849)

Paul Ferdinand Gachet by Armand Gautier

Dr. Paul Gachet by Armand Guillaumin, 1972 (or so)

The painting below is Van Gogh’s second painting of Gachet.  It’s been missing since the 90′s when it was purchased by a Japanese industrialist.   Shortly after that, he went broke and died.   Nobody knows where the painting is.   He may have sold it off when he went broke, but there were also rumors that he was buried with it (which would be pretty selfish of him). 

Shrouding the painting in more mystery, is the theory that it’s actually a copy made by one of the Gachets from the blue one (both Dr. Gachet and his son were notorious copiers of art in their possession).   But before we jump to forgery conclusions (which I’d love to do), I should mention that Van Gogh mentioned painting this one as well as the blue one in letters to Theo.    Also, copying art was a learning technique of the day and practiced by other painters and teachers.

The missing Dr. Gachet by Van Gogh

 

Etching of Dr. Gachet by Van Gogh, 1890

 

Paul Gachet, by Norbert Goeneutte, 1891 (also in the Musee d'Orsay)

Here’s a photo of Dr. Gachet for comparison.

 

Dr. Paul Ferdinand Gachet

 

After a brief stint as a front line doctor during the Prussian seige of Paris in 1870, Gachet moved his family and ailing wife to Auvers-sur-oise, where he became friends with Pissarro, Cezanne and Guillaumin (clearly the dude was an artist groupie).   His wife died in 1875.   His home, garden and daughter became a frequent subject for painters.

House of Dr. Gachet by Cezanne, 1972

Dr. Gachet’s garden by Van Gogh, 1890

The following two paintings were done when Marguerite Gachet was 19 years old.   The novel “The Last Van Gogh” is based on the premise that Van Gogh and Marguerite were having an ill fated, secret affair.   There’s no evidence of this, but it’s a good story.   Marguerite was rather mysterious, never married and rarely left her father’s house in Auvers until she died in 1949.   Van Gogh did have a habit of falling for the first available female in the room, even if they happened to be his own relative (he was heartbroken by a cousin who rejected his marriage proposal when he was a young man).   The author, Alyson Richman Berkley, says she was inspired by Van Gogh’s portrait of her at the piano

Marguerite Gachet in Garden, by Van Gogh, 1890

Marguerite Gachet at Piano by Van Gogh, 1890

Here a a couple of photos of the subject, Ms. Gachet:

Marguerite Gachet at piano, clearly taken when she was older

Marguerite Gachet, date unknown

Dr. Gachet was more than a mediocre doctor.  He fancied himself an artist and engraver.   He practiced his art under the nom de plume (or is that nom de peintre?), Paul van Ryssel.     His most famous work is a sketch of Van Gogh on his death bed..   In my book, it makes him more like paparazzi than a doctor.   Michael Jackson’s final doctor (Dr. Conrad Murray) comes to mind.

Van Gogh on his deathbed by P van Ryssel (aka Dr. Gachet)

Here are some other examples of Gachet’s art that  I’ve found:

Cholera ward, by Dr. Gachet (signed P van Ryssel)

Gachet’s version of Cezanne’s “A Modern Olympia”

See the original by Cezanne.

"les pommes" by P van Ryssel

Snow on the route to Auvers by P van Ryssel (aka Gachet)

Unlike his artist friends, Gachet had enough money to buy a press and copper etching plates.   He shared it with his good friends Pissarro, Guillaumin and Paul Cezanne.   One blog I read claims that the artists had such similar approaches, they each adopted an emblem to distinguish their work from one another.   Pissarro was a flower, Guillaumin was a cat, Cezanne was a hanged man and Gachet was a duck.   The stamps on some of the following prints don’t quite jibe with this theory.

An engraving by Dr. Gachet “Le chemix creux d’Auvers” 1972

A study of Van Gogh’s “Les vaches” done by Gachet

See Van Gogh’s original

by Paul van Ryssel (aka Dr. Gachet)

Paul Gachet fils (son of Dr. Gachet) was an art dealer, which makes perfect sense for someone who inherited hundreds original works art and no discernible talent or skill.     Like his father, Paul Gachet fils  dabbled in creating mediocre art.   He painted under the name Louis van Ryssel (L. van Ryssel).    He was born in 1873 and died in 1962.  A couple of samples here.

Copy of Dr. Gachet's sketch of Van Gogh on his deathbed by L van Ryssel

By L van Ryssel (aka Paul Gachet fils)

Gachet’s house and garden today:

Dr. Gachet's house from the street, today

overhead view of Gachet's house

Dr. Gachet’s homeopathic garden today

Gachet grew his own herbs and made his own extracts and sold them to patients to cure what ailed them.   Can you say “snake oil salesman?”

Dr. Gachet's homeopathic medicine kit

Dr. Paul Ferdinand Gachet died in 1909 at the ripe old age of 80.  He’s buried at Pere Lachaise in Paris.   Even in the afterlife he’s mingling with people more talented than himself.   I’m sure he’d like that.

Some good articles on the subject:

“Dr. Gachet, Friend to the Painters,” New York Times 1999

“No Cachet in a Gachet”, The Independent 1999

“Van Gogh’s Vanishing Act,” US News and World Report, 2000

marketing Auvers

As I explore the charming flower-lined, uncrowded streets of Auvers, I wonder why aren’t there more tourists here? Sure there’s the occasional tour bus (usually Japanese).   And French families who take their kids to see the famous landscapes they’ve probably unwillingly seen in museums. But certainly none of the multinational crowds and tourism enhanced wealth of a Les Baux, Nice, Arles or Avignon. There’s only one tiny souvenir shop in Auvers (more like a shack) and it’s only open on Saturday. That’s just wrong.

Most of the people I know have never heard of Auvers, let alone its history as an enclave of Impressionist painters. If they knew that some of their favorite paintings were created here, and that it remains virtually unchanged for the past 200 years, wouldn’t they come in droves?   The question gnaws at my marketing mind.   Here are a few ads I’ve come up with to sell Auvers as a destination.

But the appeal of Auvers is not limited to its history. It’s very close to Paris, but serene and beautiful.   So maybe…

One thing that constantly amazes me about Auvers is the scent of flowers in the air. It changes from week to week. Two weeks ago it was lilacs. Now, it’s roses. Maybe I can appeal to the new age crowd.

Maybe a “Find Van Gogh’s ear” promotion…I’m just thinking out loud here.

Obviously, I’ve only scratched the surface here and will have to put some real thinking into marketing Auvers. But I won’t rest until I’ve come up with a way to turn this peaceful town I love into a hideous, overcrowded tourist trap I can’t wait to leave.