It was 1996 in the autumn, and the first time I had spent an extended stay in France. One of the first things I found out about French culture was how the French never forget to venerate their great artists. That year was the 200th anniversary of the birth of Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot (1796-1875), and Corot was everywhere. There were art shows all over the country; his work was prominently displayed at the Louvre; and posters and postcards were part tout. Now I had seen Corot’s work in some survey of art history course in my undergrad years, but nothing about his work had yet really sunk in, even though I do landscape painting myself. The hammer came down on my head when I visited a museum in Reims, where I sat alone, one rainy afternoon, surrounded by some 25-30 Corot landscapes.
Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot was born in Paris in 1796 to a prosperous family. His father was a successful draper and naturally expected his son to follow in his footsteps. That, however, did not happen, as the young Corot’s only success in business was being an errand boy. He managed to take some classes in life drawing from the Academie Suisse, later commenting that knowing how to draw the human figure was the basis for doing good landscape. Finally when he reached his mid-twenties still showing no signs of being adept at his father’s business, his family gave him a small stipend, which freed him to paint. .
From every angle came a beautiful scene, each with his unique mix of the distinct and the indistinct. For example, in the Bridge at Mantes (above), the light colors of the bridge and its structure are quite solid, but they are seen through the feathery quality of the last leaves of autumn clinging to the nearly naked trees. The sky is rather overcast, with a cloud or two barely visible, and the water of the river below is a smooth, placid reflection of the sky with no rapids or ripples. The painting is a perfect reflection of a slight autumn haze, a calm before the storms of winter. I left the museum that day with my head full of those Corots. When I took the train back to Paris in the late afternoon, the rain had gone, and the golden light of a sun low in the sky shone hazily through the autumn leaves of the trees in the countryside. Every scene that passed the windows of the train was a perfect reflection of Corot’s vision; it was overwhelming.
Corot loved being in nature as opposed to the studio, and while he studied with one or two more famous artists, he seemed to only take from them that which fitted the temperament of his own work. His work had a poetic quality to it, an effect of his focus on the soft light of early morning or approaching evening. In 1829 he went to Barbizon, a small town near Fontainebleau, where a group of painters, later to be known as the Barbizon School, painted in the forests and gardens near the famous royal chateau. Corot traveled to France and Italy, sketching, and sometimes even selling the sketches, which was unusual in a time when finished paintings were preferred. His finished works were often met with derision, as he did not fill his paintings with the antique ruins and other historical sites that the market demanded at that time. His works were thought to be too pale, sometimes unfinished in their look, even naive. He struggled with acceptance at the Salon; however, his works were admired by other painters, even though the public had not found him yet. In 1845 Baudelaire quite forcefully called Corot the leader of the modern school of landscape, saying Corot was more of a harmonist that a colorist. That support began to turn the tide for the painter. His works began to sell, and he is now looked upon as one of the forerunners of Impressionism. In fact, one of the great discoveries in 1918 when Edgar Degas’ private collection of paintings was examined was that Degas was a collector of Corot.
This lovely piece is a perfect example of what the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. calls Corot’s “landscape poetry…full of diaphanous trees and crepuscular skies.” Here again one sees a perfect match up of the sky and the water, with a hint of cloud in the sky, and a small ripple running through the watery reflection of the building. The leaves on the trees are just fuzz, as are the tops of the grasses along the banks of the river. The figures are indistinct, as is appropriate for commonplace fixtures in a landscape of that time. The main focus is the harmony of the greens and the pale blues and white, along with the soft haziness that comes from how the eye blends those color harmonies.
What could be more ethereal, dreamlike and smokey in atmosphere than a path leading out of hell? Corot, who was also a great lover of music, shows Orpheus here with his lyre held high, showing the power of music. The atmosphere is both appropriate to the realm of the spirits and to the sad ending of the story. Orpheus could not resist turning to look back at Eurydice before they actually escaped, so his love was taken back to dwell among those shadowing entities of the type seen in the background of the painting. Corot’s work was beloved for its poetry and the way that it could blend the elements of realism into something rather unreal, yet very pleasing. Claude Monet gets the last word at this point, as he famously said, “There is only one master here: Corot.”
Paintings are in Public Domain.
Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor, and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com or her author page at amazon.com and her art at Vernelle Art Boutique vernellestudio.com
Pouilly Fumé: Tones of Flint and Matchstick.
Pouilly Fumé is an off-gold color, has notes of apricot, heather, green grass, white flowers, and yes, a hint of a”gunflint smoky aroma.” (see vins-centre-loire.com/appellations ). First, let’s not mistake this wonderful confluence of flavors made with Sauvignon Blanc grapes with a similarly named wine, Pouilly Fuissé, which is made from Chardonnay grapes in southern Burgundy. Nor is it Pouilly-sur-Loire, which is made from Chasselas grapes, though both Pouilly Fumé and Pouilly-sur-Loire have that same slightly smoky quality. That flinty quality comes from the minerals in the shale rock under the limestone and clay in the Loire Valley.
Though it is often seen to be in the shadow of Sancerre, this dry white wine holds its own with both Sancerre and Vouvray, another Loire Valley white wine. As in most wines in the Loire, the vintners make much over the soil that the grapes are grown in, and in the case of Pouilly Fumé, it’s the flint that counts, even though it has other lovely notes of fruit and grass. Sancerre seems to have become the bistro wine of choice and certainly, when it became popular in America, that had to do with how easily it paired with so many foods. It was an easy and perfect dry white wine one could serve with assurance, while Pouilly Fumé was considered more sophisticated, more “chic.” However, as Sancerre becomes more and more expensive, why not look at Pouilly Fumé? A good way to get to sample all of these wines from the Loire is to become a member of a wine club that deals in international wines. Cellars International Wine Club is a club that does just that and allows you to specify which of a number of vetted charities Cellars will donate a percentage of your purchase to – good wine and good works. See the Cellars Wine Club page under Of Art and Wine Pages or click here www.cellarswineclub.com
It is said that Pouilly Fumé is food friendly. Like Sancerre it goes marvelously with shellfish, salmon, white fish, scallops, grilled chicken (how about with some Panko crumbs for topping on that chicken?), and if you are really into smoke, try it with that wonder of French cooking, smoked chicken. Veal is also a good choice, as is a foie gras terrine. Don’t forget the cheeses, triple cream, Brie, goat cheeses, in fact, all soft cheeses are a good bet here.
Of course, Pouilly Fumé works wonderfully well just as an aperitif or with a quick snack like a tartine (an small open-faced sandwich). My favorite tartine is a lightly toasted slice from a round loaf of French bread or Sour Dough bread spread with a black olive tapenade, which must be mixed with some garlic and capers and maybe a touch of cognac, and finally you must put some sun-dried tomatoes along the top. Heat it quickly in the oven and eat it all warmed up. A bit crunchy and delicious, it is great with a wonderful glass of chilled (46 degrees F.) Pouilly Fumé. Then you dream of your favorite Corot painting of some golden twilight filtering through a haze of autumn leaves overlooking a placid pale blue stream and a matching slightly overcast sky. Divine!
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©marjorie vernelle 2019
Coming soon: Wine Tasting Portraits and Le Beaujolais Nouveau!
Now admittedly this English gentleman may not have been tasting the Beaujolais Nouveau, but he has the right spirit, and when the new Beaujolais arrives, it is a world-wide celebration, England and America included. This year it is on November 21st, as that is the third Thursday of November, the official date when Le Beaujolais Nouveau est Arrivé. So go to a wine tasting and come to OfArtandWine.com to look at painted images of wine tasting and find out about the yearly celebrations for this primeur wine.