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- <text id=93TT1088>
- <title>
- Mar. 08, 1993: Vitality's Signature
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
- Mar. 08, 1993 The Search for the Tower Bomber
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- ART, Page 62
- Vitality's Signature
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>The drawings of Daumier powerfully capture the muck and detail
- of life
- </p>
- <p>By ROBERT HUGHES
- </p>
- <p> The French artist Honore Daumier (1808-1879) is the cartoonist's
- god, though of course he is much more than that. It's impossible
- to think of an outstanding 20th century caricaturist, from David
- Low to Ronald Searle and David Levine, who doesn't owe something
- fundamental to him. Most people know him only through his prints,
- those distillations of vengeance in which, through a long career,
- Daumier impaled the dignitaries of bourgeois France on his lithographic
- crayon. No greater visual satirist ever lived; none, one may
- be fairly sure, ever will.
- </p>
- <p> The diffusion of Daumier's satirical prints has been such that
- they tend to overshadow the rest of his work. Toiling against
- unrelenting deadlines, working sometimes on eight stones at
- a time, he made literally thousands of them for magazines like
- Le Charivari. In fact there were only two moments when he was
- able to give his time entirely to drawing and painting for their
- own sakes, producing images that were not designed for mass
- reproduction. The first was just after the 1848 revolution,
- when press censorship put him out of work. The second was after
- 1860, when he was fired for a time by Le Charivari. Nobody can
- guess how many watercolors and drawings he turned out during
- these interludes--one of his writer friends, Theodore de Banville,
- remembered a studio full of "cartons overflowing with drawings,
- so swollen that they could not be shut"--but only a tiny fraction
- of them has survived. Quite a lot of that fraction went on view
- last week at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City,
- in "Daumier Drawings," jointly organized by the Met and the
- Stadelsche Kunstinstitut of Frankfurt.
- </p>
- <p> To see this exhibition is to see why Charles Baudelaire, reviewing
- the Paris Salon of 1845, placed Daumier, as a draftsman, in
- the company of Ingres and Delacroix. He was, of course, different
- from both. Unlike Ingres, Daumier wasn't interested in ideal
- form or perfect "Greek" contour, even though classical prototypes
- inform his work--how far, one can easily judge from his scenes
- of refugees straggling across an open landscape, which bear
- a distinct relation to the friezes on Trajan's Column, known
- to him from engravings. He loved to guy the sacred Antique,
- but it was the kind of satire that could only be done by an
- artist fully intimate with his target. And although he got a
- lot from Delacroix, admiring the fluidity of his line and the
- power the older artist brought to painting the victims of barbaric
- force--Delacroix's Massacre at Chios has a long resonance
- in Daumier's work--Daumier didn't share his love of the exotic.
- For Daumier, everything worth drawing happened right under his
- nose, in the railway carriage, the estaminet, the cellar, the
- butcher's shop or the lawcourts. Like Balzac or Dickens, Daumier
- worked out of immersion in the muck and detail of life as it
- was lived.
- </p>
- <p> In his hands, the act of drawing acquired an extraordinary power
- and range. It was, in one sense, sculptural: the dense shadows
- of ink wash convey the shape and width of a head or a body with
- such emphasis that you feel you could almost lift it off the
- page. Drawings like Two Men Conversing or The Drinkers are so
- vivid in their tonal structure, and at the same time so natural
- and unpretentious in their expression, that you feel included
- in the meetings they depict. Daumier's line is always in motion,
- and startlingly responsive to the perceived moment. It is rarely
- just an outline: it surrounds the form with the haze of energy,
- made up of scribbled marks, suggestions and hints. It is the
- record of a sensibility that continually probes and is always
- correcting itself in nuances. In other hands, such ambiguity
- would seem fluttering. In Daumier's, it is the signature of
- an explosive, unappeasable vitality.
- </p>
- <p> One sees it at full stretch in The Soup, with its tremendous
- image of a working-class Earth Mother, as old as the tenant
- of a limestone cave but as new as the Republic, gorging herself
- from the steaming pot, while her infant sucks at her breast--a continuum of blind appetite, expressed in rhythmical line.
- Here, the long Rococo tradition in French art of painting the
- lower classes as nifty milkmaids or idealized swains gets its
- coup de grace. Not all of Daumier's drawings have the fierceness
- of this one (how could any artist sustain it?), but they do
- share, in varying degrees, its essential spontaneity. His figures
- always seem to be going somewhere, doing something, and to be
- conceived in the active rather than the passive voice.
- </p>
- <p> His repertoire of expression is immense. What artist ever did
- more with the smile, the shrug, the sneer of complicity, the
- lifted eyebrow--the myriad signs of consciousness that lie
- outside the repertoire of classical art? Rapid movement is keyed
- into the very nature of Daumier's sketches. With their flicker
- of successive positions for a lawyer's hand, or a dog's legs,
- they burgeon in time as well as in space, thus seeming to predict
- Futurism. And indeed, just as Daumier's drawings contain his
- prehensile relation to the past, so they look forward to the
- more modern artists: the massive strong men and pathetic acrobats
- of Picasso's Rose Period are already in Daumier's carnival scenes.
- Giacometti was deeply influenced not only by Daumier's drawing
- but by his series of tiny, malignant caricature-sculptures in
- clay known as Les Celebrites du Juste Milieu.
- </p>
- <p> If Daumier's appeal to other artists is inscribed on the art
- that came after him, his enduring popularity with a more general
- public comes from wider sources. Basically, Daumier lives because
- for more than a hundred years people have realized that he was
- on their side--a tribune of the singly powerless against the
- collectively powerful. This is not an attitude an artist can
- simply adopt; he or she must feel it deep in the bones, as by
- instinct, which Daumier clearly did.
- </p>
- <p> Nowhere is it more brilliantly manifested than in his lawcourt
- drawings: the pompous judges, the robed lawyers whispering their
- deals and making their pleas, the cavernous Piranesian spaces
- of the anteroom to the Palace of Justice known as the Salle
- des Pas-Perdus, or Room of Wasted Steps, the frightened clients,
- the stone-faced ushers, the bewildered accused in the dock.
- It took another 19th century genius, Dickens, to convey in fiction
- what Daumier gives in line and wash: the sense of the law, not
- as a means toward fairness or justice but as an enormous and
- self-feeding machine, abstract and inhuman, operating far beyond
- the lives it is supposed to regulate, masticating its diet of
- human hope.
- </p>
- <p> And how did Daumier do this? By fixing his pincer gaze on the
- theatrics of the law. In the drawing known variously as For
- the Defense and The Lyric Advocate, the lawyer's court robes
- puff out in baroque splendor--one thinks, perhaps not irrelevantly,
- of Bernini's bust of Louis XIV--on the hot air of his rhetoric,
- as he gestures at the man in the dock, a Jean Valjean whose
- simian face betrays not the slightest comprehension of what
- is being said on his behalf. Emphasized by the dark mass of
- the lawyer's sleeve, the short distance between him and his
- client is like a space between two worlds.
- </p>
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
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