Every once in a while, it’s good to be reminded of an artist that you like. We all have so much going on and are so bombarded with the contemporary, our favorites—whether a painter, poet, or musician—often get pushed to the bottom of the stack. I’m thinking about this because the other day out of the blue, one of our administrators who keep the history department afloat, mentioned a French painter named Gustave Caillebotte. About ten years ago I was on something of a Caillebotte kick and came to really like his stuff. But somehow he sort drifted away from my attention. He isn’t nearly the household name as are his famous contemporaries like Monet and Pissarro, but I think he deserves far more recognition than he gets. He’s someone you should know if you like art.
He was born into a wealthy Parisian family in 1848 and when he was 22 was drafted into the French Army to fight against the Prussians in that catastrophe. After the war, he began to be interested in painting, not an uncommon story for war veterans, and soon was building a studio in his parents’ house. His father and mother both died over the next few years and, boosted by a big inheritance, he bought an apartment on one of the most fashionable boulevards of Paris. Unlike many other artists, he had no need to support himself through work. He actually bought paintings from other artists and even paid the rent sometimes for Monet’s studio.
He had eight of his paintings included in the second big impressionists exhibit in 1876 and he’s often associated with that style. But overall, his work doesn’t fit neatly into that one box. He seems to recognize that the strengths of impressionism are just one possible tool among several styles. When his paintings can benefit from some of its touches he uses them. When he paints water, he paints like an impressionist. But he also painted still-lifes—usually food—with a bracing realism of the sort the impressionists had little interest in.
Indeed, when Caillebotte starts painting like an impressionist with flowers and gardens, his distinctiveness usually fades quickly. We have these kinds of paintings from Monet and that bunch and we frankly don’t need any more nondescript impressionist gardens. When he does something like this his work reminds me of a bad cover version of a hit song. His strengths, to put it mildly, lie elsewhere. He painted sharply-focused interiors of Paris apartments and perceptive street scenes that make you feel like you're standing right there with him on a bridge or a boulevard.
He died in 1894 when he was just 45 years old. Thanks, Angelica, for bringing him back to my attention.
David and Art is a production of KWBU, Waco Public Radio. You can listen again or explore past episodes anytime at kwbu.org.
