Toulouse-Lautrec: A Life (Phoenix Giants)
Category: Books,Arts & Photography,History & Criticism
Toulouse-Lautrec: A Life (Phoenix Giants) Details
Debauched aristocrat, cabaret painter, accidental dwarf? Julia Frey's definitive, superbly researched biography strips away the myth of Toulouse-Lautrec to reveal the tortured man beneath. This is a remarkable and compelling portrait, featuring 135 photos and illustrations.
Reviews
I was surprised at how many misconceptions I had about Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec before I read this biography. Taken predominately from thousands of letters only recently made available, Julia Frey has given us an extensive biography that reveals an incredibly complicated, brilliant personality whose art may never have been so poignant except for his disabilities. I had always thought that Henri’s problems with his legs began after two falls in his boyhood. But no, his parents knew their child was in trouble way before he ever started to walk; the falls were a symptom of his condition, not the cause of it. I also thought his father was a stern, distant disciplinarian, only to discover quite the opposite. Alphonse, nicknamed Alph, was a bit of a profligate; he was absent when he was needed most, showing up unexpectedly and insisting that everyone take his advice. He was often neglectful—usually out hunting or traveling—sometimes affectionate, sometimes endearing, but never helpful. Henri’s mother learned to make decisions on her own and took upon herself the long-suffering role of “keeper”, an overprotective nurse who may have contributed greatly to Henri’s subsequent dependence on her. What a way to grow up! Apparently he was a joyful child despite his literal growing pains, and throughout his life his upbeat attitude carried him through situations that would oppress an average person, not to mention an ugly, misshapen one. Nonetheless, as one would expect from a person who is the center of attention, he learned how to manipulate others: “He had learned as a child how to impose his will by psychological means, and his friends, both male and female, found him irresistibly charming but unrelentingly tyrannical. He had become extremely good at getting others to do his bidding—and managed to do so in large part without resorting to demands on their pity for his physical state.” Henri learned to deflect scorn and discomfort by making fun of himself, both in public and private, and by making it so easy to be around him, he managed to attract many loyal friends throughout his lifetime.But there is no getting away from the fact this his family considered him unsuitable to the title of Count, especially when he decided to devote himself entirely to art—not just acceptable art, but low-life, common art both in medium and subject matter. The more they objected, the more he indulged himself. And, as if to emphasize, or explain, his own relationship with the world, his art became known for its realism—in a harsh way—exposing false beauty and getting to the heart of the subject. An article from editor Arthur Huc tells us: “Henry’s originality as an artist came largely from his use of ugliness and exaggeration of physical quirks to reveal the psychological truths of his models, to bring forth, albeit with cruelty, the irony of the antagonism between interior and exterior beauty.” This, in a nutshell, describes Henri’s approach to art, which he also emphasizes in a letter to his friend: “I have tried to draw realistically and not ideally. It may be a defect, for I have no mercy on warts, and I like to adorn them with stray hairs, to make them bigger than life and shiny.”It turns out that the author has had years of training as an artist and printmaker, which makes her a perfect interpreter of his art. She has interspersed both black-and-white sketches in the text, where appropriate, and several pages of full-color works that she explains in detail. It’s so very helpful! It was like Julia was taking me by the hand and pointing out details that I had missed for many years (mostly the peripheral stuff, always significant as it turns out). She knows who the models are and what Henri’s relationship with them were; many of the models were somewhat unidentifiable in the backgrounds of some of the paintings, but there they are. She explains how Henri would paint an oil as a preparatory sketch for a lithograph, then display them side-by-side to demonstrate the creative process. This, and a lot of his other artistic applications are woven into the text, giving us a thorough picture of his work as well as his personality and, inevitably, his decline into alcoholism. I would consider this a definitive biography. Highly recommended.