“At that time the sun of art shone in Paris alone and even today it seems to me that there is no greater revolution of the eye than that I came across on arriving in Paris in 1910.” – Marc Chagall
This quote was one of the many wonderful discoveries I made at the Petit Palais’s Le Paris de la Modernité exhibition this week. Like Chagall I, too, experienced a “revolution of the eye” (and, in my case, ear) upon arriving in Paris a century later. There is something about this city that has always been well adapted to the artist’s life: the pacing, the detail, the exchanges, the beauty. Seeing exhibitions in gorgeous settings is an eternal source of inspiration to me as a writer. Wandering among the crowds, it brings me great comfort to know that so many people still want to interact with art, to learn, and to think.
Spanning the period of 1905 to 1925, Le Paris de la Modernité showcased a vast range of works, from painting to music to fashion to architecture. There was a large room dedicated to artists fighting for France in World War I and a deep dive into les Années folles that followed, with portrayals of legends Josephine Baker and Kiki de Montparnasse. Much to my delight, there was also an entire wall entitled “The Parisian Salons at the Heart of the Artistic Sphere,” a welcome reminder of what Salon Nouveau seeks to emulate.
This week I’d like to discuss Robert Delaunay’s Homage to Blériot (1914), which I found displayed next to an early 20th century airplane. While the painting verges on the abstract, I could still make out figures like the Eiffel Tower, airplanes, and dancers amongst all the circular strokes on the canvas. There is a dizzying sense of motion in the work with its vibrant colors and curled lines, an explosion of novelty and action like fireworks. My eyes explored the painting with unwavering surprise, as though witnessing visual jazz. I loved how the airplane propellers resembled exclamation points or music notes, how their motion was represented in arches recalling rainbows.
Alongside his wife Sonia, Robert Delaunay was part of the Orphism art movement. The term was coined by French poet Guillaume Apollinaire in reference to Orpheus, the poet and singer of ancient Greek mythology. Indeed, Apollinaire saw music in Delaunay’s work, so it wasn’t surprising that it had reminded me of a jazz arrangement. Though Delaunay shared an interest in geometric fragmentation with the Cubists, he expressed it in the bolder colors of Fauvism. I personally loved the blend of the two and enjoyed observing the liminal space between the abstract and the represented. My imagination was free to roam within the delicately defined bounds of Delaunay’s world.
With its unique blend of Cubism and Fauvism, as well as its references to modern air travel and architecture, Homage to Blériot beautifully encapsulates a specific moment in history. As a young boy in Paris, Delaunay witnessed the construction of the Eiffel Tower, making it a recurring theme in his work. Louis Blériot, referenced in the work’s title, was a French aviator famous for making the first airplane flight across the English Channel in 1909, an accomplishment that triggered great celebration and turned him into a celebrity. Standing in front of the painting, I wondered what it must have felt like to witness such unbelievable technological advancements. (Then I remembered going from dial-up Internet on a desktop computer in the 90s to having a 5G smartphone 24/7. Somehow it feels less spectacular.)
While Homage to Blériot exudes a sense of elation, at the time of its creation World War I was lurking just around the corner. The painting’s blurry points of reference and its portrayal of new technologies, rendered exciting on the canvas, evolved into ominous applications in the real world. I suppose human advancements have always tread a fine line between progress and destruction. In Delaunay’s piece, man and machine appear to be coexisting in harmony, and I considered how he achieved this effect. Mankind occupies a primary space in the work: its title is a tribute to the man behind the machine, and its subject includes multiple human figures. Would remembering the humanity behind an advancement protect us from abusing its power? Would creating artistic responses to technology keep “the sun of art” shining? Salon friends, what do you think?
Le Paris de la Modernité closes today, but you can still engage with the exhibition via its catalogue. If you’re in Paris, you can take out a copy from our fantastic public library system.
After my visit to the Petit Palais, the week continued with rehearsals for upcoming recitals and lots of reading for my next Oxford residence. At the end of the week I’ll be traveling across the English Channel myself, using the equally unbelievable technology of the Eurostar, to continue the Master of Studies in Creative Writing I’m pursuing at the University of Oxford. I’m looking forward to seeing the cohort, talking writing, and getting feedback on two new pieces of work. I hope your upcoming week promises you equally inspiring events!
Merci d’être venus, et à la prochaine !
Rachel
Lovely read! Thank you for sharing this, I didn't know much about his work!
Love it! Elise