Tag Archives: Beauty

Egon Schiele’s Muse Wally Neuzil – Woman in Black Stockings

17 Mar

In 1911, Egon Schiele met a woman. She was seventeen, bright eyed, fun, amiable, not a bit shy or innocent. Her name was Valerie ‘Wally’ Neuzil, and she was just what both Schiele and his art needed. In that short period of time, Schiele’s art blossomed, and Wally was his muse, his lover, his friend. Their story is the one of obsession, love, betrayal, erotic exploration, and death – death of an artist, death of a muse, death of a whole empire and death of an era.

Egon Schiele, Woman in Black Stockings, 1913

When you spend hours looking at portraits of people who have been dead for years, or portraits of people who never existed, you start to feel that you know them, but that’s just an illusion. Likewise, when you look at Schiele’s portrait of Wally in black stockings and white lingerie, with bare shoulder, and her head leaned on the side, with that gorgeous yellow hair, you feel that she’s so close to you, that you know her. She’s looking at you with a friendly gaze that invites you to come closer. In the portrait below, Wally’s big doll-like blue eyes seem like windows into her soul, and yet for the art world she is a woman of mystery, secrets and speculations are wrapped around her life and character like a spider’s web so the only thing that’s left is to guess and daydream.

What was Wally’s family life like, her childhood, her education? We don’t know. The circumstances surrounding their first meeting also remain shrouded in mystery. All we know is they met in 1911, when she was seventeen and he was twenty-one, already drawing his erotic Lolita-esque fantasies and provoking the public of Vienna. Wally was first Klimt’s model so it’s possible that Klimt send her to Schiele, and it’s also possible that he saw her in Schönbrunn Park or somewhere on the streets of Vienna, and approached her because her appearance suited his aesthetic visions. So young and her life already revolved around art and her artistic journey was that from Klimt’s canvas to Schiele’s, from Klimt’s bed to Schiele’s.

Egon Schiele, Portrait of Wally, 1912

A first Wally lived in her own flat and Schiele paid her for her modelling services, but as their relationship progressed, she moved in with him. It’s safe to assume Wally was an amiable, good-natured, eager to help and please, but also very pretty, fun, charming, witty, close to Schiele in age and interests. She really was everything Schiele, as an artist and a man, needed; she posed for him, she did household chores, and she acted as his messenger, carrying his erotic drawings to his clients who, even though she wasn’t timid, often managed to reduce her to tears with their sharp cruel remarks. As Vienna was getting more dark and oppressive for Schiele, his thoughts wandered to the forests, meadows, morning mists and sunny afternoons of his imagined countryside paradise where his art would flourish. And so they moved to Krumau, a picturesque little town south of Prague, and later to Neulengbach, near Vienna.

Imagine their days in Krumau and Neulengbach as their little hippie getaway; a place where bright sunflowers grow by the wooden fence, grass is fresh and green, and air is exhilarating after spring rain, houses are small with little windows with flowing white curtains, letting in the sunshine and the gentle breeze, a place where birdsong is the only music, and butterflies are dancers. There, Wally would sit or lie on the bed, wide smiled, with rosy cheeks and a spark in her eyes, dressed in her lingerie and stockings, with maybe a ribbon in her hair, throwing inviting glances to Schiele and now to us viewers. These drawings of Wally seem so alive, so full or ardour, passion, adoration, they’re not as twisted and strange as his nudes tend to be, on the contrary, they seem to tactile, so full of warmth, colour and richness; you can feel the idyllic mood of their days in the countryside, you can feel Wally’s gaze filling you with warmness, you can see her eyes radiating playfulness. In the first painting, her golden hair stands out, but the one below is harmony of rich warm tones of yellow and orange which presents us with a brighter side of Schiele’s life, away from gloom and conviction of Vienna. These drawings had shifted Schiele’s role from that of an observer to that of a participant: ‘These drawings are the expression of a physical passion so unequalled in Schiele’s life. Earlier drawings of similar subjects are, by comparison, those of a voyeur. These speak with delight of participation.’* Picture of Wally wearing a red blouse, lying on her back, with her hand under her chin, looking directly at us, made quickly and then filled with colour, tells us that once, for a moment, everything was perfect.

If you enlarge the picture, you’ll notice her eyebrows painted in one single stroke, and the hints of dark blue around her eyes, which are brown all of sudden. The position of her right hand and her hair colour are just adorable to me. I wish I could tell you that this is where their happy story ends, that they dissolved into that beauty, died and became sunflowers in the garden, but the reality dipped its wicked fingers into their lives. First came the infamous Neulengbach affair; Schiele was accused of seducing a girl below the age of consent and his ‘pornographic’ drawings were condemned, but that’s for another post, and then there was another woman – Edith Harms.

Egon Schiele, Wally in a Red Blouse Lying on her Back, 1913

The end of their artistic and love affair is as bitter as it gets. Wally was the one who introduced Schiele to Edith, and now he is leaving her for that woman. Ouch… As time passed, Schiele and Edith got romantically engaged, and he planned to marry her, but what of Wally, where is her place in the story? Well, Edith wanted a ‘clean start’, as she wrote to Schiele in a letter, and demanded that he broke all connections to Wally.

Schiele and Wally met for the last time in the Café Eichberger. Schiele spoke not a word, but instead handed her a letter in which he proposed this arrangement; he marries Edith but gets to spend every Summer with Wally, alone. Wally was disgusted with the idea and declined. Schiele resigned ‘lit a cigarette and stared dreamily at the smoke. He was obviously disappointed. Wally thanked him for the kind thought… and then departed, without tears, without pathos, without sentimentality.‘*

Wally and Schiele never met again. First World War was in the full swing, and Wally, who never married, became a nurse, went to care for soldiers near Split in Dalmatia, part of today’s Croatia, where she died from scarlet fever just before Christmas 1917.

___________________

*Egon Schiele, Frank Whitford

Japanese Prints – Cherry Blossoms and Moonshine

13 Feb

Watching the rain of soft pink petals of cherry blossoms, against the night sky and magical moonshine – must be one of the most profound occupations one could possibly indulge in.

1852-ukiyo-e-painting-from-the-tale-of-genji-chapter-20-hana-no-en-under-the-cherry-blossoms-by-artist-kunisada-1852Utagawa Kunisada, Ukiyo-e painting from The Tale of Genji, Chapter 8 ‘Hana no En’, Under the Cherry Blossoms, 1852

It’s winter in the real world, but it’s spring in this Ukiyo-e print. Spring: the sweetest time of the year – a time when nature offers its lushness and greenness to all souls sensitive towards its beauty, a time when even the dullest of people may find in their souls a newly awaken dreamy sentiments. Yellow bridge, court ladies in vibrant silks and lavishing kimonos. Flowers everywhere; in the sky, in their hair, on their fabrics. Large and white, the full moon is low on the horizon. Cherry tree protrudes in the composition, giving the false impression of haughtiness. Like a beautiful woman showing off her figure and shining pearls around her neck, this cherry tree stretches out its branches, one might think heavy from all those lush pink blossoms, but no – their petals are as light and delicate as the moonshine which caresses them, and their beauty is as pure as the first snow.

The most intense beauty hides in the upper right corner: dark night sky becomes darker, cherry blossoms turn a more vibrant pink, and then a rain of the gorgeous pink petals, observed by the moon, shining with stillness. There’s still chillness in spring nights, but perhaps there’s a soft warm wind announcing the Summer days. What gentleness – petals touching the porcelain skin and elaborate hairstyles of the ladies. One holds a fan, while the other tries to catch the blossoms in her golden basket – how very wise, for the next day they all might be gone, and the awareness of that transient beauty is what stirs the soul.

As you all know, ‘Hanami’ or the custom of watching cherry or plum blossoms is a very important thing in Japan, but what I find even more exciting is ‘yozakura’ (‘night sakura’); watching the cherry blossoms at night. Then, for the occasion, the trees are decorated with brightly coloured paper lanterns. Oh, how magical would it be to sit silently and admire the cherry blossoms at night, with someone who’d appreciate their beauty as much as I would. Then, I would speak nothing, think nothing, just allow myself to be fully immersed in that beauty, and these beautiful verses written by Matsuo Basho centuries ago, would come to my mind:

There is nothing you can

see that is not a flower; there

is nothing you can think that

is not the moon.

Utagawa Kunisada, Yozakura Cherry Blossom at Night, 1848. Oban triptych, photo found here.

Kunisada (1786-1864) was an Edo period artist whose Ukiyo-e prints reflect the culture of Japan just prior to its opening to the West. In his own time, he was more popular that Hiroshige and Hokusai. Stylistically, he follows the realistic approach of his teacher Toyokuni, and was specially interested in portraying kabuki actors (those prints are known as ‘Yakusha-e’) and making ‘Bijin-ga’ – pictures of beautiful women, usually courtesans, but occasionally girls from bourgeois households. This particular woodcut shows the scene from Murasaki’s novel ‘The Tale of Genji’, that is, from the Chapter 8 which is titled ‘The Festival of the Cherry Blossoms’ and you can read it here.

‘sleepless night —

the moon becomes

more familiar.‘(*)

Edouard Cortes – Romantic Visions of Autumn in Paris; Falling Leaves, Tramways and Street Lamps

12 Nov

Edouard Cortes’ scenes of Parisian streets in Autumn – with rainy avenues, golden leaves falling on grey pavements, hustle, carriages, jade-coloured light of street lamps, tramways – form a perfect background for daydreaming in these cold, misty and gloomy days when winds roar and leaves that flutter in lonely parks bring thoughts of transience and melancholy to one’s mind.

1870s-boulevard-de-la-madeleine-edouard-cortesEdouard Cortes, Boulevard de la Madeleine, date unknown, probably 1900s

French Post-Impressionistic artist Edouard Cortes captured the mood of Autumn in the city, Paris to be precise, like no other artist. Autumn scenes of the countryside are luscious, rich in colours and fruit of nature, exuberant and beautiful, but Autumn in La Belle Epoque Paris is incomparable by beauty; with carriages, street lamps, leaves fluttering in alleys, parks resting in solitude, tramways, pavements shining in the rain, hustle, trees with almost bare branches, kiosks on street corners, booksellers by Seine and people roasting chestnuts on the open fire, street musicians; everything warm, golden and flickering in Autumnal dusk. And still, there’s something fleeting in that beauty, something that the eye of the beholder can’t grasp. Cortes’ distinctly romantic, dreamy and lyrical portrayals of Autumn in Paris reminds me of these beautiful verses of Rilke’s poem Autumn Day:

…Because whoever has no house now will build no more.
Whoever is alone now will remain long alone
to wake, read, write long letters,
and wander in the alleys, back and forth,
restless, as the leaves flutter.’  (Autumn Day by Rainer Maria Rilke)

Original sounds even better:

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.‘ (source)

Cortes (1882-1969) lived in the heart of Paris, and in his art he strived to capture the fleeting moments, the change of atmosphere, and in that aspect he is similar to the British artist John A. Grimshaw who captured the changing looks of the late Victorian industrial cities of the North. But Cortes was a Post-Impressionist, which means he continued the task of the Impressionists, an impossible task sometimes – to capture the fleeting moment, and he loved portraying his beloved city of Paris in different weather or season; morning mists, sunlight as it hits the shining facades, dusks, summer nights, solitary winter afternoons, pavements shining with rain, windy days… He often chose one particular spot, and we all know that the architecture of Paris is a beautiful background by itself, such as Boulevard de la Madeleine, Avenue de l’Opera, Eiffel Tower or Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle Porte St Denis. He captured the changing seasons in Paris, portraying each with its unique beauty, but my favourites were his autumn scenes and I couldn’t resist not sharing this beauty.

Not only did Cortes chose beautiful and picturesque motifs for his paintings, but he also painted in a way which intensified the beauty of the scenes; capturing each golden gleam of a street lamp, each drop or rain on the pavement and each leaf in one brilliant brushstroke. This is especially noticeable in the painting ‘Flower Market at la Madeleine’ where faces of passer byes and flowers in the stalls are painted in rich, exuberant, heavy and thick brushstrokes, but when you observe the painting as a whole, the effect is a sight of flickering beauty, jewel colours melting into the greyness of the street. It’s interesting to me that if you compare his paintings from early 1900s to the ones from the roaring twenties, you see a difference, but they are equal in beauty. Shorter hemlines on dresses of the ladies, or the sight of cars – not a detail had compromised the romantic appeal of his Autumnal scenes of Parisian life.

1900s-edouard-cortes-flower-market-at-la-madeleineEdouard Cortes, Flower Market at la Madeleine, exact date unknown, probably 1900s or early 1910s

1900s-edouard-cortes-flower-market-at-la-madeleine-iiEdouard Cortes, Flower Market at la Madeleine, date unknown

1900s-edouard-cortes-boulevard-a-parisEdouard Cortes, Boulevard a Paris, date unknown, 1900s probably

1920s-edouard-cortes-boulevard-de-la-madeleine-iiiEdouard Cortes, Boulevard de la Madeleine, 1920s

1925-edouard-cortes-quay-du-louvre  Edouard Cortes, Quay du Louvre, 1925

1920s-edouard-cortes-booksellers-along-the-seineEdouard Cortes, Booksellers Along the Seine, 1920s

1920s-edouard-cortes-boulevard-bonne-nouvelle-porte-st-denisEdouard Cortes, Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle Porte St Denis, probably 1920s

1920s-edouard-cortes-boulevard-de-la-madeleineEdouard Cortes, Boulevard de la Madeleine, probably 1920s

Cleo de Merode: A Portrait of a Moon Child by Giovanni Boldini

27 Sep

September is nearing its end, it’s the 27th already, and it is also the birth date of Cleo de Merode, the famous French Belle Epoque dancer and beauty.

1901. Cleo de Merode by BoldiniGiovanni Boldini, Cleo de Merode, 1901

La Belle Epoque dancer and a famous beauty Cleo de Merode was born in Paris on 27 September 1875, in times just after the Franco-Prussian war, when the Impressionists were chatting, quarrelling and sketching in Parisian cafes. Her full name, Cléopatra Diane de Mérode, seems to have been made for a star.

It is my opinion that Cleo was equal in beauty and fame to Brigitte Bardot, a fellow French femme fatale. Both studied ballet from an early age, both possessed beauty and charm appealing to the age they lived in, both had numerous affairs interesting to the public eye, and they share a zodiac sign – Libra, Cleo being born on the 27th and Bardot on the 28th September. Although Brigitte Bardot acted in many films, her popularity throughout Europe in the Swinging Sixties was more due to her beauty, lifestyle and sex appeal. Likewise, beautiful Cleo – with oval face framed with masses of thick endlessly long and shiny raven black hair, almond shaped dark exotic eyes – often appeared on postcards, posters and playing cards. Men lusted after her, and women were envious of her bold fashion and lifestyle choices. One of it being the choice of hairstyle, which you’ll see in the photos below. Instead of wearing her hair up like every decent woman would do at the time, Cleo wore her hair down, decorated with a jewelled hairpiece. I found a similar look in a September 1968 drawing ‘Moon Shiny’ for the Baby Doll cosmetics. Whenever I see a photo of Cleo (and I do see it a lot since it’s on my bedroom wall) I instantly think of that sixties cosmetics add and that’s why I decided to put the ‘Moon Child’ in the title. For me, Cleo is the Moon Child of La Belle Epoque.

Her face, if not beautiful by today’s standards, is striking to say the least, more so in the photos than in the painting by Giovanni Boldini. Boldini was the painter of La Belle Epoque. He painted duchesses, courtesans-turned-actresses, beauties and really everyone who could afford his portrait services. Still, out of all his portraits, this one was stuck in my mind for a year now. I like Cleo’s dynamic pose, her sensual nude shoulder, her blue ring and the face expression, so confident, so aware of its own charms. Notice the typical Boldini brushstrokes: swift, dynamic – passionate expression of the moment of creation.

And now a bit of psychedelic music I’ve been listening to a lot this month, The Zodiac by Cosmic Sounds – Libra:The Flower Child for beautiful Cleo:

Libra listens and quietly sings,

gently peeling each yellow note.

 

Beauty lives within an eye of jade.

Venus contemplates a serene flower,

the color of an hour

of love.

1905. Cleo de Merode by NadarCleo de Merode by Nadar, 1905

1968-baby-doll-moon-shiny-222

Baby Doll ‘Moon Shiny’, 1968

1895-cleo-de-merode-danseuse-et-icone-de-beaute-francaise-1875-1966-photographie-de-reutlinger-paris-1 1895-cleo-de-merode-danseuse-et-icone-de-beaute-francaise-1875-1966-photographie-de-reutlinger-paris

1895-cleo-de-merode-danseuse-et-icone-de-beaute-francaise-1875-1966-photographie-de-reutlinger-paris-2

1890s-cleo-de-merode-18 1890s-cleo-de-merode-11 1895-cleo-de-merode-photographiee-par-charles-ogerau 1903-cleo-de-merode

 

Mademoiselle de Lancey by Carolus-Duran

2 Feb

In the pallid light of languishing lamps,
In deep cushions redolent of perfume,
Hippolyta dreamed of the potent caresses
That drew aside the veil of her young innocence.

She was seeking, with an eye disturbed by the storm,
The already distant skies of her naiveté,
Like a voyager who turns to look back
Toward the blue horizons passed early in the day.” (Damned Woman, Baudelaire)

1876. Mademoiselle de Lancey - Charles Auguste Émile DurandCharles Auguste Émile Durand, Mademoiselle de Lancey, 1876

What is this high society beauty, this femme fatale from the glorious days of French Second Empire, thinking about? Reclined on the sofa, surrounded by ‘deep cushions redolent of perfume’, supporting herself with one hand and holding a fan in the other. Her white dress with silver embellishments is exquisite, surely the latest fashion, sumptuous silk or satin. Quite a daring cut of the bodice, revealing both her shoulders and decolletage. Notice how her skirt is elegantly lifted with the intention to expose her lovely ankles and tiny feet in white shoes. Her gown reveals much and at the same time exudes simplicity and elegance. Her crossed legs and the position of her hands indicate dominance both in her chamber, and on the canvas.

Nevertheless, the most interesting part of the painting is her face. Perhaps it is not perfect per se, but it radiates confidence and charm, and awareness of these qualities. Oval porcelain face, large blue eyes, lips in colour of rose hip, forehead framed with dark brown curls. Hair adorned with flowers, hands with a bracelet and a ring: this damned woman is luxury itself, the most desired mistress of Paris, Jezebel, Lilith, Salome, Helen of Troy and Cleopatra of the 19th century Paris. This femme fatale gets what she wants.

She doesn’t need no roses, chocolates, and kisses in the moonlight. You’ll rue the day that you were born if you encounter this enchantress. If she stood up right now, her elegant step would be that of a gazelle, and the sound of her ruffling dress would resemble the finest melodies. This is the kind of woman that Baudelaire wrote poems about

Behold these smiling lips, suave and voluptuous,
Whose ecstasies of arrant self-love give us pause;
The mocking pawkishness of that long languid stare,
Those dainty features framed in luminous light gauze,
Whose every facet says with an all-conquering air:
‘Lo, Pleasure calls and Love crowns my triumphant head!” (Charles Baudelaire – The Mask)

Seems like the painter, Charles Auguste Émile Durand or simply known as Carolus-Duran is less important than the lady he painted. I didn’t say that, but I don’t deny it either. Carolus-Duran is most memorable for his portraits of Second French Empire ladies, and his paintings, as beautiful and appealing as they are, can never compete with those of Monet or Renoir who were his contemporaries. He was accepted by the art critics which speaks for itself.

How Rilke Taught me to Find Beauty in Everyday Life

6 Oct

A few weeks ago I picked up a book in the library that changed my perspective on some things, and pulled me out of sadness and restlessness that had been torturing me for weeks. The book I’m talking about is Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke, first published three years after Rilke’s death, in 1929 in Berlin, by a ‘young poet’ Franz Xaver Kappus who corresponded with Rilke for six years (1902-1908). Kappus and Rilke never met in person, but instead opened their souls through the letters.

1900. The Precious Stones (Ruby, Amethyst, Emerald, Topaz) - Alphonse Mucha1900 The Precious Stones (Ruby, Amethyst, Emerald, Topaz) – Alphonse Mucha

Rilke’s letters are distinguished by a beautiful and inspirational style that reveals the rich inner world of this poetic genius, his thoughts and remarks, his attitudes towards world, people, art and artists. His letters are a place where the real life and art meet, because to Rilke writing poetry was a path towards self-realization. These ten letters contain Rilke’s opinions not only of art and poetry, but also of life itself, the importance of childhood as the wellspring of inspiration, then his thoughts about love and passion, earnestness, responsibilities of husband and wife, friendships and kindness, as well as his opinions of death and religion. As a collection of letters, rather than a fictional novel, this book appears so intimate and while reading it I felt, just like any other reader, that they were directed to me, like a letter from a far away friend I occasionally long for…

1900. Waterlily, a portrait of Barney's cousin Ellen Goin, was one of the illustrations for Quelques Portraits-Sonnets de Femmes.(Waterlily, a portrait of Barney’s cousin Ellen Goin, was one of the illustrations for Quelques Portraits-Sonnets de Femmes, 1900)

”If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that
you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.”

I thought a lot about this quote, and it helped me because I’m a person that’s very unsatisfied with everyday life, with the banalities, neighbours, same street and houses… I know quite well what provincial claustrophobia means. Any other place or time seems better to me. Rilke’s words made me ashamed. So, in search of beauty in everyday life, I sat on the balcony and observed. Rain was falling gently. The road was getting more and more wet. One neighbour left his laundry outdoors. Day was very peaceful and silent. Gardens were sleepy, and apple trees were dreaming. Distant laugh through the morning fog. Last marigolds smiled at me from their flowerpots, and occasionally birds graced the sky and then quickly flew away. It was cold and it started pouring but I found Beauty, right in front of me, it was here all along, the problem was in me: I was not poet enough to call forth the richness of my daily life.

Do you see beauty in your daily life?