27 - Marthe Seated

Marthe Seated Pencil on paper 30 x 22.8 cm Vertical monogram stamp in the lower right corner: MAUD Provenance: Maurice Denis Collection Private collection “To speak of ‘Maurice Denis the draftsman’ is something of a paradox. He always wanted to be an ‘artist,’ and for him, being an ‘artist’ meant being a ‘painter.’ From childhood onward, even before he had learned to paint, he observed the world as a painter, noting the effects of light and studying colors. At first, drawing was for him merely a sort of temporary stopgap. At the age of thirteen, he was dismayed that he was only allowed to take drawing classes, even though he dreamed of studying painting and already knew very well “what he wanted to do.” It was in secret, unbeknownst to Zani, his teacher, that he first tried his hand at oil painting; at fourteen he dreamed of exhibiting Fra Angelico’s *The Apotheosis* at his first Salon; at seventeen he began to seriously develop a critical perspective on painting—on Flandrin, Puvis de Chavannes, and the masters of the Louvre; and at the age of twenty, he offered an unparalleled definition of a painting: “To remember that a painting—before being a warhorse, a nude woman, or some anecdote—is essentially a flat surface covered with colors arranged in a certain order.” In his eyes, the only thing that mattered was painting, toward which all his efforts were directed. Yet Denis drew throughout his life, every day, on every kind of medium. Drawing was an integral part of his artistic work; it was even inseparable from his painting. One cannot fully understand the art of Maurice Denis without addressing the question of drawing. The Early Stages Apprenticeship In the early stages, drawing was part of the development of his personality—that of a schoolboy unlike any other who, instead of being bored during vacation, created his own study program. Pen, watercolor, and pencil were then the tools he used to explore reality and make sense of the world. The child was seized by an independent and demanding passion that led him to observe while drawing—or, more precisely, to view everything as a potential subject for a drawing or composition. He knows he has everything to learn; he knows his work is full of flaws, but he is also aware that this stage is unavoidable and that one must be humble enough to accept one’s own initial shortcomings. This insight—exceptional for a teenager of this age—leads him to deliberately produce numerous “study” drawings, that is, drawings he knows are not good in and of themselves but are necessary for his learning. Denis knows he must roam the streets, fields, and museums, finding—like the artists of old—“subjects and beauty worth sketching,” whether it be a portrait, a humble daisy, or a picturesque scene. At the dreaded moment of affirming his calling, these study drawings will also be a source of emancipation. It is in them and through them that the child finds the courage not to follow his parents’ wishes: “It is that terrible moment—repeated twenty times, a thousand times—and which will be repeated for a long time to come—when the child, within whom a calling stirs, asks the adult for permission; the child asks the father, the young ask the old, the weak ask the powerful, the unskilled ask the experienced, to satisfy his heart. Yes, truly, a sad moment that made the Nanteuils, the Greuzes, the Watteaus, the Prud’hons, the Davids, the Rembrandts tremble... "It is the approval of the teachers for the work completed, it is the admiration of friends for the results achieved; ultimately, it is drawing that frees the young man from his father’s guardianship and allows him to finally set out on the path of painting! Rejection of the Studio But when Denis, having secured his family’s permission, was finally able to officially begin his art studies, it was the naturalistic approach to drawing taught in the studios that this time provoked a profound reaction. His time at the academies—those “dark and dirty places, where, on a table, poor wretches stand naked and motionless”—instilled in him a deep-seated loathing. He was appalled by the poverty of the instruction, which consisted solely of “copying muscles and joints,” and by the ugliness of the places, “where the pale light falls through grimy windows, discoloring the flesh, against the bluish-gray backdrop of pipe smoke”. He is saddened by the vulgarity of a place where “the swarm of fifty young people around the model table” gives off “the stench of a workshop” and a strong “smell of armpits.” He then begins to dream of “pure arabesques,” “pastels of musical fantasy,” and “expressive forms,” and sets out on his own to seek a new conception of art, a conception according to