Camille Monet and a Child

Camille Monet and a Child in the Artist's Garden in Argenteuil - Claude Monet, 1875

I first time saw this painting was on January 4th, '18 at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. I was picking Leta up from her flight in from Dallas that night and decided - on a bit of a whim - to head to MFA in the morning before picking her up. I wandered through the museum in a fairly desultory way, seeing the sights - trying to not get caught picking my nose, before finding myself in the contemporary wing. I've always preferred modern art for some reason. I think, in some ways, I am intrigued by the sense of purpose I find in later art. That's not to say earlier works didn't have meaning, just that I'm not as attracted to the constraints of commissioned pieces for affluent recipients. In later art, there seems to be a more keen eye toward the basis of the work as art, rather than a material object.

An example of this being the impressionist movement in the 1870's & '80's in Europe - particularly France. Characterized by small, open composition, delicate brush strokes, impressionist art brought greater focus to depictions of movement, time, and especially light on seemingly mundane subjects - often landscapes. It was an abt response to the existential threat of photography, which had come about over the same period of time. Now that we have a definitive visual record of a given moment in time, what do we have left to capture? The likes of Cézanne, Monet, Pissarro, and Renoir answered by violating the contemporary art norms - subsequently disqualifying them from participation in national exhibits - to produce works intended to portray impressions of a moment in time, often painting the same landscape multiple times in quick succession - see Monet's Poplar series

This impressionism is apparent in the above work. One that stands nearly two feet and has an indescribable texture laid upon its canvas - which you can see here if you zoom in. I had not realized when I went to MFA in January that they had a Monet exhibit, yet it happened to be the final room I wandered into. Upon entering the space I was obviously overwhelmed and felt the need to circle the room looking at each painting, albeit briefly, before settling down. Interestingly, this was the painting that calmed me. There was something soothing about the work, which was ponderous as most of his work is landscapes, rendering human subjectivity unique and potentially overstimulating.

Instead, I was drawn in by the warmth of this piece; as if Camille was not the subject but the entirety of the painting was. The subtle, gradient, yet plain coloring twists conventional perceptions of subjectivity, drawing the eye toward the seemingly haphazard, yet immensely purposeful brush strokes. To look closely at each individual stoke is to look at the very movement of Monet's brush. You can feel the twist of a stroke here, or a moment of hesitation there. Once you step back though you see each of these odd linear movements amount to the great cascading waterfall of Camille's dress - as if it just flows off of her. Yet, we are also met with nearly no facial features or clues to what her hands are fumbling upon.

I could write about this work forever so I won't overburden you with the minutia. But, I was looking at this painting the other day as it was something of note, something I vividly remember, that I experienced close to five months ago. I plan on seeing it again soon, which will be interesting, but for now, it was compelling to revisit. The first time I was encapsulated by the surrounding shrubbery and flowers, yet now I've found myself more aware and intrigued by Camille and the child. For sake of background, Claude only did portraits in his early years most of which were of his first wife Camille. But to find the subject of an impressionist work to be a human - and subsequently, claim it looks like someone or reminds you of someone - would be a fool's errand. Rather its an interaction of the subject being an impressionist portrayal of a distinct and definite individual. Camille is a person, she has nuanced details of her very being, yet here she seems perfectly rendered utilizing nothing more than some brief, thin brushstrokes depicting no more than a vague dreamlike memory of her.

I think, upon revisiting this painting, I've reapproached this notion. Initially, I was somewhat frustrated; Camille is an actual person, how do I feel I've seen her, met her, and know her, using little more than these few strokes? (Why aren't I this good, like jeez, he's just rubbing oil into canvas haphazardly.) But now I've come to realize I've always known Camille; she's this platonic ideal of personhood and partnership. She's what you imagine you'd look up to see and have your heart momentarily captured and filled with warmth - it's what we're conditioned and instinctually driven to imagine. My initial trouble grappling with this, I think, was derived from my trouble seeing the platonic ideal as nothing more - forever remaining unfulfilled. Yet, I think now I've come to realize this seeming abstraction can be concretized. That's not to say you're this platonic ideal of being Sam - I mean you tend to run late and don't like Coldplay - but you've helped me believe in Camille. She doesn't represent the perfect person or anything as drastic, but she is where one finds hope, love, happiness, and joy. She's not there to depict a person, but a feeling - a feeling you've given me for quite some time, and one I hope to give you for some time to come.

With much love,
-Sam