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Lucy Hessel et Lulu, rue de Naples dit 'Le Télégramme"
Details
Édouard Vuillard (1868-1940)
Lucy Hessel et Lulu, rue de Naples dit 'Le Télégramme"
signé 'E. Vuillard' (en haut à droite)
pastel et peinture à l'essence sur carton
89 x 73.3 cm.
Exécuté vers 1933-35
signed 'E. Vuillard' (upper right)
pastel and peinture à l'essence on board
35 x 28 7/8 in.
Executed circa 1933-35
Lucy Hessel et Lulu, rue de Naples dit 'Le Télégramme"
signé 'E. Vuillard' (en haut à droite)
pastel et peinture à l'essence sur carton
89 x 73.3 cm.
Exécuté vers 1933-35
signed 'E. Vuillard' (upper right)
pastel and peinture à l'essence on board
35 x 28 7/8 in.
Executed circa 1933-35
Provenance
Jos et Lucy Hessel, Paris (acquis auprès de l’artiste)
Lucie Grandjean-Hessel, Paris (par descendance).
Puis par descendance au propriétaire actuel.
Lucie Grandjean-Hessel, Paris (par descendance).
Puis par descendance au propriétaire actuel.
Literature
A. Salomon et G. Cogeval, Vuillard, Le regard innombrable, Catalogue critique des peintures et pastels, Paris, 2003, vol. III, p. 1486, no. XII-66 (illustré en couleurs).
Exhibited
Londres, Wildenstein Gallery, Édouard Vuillard, juin 1948, p. 16, no. 61 (titré 'Portrait of Madame Hessel and her Daughter').
Edimbourg, Royal Scottish Academy, Pierre Bonnard and Édouard Vuillard, août-septembre 1948, no. 119.
Edimbourg, Royal Scottish Academy, Pierre Bonnard and Édouard Vuillard, août-septembre 1948, no. 119.
Special Notice
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It will be refunded to the Buyer upon proof of export of the lot
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Further Details
Le sujet de cette œuvre semble des plus anecdotiques : Lucy Hessel, confortablement installée dans le salon de la rue de Naples, tend un billet à Lulu sans que l’on sache s’il s’agit d’un télégramme (titre récent de l'œuvre) ou d’un billet accompagnant le bouquet de fleurs que l’on croit deviner à gauche sur la table. Ces presque riens de la vie quotidienne sont ici le prétexte à une composition rigoureuse, bien plus complexe qu’il n’y paraît immédiatement ; sur la vitre du tableau situé au dessus de Lucy, et qui la représente seize ans auparavant (Le petit salon, Madame Hessel à la table à ouvrage; Metropolitan Museum, New York, voir p. 29), se projettent à la fois l’ombre de Lulu et la lampe dont on ne voit qu’un fragment, à droite de la composition. Ce jeu de lumière reflétée est accompagné d'une théâtralisation des visages et des corps grâce à une série d’ombres et de clartés, qui ne sont pas sans évoquer le cinéma des années 1930. L’on songe notamment, parmi les chefs opérateurs qui marquèrent leur temps à Louis Page qui sera le directeur de la photographie des films de Jean Grémillon et de Jean Renoir dans ces années là. Vuillard, qui fréquentait régulièrement les salles obscures en compagnie de Lucy Hessel (l’on sait qu’ils allèrent voir ensemble des films de Marcel Pagnol et de Jacques Feyder) se montre peut-être ici plus sensible au langage cinématographique qu’il n’y paraît. Cette scène ne serait plus à regarder comme statique mais préfigurant un mouvement de caméra ou une séquence champs / contre champs. Il n’en reste pas moins que Vuillard, en peintre toujours attaché à la narration, dispose des indices qui font sens. Le tableau situé dans le registre supérieur (Lucie Hessel rêvant, au bord de la mer; Armand Hammer Foundation, Los Angeles), renvoie aux années de jeunesse du peintre et de sa muse et se fait les témoins du temps qui passe; et tout cela se dit comme toujours avec ce Vuillard de maturité, en une technique vertigineuse, ou les aplats de la peinture sous-jacente à la détrempe sont rehaussés par du pastel qui confère, à chaque motif qu’il souligne, sa légèreté et son raffinement.
The subject of this pastel seems highly anecdotal. Lucy Hessel, comfortably seated in her living room on Rue de Naples, holds out a piece of paper to Lulu. We do not know if it is a telegram (the painting’s recent title) or a note accompanying the bouquet of flowers that we can faintly see to the left of the table. These fleeting moments of everyday life serve as a pretext here for a rigorous composition that is much more complex than it first seems. On the glass pane covering the painting above Lucy, which shows her sixteen years earlier (Le petit salon, Madame Hessel à la table à ouvrage; Metropolitan Museum, New York, see p. 29), we can see Lulu’s shadow and a sliver of the lamp which is at the right of the composition. This play of light and reflections is accompanied by a dramatic approach to the subject’s faces and bodies that is depicted with a series of dark and light areas echoing the feel of 1930s films. Among the cameramen who left their mark on this period, Louis Page is called to mind especially. Page worked as the photography director on films by Jean Grémillon and Jean Renoir during this time. Vuillard, who often went to the cinema with Lucy Hessel (in fact, we know they watched films by Marcel Pagnol and Jacques Feyder together), is perhaps showing himself to be more in tune with cinematographic language than it appears. In this case, this scene should not be considered as static, but as a precursor to a camera movement or a shot/reverse-shot sequence. The fact remains that Vuillard, a painter who always valued narration, offers logical clues. The painting located in the upper section (Lucie Hessel rêvant, au bord de la mer; Armand Hammer Foundation, Los Angeles) shows the painter and his muse in their youth and indicates the passing of time. All of this is done, as was always the case with Vuillard in the latter part of his career, with faultless technique. The sections of flat colour underneath the distemper are highlighted with pastels that bring lightness and refinement to every pattern where they are used.
Gilles Genty, historien de l’art / Art historian.
The subject of this pastel seems highly anecdotal. Lucy Hessel, comfortably seated in her living room on Rue de Naples, holds out a piece of paper to Lulu. We do not know if it is a telegram (the painting’s recent title) or a note accompanying the bouquet of flowers that we can faintly see to the left of the table. These fleeting moments of everyday life serve as a pretext here for a rigorous composition that is much more complex than it first seems. On the glass pane covering the painting above Lucy, which shows her sixteen years earlier (Le petit salon, Madame Hessel à la table à ouvrage; Metropolitan Museum, New York, see p. 29), we can see Lulu’s shadow and a sliver of the lamp which is at the right of the composition. This play of light and reflections is accompanied by a dramatic approach to the subject’s faces and bodies that is depicted with a series of dark and light areas echoing the feel of 1930s films. Among the cameramen who left their mark on this period, Louis Page is called to mind especially. Page worked as the photography director on films by Jean Grémillon and Jean Renoir during this time. Vuillard, who often went to the cinema with Lucy Hessel (in fact, we know they watched films by Marcel Pagnol and Jacques Feyder together), is perhaps showing himself to be more in tune with cinematographic language than it appears. In this case, this scene should not be considered as static, but as a precursor to a camera movement or a shot/reverse-shot sequence. The fact remains that Vuillard, a painter who always valued narration, offers logical clues. The painting located in the upper section (Lucie Hessel rêvant, au bord de la mer; Armand Hammer Foundation, Los Angeles) shows the painter and his muse in their youth and indicates the passing of time. All of this is done, as was always the case with Vuillard in the latter part of his career, with faultless technique. The sections of flat colour underneath the distemper are highlighted with pastels that bring lightness and refinement to every pattern where they are used.
Gilles Genty, historien de l’art / Art historian.
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