Lot Essay
'The verve with which Rouault put paint to paper, coupled with his expressive use of colour, is entirely his own.'
S. Whitfield in ‘An Outrageous Lyricism’, in Georges Rouault: The Early Years 1903-1920, London, 1993, p. 11.
In 1898, following the death of his beloved teacher and friend at the École des Beaux-Arts, Gustave Moret, and departure of his parents to Algeria, Rouault cascaded into a physical and mental breakdown that took him into a period of a recovery at Evian, in the Haute-Savoie. Returning from this stay and feeling restored, he decided to change it all: technique, subject, and palette. Rouault discarded the large religious compositions, he had sent to the Salon des Artistes Français each year and replaced these with works based on visits to the circus as a child and the girls of rue Rochechouart where he shared a studio. He replaced canvas with paper, oils with watercolour, gouache, coloured inks, pastel and crayon sometimes mixing together or applying one on top of the other. In his own words, Rouault described the path he created to the ‘violent lyricism’ of 1905-1906: ‘At that time I underwent a moral crisis of the most violent nature. I felt things that cannot be put into words. And I started to produce paintings of an outrageous lyricism which everyone found most disconcerting’ (Rouault, quoted in G. Charensol, Georges Rouault: L’homme et l’œuvre, Paris, 1926).
The lightness and fluidity of these newly adopted materials transformed his technique, empowering him with a sense of freedom to invent and experiment on paper. This fresh approach was exhilarating and continued to propel his work forward for a number of years, partaking in and then outliving the explosive years of Fauvism. Femmes nues, Composition, is a great example of this. Executed in large scale, it is a powerful image where we witness Rouault celebrating this fluidity and the possibilities using a range of mediums can yeild. A boldly expressive and truly lyrical work; the three nudes move with great dexterity, swelling out to fill the space around them, as Rouault simplifies and unites their form with his signature strong contouring that glides sinuously and continuously across the sheet. Sarah Whitfield poignantly observes: 'Rouault’s touch has a freedom, an unpredictability and primitivism that match the spirit of the paintings Matisse and Derain had bought back from Coilloure in the late summer of 1905 […] like them Rouault turns painting into script. "I have a kind of handwriting in painting," he was to tell André Suarès some years later' (S. Whitfield, op. cit., p. 13). A work on paper of this scale and subject, remaining in the same collection for decades, is a truly rare and exhilarating example to come to market.
S. Whitfield in ‘An Outrageous Lyricism’, in Georges Rouault: The Early Years 1903-1920, London, 1993, p. 11.
In 1898, following the death of his beloved teacher and friend at the École des Beaux-Arts, Gustave Moret, and departure of his parents to Algeria, Rouault cascaded into a physical and mental breakdown that took him into a period of a recovery at Evian, in the Haute-Savoie. Returning from this stay and feeling restored, he decided to change it all: technique, subject, and palette. Rouault discarded the large religious compositions, he had sent to the Salon des Artistes Français each year and replaced these with works based on visits to the circus as a child and the girls of rue Rochechouart where he shared a studio. He replaced canvas with paper, oils with watercolour, gouache, coloured inks, pastel and crayon sometimes mixing together or applying one on top of the other. In his own words, Rouault described the path he created to the ‘violent lyricism’ of 1905-1906: ‘At that time I underwent a moral crisis of the most violent nature. I felt things that cannot be put into words. And I started to produce paintings of an outrageous lyricism which everyone found most disconcerting’ (Rouault, quoted in G. Charensol, Georges Rouault: L’homme et l’œuvre, Paris, 1926).
The lightness and fluidity of these newly adopted materials transformed his technique, empowering him with a sense of freedom to invent and experiment on paper. This fresh approach was exhilarating and continued to propel his work forward for a number of years, partaking in and then outliving the explosive years of Fauvism. Femmes nues, Composition, is a great example of this. Executed in large scale, it is a powerful image where we witness Rouault celebrating this fluidity and the possibilities using a range of mediums can yeild. A boldly expressive and truly lyrical work; the three nudes move with great dexterity, swelling out to fill the space around them, as Rouault simplifies and unites their form with his signature strong contouring that glides sinuously and continuously across the sheet. Sarah Whitfield poignantly observes: 'Rouault’s touch has a freedom, an unpredictability and primitivism that match the spirit of the paintings Matisse and Derain had bought back from Coilloure in the late summer of 1905 […] like them Rouault turns painting into script. "I have a kind of handwriting in painting," he was to tell André Suarès some years later' (S. Whitfield, op. cit., p. 13). A work on paper of this scale and subject, remaining in the same collection for decades, is a truly rare and exhilarating example to come to market.