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拍品專文
Misia au piano is an early example of the intimate and enigmatic interiors that Bonnard painted throughout his career, influenced in large part by his formative association with the Nabi circle. Taking its name from the Hebrew word for prophet, the group included Edouard Vuillard, Maurice Denis, Paul Sérusier and Félix Vallotton, with one of its primary tenets declared by Jan Verkade as: "No more easel pictures! Away with the useless bits of furniture...There are no such things as pictures, there is only decoration" (quoted in A.C. Ritchie, Edouard Vuillard, New York, 1954, p. 19). Painted shortly after the group’s dissolution at the turn of the century, the present painting expertly fuses the decorative flair of the Nabi with the prescient and quiet intimacy for which Bonnard is so esteemed.
By 1902, when Misia au piano was painted, Bonnard was already a well-known artist, in part due to his close friendship with Thadée and Misia Natanson, leading figures of the avant-garde in fin-de-siècle Paris. Thadée was an art critic and co-director of La Revue blanche, a cutting-edge journal, and his young, gifted Polish wife Misia hosted one of the leading Parisian salons. Important advocates and patrons of the Nabi movement, they were instrumental in introducing Bonnard to other collectors in their fashionable social circle.
Misia was an accomplished pianist herself, a favorite of Gabriel Fauré, and would often perform for guests during her many celebrated avant-garde gatherings. In the present painting, however, daylight’s warm glow falls gently across her face, cascading from an unseen window at right, a subtle suggestion that this is in fact the intimate moments of rehearsal and not the performance itself. Loose brushwork and nuanced colors reveal her renowned youthful beauty, expertly framed through Bonnard’s clever, close cropping of the composition. Lips pursed and entirely absorbed in her practice, Misia concentrates wholly on her sheet music, unaware of any intrusive voyeur and in turn transposes our sight into sound. This heightened immediacy injects a sense of suspense into the scene, magnifying what could otherwise be a quieter quotidian subject.
The briskly painted and decorative wallpaper seems suggestive of that which covered the walls of the Natanson’s rue Saint-Florentin apartment in Paris, where Bonnard undoubtedly spent many nights engaged with his great contemporaries. In many ways, the group of artists and intellectuals orbited around the captivating Misia, and the likes of Vuillard, Pierre-Auguste Renoir and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec would all capture her likeness across the canvas. Bonnard himself would go on to paint Misia over twenty times. A testament to their enduring friendship, by 1915 she in turn had filled her grand salon with charming paintings by the artist. It is likely that the present picture, which formed part of her collection, was also hung in such a place of honor.
By 1902, when Misia au piano was painted, Bonnard was already a well-known artist, in part due to his close friendship with Thadée and Misia Natanson, leading figures of the avant-garde in fin-de-siècle Paris. Thadée was an art critic and co-director of La Revue blanche, a cutting-edge journal, and his young, gifted Polish wife Misia hosted one of the leading Parisian salons. Important advocates and patrons of the Nabi movement, they were instrumental in introducing Bonnard to other collectors in their fashionable social circle.
Misia was an accomplished pianist herself, a favorite of Gabriel Fauré, and would often perform for guests during her many celebrated avant-garde gatherings. In the present painting, however, daylight’s warm glow falls gently across her face, cascading from an unseen window at right, a subtle suggestion that this is in fact the intimate moments of rehearsal and not the performance itself. Loose brushwork and nuanced colors reveal her renowned youthful beauty, expertly framed through Bonnard’s clever, close cropping of the composition. Lips pursed and entirely absorbed in her practice, Misia concentrates wholly on her sheet music, unaware of any intrusive voyeur and in turn transposes our sight into sound. This heightened immediacy injects a sense of suspense into the scene, magnifying what could otherwise be a quieter quotidian subject.
The briskly painted and decorative wallpaper seems suggestive of that which covered the walls of the Natanson’s rue Saint-Florentin apartment in Paris, where Bonnard undoubtedly spent many nights engaged with his great contemporaries. In many ways, the group of artists and intellectuals orbited around the captivating Misia, and the likes of Vuillard, Pierre-Auguste Renoir and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec would all capture her likeness across the canvas. Bonnard himself would go on to paint Misia over twenty times. A testament to their enduring friendship, by 1915 she in turn had filled her grand salon with charming paintings by the artist. It is likely that the present picture, which formed part of her collection, was also hung in such a place of honor.