Showing posts with label Symbolism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Symbolism. Show all posts

Monday, 11 December 2017

Monday 11th December: Virgin of the Lilies

Flipping heck it's cold here!  I know it's winter but it was about 10 degrees a day or two ago and now it's zero!  I am now constantly attached to a hot water bottle and it seems a perfect moment to bring you the following frosty painting...

Virgin of the Lilies (1899) Carlos Schwabe
The Virgin and child follow the parade of lilies in a snow-strewn landscape, their twin halos providing moonlight, further illuminating the glistening white snow.  The lilies seem to stand in for a choir of angels, singing their praises to the heavenly couple.  They also could be taken for a heavenly staircase, their stems looking like banisters.  In sharp contrast to all the white light, the sky and foreground is deep, dark blue, making the whole seem slightly sinister.

Detail of Death and the Gravedigger (1890s)
Not that Schwabe was averse to a bit of sinister-ness in the snow.  Possibly his most famous image is Death and the Gravedigger, with the angel of death (modelled for by Mrs Schwabe) striking down the elderly chap in the handily open grave.  Mrs Schwabe modelled for his angels and virgins and so was both the angel of death and probably the Virgin in the Lilies. Schwabe was a Symbolist and participated in the Salon de la Rose + Croix, six festivals of the arts, in 1890s Paris, and his works featured allegorical female figures, and visions of life and death.

The Annunciation (no date)
Schwabe's Virgin of the Lilies above is in contrast to his rather more traditional Annunciation.  Other than the weirdly purple shrubbery, the glowing angel-cloud that has appeared to a jolly looking Mary is rather sweet looking and not at all creepy.  It's another painting where Mary seems to be a flower in the garden, a lavender lily in the mauve garden.

Virgin of the Lilies (1912)
He was obviously partial to a tall lily, was Mr Schwabe, especially when it came to the Virgin Mary.  There is a sense that Mary has become a woman spontaneously from one of those tall stems, like a reverse of the myth where the gods turn a woman into a plant, a sunflower or a laurel.  Here we have a pure white lily made flesh, the only thing pure enough to give birth to the magical baby who will save us all.  Schwabe envisioned her in a landscape of night, a dense mauve garden and a sprawling landscape of fresh green fields, with the host of lily-angels flanking her.  For the Symbolist artist, Mary and Jesus exist as part of a garden, among and almost imprisoned by a forest of lilies, their purity keeping them apart from the world.  Schwabe sees his Virgin as resplendent but distant from us.  She might have our saviour in her arms but she has to get past the lilies first...

See you tomorrow...

Thursday, 15 December 2016

Thursday 15th December - The Soul of the Forest

One more working day before I break up for Christmas and I can't wait.  I was in a major supermarket at some unlikely time this morning (I have to get to work by 6.30am) and had the pleasure of hearing one of the employees respond rather too honestly to one of the songs playing on the tannoy. "Step into Christmas, the admission's free!" sang Elton John.  "No it isn't," replied the most honest employee ever, in a tone that I think we all have at the end of our Christmas shopping.  On that note, on with Angelvent...

The Soul of the Forest (1898) Edgar Maxence
Say hello to my new favourite artist (well, certainly for today), Edgar Maxence (1871-1954), a French Symbolist who studied at the École des Beaux-Arts under Elie Delauney and Gustave Moreau.  When I first saw this image I didn't notice they were angels because of the amazing multi-coloured wings, but the halo and the incense make this an unusual and very beautiful religious painting.

Serenity (1912)
Many of his works tend to deal with spirituality and belief, like our praying girl in medieval dress.  It does become a little bit cliched to have the ice-white pure maiden in the freezing cold Middle Ages, however Maxence delivers it with such skill that I forgive him.  Also, he's responsible for the following stunner, which makes him rather brilliant in my book...

The Woman of Lorchidee
Look at her with her fag on.  She's no angel but I love how louche she appears to be.  Marvellous.  Mind you, this is Angelvent not Louchevent so I best get on...

A Woman
There is a bit of a blurry line in Maxence's work between women, angels and more folklore inspired fairies or sprites.  I think that the white in the above picture are dragonfly wings, but she holds her hands in a holy manner, crossed like an angel in a school nativity.  Going back to our original image of the forest angels, no angel I have come across so far has wings like a parrot, but that doesn't mean they aren't angels.

The Ethereal or The Divine Head
Edgar Maxence was a man who was obviously comfortable with religious iconography.  He painted the choir vaulted ceiling in Basilica of the Rosary at Lourdes and illustrated a book by the Bishop of Nantes on Joan of Arc. He also had no problem in combining aspects of folklore into his religious mix, hence exotic winged creatures treasure the soul of the forest and women with horns are mischievous fauns.

Faunesse (1907)
For many people it seems religion is very excluding and rigid.  It would appear nonsense to believe someone can have parrot angels and fauns and be a catholic.  Obviously Mr Maxence found a way and that's marvellous. Angels with parrot wings are the way of the future if you ask me, it would certainly liven up the school nativity.  Also, I'm guessing they are a bit more forgiving of the dirt than your traditional white plumage.  Not that you have any business getting grubby wings if you are an angel. If you are up for mischief, may I suggest you go with the horns instead...

See you tomorrow...

Friday, 29 July 2016

Review and Q&A: The Strange Case of Madeleine Seguin

I do so love to make new friends, especially writing friends with splendid books, and so was delighted to make the acquaintance of William Rose, author of the recently published The Strange Case of Madeleine Seguin. 


The Strange Case of Madeleine Seguin centres on 1880s Paris and the growing interesting in science and its shady sister, magic. In the Salpêtrière Hospital, a mysterious patient Madeleine Seguin attracts a fair amount of interest, not only because she is attractive but also because her hysteria provides an exciting part of Professor Charcot's lectures.  Madeleine proves a draw to everyone who meets her, from the doctors and fellow patients, to benefactors, priests and the young men from the growing Symbolist movement. One artist, Louis Martens, has a particular attachment to Madeleine and is encouraged in his companionship of the strange young woman, but there are far darker forces at work...

Images of a woman under Dr Charcott's use of hypnotism against hysteria (1878)
Written in letters and case notes, The Strange Case of Madeleine Seguin is just the sort of novel I love.  I have a weakness for epistolary novels and found myself galloping from one letter to the next, wanting to know the fate of the characters, to see if good would conquer evil.  The setting of 1880s Paris is wonderfully conjured and I ended up wanting to know more about the Salpêtrière Hospital and its work, not to mention the many real people mentioned in the novel.  I also found that it is not safe to Google 'Félicien Rops' at work...

Pornocrates (1878) Felcien Rops
I thoroughly recommend The Strange Case of Madeleine Seguin for your summer reading.  It's exciting, fascinating and a wonderful evocation of the edges of the fin de siècle. People hover between madness and sanity, monkeys lurk in darkened rooms and the devil is waiting for you.  What more do you want from a novel?

After reading The Strange Case of Madeline Seguin, I had a few questions for William...

Q. What attracted you to 1880s Paris as a subject?

All the ingredients were there in Paris in the 1880s. I wanted to write about Symbolist artists and it was a centre for them. They were painting the ideas and imagery of dreams and the imagination. And Professor Jean-Martin Charcot was the 'Napoleon' of the huge Salpêtrière Hospital with its hundreds of (mainly) women suffering from 'hysteria'; a malady which in its own strange way also evokes dreams and the imagination. And Charcot was utilising the hypnotic trance in his treatment of these patients. The beginnings of the explorations into the unconscious mind were there and even, following his destiny, a young Freud, studying under Charcot. And the third ingredient, with a connection to the first two - there was a revival of occult practices at this time, in Paris as well as elsewhere. This brought the danger element into the story.

Q. The blend of real and fictional people in your novel works so well and had me reaching for Google to find out more about people. How did you choose who to include?

Jean-Martin Charcot
Charcot was a must as I was writing about hysteria and hypnotism. His work at the Salpêtrière Hospital was where it happened. And anyway, he is a fascinating charismatic character. He had enemies among his rivals in the scientific community, but also he was adored by many of his students. Freud named one of his children after him. People flocked to his public lectures which could take in up to 400 people. And there he would describe the treatment of his patients along with 'live' demonstrations with hypnotism. And of course Madeleine is one of those. It was all grand theatre.

Felicien Rops is the main Symbolist artist in the story who actually existed. He easily lent himself to the narrative (thank you Felicien) as he was a larger than life character who increasingly utilised the occult for his subject matter. Very dark stuff. He was also a great charmer, a man who could retain masses of information and use it in conversation, and he was also known to be very effective in his erotic interactions with women.

I wanted Huysmans, Mallarmé, Jean Moréas and the Sâr Péladan in as they were important Symbolist literary figures of the time, and because they were personalities. But particularly I wanted to use them to really try to give a sense of the Symbolist culture and its origins.

The Maharajah, Jaswant Singh 11, certainly existed and in ways fitted, and the dates all match, but I had to allow my imagination much more leeway with that one.

Q. There is a lot of art in your novel, not just from the up-coming Symbolists but stretching back in time to other periods such as Rococo. For me, this reflected how the past can influence the mood of the present. How much does the art reflect the story of the book?

Bringing in art previous to the Symbolists was to allow for a greater range of imagery and not to get too exclusively focused on Symbolism. And I enjoy writing about artworks, so there is something of an indulgence in it. So they are all works described and artists that I like. I did also feel that the Parisian, ornate residence of the Countess ought to have the benefit of a beautiful and seductive Fragonard painting! And I managed to make reference to one of Rossetti's. Had to do that, because I like his work so much! But as to reflecting the story, it is art contemporary to that time in Paris, particularly the Symbolist, that does that, though the imagery of Gérôme's 'Academic' painting of 'Phryme' also has a special significance.

Phryne before the Areopagus (1861) Jean-Léon Gérôme
Q.  I am a big fan of Samuel Richardson, so I loved the fact that your novel is a collect of letters, but how did you come to choose a epistolary novel?

One of the aims of the narrative was to have a collection of documents: letters and case reports, concerning Madeleine, the central character. The fact that they exist is in itself part of the story. So in that sense it had to be epistolary. But that felt comfortable anyway and I enjoyed writing it in that style. I have had in mind Richardson, and also Bram Stoker's great novel 'Dracula', which is written in that style, and also 'The Woman in White' by Wilkie Collins, which I read for the first time quite recently and couldn't put down.

Q. What are you writing next?

Well, the next one is gradually progressing, but in early stages. I have become very interested in the nuns of the Carmelite contemplative order. It is I believe, the most closed and austere of them all. And the idea of those vows for life! So what happens when such a nun finds herself dreaming of Cupid? When the pagan mythology creeps into her night and her day dreams. And there can be a way (I think) of making reference in the narrative to the paintings that have depicted such scenes.
I can hear Pan rushing through the undergrowth!

A Clinical Lesson at the Salpetriere (1887) Pierre Andre Brouillet
The Strange Case of Madeleine Seguin is available from Amazon UK (here) and USA (here) and from all good book shops.