Museum Assistant Celine Krempp, during her detail in the Library and Archives, explored the relationships between the Impressionists via art critic Thadeus Natanson’s book.

There is a lot about the Impressionists that we already know. We know the time period during which they worked. We know their styles, their inspirations, and their legacies, etc. We also know that the Impressionists knew one another. But one question is, how much do we know about the Impressionists’ relationships with one another?

While participating in the Museum Assistant Detail program at The Phillips Collection’s Library & Archives, one of my tasks is translating texts from French to English for the Bonnard’s Worlds exhibition (opening March 2). Another task is to reorganize the bookshelves. As I shelved books related to Bonnard, I stumbled upon a book written by Thadeus Natanson. The name rang a bell because I remembered it from a Bonnard article I translated earlier. Natanson published this book, The Bonnard I Propose, on June 1, 1951, a couple months before his death. Thadeus Natanson was a Polish-born French art critic and collector, and Bonnard was one of the many artists he worked with. I didn’t have to translate this specific book, but how could I resist?

The first chapters discussed how Natanson was exposed to Bonnard’s work and other artists he knew. The information seemed like typical hearsay and maybe even gossip, e.g., “I knew this guy who knew this guy.” I’m a good note-taker, but I’m a terrible memorizer. Sketching out a “relationship chart,” doodling the mentioned artists and the critic, and creating a table to distinguish the relationships really started to help me understand the relationships between the artists. It also helped me make decisions about how I wanted to write this blog.

Impressionist Relationship Chart

“[Renoir and Monet] talked about Cezanne with admiration.” (page 11)

A red line with hearts was drawn to refer to “X admires Y.” And after looking at the painting styles of the three artists next to one another, it makes sense. Renoir and Monet might have admired Cezanne for his portrayal of landscapes rich in colors, leading them to apply such palettes for their art. Granted, Renoir and Monet certainly had different art styles and themes, but it’s clear that they were both fans of Cezanne.

Renoir-Monet-Cezanne relationship

“[Renoir and Monet talked] about Morisot with a respect nuanced in tenderness.” (page 11)

There is a pink line with smiling faces pointing from the two male artists to the one female artist in my chart. That detail is vague because the information that I have to work with is vague. It is easy to speculate about what this relationship was like. It is possible that Renoir and Monet respected Morisot as an artist. Their styles in painting women seem similar. Maybe the guys viewed her as a sister? But then again, what do we really know? This was from a time period where the most recognized and celebrated artists were usually older white men.

I created a zig-zagged orange line to refer to one artist disliking another, but at the same time I created green wavy arrows to refer to “pity” after I read Natanson’s comments that Renoir disliked Degas, Monet disliked Manet, and Bonnard disliked Toulouse-Lautrec.

“Monet almost spoke about Edouard Manet with pity, and Renoir spoke less about Degas’ painting and more about how the man annoyed him.” (page 11)

Can I blame Monet? Not really. I’m a fan of Manet’s Olympia (1863) and the two artists would potentially be in competition with one another, especially because their names are only different by one vowel. Maybe the fact that Manet was eight years his senior annoyed Monet. Perhaps Monet “pitied” Manet because the latter’s work focused on Realism as well as Impressionism. Maybe it was the stark contrast of their paintings’ themes: Monet’s landscapes vs. Manet’s people.

Monet-Manet relationship

As for Renoir, obviously he didn’t like Degas’s personality for whatever reason. It could have been because Renoir liked to paint social excursions while Degas primarily painted private ballet classes.

“Even from the museum where he contemplated […] a Lautrec, [Bonnard] quickly becomes tired and goes for the door.” (page 18)

Bonnard and Toulouse-Lautrec were both artists for the French magazine La Revue Blanche (The White Magazine), so maybe Bonnard was bored of seeing Lautrec’s work in galleries after seeing it already at work. Perhaps it was about the differences in how they painted nude women! Bonnard always painted naked women in some sort of intimate privacy (he especially liked bathrooms because mirrors and windows are both gateways to reality). Lautrec, well, “Lady Marmalade,” anyone?

“After dazzling us, [Toulouse-Lautrec] left us too soon and [Natanson] had to spend many years thinking about him alone.” (page 12)

A grey line and sobbing face to refer to “X mourning Y.” This is to represent how upset Natanson was when Toulouse-Lautrec died. Toulouse-Lautrec is more of a Post-Impressionist, but he might as well have been a king during the Belle Epoque. The arts gained more recognition and Bohemianism was a trendy way to live. Either Natanson was a fan of Toulouse-Lautrec’s works for the Moulin Rouge or the two got drunk together on absinthe and brothels.

“Vuillard, a friend and comrade of Bonnard.” (page 12)

I drew a line connecting two smiley faces to demonstrate the friendship between Vuillard and Bonnard. The two artists had similar art styles and shared taste. Natanson discusses the trust and easy communication between the two; they would react to each other’s uses of art supplies with delight and passion. Vuillard seems to have been an extroverted fiery redhead and Bonnard was a buck-toothed introvert who read a lot but talked much less.

“The two young painters are eager to show each other everything they do and Vuillard, who is the most enthusiastic, would happily agree to never have another judge… Vuillard, who knows his friend to be suspicious, sometimes refrains from uttering a cry in front of a canvas that Bonnard unrolls before fixing it. Bonnard, in the presence of the cardboard backgrounds that Vuillard has covered, flees, in an attempt at a joke, the trouble, which he avoids, of saying everything he thinks about it. But eyes, even lips, lie much less than words. The two friends look at each other and feel happy.” (pages 26-27)

Bonnard-Vuillard relationship

“For the first Vuillard paintings that I saw and Bonnard’s first small panels, to this day I feel the shock of love at first sight which shook me.” (page 13)

You might notice that there is one unique line that is the only one on the chart. It almost looks like a purple road junction and there are smiley faces with heart eyes. This is to illustrate how Natanson describes the way that seeing Vuillard and Bonnard’s artworks for the first time affected him. He felt the spark that makes the critic decide to support and collect an artist’s portfolio. In a weird way, it’s like the artists are getting the golden buzzer on America’s Got Talent.

Natanson’s relationship with Bonnard and Vuillard’s art

“[Natanson] took an even greater liking to Goya.” (page 17)

“[Bonnard] watched, not without astonishment, the speeches of Paul Serusier or Maurice Denis unfold and took rather precarious support from the silence of Vuillard which he generally felt with him.” (page 20)

I drew an uncertain blue line for “X liking Y’s work.” The second chapter emphasizes Natanson’s interest in Goya’s work but still remains vague about whether or not Bonnard liked Serusier and Denis’s artworks.

CONCLUSION

When you read a 20th-century art critic’s perspective on the artists of his time, it brings up a lot to think about. These geniuses whose works have inspired us and their stories told every year had interactions and thoughts of one another. Maybe the new reveals and still-vague details will make us think more: “How do I see this artist’s work now that I know?” If one man’s perspective on their relationships can give us new lens, will it convince us to explore artists’ relationships in general and how it could have affected their careers/art? This makes me consider researching more about women artists like Morisot to understand how those relationships impacted their careers. Does knowing about the artists’ relationships change the way you see the art? Are you curious about relationships between other artists? We discovered the Impressionists in this blog, so which ones might be next?

The Phillips Collection Fellow Arianna Adade on how the women artists featured in African Modernism in America, 1947-67 (on view through January 7, 2024) challenged depictions of womanhood.

Afi Ekong, Olumo Rock, 1960, Oil on canvas, and Manyolo Estella Betty, Cattle People, 1961, Acrylic on canvas

The depiction of African women in art has continually been valuable as well as fascinating. Throughout history, African art has captured the essence of women in a variety of mediums and environments in a way that the Western art world has often neglected. As more women started to become recognized as artists, the depiction of womanhood transformed through the progression of the modern art movements. These representations, whether traditional or modern, illustrate women in a multitude of positions, from nurturing mothers and wives to fierce warriors, leading the fight against Western colonization. Through art, women have illuminated a modern form of feminism that moves beyond the narrow Western narrative of womanhood. Instead, it investigates the fundamental functions women play in societal aspects such as politics, race, religion, and more.

The exhibition African Modernism in America, 1947-67 features nine women: Miranda Burney-Nicol, Ndidi Dike, Afi Ekong, Manyolo Estella Betty, Ladi Kwali, Grace Salome Kwami, Suzanna Ogunjami, Etso Clara Ugbodaga-Ngu, and Viola Mariethia Wood. Each woman has made vital contributions to African modern art.

Women expanded the subjects in art. With more representation of African women artists, they pushed past the matriarchal depictions of women to highlight the diverse contributions they hold in African societies and the messages they tell with it.

One example of this is Miranda Burney-Nicol’s The Conquering Hero. Carved into a Quaric writing board, the art portrays the horse and rider motif, visual iconography recognized in both African and Western traditions. She brings forth the connection of the past and present through wood carving, a traditional art form prevalent in Africa. As a symbol of the West African empires that once flourished before colonization, the horse is seen as a status of the wealth and power in the region’s history. Burney-Nicol’s use of the prayer board as a medium also shows the importance of religion in certain tribes and cultures.

Miranda Burney-Nicol (Olayinka) (1927-1996, Sierra Leone), The Conquering Hero, 1972, Incised Muslim prayer board, 21 x 9 x 3/4 in., Collection of The Newark Museum of Art, The Simon Ottenberg Collection, gift to The Newark Museum of Art, 2020, 2020.4.4

Even though portraiture was a widely explored expression of art in the Western world, African women artists specializing in portraiture used this art style as a way to capture the life and identity of the seemingly ordinary African woman. The historical components are interlaced with the fashion and beauty of their time. African modernist artists used portraiture as a way to connect and convey the cultural, social, and political stories of the continent that were typically ignored in the art world.

Suzanna Ogunjami’s A Nupe Princess depicts an older woman who is a royal member of the Nupe kingdom, an ethnic group in central Nigeria. Wearing a red, green, and black necklace, the woman illustrates the colors of pan-Africanism. This not only acts as a reflection of her Igbo-Jamaican identity but also as Ogunjami’s efforts to preserve West African artistic traditions.

Suzanna Ogunjami (c. 1885-1952, Igbo), A Nupe Princess, 1934, Oil on canvas; Framed: 21 1/2 x 17 1/2 x 2 1/8 in.; Fisk University Galleries, Fisk University, Nashville, TN, Gift of the Harmon Foundation

Grace Salome Kwami’s A Girl in Red (Portrait of Gladys Ankora) is also an exploration of portraiture in modern African art. Gladys Ankora, a woman who worked in Kwami’s sister’s household, serves as a representation of Ghanaian women and identity in art. With no African art history courses being taught in Ghana to rely on, Kwami produced her own idea of realism. Although seemingly simple, Kwami produces a warm red and brown palette paired with patterned clothing and a headscarf—often referred to as “kente” depending on the fabric and pattern; clothing is seen as an integral part of individual expression in Ghana. Subtly woven into her subject, Kwami showcases delicate touches of gold jewelry, highlighting a significant aspect of the country’s rich history, known for its abundance of gold.

Grace Salome Kwami (1923-2006, Ghana), A Girl in Red (Portrait of Gladys Ankora), 1954, Oil on linen on canvas, 29 15/16 x 22 in., Courtesy of Atta and Pamela Kwami

Today, as the fight for women’s voices continues to expand, artists use their practice as a way to challenge gender-based oppression. The systemic barriers that women have faced that have limited their artistic expression are prevalent when looking through the history of art; however, the strides women have made continue to flourish, opening doors for the voices and sociopolitical issues to be amplified.

Ndidi Dike’s collage-based work The Politics of Selection delves into the intricate relationships between identity and politics. By incorporating women of the Diaspora who contributed to African modernism in art, she exposes the marginalization and silencing of women throughout history. She particularly focuses on archives of Nigerian artists such as Afi Ekong, Etso Clara Ugbodaga-Ngu, and Ladi Kwali. In her muted-color collages, she depicts women artists being physically overshadowed and concealed by their male counterparts. The mixed media collection serves as artistic documentation of the absence of women in the arts—particularly Black women—and the political elements surrounding the issue.

Ndidi Dike (b. United Kingdom; active Nigeria), The Politics of Selection, 2022, Photocollage printed on transparency, earthenware vessel, earth, book, paper, 48 1/8 x 72 1/2 in., Courtesy of the artist

Phillips Educator Carla Freyvogel dives into John Biggers’s painting, on view in African Modernism in America, 1947-67 through January 7, 2024, and connects it to another work in the collection.

The delight and complexity of John Biggers’s Kumasi Market does not slam upon us at first glance. Rather, it unfolds.

John Biggers, Kumasi Market, 1962, Oil on acrylic on Masonite board, 34 x 60 in., Collection of William O. Perkins III © John T. Biggers Estate / Licensed by VAGA at Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, NY / Estate Represented by Michael Rosenfeld Gallery, Courtesy Swann Auction Galleries and American Federation of Arts

Standing at a polite distance, we are met with shades of brown, copper, gray, muted gold, and a few high points of white. But as we approach, multiple shades of blue, ebony, terra cotta, and brilliant yellow emerge along with a hubbub of industrious characters. That is where the delight comes in. Who are all these people? Oh! Some small children! A baby! A plethora of women, strong and busy.

Visitors to African Modernism in America, 1947-67 are intrigued by this painting. I ask them to extend their arms out to each side as far as they can. Yes, your wingspan is no match for the width of this work of art. It is huge. There is much to see.

Installation view of African Modernism in America, 1947-67

How do we absorb a painting as large as this, so full of activity and characters? Biggers helps us: our eyes can hop through the painting by taking in the yellow hats and the brilliant play of sunlight as it catches the weave of the straw. Light bounces off shiny exposed arms and foreheads.

Although the painting is seemingly crammed with a crush of people, consumed with work in their own worlds, Biggers focuses our eyes by containing the scene within the architecture of the market’s warehouses. The wooden beams of the central building’s roofline connect somewhere out of the image, drawing our eyes upward. But Biggers also returns our focus to the foreground, middle-ground, and background by using the linear perspective formed by the adjacent warehouses.

Interestingly, smack in the middle of the foreground, sits an elegant figure, a long-limbed woman, languid and serene. Deep in thought, her chin is absent-mindedly dropped onto the back of her hand. She provides a lovely counterpoint to the busyness surrounding her.

Kumasi Market, painted in 1962, was a vibrant memory of Biggers’s visit to Ghana in the year of is independence, 1957. The Kumasi Market, sometimes referred to as Kejetia, remains a real destination (if you can’t travel there, you can watch YouTube videos of its liveliness). Home to over 10,000 stalls, the market sells everything from soap to beads, cooked food to fresh produce, hardware and tech goods, glorious fabric that can be turned into a dress by the time the sun goes down . . . you name it! It is a place of intense commerce, starting before dawn, ending at dusk. The Culture Trip website writes, “If you look beyond the crowded nature of things, the cacophony of business interactions, the miscellany of voices and items, the Kejetia experience is that of an interactive civilization and savoir-faire community where you will learn something at the end of the day.”

John Biggers’s artistic vision evokes the rich sensory experience of the market—not just the sights, but the sounds, the smells, the heat on skin. Biggers was drawn to this scene of vibrancy and productivity, perhaps seeing a strength in its existence that echoed Ghana’s recent empowerment. That might have been a connection shared by the former owner of this painting, Maya Angelou.

As I explore this work with our visitors, I am reminded of another work of art, one floor down: Luncheon of the Boating Party by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Once again, a large painting, and one that is crowded with figures.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Luncheon of the Boating Party, 1880-81, Oil on Canvas, 51 ¼ x 69 ¼ in., The Phillips Collection, Acquired 1923

The multitude of straw hats in Luncheon, provide a way for our eyes to move through the painting, as we unconsciously construct series of triangles out of the pops of yellow. The play of light also brings our eyes around the painting, picking up the glint of glass, the impasto of the uneaten bread, the sliver of sail boats in the background. And, the red and white striped awning, added by Renoir in his final stages of painting this large work, contains our eye, much like the architecture in Kumasi Market. Without the awning, our eyes might fly off into the distance.

And while not precisely central, Renoir’s love-interest, Aline Charigot, seems to command center stage with her rosy beauty and her festooned hat. Yet she cares little of us—her complete focus is on her puppy. She tunes out the noisy scene going on behind her, while as viewers, we are curious about her inner thoughts.

On one hand, we have American born and educated Biggers, inspired by the political events of West Africa. On the other, Impressionist Renoir was staying close to his French home with his French friends and yet their social activities were made possible by changes in French society.

These distinct artworks each reflect aspects of the social and political life that influenced the artists’ lives. When examined in relation to each other, John Biggers and Pierre-Auguste Renoir inspire us to consider the similar compositional choices and artistic techniques they each used; choices and techniques that bridge cultures, space, and time.