Exhibition: "Once Upon A Time... Impressionism" at the Musee des Beaux Arts Montreal

This is long overdue, as I have already visited the exhibition twice in the six weeks that it has been in this great city of Montreal. Unlike my past reviews, this is not a formal review but rather my candid thoughts copied straight from my art journal for your reading pleasure.

Once Upon A Time... Impressionism // Great French Paintings from the Clark

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, At the Concert (A Box At the Opera), 1880

29-October 

Where to start after seeing this exhibition... It was a great experience to see the works of famed artists that I have long since admired. I have already seen Monet, Degas, and the likes, at the Metropolitan in New York City. Perhaps that took away from the initial allure of the exhibition in Montreal for me. I believe that it was a lot of the appeal of the exhibition for art appreciators to see "The Impressionists" up close in personal. 



It is always a wonder to gaze upon their paintings. In person, the paint has a shimmer to it. The Impressionists got a lot of bad press over using so much blue, but their exploitation of pink hues was what captured me. The warm, fairy pink clouds against an azure sky in Monet's famous of the series of "Cliffs at Etriat" are unique; dreamlike and beautiful. 

The postcard prints I had so much trouble choosing from don't give these paintings proper credit. Of  his tulip field piece, Monet said his limited palette of oil paint was not good enough to give justice to the colours he saw in that field of flowers. Critics later acclaimed the painting of having the most exquisite vibrant hues.

Claude Monet, Tulip Fields at Sassenheim, near Leiden, 1886

As you can tell, I am a Claude Monet fan all the way. My favourite of the exhibition was one of his earliest paintings: a seascape with a sailboat amidst thrashing waves. Monet was young, perhaps my age, and still struggling to find his own style. These are the pieces I appreciate the most. They capture the artist in his growth, right before the explosive breakthrough that led to his everlasting fame.

We also saw some Manet's and a lot of Renoir's. I was a bit disappointed that there were more portraits than landscapes-- or maybe it seemed that way-- but that is just a matter of personal preference. There was only one ballerina painting by Degas. However, the exhibition did have his ballerina sculpture, one of the only sculptures he bothered to create. 

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Marie Therese Durand Ruel Sewing, 1882

Renoir's portrait of Marie Therese was one of those paintings that I could stand in front of for hours. What makes this piece so amazing? I could write 2500 words about it. The way the red-orange hat catches your eye and draws you in to the painting like a moth to a lamp. The detail and mastery put into the dark leafy background. The way her hair falls effortlessly over the subject's shoulder. The delicate brushstrokes on the cloth she is embroidering. The dance of colour.

The last room of the exhibition confused me. I feel like the final array of portraits were hardly Impressionist at all. The exhibition was titled "A History of Impressionism" but I expected that perhaps it would culminate in introducing the post-Impressionists instead of-- and here is how you know it wasn't absolutely amazing-- a group of paintings by artists I hardly remember. 

I just remember finding a painting entitled "Slave Market" being particularly offensive, which I am sure was the artist's goal, but nonetheless the last thing I would like stuck in my mind after seeing so many breathtaking paintings that evening. 

I always read the passages of text on the walls that set the scene for the works you are about to see. For some reason, I don't remember the history now. The history is my favourite part. Insert sad face here. 

What I do remember is the end, a paragraph that stated how the Impressionists were essentially responsible for the collapse of the Salon, which dictated the art scene at the time, and sparked a rise in the prominence of independent artists and galleries. Art became more available to the emerging middle class, and was no longer reserved for the pretentious and wealthy bourgeoisie. 

That strikes a chord with me, and what I'm trying to do right now. The Impressionists didn't so much inspire me to get home and paint, but rather they gave me hope. Hope that being different may at first get you shunned, put out, ostracized by the critics and the art world. But, it doesn't mean your work is garbage. There will always be appreciators of whatever style you use to define yourself. Being true to yourself, refusing to compromise in order to fit into the mainstream, will always overcome its challenges and came back to reward you.