
Pablo Picasso, “Portrait d’adolescent
en Pierrot,” 1922
COURTESY OF MUSEE DU LUXEMBOURG/© RMN/SUCCESSION PICASSO 2004

Piet Mondrian, “Autoportrait”
1918
COURTESY OF MUSEE DU LUXEMBOURG

Felix Nussbaum, “Autoportrait
avec passport-juif,” 1943
René
COURTESY OF MUSEE DU LUXEMBOURG/ADAGP, PARIS 2004
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About face

Paris’ parade of portraits

by Sandra Kwock-Silve
“Artist as clown” is just one
of many themes explored this month by several Paris exhibitions
dealing with artist’s portraits. The Musée du Luxembourg’s
blockbuster “MOI! Autoprotraits du XXeme Siècle”
highlights over 150 works by prominent figures such as Vuillard,
Degas, Matisse, Picasso, Frida Kahlo, Dubuffet, Miro and Giacometti.
Curated by art historian Pascal Bonafoux, this exhibition is highly
significant as the first major show to ffocus on self-portraiture
as a genre.
A self-portrait is a critical analysis of self that forces one
to ask the essential question “Who am I?”... The “autoportraits”
in this thematic overview answer this question with paint on canvas
and in drawings, bronze or photos, as well as with other unexpected
materials. For instance, in Arman’s an assemblage of strange
objects found in his studio and wastepaper basket placed under
under plexiglass.
Portraits of artists by themselves leave a trace or message for
posterity. Picasso’s early 1901 self-portrait, painted just
after the suicide of his close friend Casagemas, has come to personify
his blue period. Van Gogh’s tormented self-depiction in
the mental asylum are another celebrated example. Francis Bacon
was often asked about his numerous self-“studies,”
as he called them. His pat answer to that was “my friends
are dropping like flies, and there’s no one left to paint
but myself.” However, he had clearly given the subject some
thought for he was also known to speak of Rembrandt’s studies
of himself at different stages of his existence, commenting “Strangely
enough, if you take his last large self-portraits, you notice
that the entire outline of the face changes each time: it’s
a different face, although they all ressemble Rembrandt, these
differences lead you to discover different perceptions of the
same subject.”
A Paris-based American artist confirmed this approach for me.
Over the years portrait artist Kathy Burke has produced over a
hundred self-portraits. This month a small selection of these
will be on view in an open studio show. The following comments
were her response to comments concerning the role of self-portraiture
in her output, over the years: “I learn through self-portraits,”
she explained. “You can do a new self-portrait everyday.
Actually, although you’re always asking the same question
‘Who am I?’ — I’m always surprised to
see what comes out. I paint the face that I normally won’t
allow myself to see: the angry or sad face, the masculin side
of me that includes anti-social aspects of my personality that
I usually hide from society.... In fact, to be perfectly honest,
one usually does self-portraits when they’re in a really
bad state. Think of Van Gogh after he cut-off his ear. I do them
when I can’t face the world, and can’t face myself.”
Such portraits can also involve elements of disguise and masquerade.
A good many works included in the Grand Palais’ present
offering —“La Grande Parade” — are self-portraits
of artists pictured as clowns. Picasso remained fascinated by
the circus after an early love affair with Rosita del Oro, a stunt
rider. He was known to receive guests in a clown's costume. Photo
portraits by Frank Carpa attest to this, and there’s an
entire installation devoted to Pablo Picasso’s depictions
of himself as a clown. Georges Roualt was another artist whose
identification with clowns was deployed in self-portraits. In
a letter to his friend, symbolist writer Edward Schure, he explained
that his interest in the circus grew out of “the contrast
between the brilliant glittering things made to amuse and a [real]
life that is so infinitely sad if we see it from a little way
off... then I extrapolated it all. I saw clearly that the clown
was me, was us, almost all of us.”
Although one imagines the circus and parades to be rather festive,
joyful subject matter, this show creates greater awareness of
the artist’s concern with such subjects, as symbolic of
the increasingly marginal role attributed to himself and his peers
in modern society — a somewhat somber vision suggesting
that they live on the fringe of society like a circus that sets
up its tent in vacant lots outside of town. However, this rich
and satisfying visual feast opens with works by Tiepolo, Goya
and Chardin and highlights circus and parade subjects in art in
chronological order, all the way through the end of the 20th century.
The exhibit includes life-sized flying trapeze artists by George
Segal, sideshow portraits by Diane Arbus and well chosen excerpts
from classic films like Marcel Carne’s “Les Enfants
du Paradis” and Tod Browning’s “Freaks.”
Step right up to see an entertaining show.
The ultimate in contemporary portraiture has to be Pierre Maraval’s
“Style Link” video installation that includes 1 000
photo portraits of personalities belonging to Paris' art world.
Each subject was asked to strike a pose and think of one word
to describe or label their work. These rather conceptual flashing
portraits are projected onto walls, creating an enormous ephemeral
"light piece" in the process. Maraval once worked with
Andy Warhol, who promised that at some point in the future, everyone
will have 15 minutes of fame. Warhol was generous. Pierre Maraval’s
subjects enjoy about 10 seconds of celebrity... but when the medium
is the message, the subject disappears.
MOI! Autoprotraits du XXeme
Siècle to July 25, daily 10am to 7pm, Musée du Luxembourg,
19 rue Vaugirard, 6e, M° St-Sulpice, tel: 01 42 34 25 95,
9E/6E. Self-portraits by Kathy Burke, 5pm to 8pm, Apr 29, 55 rue
Meslay, 3e tel: 01 42 71 11 75. "La Grande Parade,"
to May 31, daily 1-8pm, Grand Palais, 8e, M° Champs-Elysées-Clemenceau,
tel: 01 44 13 17 10, 9E/7E. Style Link, Espace d’Exposition
Mercedez-Benz, 118 av des Champs-Elysées, 8e, free
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