|
 |
David O'Brien
After the Revolution: Antoine-Jean Gros, Painting and Propaganda. 1
vol.
University Park: Pennsylvania State Press, 2006. Co-published by Gallimard.
344 pp. 157 ill.
Cloth: $65.00
ISBN 0-271-02305-8. |
 |
| |
|
| |
An individual's position within any organization
is a delicate balancing act between personal commitments and institutional
demands. Put another way, this relationship involves a careful negotiation
between the private self and the public sphere. For historians of art, authoritarian
political regimes compound exponentially the ordinary difficulty of evaluating
the presence of an artist's own convictions in art produced for the government.
Given the repressive nature of such regimes, the public message required
of official art could entirely eclipse privately held views or agendas.
As a result, the project of excavating individual response or participation
from beneath many layers of propaganda may seem impossible. In his important
new book, David O'Brien challenges this assumption. Examining the work of
Antoine-Jean Gros, chief painter for the Napoleonic Empire, O'Brien seeks
to integrate the histories of individual and institution, private and public.
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
A systematic
consideration of Gros's work is long overdue, and O'Brien's study significantly
rectifies this lacuna in art historical scholarship. Generously illustrated,
O'Brien's book brings little-known paintings of the Napoleonic regime back
into the public eye along with more familiar works like Bonaparte Visiting
the Plague-Stricken in Jaffa (1804) and Napoleon Visiting the Battlefield
of Eylau the Morning After the Battle (1808). Although several of the
paintings discussed here have already received individual attention in the
context of other studies (notably The Battle of Nazareth (1801),
Jaffa and Eylau), they have not been considered together as
related elements within Gros's œuvre.1 O'Brien reunites
these works along with a host of others produced by Gros during the Napoleonic
era as well as before and (briefly) after. Throughout his study, the author
places Gros's work in the context of that of his colleagues and rivals,
paying particular attention to paintings by Jacques-Louis David, Anne-Louis
Girodet, and Philippe-Auguste Hennequin. This timely reconsideration of
Gros's œuvre coincides with renewed interest in art of the Napoleonic
era, as evidenced by recent books by Philippe Bordes, Darcy Grimaldo Grigsby,
Todd Porterfield, and Susan Siegfried, as well as two major exhibitions,
one providing a long-desired retrospective of Girodet's work and another
focusing on David's later years.2 |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
O'Brien begins with a discussion of Gros's
artistic education and early years in Italy, a period that encompasses the
artist's fateful and definitive encounter with Napoleon Bonaparte. The next
four chapters, the heart of the book, examine Gros's major Napoleonic commissions
as both products of and evidence for the shifting relationships between
the government, the public, and the artists who acted as intermediaries
while simultaneously attempting to pursue their own aesthetic agendas. O'Brien
first addresses Gros's return to France and his triumph in the competition
to paint The Battle of Nazareth. As the author persuasively demonstrates,
this painting's technical audacity and visual interest, sustained by a group
of violent but lively anecdotal passages, demonstrated Gros's skill at reinventing
the staid genre of battle painting, and gave great promise of his ability
to uphold the beleaguered tradition of history painting while invigorating
it through aesthetic innovation. Gros's early achievements crystallized
in Bonaparte Visiting the Plague-Stricken in Jaffa, which O'Brien
examines in the following chapter. A tremendous popular and political success,
Jaffa acted as a major turning point for the use of art as propaganda
with its canny manipulation of French suffering to project Bonaparte as
a compassionate leader. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
Despite the sophistication of Jaffa,
painting as propaganda still faced great challenges. In chapter four, O'Brien
explores this theme in his analysis of a broad range of paintings produced
for the Napoleonic administration, including works by David, Girodet, and
Hennequin. One of the most persistent problems facing propagandistic painting
was the need to maintain the viewer's interest while carefully controlling
public response to the never-ending warfare under the Empire. If Jaffa
was a successful example, other paintings, both by Gros and by his contemporaries,
had greater difficulty in achieving this fine balance. Chapter five treats
Gros's last great success in this arena, Napoleon Visiting the Battlefield
of Eylau. After this final hurrah, his official paintings grew increasingly
wooden. The sixth and final chapter covers the artist's return to a rigorous,
purified classicism in the twenty-year period after Napoleon's abdication.
Here, the author examines Gros's remorse for his earlier aesthetic bravado
and his unwished-for influence on the three main avant-garde painters of
the Restoration, Théodore Géricault, Horace Vernet and Eugène
Delacroix. Throughout his narrative of the artist's career, O'Brien considers
the transformations of history painting, government art institutions, and
art criticism from the Ancien Régime to the Restoration. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
One of the great strengths of O'Brien's
study is the way he constantly links key moments in Gros's career to developments
within the institutional and cultural spheres in which he traveled. When
discussing Gros's fusion of aesthetic brilliance and brazen propaganda in
Jaffa, for example, O'Brien interweaves an account of the influence
of arts minister Dominique Vivant Denon both on that particular commission
and on the administration of the arts circa 1804. Among his other achievements,
Vivant Denon suavely transformed democratic practices of the Revolution,
such as the concours (state-sponsored painting contests) into additional
outlets of governmental control over artistic subject matter. Later, while
crafting the terms of the competition to paint Eylau, Vivant Denon
looked back to Jaffa for inspiration (as Gros himself did). Confronted
with a shocking number of casualties for an uncertain outcome, Vivant Denon
hoped to contain public outrage over the battle at Eylau by repeating the
success of Jaffa. Just as he had done in that earlier painting with
a similarly controversial theme, Gros skillfully used a partial acknowledgment
of French suffering, offered as a sop to public opinion, to glorify Bonaparte's
courageous and compassionate leadership. O'Brien's strategy of bringing
the individual and the institutional together is particularly useful because
the most important, and best known, paintings of Gros's career are precisely
those which he produced for the government, which in turn aimed to use these
images to shape public response to Napoleon and his wars. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
O'Brien's commendable attempt to balance
private biographical concerns with public political and historical developments
is largely successful. The author makes particularly effective use of letters
from Gros and, later David, in the first and last chapters of the book.
This correspondence adds a lively, engaging quality to chapters that are
more personal in tone than the central chapters that they frame. Here, O'Brien
gives us a glimpse of the stakes that art-making held for Gros, of his naiveté
in regard to David, and of his crushing disappointment when his later works
were critical failures. Because O'Brien deftly weaves this more intimate
perspective on the artist into the institutional and cultural histories,
his use of biography is both persuasive and enlightening in these bookend
chapters. The presence of Gros's own voice hereand the liveliness
of O'Brien's handling of this materialcalls attention to its absence
in the four interior chapters of the study. Because of the mysterious disappearance
of most of Gros's correspondence, this lacuna is unavoidable to a certain
extent, but it creates problems that reveal the difficulties of reconciling
that which is hidden and private with that which is public. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
One repercussion is that the reader has
little sense of Gros's personal engagement with the paintings in question.
O'Brien relies on letters written while Gros was in Italy to suggest that
the artist ardently supported Napoleon later on, but an expanded discussion
of this issue would have been desirable. To get a broader sense of Gros's
views, O'Brien quite naturally looks at the paintings themselves as evidence,
but this presents its own problems. For example, the presence of multiple
vignettes of graphic violence in Nazareth, repeated in The Battle
of Aboukir (1806), leads O'Brien to speak of Gros's compulsive attraction
to such subject matter (pp. 68, 138). This interesting and provocative claim
merits further exploration of corroborating material. In the case of an
artist like Géricault, whose obsession with morbid themes has left
ample evidence in his drawings and cadaver studies, as well as records of
visits to the morgue, it has been persuasive to speak of such an attraction
and fruitful to examine it. If similar evidence exists in Gros's case, O'Brien
does not bring it forth. In a similar vein, O'Brien interprets the vibrant
facture of Nazareth as evidence of the artist's pent-up, almost
erotic desire to make history painting (p. 68). The notion that brushstroke
provides an index of feeling is a canard. Even the wildest of paint marks
reveals little about the degree of control used to apply them. As Baudelaire
famously said of one of Gros's aesthetic heirs, "Delacroix was passionately
in love with passion, and coldly determined to seek the means of expressing
it in the most visible way."3 Rather than hinting at his
mental state, Gros's style of painting reveals more about his move away
from traditional Davidian high finish, and suggests the usefulness of exploring
his position on the relationship between form and content. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
O'Brien's treatment of the fate of history
painting, that most public of genres, is another high point of his study.
During the Revolution, this high-minded, intellectually complex painting
suffered severe setbacks, chiefly due to lack of funding and a rapidly shifting
political landscape. At the same time, O'Brien points out, the role of public
opinion became an important symbol of the new transparency and democratic
process desired by the Revolutionary "Republic of the Arts." While
the Imperial arts administration had little use for either democratic procedures
or history painting, the manipulation of public opinion was absolutely crucial
to its propaganda program. If the government ignored traditional history
painting, it embraced the genre's newer interest in contemporary events.
Because it best served the Empire's political aims, Vivant Denon and Napoleon
resurrected the battle painting, a fairly obscure and almost defunct form
of history painting. With no other avenues of large-scale painting open
to him, the ambitious young Gros seized on this rickety old genre, eschewing
its outdated formats and injecting it with new life. In so doing, O'Brien
implies, he temporarily halted history painting's demise. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
The author's examination of the Empire's
patronage of history painting contributes greatly to our understanding of
art during the Napoleonic era. In considering the role of public opinion
in this development, however, O'Brien overlooks the influence of the genre
historique, the popular new hybrid of genre and history painting. In
discussing a certain lifeless quality in some of the Imperial paintings,
for example, O'Brien proposes that artists compensated for the dullness
of the subject matter by including a proliferation of lavish details of
costume and setting. This claim surfaces most notably in chapter four, particularly
in his analyses of government commissions from Pierre-Narcisse Guérin,
François Gérard, and David (pp. 134, 148). But even the most
visually exciting and thematically engaging paintings, like Gros's Battle
of Aboukir or Girodet's Revolt of Cairo (1810), share this very
same fascination with the small stuff of costume and setting. Because this
passion for the anecdotal is found in official paintings with a wide range
of themes, it is clearly not just a compensatory device for boring subject
matter, as O'Brien suggests. Instead, this enthusiasm for descriptive detail
reveals the rising influence of the genre historique. O'Brien implicitly
acknowledges this influence towards the end of his study (pp. 169, 238),
but he would have been better served had he addressed it earlier. To take
one example, Gros frequently attended to the plight of the ordinary soldier
in paintings otherwise devoted to Napoleon, the exalted leader. Understood
in the light of the genre historique, this device reveals itself
not just as an acknowledgment of the tolls of warfare, as O'Brien rightly
argues, but also as an emotional point of entry for the publican encouragement
of empathetic identification like that favored by the genre historique.
Because it sought to trigger viewers' emotional responses to historical
events, the genre historique occupies an important position in the
development of the shifting relationship between private and public that
interests O'Brien in this study. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
With its clever blend of a biography-inspired
monograph and an issues-driven analysis of paintings and art institutions,
O'Brien's ambitious book makes a significant contribution to the understanding
of nineteenth-century painting. The author makes a persuasive case for the
importance of Gros's role both within the Napoleonic regime and beyond,
particularly in his capacity as reluctant role model. In addition to bringing
welcome scrutiny to one of the nineteenth century's most influential artists,
O'Brien creates a vivid picture of government patronage under the Empire
and a compelling case study of the use of art as propaganda. With its broad-ranging
areas of interest, his book also opens up new avenues of exploration for
scholars of this period. Perhaps most satisfyingly, O'Brien's study fruitfully
revisits the persistent problem of the boundaries between private and public
spheres. |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
Jennifer Olmsted
Wayne State University |
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
1. include Christopher Prendergast on Eylau in Napoleon and
History Painting: Antoine-Jean Gros's La Bataille d'Eylau, (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1997); Todd Porterfield on Nazareth and Jaffa
in The Allure of Empire: Art in the Service of French Imperialism,
1798-1836 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998); and Darcy
Grimaldo Grigsby on Jaffa in Extremities: Painting Empire in
Post-Revolutionary France (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002).
2. See Philippe Bordes, Jacques-Louis David: Empire to Exile (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2005); Grimaldo Grigsby, Extremities;
and Todd Porterfield and Susan L. Siegfried, Staging Empire: Napoleon,
Ingres, and David (University Park: Pennsylvania State Press, 2006).
The exhibitions in question were Girodet, 1767-1824 (Paris: Musée
du Louvre, 2005) and Jacques-Louis David: Empire to Exile (Williamstown:
Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, 2005). The former included
a catalogue with many essays: Girodet, 1767-1824, ed. by Sylvain
Bellenger (Paris: Gallimard, 2005).
3. Charles Baudelaire, "The Life and Work of Eugène Delacroix,"
1863, trans. by Jonathan Mayne, in The Painter of Modern Life and Other
Essays (New York: Phaidon, 1964), 45.
|
|
| |
|
© 20078 Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide
and Jennifer Olmsted. All Rights Reserved. |
|