PAINTING  IN  PARIS:  VINCENT  VAN  GOGH,  1886-­‐1888             A  Dissertation   Submitted  to   the  Temple  University  Graduate  Board           In  Partial  Fulfillment   of  the  Requirements  for  the  Degree   DOCTOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY   Art  History           by   Christa  Rose  DiMarco   July  2015             Examining  Committee  Members:     Dr.  Therese  Dolan,  Advisor,  Tyler  School  of  Art,  Art  History  Department   Dr.  Gerald  Silk,  Committee  Chair,  Tyler  School  of  Art,  Art  History         Department   Dr.  Ashley  West,  Tyler  School  of  Art,  Art  History  Department   Dr.  Suzanne  Singletary,  External  Member,  Philadelphia  University       ii                       ©   Copyright   2015     by       ChristaRoseDiMarco All Rights Reserved           iii   ABSTRACT   In  Painting  in  Paris:  Vincent  Van  Gogh,  1886-­‐1888,  Christa  DiMarco  explores   the  two-­‐year  period  Van  Gogh  lived  and  worked  in  Paris.  The  paintings  the  artist   made  in  The  Netherlands,  where  he  lived  prior  to  Paris,  and  those  he  produced  in   Arles,  where  he  moved  afterward,  usually  receive  scholarly  attention.  The  imagery   from   the   artist’s   time   in   the   capital   is   generally   marginalized.   DiMarco   considers   how   and   why   the   artist   used   a   brighter   palette   and   energetic   brushwork   while   painting  in  Paris.  Considering  that  his  artistic  practice  spanned  only  a  decade  from   1880   to   1890,   the   artist’s   time   in   the   capital   represents   a   significant   period   of   growth   in   terms   of   his   engagement   with   the   art   market,   his   exposure   to   avant-­‐ garde  imagery,  and  his  understanding  of  Symbolist  theory   in  the  visual  arts.  Van   Gogh   accomplished   significant   goals   in   Paris,   though   some   of   his   well-­‐developed   imagery   does   not   necessarily   figure   into   discussions   regarding   the   canonical   paintings  of  the  artist’s  body  of  work.  Attention  to  the  Paris-­‐period  not  only  locates   Van  Gogh’s  pictorial  development  within  the  context  of  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐ Impressionists,  but  also  establishes  the  ways  in  which  the  artist  diverged  from  the   artistic   aims   of   the   Parisian   avant-­‐garde,   such   as   Claude   Monet   and   Camille   Pissarro,  as  he  developed  his  Symbolic  approach.               iv                         To  my  niece  Vivian  Rose         v   ACKNOWLEDGMENTS   My  work  on  Vincent  van  Gogh  began  with  my  master’s  thesis  and  grew  into   a  focus  on  the  artist’s  Paris-­‐period  under  the  unwavering  guidance  of  my  advisor,   Professor  Therese  Dolan.  She  first  suggested  I  write  on  Van  Gogh  for  my  thesis  and   patiently   helped   me   craft   a   dissertation.   Her   influence   has   been   a   beacon   of   encouragement  throughout  this  process,  and  I  always  keep  her  example  in  mind  as   I  research,  write,  and  teach.  My  dissertation  committee  members,  Drs.  Gerald  Silk,   Suzanne  Singletary,  and  Ashley  West,  helped  me  understand  the  long-­‐terms  goals   of  my  project.  I  will  keep  their  suggestions  central  as  I  move  into  the  next  phase  of   writing.  I  am  especially  grateful  to  my  committee  for  their  support  during  the  final   phase  of  this  endeavor—they  have  given  me  the  confidence  to  continue.     My  family—Nathan,  Mom,  Raina,  and  Jon—created  the  space  I  needed  to   find  peace  during  my  writing  journey.  They  helped  me  to  stay  focused  and  to  stick   with   it.   I   am   proud   to   be   able   to   celebrate   this   accomplishment   with   them.  The   memory  of  my  Dad’s  and  Mom-­‐Mom’s  voices  encouraged  me  as  I  wrote  each  day.   They  both  were  tenaciously  hard  workers,  an  ethic  they  passed  down  to  me  and   one  that  allowed  me  to  reach  my  goal.     Christy   Blanca   Gonzalez,   Michele   Kishita,   and   Peter   Stambler   read   my   abstracts,  proposals,  chapters,  and  rewrites  and  were  always  available  to  give  kind,   constructive  feedback.     My  friends  understood  my  writing  schedule  and  offered  the  inspiration  only   good  friends  can  give.     vi   My   colleagues   at   the   University   of   the   Arts   welcomed   me   into   the   community  and  gave  me  a  sense  of  belonging.     The  Greenfield  Librarians  at  the  University  of  the  Arts,  Mary  Louise  Castaldi,   Carol  Graney,  and  Sara  MacDonald  provided  me  with  almost  all  of  the  secondary   source  material  I  needed  for  my  work.     I   wrote   the   majority   of   my   dissertation   while   on   a   paid   junior-­‐research   leave,  and  I  could  not  have  completed  my  draft  without  sustained  time  to  consider   and  expand  upon  my  ideas.         vii   TABLE  OF  CONTENTS     Page   ABSTRACT  ..........................................................................................................................  iii   DEDICATION  ......................................................................................................................  iv   ACKNOWLEDGMENTS  ........................................................................................................  v   LIST  OF  FIGURES  ..............................................................................................................  viii     CHAPTER   1. INTRODUCTION  ............................................................................................................  1   2. FROM  THE  ATELIER  TO  THE  AVANT-­‐GARDE  ...............................................................  11   3. NEW  CONSIDERATION  OF  VAN  GOGH’S  PARIS  EXHIBITIONS  .....................................  68   4. AGRICULTURE  AND  INDUSTRY  IN  VAN  GOGH’S  MONTMARTRE  AND   CLICHY  IMAGERY  ......................................................................................................  143   5. SYMBOLISM  IN  PARIS  ...............................................................................................  207   6. CONCLUSION  ............................................................................................................  259     BIBLIOGRAPHY  ................................................................................................................  265   APPENDIX   IMAGES……………………………………………………………………………………………274         viii   LIST  OF  FIGURES     Chapter  2:  From  the  Atelier  to  the  Avant-­‐Garde   Figure   Page   1. The  Discus  Thrower,  February  1886.  Chalk  on  paper,  56.2  x  44.3  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1364e…….…………………………………………..11,  19   2. Female  Standing  Nude  Seen  from  the  Side,  January-­‐February  1886.     Pencil  on  Paper,  50.4  x  39.2  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F1699….11,  19   3. The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82…..…………………………………………………………11   4. Jozef  Israëls,  Peasant  Family  at  the  Table,  1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  71  x  105  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam………………..…………11     5. Standing  Male  and  Seated  Female  Nudes,  March-­‐May  1886.     Chalk  on  paper,  31.4  x  47.5  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1363ar…………………………………………..13,  19,  31     6. Studies  of  a  Seated  Girl,  L’Ecorché  and  Venus,       March-­‐May  1886.  Chalk  on  paper,  47.5  x  62  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1366r………………………………………………...13,  31   7. Torso  of  Venus,  June  1886.  Oil  on  cardboard,  46.4  x  38.1  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  216b…………..………………………..……….13,  19,  30   8. Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  June/July  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  27.5  x  46  cm.     Sterling  and  Francine  Clark  Institute,     Williamstown,  Massachusetts.  F  223…………………………………………………………13,  35   9. Bridges  across  the  Seine  at  Asnières,  1887.    Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  65  cm.     Foundation  E.G.  Bührle  Collection,  Zurich………………………………………..….17,  51,  62   10. Boulevard  de  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  55  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292……………………………………………………………17   11. The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène  at  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  313…………………………………..18   ix   12. The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.   Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  cm  x  36.7  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830……………………………………………….………….23     13. Jean-­‐François  Millet,  The  Sower,  1850.     Oil  on  canvas,  101.6  x  82.6  cm.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston…………………..…….23   14. Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes,  August  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  31.5  x  42.5  cm.  F  97.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands……………………………………………………….23     15. Pietà  (after  Delacroix),  September  1889.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  cm  x  60.5  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  630…….……23     16. View  of  Het  Steen,  December  1885.     Pen  and  ink,  chalk,  pencil,  on  paper,  13.1  cm  x  21.1  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  977……………………………………………………………25     17. Portrait  of  an  Old  Man,  December  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  44.4  cm  x  33.7  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  205…………………………………………………………..27     18. Head  of  a  Skeleton  with  a  Burning  Cigarette,  January-­‐February  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  32.3  x  28.4  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F  212…………………………………………………………..28   19. Karel  Verlat,  Ariadne  et  amor,  1880………………………………………………………………..28     20. Eugène  Siberdt,  La  juene  orpheline,  1886.  Oil  on  panel,  52  x  37  cm…………….….28     21. Rembrandt,  The  Pilgrims  at  Emmaus,  1648.     Oil  on  canvas,  68  cm  x  65  cm.  Louvre,  Paris…………………………………………………….39     22. Claude  Monet,  Vétheuil,  c.  1878-­‐1881.     Oil  on  canvas.  Private  Collection,  England……………………………………………………….40   23. Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Lunch  at  the  Restaurant  Fournaise     (The  Boater’s  Lunch  or  Les  canotiers),  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  65.9  cm.  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Chicago………………..……….44     24. Edgar  Degas,  Femme  accoundée  près  d’un  pot  de  fleurs,  1865.     Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.7  x  46.2  cm.   The  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City…………………………………………..44     x   25. Claude  Monet,  Tempête  sur  les  côtes  de  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.       Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay…………………………………………………..…..44     26. Claude  Monet,  Pyramides  de  Port-­‐Coton,  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  collection………………………………….………….44   27. Paul  Gauguin,  Baigneurs,  nd.     Private  Collection.  Mr.  &  Mrs.  B.E.  Bensiger,  Chicago…………………….……………….44     28. La  Guinguette,  October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238…………………………….…….46     29. Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps:  pont  de  Clichy,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  50  x  60  cm.  Museum  of  Art,  Dallas,  F  352…………………………….…..46     30. Bank  of  the  Seine,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  45  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  293…………………………………………………………..48   31. Femme  dans  un  jardin,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  60  cm.  Private  collection.  F  368…………………………….…………..48       32. George  Seurat,     Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande-­‐Jatte,  1884-­‐1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  205.7  x  305.7  cm.  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois……………..53           33. Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,  Kurashiki,  Japan………………………………………………………...53   34. Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.    Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.  National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne……….……….53   35. Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands……………...53     36. Claude  Monet,  Impression:  Sunrise,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  63  cm.  Musée  Marmottan,  Paris…………………………………….…54     37. Claude  Monet,  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  79.4  x  59  cm.     The  Nelson-­‐Arkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City,  Missouri……………………..…..55,  58         xi   38. Edgar  Degas,  Girl  Drying  Herself,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.     Pastel  on  paper,  80.1  x  51.2  cm.     National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC……………………………………..……………..57,  58     39. Edgar  Degas,  The  Baker’s  Wife,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.     Pastel  on  paper,  67  x  52.1  cm.     The  Henry  and  Rose  Perlman  Foundation……………………………………………………….57     40. Georges  Seurat,  The  Harbor  at  Grandcamp,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81.2  cm.  Private  Collection……………………………………….……….57         41. Paul  Signac,     Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco……………………………………….57   42. Paul  Gauguin,  Edge  of  the  Pond,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  65  cm.  Civica  Galleria  d’Arte  Moderna,  Milan………….………..57     43. Camille  Pissarro,  View  from  My  Window  in  Cloudy  Weather,  1886-­‐1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  80  cm.  The  Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford……………………..……57     44. Paul  Gauguin,  Women  Bathing,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  46.2  cm.   The  National  Museum  of  Western  Art,  Tokyo………………………………………………….58       45. Plaster  Cast  of  a  Woman’s  Torso,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  40.5  x  27  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F216g……………………………….………………………..60   46. Reclining  Nude,  January-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  59.7  x  73.7  cm.     The  Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  328…………………………………..……………….60   47. Francisco  Goya,  La  mama  denude,  c.  1797-­‐1800.     Oil  on  canvas,  97  c  190  cm.  Museo  del  Prado,  Spain………………………………….…...60     48. Claude  Monet,  Les  bains  de  la  Grenouillère,  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  74.6  x  99.7  cm.  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York……..…..62   49. Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  La  Grenouillère,  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  66.5  x  81  cm.  National  Museum,  Stockholm………………………….….62     50. Comparison………………………………………………………………………………………………….…62   xii   51. Claude  Monet,  Train  in  the  Countryside,  circa  1870.     Oil  on  canvas,  19.68  ×  25.59  in.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris………………..……………….…..64   52. Claude  Monet,  The  Railway  Bridge  from  the  Port,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  66  x  99  cm…………………………………………………………………….………….64     Chapter  3:  New  Consideration  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  Exhibitions   Figure     1. Map  of  Montmartre,  Clichy  and  Asnières     from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37……….72     2. Map  detail  of  Clichy  and  Asnières     from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37……….72     3. Map  detail  of  Montmartre  from     Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37………………..72     4. Agostina  Segatori  au  café  du  Tambourin,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  55.4  x  46.5  cm.     Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  370………………………………………………73     5. Basket  of  Pansies,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  244…………………………………………………...73,  103     6. Fritillaires,  couronne  impériale  dans  un  vase  de  cuivre,  April-­‐May  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75.5  x  60.5  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  213……………..………74,  104     7. Portrait  of  Etienne-­‐Lucien  Martin,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  54.5  cm.    Van   Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  289………………………………………………………………….75     8. Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  the  Artist’s  Grandmother,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  64  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam…………………………………………..…………………76,  114     9. Émile  Bernard,  Ragpickers  at  Clichy,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  39  x  59  cm.  Private  Collection……………………………………76,  124,  132     10. Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317………………………………………………………….77,  124     xiii   11. Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.     Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318………………………………………………..…77,  124     12. Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  fall  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  92  x  75  cm.     Musée  Rodin,  Paris.  F  363……………………………………………………………………..…77,  109     13. Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  112.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  314…….79,  137     14. Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,    Kurashiki,  Japan…………………………………………………………85     15. Lucien  Pissarro,  Van  Gogh  in  Conversation  with  Félix  Fénéon,     black  crayon,  circa  1886-­‐1888…………………………………………………………………………88     16. Louis-­‐Emile  Anquetin,  Old  Peasant,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas………………………………….99     17. Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.  Oil  in  canvas,  43  x  61.     Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City.  F  375………………………………………..99     18. Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.     Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  60.     Kuntsmuseum,  Bern,  Switzerland.  F  376………………………………………………………….99     19. Basket  with  Potatoes,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  44.5  x  60  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  100…………………………………………………………101         20. Le  Cinéraire  (The  Funeral),  July-­‐August  1886.     Oil  in  canvas,  54.5  x  46.   Museum  Boymans-­‐van  Beuningen,  Rotterdam.  F  282……………………………………103     21. Roses  Trémières  dans  une  cruche  (Hollyhocks  in  a  Jug),     August-­‐September  1886.  Oil  in  canvas,  94  x  51.   Kunsthaus,  Zurich.  F  235……………………………………………………………………………….103     22. Fleurs  et  Tournesols  (Roses  and  Sunflowers),  fall  1886.     Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  61.   Städtische  Kunsthalle,  Mannheim.  F  250.  ……………………………………………………..103     23. Gustave  Courbet,  Hollyhocks  in  a  Copper  Bowl,  1872   Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  49  cm.     Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston………………………………………………………..………………103     xiv   24. Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Mixed  Flowers  in  an  Earthenware  Pot,  ca.  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  64.9  x  54.2  cm.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston…………………………103       25. Armand  Guillaumin,  Nature  morte  aux  chrysanthèmes,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  60  cm.     Musée  du  Petit  Palais,  Geneva………………………………………………………………………103     26. Claude  Monet,  Vase  of  Flowers,  ca.  1881-­‐1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  100.4  x  81.9  cm.     Courtauld  Gallery,  London…………………………………………………………………………….103     27. Paul  Signac,  Nature  morte:  oranges,  pomme  et  livre  Au  soleil,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  32.5  x  46.5  cm.     Staatliche  Museen,  Berlin………………………………………………………………………………105     28. Grapes,  Lemons,  Pears  and  Apples,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55.2  cm.     The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois.  F  382…………………………………………………….106         29. Head  of  a  Peasant  Woman  with  a  Day  Cap,  March  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  43  x  33.5  cm.     Rijksmuseum,  Amsterdam…………………………………………………………………………….110     30. Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.       Oil  on  canvas.  F  263……………………………………………………………………………………….113     31. Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas…………………………114     32. The  Parsonage  Garden  in  Snow,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas  on  panel,  59  x  78  cm.     Norton  Simon  Art  Foundation,  Pasadena………………………………………………………118     33. Émile  Bernard,  Verger  à  Pont-­‐Aven,  August  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  53  cm.     Private  Collection………………………………………………………………………………………….119     34. Émile  Bernard  and  Vincent  van  Gogh  (his  back  to  the  camera)     along  the  Seine  in  Asnières……………………………………………………………………………120     35. Paul  Signac,  Pierre  Hâlé’s  Windmill,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  92  cm.     Private  Collection………………………………………………………………………………………….121     xv   36. Paul  Signac,  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco……………………………………..121     37. Claude  Monet,  Apple  Trees  in  Bloom  beside  the  Water,  1880.     Oil  on  canvas,  73x  60  cm.     Private  Collection…………………………………………………………….……………………………121     38. Paul  Signac,  La  Seine  à  Asnières:  la  berge,  November  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  100  cm.     Private  Collection,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………121     39. Paul  Signac,  Paris.  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  La  neige,  January  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  65.5  cm.     The  Minneapolis  Institute  of  the  Arts,  Minneapolis……………………………………….121     40. Claude  Monet,  Studio  Boat,  1874.  Oil  on  canvas.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands……………………………………………………..122     41. Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne…………………………………………………………122     42. Paul  Signac,  Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  65  cm.     The  Baltimore  Museum  of  Art,  Maryland………………………………………………………124     43. Émile  Bernard,  Les  Chiffonniers:  Ponts  de  fer  à  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  54.2  cm.     The  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City………………………………………….124,  132     44. Albert  Fernique,     Plan  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….127     45. Albert  Fernique,     Atelier  Charronnage  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………….………127     46. Albert  Fernique,  Grues  de  débarquement,     L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….127     xvi   47. Camille  Pissarro,  Barge  at  La  Roche-­‐Guyon,  circa  1865.     Museé  Pissarro,  Pontoise………………………………………………………………………………133         48. Camille  Pissarro,  L’Ile  Lacroix,  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  44  x  55  cm.   Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art,  Pennsylvania……………………………………………………133         49. Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐February  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522…………………………………………………………139     Chapter  4:  Agriculture  and  Industry  in  Van  Gogh’s  Montmartre  and  Clichy  Imagery   Figure     1. Weaver  with  a  baby  in  a  high  chair,  1884.     Pencil  pen  in  brown  ink,  heightened  with  opaque  watercolor,     on  wove  paper,  32  x  40  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1118……………………………………………………….143     2. Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  342………………………………………………….144     3. Boulevard  de  Clichy,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292…………………………………………………………144     4. Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.2  x  81.4  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  346………………………………………………….147,  168           5. Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317………………………………………………..147,  190,  195     6. The  View  from  Vincent’s  Room,  rue  Lepic,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  board,  46  x  38.  Private  collection.    F  341a……………………………………………148     7. View  from  Théo’s  Apartment,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  38.1.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  341…………………………………………………………148     8. Moulin  Radet  dit  de  la  Galette  à  Paris,  1923.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….155     xvii   9. Eugène  Atget,  Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Radet.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….155     10. Eugène  Atget,  Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Blute-­‐fin.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….155     11. View  of  Paris,  from  Montmartre,    late  summer  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  61.5  cm.       Kunstmuseum,  Basel.  F  262…………………………………………………………………………..156     12. Terrace  and  Observation  Deck  at  the  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,     Montmartre,  early  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  43.6  x  33  cm.  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago.  F  272…………………….156     13. Plan  of  Paris:  Montmartre,  the  rue  Lepic,  and  the  Moulin  de  la  Galette.   Archives  numérisées  de  Paris,  PP/11834/E……………………………………………………156     14. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette  et  la  montée  de  la  rue  Lepic   étant  placé  au  coin  de  la  rue  d'Orchamp  (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet),  1895.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….157     15. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Rue  Lepic  à  Montmartre:     Entrée  du  Moulin  Debray  (Bal  public)  (Le  Blute-­‐fin),  1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….157     16. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Impasse  des  2  frères  rue  Lepic,  1884.   (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet.)  Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France……………………………157     17. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Montmartre  Le  Moulin  Des  frères  Debray,     Restaurant  Guinguette,  1888.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….157     18. Moulin  de  la  Galette  (Le  Moulin  Le  Radet,  vue  de  la  rue  Girardon),     mid-­‐October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  46.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  227…………………………………………..157     19. Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir,  Bal  du  moulin  de  la  Galette,  1876.     Oil  on  canvas,  131  x  175  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….158         xviii   20. La  Guinguette  du  Moulin  Le  Radet,  mid-­‐October  1886.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  chalk,  on  paper,  38.5  x  52  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1407……………………………………………………….158     21. La  Guinguette,  mid-­‐October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238………………………………………..…………………………………158     22. The  Hill  of  Montmartre,  April-­‐May  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  61.1  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  266………………………………………………….159     23. The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  41  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  229…………………………………………………………159         24. The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  56.3  x  62.6  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  230…………………………………………………………159         25. John  Constable,  The  Cornfield,  1826.  Oil  on  canvas.   The  National  Gallery,  London………………………………………………………………………..160     26. Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  18  x  15  inches.   Glasgow  Art  Gallery  and  Museum…………………………………………………………………163     27. Le  Blute-­‐fin:  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  38  cm.     The  Carnegie  Museum  of  Art,  Pittsburg.  F  348………………………………………………166     28. Le  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas.  Fundatie  museum,  Zwolle…………168     29. Vegetable  Gardens  of  Montmartre,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  96  x  120  cm.   Stedelijk  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  350……………………………………………………………168     30. Pierre  Vidal,  detail  from  the  illustrated  book     La  Vie  à  Montmartre  by  Georges  Montorgueil,  1899.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….170     31. Paul  Signac,  Rue  Caulaincourt.  Moulins  à  Montmartre,  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  35  x  27  cm.   Musée  Carnavalet,  Paris………………………………………………………………………………..170     xix   32. Flower  Beds  in  Holland,  c.  1883.  Oil  on  canvas,  48.9  x  66  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC…………………………………………………........175     33. Camille  Pissarro,  The  Gardens  of  l’Hermitage,  Pontoise,  c.  1867.     Oil  on  canvas.   National  Gallery,  Prague………………………………………………………………………………..177         34. Wheatfield  with  Partridge,  June-­‐July  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.7  x  65.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  310…………………………………………………………179               35. Sheaves  of  Wheat,  July-­‐August  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  40.2  x  30  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  193………………………………………………….180     36. Peasant  Woman  Binding  Sheaves,  July-­‐September  1885.     Chalk  on  paper,  56.3  cm  x  44.5  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1266……………………………………………………….180     37. Peasant  Woman  Digging,  July-­‐September  1885.     Chalk  on  paper,  55.7  x  41  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1255……………………………………………………….180     38. The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  x  36.7  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830…………………………………………………………182     39. Jean-­‐François  Millet,  The  Gleaners,  1857.     Oil  on  canvas,  83.3  x  111.8  cm.   Muse  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….182     40. Camille  Pissarro,  Haymaking,  Regan,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  66  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam……………………………………………………………………182     41. Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart,  summer  1887.     Pencil,  pen  and  ink  and  watercolor  on  paper,  24.1  x  31.6  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1401………………………………………….……184,  187     42. Road  Running  Beside  the  Paris  Ramparts,  June  1887.     Pencil,  watercolor,  chalk,  brush  and  (oil?)  paint,  pen  and  ink,  on  paper,     39.7  cm  x  53.8  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1400……………………………………………….184,  188     xx   43. Fortifications  of  Paris  with  Houses,  1887.     Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and  gouache,  heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,   24.1  x  31.6  cm   Whitworth  Art  Gallery,  University  of  Manchester.    F  1403…………………………….184     44. Fortifications  of  Paris,  1887.     Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and  gouache,  heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,   39.5  x  54  cm.       Location  unknown.  F  1402…………………………………………………………………………….184     45. Lucien  Pissarro,  Sur  les  fortifications,  1886.     Pencil  and  black  chalk,  19.6  x  29.2  cm.       Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford…………………………………………………………………………186     46. Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.     Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318…………………………………………………………190     47. Allotment  with  Sunflower,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  43.2  x  36.2  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  388v……………………………………………………….190     48. Coke  Factory  in  the  Borinage,  July-­‐August  1879.     Pencil  and  watercolor  on  paper,  26.4  x  37.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1040……………………………………………………….193     49. Gasworks,  The  Hague,  March  1882.     Pencil,  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  23.8  cm  x  33.8  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  924…………………………………………………………193     50. Édouard  Manet,  A  Bar  at  the  Folies  Bergère,  1882.     Oil  on  canvas,      96  x  130  cm.     Courtauld  Gallery,  London…………….………………………………………………………………197           51. Edgar  Degas,  The  Song  of  the  Dog,  1875-­‐1877.     Oil  on  canvas,  51.8  x  42.6  cm.   Private  Collection………………………………………………….………………………………………197         52. Verrerie  du  Pont  de  Clichy,  documented  by  Michel  Baltzer  c.  1900.     Published  by  Jim  Friant………………………………………………………………………………….198     53. Claude  Monet,  Men  Unloading  Coal,  1873-­‐1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  66  cm.    Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………..201           xxi   54. Émile  Bernard  (facing)  and     Vincent  Van  Gogh  on  the  banks  of  Asnières,  dated  1886,  probably  1887.   Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam……………………………………………………….201         55. Le  Pont  à  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  73  cm.     Collection  of  Dominique  de  Menil,  Houston.  F  240………………………………………..201           56. Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne…………………………………………………………201     57. Émile  Bernard.  Vue  du  pont  d’Asnières  (View  from  the  Bridge  of  Asnières),     late  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  38  x  46  cm.     Museé  des  Beaux-­‐Arts…………………………………………………………………………..………202       58. Camille  Pissarro,  Factories  near  Pontoise,  1873.  Oil  on  canvas.   Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Springfield,  Massachusetts………………………………………….204       Chapter  5:  Symbolism  in  Paris   Figure     1. Sower,  June  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  64.2  x  80.3  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  422…………………………………………..208     2. Fourteen  Flowers  in  a  Vase,  August  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  93  x  73  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  454…………………………………………..208     3. Terrace  of  a  Café  at  Night,  September  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  80.7  x  65.3  cm.   Kroller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  467…………………………………………..208     4. The  Night  Café,  September  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  70  x  89  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  463……………..…………………...208,  237       5. The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82……………………………………………………………209       6. Starry  Night,  1889.  Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.1  cm.     Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City.  F  612………………………………………………210     xxii   7. Park  at  Asnières  in  Spring,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  1887.  50  x  65  cm.  F  362…………………………………………………..211,  223         8. Patch  of  Grass,  April-­‐June  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  30.8  x  39.7  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  583………………………………………….211,  239     9. Path  in  the  Woods,  May-­‐July  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.3  x  37.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309…………………………………………………………211     10. Exterior  of  a  Restaurant  in  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  18.5  x  27  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  321………………………………………………….211,  227       11. Paul  Gauguin,  Vision  After  the  Sermon,  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  92  cm.  Scottish  National  Gallery,  Edinburgh…………………….214       12. Romans  parisiens,  fall  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  93  cm.   Private  Collection.  F  359………………………………………………………………………………..215     13. Still  Life  with  Bible,  October  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  65.7  x  78.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  117…………………………………………………………216     14. Three  Novels,  January-­‐February  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  31.1  x  48.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  335…………………………………………………………217     15. Gustave  Moreau,  The  Apparition,  1876.     Watercolor,  72.2  x  106  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….220     16. Sous-­‐Bois,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309…………………………………………………………223         17. Avenue  of  Poplars  in  Autumn,  October  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  99  x  65.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  122…………………………………………………………228     18. Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  38.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  181…………………………………………………………231         xxiii   19. Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐Febraury  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522…………………………………………………………231     20. Camille  Pissarro,  Pond  at  Montfoucault,  1874.     Oil  on  canvas,  53.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  Collection……………………………………………236         21. Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.  National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC…………….236     22. Café  table  with  Absinthe,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.3  x  33.2  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  339………….237     23. Bertall,  Manet  as  Jesus  with  his  Disciples,  1870…………………………………………….247     24. Georges  Seurat,     Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande  Jatte,  1884-­‐1886.    Oil  on  canvas,  207.5  x  308.1  cm.  Art  Institute,  Chicago…………………………………248       25. Way  in  the  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  in  Asnières,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  59  x  81  cm.     Yale  University  Art  Gallery,  New  Haven,  Connecticut…………………………………….249       26. Édouard  Manet,  Olympia,  1863.     Oil  on  canvas,  190  x  130  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris……………………………………….250       27. Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.  National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC…………….254       28. Berthe  Morisot,  The  Wet  Nurse  Angèle  Feeding  Julie  Manet,  1880.     Oil  on  canvas,  50.2  x  61  cm.  Private  Collection,  New  York………………..……………254       29. Camille  Pissarro,  The  Shepherdess,  1881.  Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  64.7  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….254       30.  Camille  Pissarro,  Le  Chemin  de  fer  de  Dieppe,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.  Private  Collection…………………………………………………254       31.  Georges  Seurat,  La  Luzerne,  Saint-­‐Denis:  champ  de  coquelicots,  1885-­‐1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  64  x  81  cm   National  Galleries  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh..……………………………………………………254         xxiv     32. Paul  Gauguin,  Tropical  Vegetation,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  116  x  89  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh…………………………………………..……………255       33. The  Restaurant  Rispal  in  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  72  x  60  cm.    Nelson-­‐Atkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City…………………………………………………..258                                                                           1   CHAPTER  1:  INTRODUCTION        Living  in  Paris  from  February  1886  through  February  1888,  Vincent  van  Gogh   (1853-­‐1890)  completed  more  than  two  hundred  paintings  and  works  on  paper  and   had  one  of  the  most  productive  periods  of  his  career.  Considering  that  his  artistic   practice  spanned  only  a  decade  from  1880  to  1890,  the  artist’s  time  in  the  capital   represents  a  significant  period  of  growth  in  terms  of  his  engagement  with  the  art   market,   his   exposure   to   avant-­‐garde   imagery,   and   his   understanding   of   Symbolist   theory   in   the   visual   arts.   Van   Gogh   sought   out   artists   and   critics   whose   work   changed  the  trajectory  of  his  painting  practice:  from  the  dark,  somber  paintings  he   made  in  The  Netherlands  to  the  improvisational  brushwork  and  saturated  color  of   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists.  By  the  summer  of  1886,  the  artist  began   experimenting  with  texture,  hue,  and  perspective  in  landscape,  portraiture,  and  still-­‐ life,  developing  pictorial  strategies  that  underpin  the  Symbolist  works  he  generated   after  he  left  the  capital  and  moved  to  Arles.      Scholars  generally  address  Van  Gogh’s  two  years  in  Paris  as  a  biographical   point.  Moreover,  Van  Gogh  scholarship  is  problematic  because  the  artist’s  life  is  one   of  the  most  documented  in  the  history  of  art.1  There  are  over  800  extant  letters  by                                                                                                                   1  Richard  Shiff,  “Art  History  and  the  Nineteenth  Century:  Realism  and  Resistance,”  Art  Bulletin  70.1   (March  1988):  29-­‐31.  Louis  van  Tilborgh,  “The  Parisian  Self-­‐Portraits  by  Van  Gogh,”  Van  Gogh  Bulletin   2  (1994):  2-­‐7.         2   Vincent,  651  written  to  his  brother  and  art  dealer  Théo  van  Gogh  (1857-­‐1891).  In  his   letters,  the  artist  explained  novels  he  was  reading  and  paintings  he  thought  about,   and   gave   a   detailed   account   of   his   artistic   process.   According   to   Richard   Shiff,   scholars  push  aside  theoretical  issues  because  there  are  overwhelming  facts  of  the   artist’s  life,  which  continue  to  accumulate.  On  the  other  hand,  the  artist  wrote  few   letters  while  in  the  capital  because  he  was  living  with  his  brother;  ten  letters  remain.   Thus,  the  Paris  period  poses  difficulties  due  to  the  lack  of  first-­‐hand  evidence  and   the  often-­‐exaggerated  instances  acquaintances  recalled.  I  think  this  may  contribute   to  the  lack  of  scholarly  attention  paid  to  the  paintings  the  artist  created  in  Paris.    Bogomila   Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s   research,   particularly   her   1988   catalog   for   an   exhibition   at   the   Musée   d’Orsay,   was   a   benchmark   in   Van   Gogh   Paris-­‐period   studies.2  She   pieced   together   the   whereabouts   of   many   images   and   situated   Van   Gogh’s   practice   within   Paris,   comparing   his   paintings   to   those   of   contemporary   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   painters.   To   date,   her   catalog   is   the   most   comprehensive  study  of  the  artist’s  Paris  period.  Since  this  publication,  Carol  Zemel,   Cornelia  Homburg,  Richard  Thomson,  and  John  House  have  studied  the  theoretical   implications  the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde  had  on  Van  Gogh’s  work  and  thereafter  as  it                                                                                                                   2  Bogomila   Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,   Vincent   Van   Gogh:   His   Paris   Period   1886-­‐1888.   Diss.   (University   of   Toronto,  1976.  Utrecht-­‐Den  Haag:  Editions  Victorine,  1976).  Bogomila  Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,  Van  Gogh  à   Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988).           3   figures  into  discussions  larger  in  scope.  Homburg  considers  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  sojourn   central  to  his  developing  artistic  identity  and  entry  into  modern  painting;  a  body  of   work,  she  notes,  that  should  not  be  peripheral  to  the  later  imagery.3  To  consider  Van   Gogh’s  decision  to  move  to  Paris  and  his  subsequent  study  of  avant-­‐garde  painting,   my   exploration   leads   from   their   respective   observations   and   takes   into   account   Shiff’s  concerns.  I  do  not  rely  on  biographical  points  or  overemphasize  the  letters.  I   aim  to  consider  the  critical  conversations  occurring  in  Paris  and  how  they  affected   the  artist’s  aesthetic.      To  begin,  in  chapter  two,  I  consider  how  market  patterns  shaped  Van  Gogh’s   decision   to   learn   academic   drawing   and   painting   skills   and   to   then   engage   with   avant-­‐garde   techniques.   The   artist   had   two   transitions   in   Paris:   the   first   from   academic   to   avant-­‐garde   strategies,   and   the   second   from   a   close   study   of   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   methods   to   his   unique   modernist   painterly   vernacular.  Although  scholars  typically  view  Van  Gogh’s  academic  studies  as  a  brief   course  of  study  before  his  exposure  to  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  I   draw   from   Zemel’s   point   that   Van   Gogh   intentionally   weighed   market-­‐driven   opportunities.  Rather  than  focus  on  the  painter’s  clerical  studies  as  the  impetus  for   his   early   painting   strategies,   I   make   Zemel’s   observation   central   to   my   analysis                                                                                                                   3  Cornelia   Homburg,   “Vincent   van   Gogh’s   Avant-­‐Garde   Strategies,”   in   Vincent   Van   Gogh   and   the   Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  21-­‐ 30.         4   regarding   Van   Gogh’s   Paris-­‐period   shifts.   I   examine   how   the   artist   crafted   avant-­‐ garde  works  to  appeal  to  a  niche  market  and  how  he  arrived  at  a  newfound  sense  of   modernism.      Van  Gogh’s  clerical  studies  typically  overshadow  the  seven  years  he  spent   studying   the   works   of   old   masters   and   contemporary   artists   at   Goupil   &   Cie.,   a   successful  print  shop  with  branches  in  Europe  and  London.  Although  the  artist  wrote   a  passionate  letter  to  Théo  equating  the  power  of  a  Rembrandt  painting  with  that  of   the   Gospel,   he   wrote   the   letter   in   1880   while   he   was   just   beginning   his   painting   career.4  In  the  letter,  he  persuaded  his  brother  to  help  him,  and  he  noted  that  his   artistic  pursuits  could  foster  a  meaningful  relationship  with  God.  In  context,  Vincent   broke  a  year-­‐long  silence  with  Théo,  and  the  exchange  established  the  monetary  and   professional  support  Théo  provided  for  the  rest  of  the  artist’s  life.  Vincent  admitted   to  having  let  his  family  down  since  leaving  his  clerical  studies,  and  wanted  to  smooth   over  the  relationship  with  Théo  because  he  distanced  himself  from  his  parents.  To   re-­‐consider  the  religiously  based  reasoning  behind  Van  Gogh’s  decision  to  become  a   painter,   I   address   how   the   artist   developed   an   avant-­‐garde   approach   while   he   studied   in   the   atelier   of   Karl   Verlat   in   Antwerp   and   Fernand   Cormon   in   Paris.   I   establish  how  Théo’s  connections  at  Goupil  &  Cie.,  where  he  worked  in  Montmartre,   fostered  Vincent’s  understanding  of  experimental  work  within  the  art  market.  I  also                                                                                                                   4  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  155  to  Théo  from  Cuesmes,  Belgium  around  22  or  24,  June  1880.           5   understand  Van  Gogh’s  unique  painterly  techniques  as  a  response  to,  rather  than  an   adaptation  of,  paintings  by  artists  such  as  Camille  Pissarro  (1830-­‐1903)  and  Georges   Seurat   (1859-­‐1891).   His   avant-­‐garde   method   developed   to   include   several   ideals   from  modernist  painting,  which  became  an  innovative  aspect  of  his  imagery.      Since  Van  Gogh  relied  on  market  strategies  to  shape  his  path,  I  re-­‐evaluate   the  exhibitions  Van  Gogh  held  while  in  Paris  in  chapter  three.  The  last  Impressionist   exhibition  opened  upon  his  arrival  and  similar  artist-­‐run  shows  in  Paris  provided  an   example  as  to  how  avant-­‐garde  works  operated  within  the  market.  As  a  developing   artist  in  a  new  city,  he  relied  on  a  co-­‐operative  model  and  accepted  varied  ideas  of   mark-­‐making   and   compositional   aims   from   contributing   painters.   Although   it   is   understood  that  Van  Gogh  experimented  with  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist   techniques,  he  did  not  always  maintain  their  autonomy.  For  the  artist,  the  modes   were  not  mutually  exclusive.  Instead,  he  translated  the  painting  approaches  to  his   unique   end.   His   painting   practice   developed   to   consider   how   the   artist’s   idiosyncratic   perspective   could   construct   a   canvas   that   conveyed   concepts   symbolically.         In   considering   the   paintings   he   exhibited,   I   locate   Van   Gogh’s   pictorial   strategies   within   the   ideals   expressed   by   critic   Félix   Fénéon   (1861-­‐1944),   who   articulated   the   theoretical   aspects   of   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Fénéon   focused   on   the   experiential  concepts  of  the  work  of  art,  which   led  to  a  Symbolist  rhetoric   in  the         6   visual  arts.  While  it  is  commonly  known  that  Van  Gogh  knew  Fénéon  while  in  Paris,   interpreting  the  artist’s   imagery  through  the  critic’s   lens  has  not  been  addressed.   Essentially,   Fénéon’s   theories   encouraged   artists   to   craft   their   canvases   with   the   idea  that  there  can  be  an  intentional  discord  between  the  image  and  the  natural   world.   I   establish   that   Fénéon’s   ideas   are   rooted   in   the   works   of   Édouard   Manet   (1832-­‐1883)   and   Pissarro.   To   explore   how   Fénéon’s   ideas   influenced   Van   Gogh’s   painting  practice  and  that  of  the  up-­‐and-­‐coming  artists  the  painter  met  in  Paris,   I   analyze  the  imagery  Van  Gogh  hung  in  two  exhibitions  he  organized  in  the  capital:  at   the  Café  Tambourin  during  the  summer  of  1887  and  the  collective  Grand  Bouillon   Exhibition  held  in  November  of  1887  at  the  Restaurant  du  Châlet.  I  also  consider  the   landscape  painting  he  included  at  the  Théâtre  Libra  d’Antoine  alongside  the  imagery   of   Seurat   and   Paul   Signac   (1863-­‐1935).   Through   Fénéon,   I   argue   that   the   artist’s   Symbolist   painterly   methods   already   explored   in   Paris   set   a   foundation   to   understand  the  imaginative  and  embodied  space  of  the  participant-­‐viewer.   To   interpret   Van   Gogh’s   paintings   in   relation   to   an   implied   space   of   the   viewer’s   body,   a   concept   set   forth   by   Greg   Thomas   in   relation   to   Théodore   Rousseau’s   landscape   paintings,   I   explore   the   paths   Van   Gogh   included   in   his   imagery   of   Montmartre   and   Clichy   in   chapter   four.5  Van   Gogh’s   arrival   coincided                                                                                                                   5  Greg   M.   Thomas,   Art   and   Ecology   in   Nineteenth-­‐Century   France:   The   Landscape   of   Théodore   Rousseau  (Princeton,  New  Jersey:  Princeton  University  Press,  2000).         7   with  three  national  events  of  French  interest:  the  rise  of  the  socialist  political  party   and  labor  reforms  of  the  working  classes,  the  decision  to  allow  small-­‐scale  farmers   to  manage  their  land  individually  rather  than  collectively,  and  a  miner’s  strike  at  the   Decazeville  coalmine.  In  Paris,  there  were  two  developments  that  dovetailed  with   the  reform  movements  and  the  strike:  the  introduction  of  gas  lights  and  stoves  in   the  homes  of  the  upper  classes  and  a  new  plant  on  the  Seine  in  Clichy  that  used  coal   to   generate   gas.   These   events   implicitly   enter   the   pictorial   narratives   Van   Gogh   developed,   and   he   conveyed   the   experience   of   the   working-­‐class   to   expose   the   confining   and   marginal   spaces   they   occupy.   The   imagery   indicates   that   he   considered   the   connection   between   commodity   and   labor   and   constructed   the   landscape   to   indicate   the   exchange   between   middle-­‐class   spaces   and   lower-­‐class   work.     Van  Gogh’s  paintings  of  Montmartre’s  Butte,  particularly  the  images  of  the   allotment  farms  on  its  northern  slope,  and  the  factory  landscapes  of  Clichy  have  not   been   addressed   in   light   of   the   afore-­‐mentioned   social   and   industrial   movements   occurring   in   France.   I   outline   the   major   socialist   events   and   the   working-­‐class   population  in  Montmartre  to  think  about  Van  Gogh’s  sympathetic  view  of  those  who   labored  to  provide  goods  to  the  city.  The  working  classes  lived  on  the  outskirts  of   the  capital,  and  rather  than  set  his  focus  on  the  city’s  center,  the  artist  painted  the   peasant  farmers  who  rented  plots  on  the  Butte  and  factory  employees  who  worked         8   in  the  Commune  de  Clichy.  The  painter  walked  through  the  arrondissement  and  into   Clichy  and  passed  through  the  fortifications  on  the  boundary.  I  address  the  imagery   of  the  Butte,  the  fortifications,  and  Clichy  to  underscore  the  ways  in  which  Van  Gogh   empathized  with  the  working  classes.  I  find  that  the  artist  depicted  the  agricultural   landscape   as   a   negotiation   between   the   middle-­‐class   and   the   labor-­‐class,   and   painted  the  industrial  landscape  as  an  assertion  of  the  prevalence  of  industry  in  the   lives  of  those  living  and  working  on  the  city’s  periphery.     In  the  last  chapter,  I  posit  that  Van  Gogh’s  Symbolist  aesthetic  strategies  are   at  work  already  in  his  Paris-­‐period  imagery.  Scholars  generally  attribute  Van  Gogh’s   shift  to  Symbolism  to  Paul  Gauguin’s  (1848-­‐1903)  1888  visit  to  Arles.  It  is  commonly   held  that  Gauguin  shared  the  Symbolist  theoretical  methods  with  Van  Gogh  when   they  briefly  lived  together,  and  Van  Gogh  then  began  to  reinvent  his  overall  painterly   approach.  This  narrative  omits  significant  ideals  Van  Gogh  learned  in  Paris.  Symbolist   concepts   extolled   by   critic   Charles   Baudelaire   (1821-­‐1867)   influenced   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   painters   and   critics   from   whom   Van   Gogh   learned   avant-­‐garde   painting.   The   Paris-­‐period   imagery   reveals   the   artist’s   engagement  with  a  Symbolist  practice  that  is  more  of  a  mind-­‐set  than  a  series  of   painting   skills.   Moreover,   in   considering   the   tenets   of   Symbolism   in   Van   Gogh’s   imagery,   aspects   of   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism   become   relevant   only   inasmuch  as  they  inform  the  experimental  aesthetic  the  artist  developed.         9    I   examine   the   Symbolist   discourse   occurring   in   Paris   in   the   mid-­‐1880s   to   show  how  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  leads  from  the  ideals  generated  by  the  artists  and   critics  in  Paris.  I  conclude  by  exploring  the  role  of  the  canvas  as  it  was  conceived  by   the  critic  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier  (1865-­‐1892),  the  first  to  write  about  Van  Gogh’s  imagery   during  the  artist’s  lifetime.  The  text  is  significant  because  the  critic  firmly  located  the   artist’s  work  within  the  Symbolist  aesthetic.  Aurier  called  Van  Gogh  his  messiah,  a   leader   to   a   realm   that   exists   beyond   the   material   world,   and   suggested   that   an   imaginatively   created   canvas   can   incite   an   experience   in   the   mind   of   the   viewer.   Although  Aurier  used  Starry  Night  (1889)  to  explain  Van  Gogh’s  aesthetic,  I  find  that   Patch  of  Grass  (1887),  a  painting  Van  Gogh  produced  in  Paris,  functions  similarly  in   its  compressed  figure-­‐ground  relationship  and  highly  abstract  forms.    In  so  doing,  I   claim  that  the  Symbolist  aesthetic  that  is  well  developed  in  images  such  as  Starry   Night,   is   rooted   in   the   Paris-­‐period   works,   namely   Patch.   With   Patch,   Van   Gogh   reinvented   notions   of   landscape,   for   example,   within   the   Symbolist   aesthetic.   Considering   Van   Gogh’s   Paris-­‐period   canvases   in   relation   to   Baudelaire’s   ideas   situates  the  artist’s  transition  within  the  intellectual  milieu  of  Paris  in  the  mid  1880s.   Van  Gogh  was  an  intellectually  driven  artist  who  developed  a  painterly  voice  that  is   grounded  in  Symbolist  theory.       In  reinventing  the  lessons  of  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  Van   Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  paintings  show  the  concepts  of  the  symbolic  imagery  he  created         10   for  the  remainder  of  his  short  life  in  Arles,  St.  Rémy,  or  Auvers-­‐sur-­‐Oise,  where  he   passed  away  two  and  one  half  years  after  leaving  the  capital.  While  not  all  of  the   paintings  Van  Gogh  created  in  Paris  convey  a  well-­‐formulated  aesthetic,  there  are  a   number  of  works  that  clearly  show  the  artist’s  intentional  development  within  the   Parisian   avant-­‐garde   and   how   he   positioned   himself   within   their   milieu.   On   his   arrival,   he   brought   with   him   ideas   of   painting   that   rely   on   a   descriptive   mimetic   approach   and   a   metaphorical   use   of   color   and   form.   He   left   with   a   radically   re-­‐ considered  role  of  the  canvas  in  relation  to  the  viewer  and,  more  importantly,  an   understanding   of   the   canvas   as   a   symbol   in   and   of   itself,   a   pivotal   shift   in   his   approach  to  painting.                               11   CHAPTER  2:  FROM  THE  ATELIER  TO  THE  AVANT-­‐GARDE       “Think   carefully,”   Vincent   wrote   to   Théo   in   late   February   1886,   “about   whether  we  couldn’t  find  a  combination  that  would  make  it  possible  for  me  to  be  in   Paris  before  June.”6  About  four  days  later,  Vincent  arrived  “all  of  the  sudden”  in  the   French   capital   eager   to   live   with   Théo,   an   art   dealer   at   Boussod   and   Valadon,   successors  of  Goupil  &  Cie.7  In  Paris,  the  artist  wanted  to  enroll  in  academic  painting   classes,   an   interest   that   began   in   Antwerp   in   the   atelier   of   Belgian   painter   Karel   Verlat   where   he   drew   from   plaster   casts   and   in   a   drawing   club   that   staged   live   models  [figures  1  &  2].     Prior  to  living  in  Antwerp  and  beginning  his  academic  painting  lessons,  Van   Gogh  developed  a  practice  in  Nuenen  that  culminated  in  The  Potato  Eaters  (1885),   based   on   Jozef   Israëls’s   Peasant   Family   at   the   Table   (1882)   in   which   a   humble   peasant  family  shares  a  simple  meal  [figures  3  &  4].8  Vincent  sent  The  Potato  Eaters   to   Théo   and   asked   him   to   show   it   to   the   well-­‐known   Parisian   art   dealer,   Paul   Durand-­‐Ruel,  who  had  had  success  selling  Barbizon  and  Impressionist  imagery  since                                                                                                                   6  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  566  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  around  Wednesday,  February  24,  1886.       7  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  567  to  Théo  from  Paris  on  February  28,  1886.  “Don’t  be  cross  with  me  that   I’ve  come…I’ve  thought  about  it  this  much  and  I  think  we’ll  save  time  this  way.”       8  Van  Gogh  lived  in  Nuenen  from  1883  through  1885,  when  he  moved  to  Antwerp.             12   the  1870s.9  Théo  reported  that  he  had  shown  the  painting  to  two  other  colleagues;   they  thought  the  painter  needed  to  work  on  his  figures,  and  Vincent  agreed.10  The   reception  of  The  Potato  Eaters  influenced  Van  Gogh’s  foray  into  academic  painting   because  he  wanted  to  produce  saleable  work.  To  him,  this  required  training  steeped   in   an   academic   background,   a   series   of   drawing   and   painting   skills   he   felt   he   lacked.11  Thus,  he  headed  to  a  metropolis  with  ateliers:  Antwerp,  where  he  lived  for   three  months,  and  then  Paris.                                                                                                                     9  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  497  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on  Thursday,  April  30,  1885.  “As  to  Durand-­‐Ruel— although  he  didn’t  think  the  drawings  worthwhile,  show  him  this  painting.  He  may  think  it  ugly—very   well—but   let   him   see   it   anyway—   so   that   they   may   see   that   we’re   putting   energy   into   our   endeavors.”   Durand-­‐Ruel   did   not   like   some   of   Van   Gogh’s   drawings   that   Théo   had   shown   him   previously,  but  the  artist  hoped  the  dealer  would  respond  well  to  the  painting,  one  he  had  worked   hard  to  craft.   10  On   the   reception   of   The   Potato   Eaters,   Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   506   to   Théo   from   Nuenen   on   Tuesday,  June  2,  1885.  “Thanks  for  sending  the  money  for  this  month  so  promptly.  I’m  satisfied  with   what  you  write  about  the  painting,  the  comments  that  they  made,  Portier  and  Serret,  but  that  they   still  found  good  things  in  it.  I  myself  have  criticisms  of  it,  and  more  serious  ones  than  theirs—that   about  the  torsos—so  I  don’t  wish  them  to  approve  of  the  whole.  When  you  speak  to  them,  just  tell   them  that  it  may  very  well  be  that  I  draw  back  from  the  present  copper  and  green  soap-­‐like  tones,   but  that  this  drawing  back  will,   I  hope,  be  twofold,  namely  that   I  hope  to  paint  some  in  a   lighter   spectrum,  more  flesh  and  blood—but  equally  am  searching  for  something  that’s  even  more  green   soap  and  coppery.”  On  addressing  the  concerns,  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  513  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on   Sunday,  July  12,  1885.  “But  don’t  take  it  amiss  of  me  when  I  say  that  if  Serret  and  you—and  in  my   view   very   rightly   want   to   see   other   things   in   my   figures—I’ll   have   to   spend   rather   more   on   my   models.”     11  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  551  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  2,  1886.  “I…want  to  tell  you  that,   given  my  desire  to  study  the  figure—if  I  weren’t  to  manage  it  here—I  might  perhaps  go  further  afield   rather  than  go  back  to  Holland  before  I’ve  worked  in  a  studio  for  a  while.  And  that  further  afield— might  possibly  be  Paris,  without  hesitation.”  On  Van  Gogh’s  drawing  abilities,  see  letter  565,  which   Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  22,  1886.  “With  a  view  to  Cormon,  it’s  decidedly   better  for  me  to  go  on  drawing  plaster  casts  rather  than  working  outdoors,  because  the  more  I  have   the  structure  of  the  figure  in  my  head,  the  better  I’ll  be  able  to  follow…  Because  I’ve  always  worked   from  nature,  I  may  perhaps  be  more  daring  than  many  others  in  dashing  things  off  and  tackling  a   group  of  things.  But  the  others  will  most  likely  have  more  knowledge  of  the  nude,  for  which  I  haven’t         13   Van  Gogh’s  ideal  of  a  Parisian  art  education  was  to  learn  from  master  works   and  study  in  a  well-­‐regarded  studio  surrounded  by  focused  peers.  Once  in  Paris,  he   enrolled   in   the   French   painter   Fernand   Cormon’s   Montmartre   atelier,   making   studies  from  live  models  and  plaster  casts  in  class  and  on  his  own  [figures   5-­‐7].12   Despite  his  atelier  training,  Van  Gogh  left  Cormon’s  studio  early  that  summer  and  no   longer   focused   on   figure   painting,   but   on   landscape,   portraiture,   and   still   life.   In   many   ways,   this   was   a   return   to   the   subject   matter   he   developed   in   Nuenen.   Although  he  tried  to  carve  a  path  in  the  academic  art  market,  he  took  a  decidedly   clear  move  toward  learning  avant-­‐garde  painting  strategies.  Around  the  time  he  left   Cormon’s,  he  painted  Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg  (June/July  1886)  [figure  8],   a  city  landscape  of  Parisians  strolling  through  a  public  park  in  contemporary  dress.   Punctuated  with  bright  spots  of  unblended  color  made  seemingly  quickly  with  the   tip  of  the  artist’s  brush,  Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg  moves  away  from  the   earth-­‐color   tones   and   heavily   modeled   forms   of   The   Potato   Eaters.   Rather   than   attempt   to   craft   portraits   of   rural   peasants   with   thick   contour   lines,   Van   Gogh   included  figures  made  with  a  couple  of  brushstrokes  within  the  context  of  a  modern                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               had  so  much  opportunity.  If  I  make  up  for  that—the  sooner  the  better—the  more  benefit  I’ll  get  from   Cormon.”   12  Letter  567.  See  also:  Letter  566.  “I  still  continue  to  urge  you  rather  to  go  ahead  with  the  Cormon   plan  and  what,  for  my  part,  I  would  so  much  like  to  precede  it—a  further  period  continuing  to  draw   plaster  casts.”  Cormon  was  an  academic  artist  who  showed  in  the  Paris  Salon,  was  the  student  of   Alexandre  Cabanel,  and  taught  his  pupils  how  to  paint  in  the  tradition  of  the  École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts.         14   city.  He  explored  the  effect  of  the  sun  on  the  leaves  and  indicated  distance  with  a   pattern  of  abstract  strokes  of  muted  hue  in  the  background.  Van  Gogh  softened  the   dark  umbers  of  The  Potato  Eaters  to  depict  the  trees  and  pavement,  which  frame   brightly  hued  figures.  In  so  doing,  he  drew  from  the  practice  he  developed  in  The   Netherlands  and  his  modernist  techniques  developed  rapidly  from  Lane  at  the  Jardin   du  Luxembourg.   Overall,  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  period  is  typically  marginalized  as  scholars  generally   focus   on   the   early   paintings   and   the   mature   imagery   the   artist   created   in   Arles,   timeframes   that   bracket   the   artist’s   practice   in   Paris. 13  Scholars   attribute   the   painter’s  shift  toward  avant-­‐garde  work  to  his  exposure  to  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐                                                                                                                 13  Adriana  R.  Salem,  “Van  Gogh  in  Paris,”  Harvard  Library  Bulletin  VI.  I  (Winter  1952):  137-­‐141.  A.L.C.   Jaffé,  “La  period  parisienne  de  Van  Gogh”  Actes  du  XIXe  congres  international  d'histoire  de  l'art  (Paris,   September   8-­‐13,   1958):   508-­‐511.   H.R.   Graetz,   “Light   Breaks   Through,”   The   Symbolic   Language   of   Vincent  Van  Gogh  (New  York,  Toronto  and  London:  McGraw-­‐Hill  Book  Company,  INC,  1963)  43-­‐66.   John  Rewald,  The  History  of  Impressionism  (New  York:  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  1973).  John  Rewald,   Post-­‐Impressionism:   From   van   Gogh   to   Gauguin,   (New   York:   The   Museum   of   Modern   Art,   1978).   Rewald’s  The  History  of   Impressionism  (1961)  and  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  Van  Gogh  to  Gauguin   (1956)  provide  short,  yet  comprehensive  studies  of  the  artist’s  Paris  life.  Van  Gogh’s  letter  writing,   which  was  usually  copious,  ceased  while  the  artist  lived  in  Paris  because  he  stayed  with  his  brother   with   whom   he   regularly   corresponded.   Rewald’s   research   is   significant   because   it   is   difficult   to   ascertain  where  the  artist  went  and  with  whom  he  kept  company  because  there  is  an  absence  of   letters   on   which   Van   Gogh   scholars   depend.   Rewald   connected   Van   Gogh   to   significant   painters,   located   the   artist’s   saturated   color   within   Charles   Henry’s   complementary   color   theory,   and   investigated   the   connections   between   Impressionism   and   Post-­‐Impressionism.   Mark   Roskill,   Van   Gogh,  Gauguin  and  the  Impressionist  Circle  (Greenwich,  Connecticut:  New  York  Graphic  Art  Society,   Ltd.,  1970).  In  Van  Gogh,  Gauguin  and  the  Impressionist  Circle  (1971),  Mark  Roskill  revisited  some  of   the  primary  texts  Rewald  used,  and  formally  examined  Van  Gogh’s  relationship  to  Néo-­‐Impressionist   painter   George   Seurat   and   to   Impressionist   Japonisme,   the   influence   of   Japanese   prints   on   the   Impressionist’s  form  and  composition.           15   Impressionist   artists.   John   Rewald   and   Bogomila   Welsh-­‐Ovcharov   point   out   the   compositional  similarities  between  Van  Gogh’s  paintings  and  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐ Impressionist  imagery  respectively.14  Cornelia  Homburg  notes  that  while  Van  Gogh   clearly  built  on  the  Impressionists,  he  was  developing  unique  painting  strategies  in   Paris.15  Warning  not  to  consider  Van  Gogh’s  periods  in  isolation,  Homburg’s  analysis   of  the  Paris-­‐period  canvases  involves  the  painter’s  artistic  developments  prior  to  and   after  Paris.  I  aim  to  further  Homburg’s  discussion  by  considering  the  distinct  pictorial   elements   Van   Gogh   developed   as   he   studied   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   modes  of  color  and  composition.  Moreover,  characterizing  his  Paris-­‐period  works  in   terms  of  Impressionism  and  Neo-­‐Impressionism  limits  the  ways  in  which  Van  Gogh’s   modernist  aesthetic  pushed  the  boundaries  of  avant-­‐garde  art  and  operated  within   the  market.     Van   Gogh   came   to   Paris   attempting   to   sustain   a   living   for   himself.   Carol   Zemel   points   out   that   Van   Gogh’s   productivity   is   intricately   linked   to   establishing   himself  as  a  professional  artist  in  the  nineteenth-­‐century  art  market.16  Van  Gogh’s   decision   to   move   from   academic   to   avant-­‐garde   art   was,   Zemel   underscores,                                                                                                                   14  John  Rewald,  “Van  Gogh  in  Paris,”  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  11-­‐72.  Bogomila   Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988).   15  Cornelia  Homburg,  “Introduction,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,  ed.   Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  13-­‐14.   16  Carol  Zemel,  Van  Gogh’s  Progress:  Utopia,  Modernity  and  Late-­‐Nineteenth-­‐Century  Art  (Berkeley,   Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1997)  172.         16   intentional  and  strategic  to  some  extent.17  I   take  Zemel’s  perspective  as  a  central   factor  in  considering  the  decisions  that  shaped  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  practice.  The   artist’s   Paris-­‐period   has   been   generally   overlooked   in   terms   of   the   market’s   influence.  I  explore  the  concerns  that  drove  his  artistic  decision-­‐making,  and  what  he   encountered   through   two   main   venues—Goupil   &   Cie.   and   the   last   Impressionist   Exhibition—that   revealed   new   conceptually   sound   yet   salable   art.   I   find   that   the   market   system   to   which   he   was   exposed   provided   the   impetus   of   his   developing   practice.   Although   the   artist’s   religious   studies   take   a   central   role   in   the   historiography,  the  artist  dedicated  much  of  his  young-­‐adult   life—seven  years—to   working  with  prints  of  master  works  at  Goupil  &  Cie.  The  formative  experience  in  the   print   shop,   more   than   his   studies   to   become   a   preacher,   became   the   foundation   through   which   he   carefully   thought   about   how   he   would   carve   a   niche   for   his   paintings  in  the  contemporary  art  market.     The   market   in   Paris   when   Van   Gogh   arrived   was   distinct.   Avant-­‐garde   exhibitions  presented  modern  art  as  varied  approaches  as  both  Impressionist  and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   works   of   varying   genres   and   factures   hung   side-­‐by-­‐side   in   exhibitions.  Although  the  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  practices  differed  in   some  ways,  their  understanding  of  subject  matter  as  a  substructure  for  a  subjective   use  of  color  and  form  unified  their  practices.  Van  Gogh  saw  that  paintings  of  modern                                                                                                                   17  Zemel  173.           17   life  with  often-­‐disjointed  compositional  aspects  and  saturated,  highly  idiosyncratic   paint  applications  not  only  had  a  market  but  also  were  supported  in  contemporary   criticism.   Van   Gogh’s   Bridges   across   the   Seine   at   Asnières   (1887)   [figure   9],   for   example,  clearly  leads  from  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  but  begins  to   merge  the  two  modes  to  a  unique  end.  Thus,  Van  Gogh’s  exposure  to  Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism   is   not   so   easily   categorized   as   the   artist   learned   of   both   approaches  from  several  painters  who  themselves  explored  the  methods  in  differing   ways.   The   avant-­‐garde   artists   were   experimenting   with   hue,   texture,   and   subject   matter  from  everyday  life,  an  idea  espoused  by  critic  and  poet  Charles  Baudelaire,   whose  writings  influenced  the  subject  matter  and  facture  of  artists,  such  as  Édouard   Manet  and  the  Impressionists.18  Baudelaire  called  for  artists  to  paint  modern  life  and   include   aspects   of   their   contemporary   world.   Van   Gogh’s   imagery   included   fashionably   dressed   people   crossing   wide   boulevards   depicted   with   a   varied   application  of  stroke,  such  as  in  Boulevard  de  Clichy  (1887)  [figure  10].     Van   Gogh   made   two   transitions   while   working   in   Paris   that   I   will   consider   within   the   context   of   the   avant-­‐garde   market.   First,   Van   Gogh   redefined   his   pre-­‐ conceived  notions  of  marketable  academic  art.  Second,  he  drew  from  avant-­‐garde   aesthetic  objectives  that  had  found  a  market  niche.  His  painterly  techniques  grew                                                                                                                   18  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life,”  The  Painter  of  Modern  Life  and  Other  Essays:   Charles  Baudelaire,   trans  and  ed.  Jonathan  Mayne  (New  York  and  London:  Phaidon  Press  Limited,   2001)  1-­‐41.         18   from  the  discourse  of  painters  who  developed  their  imagery  in  response  to  the  1886   exhibition—in  particular,  the  dialogue  generated  by  critic  Félix  Fénéon  with  the  help   of  Neo-­‐Impressionist  and  emerging  painters  Georges  Seurat,  Camille  Pissarro,  Émile   Bernard  (1868-­‐1941),  and  Paul  Signac.   In  the  capital,  Van  Gogh  experienced  early   modern   and   Impressionist   works   by   artists,   such   as   Manet,   Edgar   Degas   (1834-­‐ 1917),   Pierre-­‐Auguste   Renoir   (1841-­‐1919),   and   Claude   Monet   (1840-­‐1926).   Like   some  of  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  painters—Pissarro,  Bernard,  and  Signac—Van  Gogh   also  headed  outdoors  and  painted  from  urban  and  suburban  life,  in  images  such  as   The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène  at  Asnières  (Summer  1887)  [figure  11].  I  address  how   Van   Gogh’s   exposure   to   academic   and   avant-­‐garde   works   led   him   to   build   his   imagery  on  the  Impressionist  vocabulary  of  color  and  texture,  develop  a  symbolic   form  extolled  by  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  and  depict  modern  and  peasant  life  in  an   avant-­‐garde   vernacular.   In   his   Paris-­‐period   canvases,   Van   Gogh’s   vanguardism   suggests  a  shift  from  a  common  understanding,  that  of  peasant  life  for  instance,  and   toward   a   study   of   medium   and   the   compositional   structure   of   the   canvas. 19   Immersed  in  the  exhibition  practice  and  painting  strategies  of  the  Impressionists  and                                                                                                                   19  Clement  Greenberg,  “Avant-­‐Garde  and  Kitsch,”  Art  in  Theory,  1900-­‐2000:  An  Anthology  of  Changing   Ideas,   eds.   Charles   Harrison,   Paul   Wood   and   Jason   Gaiger   (Massachusetts,   Oxford   and   Victoria,   Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998)  539-­‐543.  For  Greenberg,  avant-­‐garde  artists  maintained  a  high-­‐ level  of  intellectual  exploration  within  the  structure  of  capitalism.  Avant-­‐garde  artists  searched  for  an   absolute.  “Content,”  Greenberg  wrote,  “is  to  be  dissolved  so  completely  into  form  that  the  work  of   art  or  literature  cannot  be  reduced  in  whole  or  in  part  to  anything  not  itself”  (541).  In  this  way,  “the   poet  or  artist  turns  [his  attention]  in  upon  the  medium  of  his  own  craft”  and  away  from  a  “common   experience”  (541).           19   Neo-­‐Impressionists,   Van   Gogh   became   aware   of   artists   who   critiqued   historical   precedents   and   sought   to   challenge   present-­‐day   perceptions   of   present-­‐day   culture. 20  Van   Gogh’s   canvases   do   not   provide   an   overall   characterization   of   contemporary  society  as  an  oppressive  state  or  a  utopia.   Instead,  they  convey  an   understanding  of  the  qualities  of  modern  life  through  the  painting’s  form.       Van  Gogh  in  Verlat  and  Cormon’s  Atelier   In  Antwerp,  Van  Gogh  enrolled   in  the  atelier  of  Verlat  and  transitioned  to   Cormon’s  when  he  moved  to  Paris   later  that  year.  Over  the  four  months  he  took   classes  in  the  ateliers  of  Verlat  and  Cormon,  he  conducted  figure  studies  in  drawings,   such  as  The  Discus  Thrower  (February  1886)  and  Standing  Male  and  Seated  Female   Nudes   (March-­‐May   1886)   [figures   1   &   5],   to   understand   how   to   blend   tints   and   shades  to  develop  smooth  anatomically  correct  forms.  The  proportions  of  The  Discus   Thrower  show  Van  Gogh’s  attempt  to  understand  canons  of  classical  measurements.   In   these   drawings,   it   is   clear   that   the   artist   attempted   to   conform   to   academic   compositional   skills.   Female   Standing   Nude   Seen   from   the   Side   (January-­‐February   1886)   and   Torso   of   Venus   (June   1886)   [figures   2   &   7]   both   blur   the   categorical   boundaries   between   Van   Gogh’s   early   period,   his   academic   studies,   and   his   Paris                                                                                                                   20  Greenberg   540.   Greenberg   noted   that   avant-­‐garde   culture   has   developed   from   a   “superior   consciousness  of  history—more  precisely,  the  appearance  of  a  new  kind  of  criticism  of  society,  an   historical  criticism...The  criticism  has  not  confronted  our  present  society  with  timeless  utopias,  but   has  soberly  examined  the  terms  of  history  and  of  the  cause  and  effects  of  antecedents,  justifications   and  functions  of  the  forms  that  lie  at  the  heart  of  every  society.”         20   practice.   These   drawings   suggest   his   experimentation   throughout   the   months   he   was   enrolled   in   academic   classes.   From   the   carefully   studied   hatch   marks   in   The   Discus  Thrower  to  the  round,  slightly  exaggerated  forms  in  Female  Standing  Nude   Seen  from  the  Side,  the  artist’s  drawings  of  the  winter  and  fall  of  1886  indicate  that   he   continued   to   consider   the   robust   bodies   he   included   in   his   imagery   from   The   Netherlands  as  he  studied  academic  standards.  Although  the  contour-­‐line  quality  of   Female  Nude  Standing  seems  angular,  such  as  the  lines  near  the  figure’s  shoulder   blades,  and  some  of  the  hatch  marks  of  The  Discus  Thrower  remain  unblended,  both   drawings   suggest   a   sense   of   the   figure’s   weight   and   anatomy   beneath   the   skin.   These  are  both  difficult  drawing  skills  that  help  painters  portray  a  convincing  figure   in  space.     Overall,  Van  Gogh  began  studying  academic  aims  as  he  seriously  considered   market   demands.   Van   Gogh   wanted   to   learn   from   masters   such   as   Verlat   and   Cormon.   Van   Gogh’s   understanding   of   a   traditional   artistic   career   grew   from   his   working  with  prints  of  masterworks  at  his  Uncle  Vincent  Van  Gogh’s  (Uncle  Cent’s)   successful  Hague  branch  of  Goupil  &  Cie.,  where  he  began  working  in  July  1869.21                                                                                                                   21  Chris  Stolwijk  and  Richard  Thomson,  Théo  van  Gogh,  1857-­‐1891:  Art  Dealer,  Collector  and  Brother   of  Vincent  (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1999)  69.  Uncle  Cent  formed  his  own  art-­‐dealing  business  in   1839  in  The  Hague  and  joined  the  well-­‐established  Goupil  &  Cie  in  1846.  Van  Gogh  did  well  there,   received  a  promotion,  and,   in  June  1873,  moved  to  the  London  branch,  which  primarily  sold  print   reproductions.   See   also:   Steven   Naifeh   and   Gregory   White   Smith,   Van   Gogh:   The   Life   (New   York:   Random  House,  2011)  68.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  1  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  September   29,  1872.  In  the  first  surviving  letter  between  the  brothers,  Vincent  noted  that  he  missed  Théo  after   his  departure  from  their  visit.  See  also:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  2  to  Théo  from  The  Hague,  on  Friday         21   Goupil  &  Cie.  branches  were  primarily  print  shops,  selling  framed  reproductions  of   masterworks.   They   also   sold   original   paintings,   drawings,   and   photographs   and   generally  adapted  to  market  demands.  Van  Gogh  enjoyed  learning  about  work  by   Jean-­‐François   Millet   (1814-­‐1875),   Frans   Hals,   Israëls,   Jean-­‐Léon   Gérôme,   Jean   Baptiste  Camille  Corot,  and  Théodore  Rousseau  to  name  a  few.22  To  Théo,  Vincent   conveyed  a  sincere  excitement  regarding  the  artists’  prints  he  was  handling,  and  he   appreciated  work  from  the  Dutch  masters  to  The  Hague  School  and  from  academic   French   artists   to   Barbizon   painters.   In   1875,   Van   Gogh   moved   to   Paris,   kept   an   apartment   in   Montmartre,   and   worked   in   the   Goupil   &   Cie.   gallery   on   the   rue   Chaptal  until  1876.23  There  he  sold  the  prints  of  well-­‐known  images  by  old-­‐master   artists  such  as  Jacob  van  Ruisdael,  Rembrandt  van  Rijn,  and  the  contemporary  artist                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               December  13,  1872.  Vincent  was  working  at  Uncle  Cent’s  branch  in  The  Hague  in  1872  when  fifteen-­‐ year-­‐old  Théo  visited  his  older  brother.  Shortly  thereafter,  Théo  too  began  working  at  Goupil  &  Cie.   Brussels’s  branch  in  January  1873  and  would  go  on  to  create  a  career  that  would  lead  him  to  Paris,   where   he   became   a   successful   dealer   himself.   When   Théo   moved   to   Brussels,   he   began   corresponding  regularly  with  his  brother.21  Their  correspondence  began  as  they  both  embarked  on  a   career  at  Goupil’s,  and  they  discussed  the  art  that  they  had  seen  in  the  shop  or  in  museums.  Over  the   years,   Vincent   and   Théo   exchanged   many   ideas   about   art   and   artists,   a   subject   that   played   a   significant  role  in  their  relationship  throughout  their  young-­‐adult  lives.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  3  to   Théo  from  The  Hague  in  mid-­‐January,  1873.  “I’m  busy  now  at  the  beginning  of  the  year.  My  new  year   began  well,  I  was  given  a  monthly  rise  of  10  guilders,  so  I  now  earn  50  guilders  a  month,  and  on  top  of   that   I   received   a   50-­‐guilder   bonus.   Isn’t   that   wonderful?   I   now   hope   to   be   entirely   self-­‐ supporting.    I’m  really  very  happy  that  you’re  also  part  of  this  firm.  It’s  such  a  fine  firm,  the  longer  one   is  part  of  it  the  more  enthusiastic  one  becomes.”   22  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  17  to  Théo  from  London  sometime  in  the  beginning  of  January  1884.     23  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  37  to  Théo  from  Paris  on  Tuesday,  July  6,  1875.  Naifeh  and  Smith  103.  See   also:  letter  75,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  from  Ramsgate  on  Monday,  April  17,  1876.  For  reasons  that   are  not  clear,  Van  Gogh  left  Paris  to  work  at  a  boarding  school  for  boys  in  England  in  April  1876.         22   Corot,  among  others.  During  his  first  stay  in  Paris,  he  sought  out  well-­‐known  painters   and  masterworks,  though  he  did  not  then  learn  of  the  Impressionists  who  had  begun   exhibiting  in  1874.  Instead,  he  visited  the  Louvre,  where  he  studied  the  paintings  of   the  prints  he  sold  by  Corot,  Ruisdael,  Jules  Breton,  and  Rembrandt.24      After   leaving   Goupil   &   Cie.   in   1876,   Van   Gogh   moved   frequently   and   eventually  focused  on  becoming  a  preacher,   like  his  father,  but  that  was  a  short-­‐ lived  endeavor  that  ended  among  unknown  circumstances.25  By  1880,  he  decided  to   embark   on   a   professional   career   as   a   painter.26  To   begin,   Van   Gogh   drew   and   painted  from  masters  he  had  encountered  at  Goupil  &  Cie.,  such  as  Millet,  in  The   Sower  (After  Millet)  (1881)  and  Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes  (August  1885)                                                                                                                   24  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  34  to  Théo  from  Paris  on  May  31st,  1875.     25  After  Vincent  decided  he  wanted  to  dedicate  himself  to  painting,  he  wrote  to  Théo  in  the  summer   of  1880,  equating  painting  with  the  Gospel  and  hoping  to  find  purpose  through  his  new  endeavors.   Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  155  to  Théo  from  Cuesmes,  Belgium  sometime  between  Tuesday,  June  22nd   and  Thursday,  June  24th  1880.  Initially,  he  wrote  to  thank  his  brother  for  the  fifty  francs  Théo  sent  as   he  would  countless  times  in  the  years  to  come.  Van  Gogh  asked  for  forgiveness  as  he  had  caused  his   family  much  distress  because  his  relationship  to  the  congregation  to  which  he  was  matched  broke;   the  terms  of  which  are  uncertain.  “…and  then  there’s  something  of  Rembrandt  in  the  Gospels  or  of   the   Gospels   in   Rembrandt,   as   you   wish,   it   comes   to   more   or   less   the   same,   provided   that   one   understands  it  rightly,  without  trying  to  twist  it  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  if  one  bears  in  mind  the   equivalents  of  the  comparisons,  which  make  no  claim  to  diminish  the  merits  of  the  original  figures.”     26  From  this  point  on,  Théo  became  a  financial  and  emotional  partner  in  Vincent’s  artistic  goals.  By   the  end  of  the  summer,  the  letters  between  the  brothers  took  on  the  enriching  and  practical  nature   they  would  have  for  the  rest  of  Vincent’s  life:  an  in-­‐depth  discussion  about  art  and  the  exchange  of   supplies  and  money.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  156  to  Théo  from  Cuesmes  on  Friday,  August  20,  1880.   “I’m  writing  to  you  while  drawing,  and  I’m  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  it,  so  good-­‐night,  and  send  the   sheets   as   soon   as   possible,   and   believe   me.”   Although   Vincent   depended   on   Théo   financially,   the   prospect  of  being  tied  to  his  brother  indefinitely  caused  a  good  deal  of  stress.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter   422  from  Nuenen  around  January  15,  1884.  “I’d  have  qualms  about  continuing  on  the  same  footing.”   See  also:  letter  420,  which  Van  Gogh  from  Nuenen  between  January  6  and  13,  1884.         23   [figures   12-­‐14].27  The   limbs   of   Peasant   Women   Digging   for   Potatoes   reflect   the   round,  plump  body  of  the  type  of  the  woman  in  Female  Nude  Standing,  indicating   the  influence  the  earlier  works  had  on  his  transitional  academic  period.    Although   Van   Gogh   probably   drew   Female   Nude   Standing   after   leaving   the   Academy,   the   artist   modeled   the   figure   with   contour   lines   to   depict   well-­‐built   hips   and   arm   muscles,  an  example  of  the  confluence  of  his  peasant  figures  and  cast  models.28   In  The  Netherlands  and  Belgium,  Van  Gogh  studied  many  painters,  but  the   Romantic   painter   Eugène   Delacroix   (1798-­‐1863)   was   perhaps   an   artist   to   whose   career  he  aspired,  both  aesthetically  and  in  terms  of  a  marketable  presence.  To  Van   Gogh,  Delacroix  was  a  model  artist—he  had  attended  the  studio  of  Pierre-­‐Narcisse   Guérin,  enjoyed  a  successful  Salon  career,  and  had  been  a  celebrated  French  artist.29   As  a  practicing  artist,  Van  Gogh  wrote  of  Delacroix  often  and  in  1889  copied  images   of  Delacroix’s  for  inspiration  [figures  15].30    Among  other  French  masters,  Van  Gogh                                                                                                                   27  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  166  to  Théo  from  Etten  around  Sunday,  April  30,  1881.  “Meanwhile   I’ve   started  on  the  Millet’s,  The  sower  is  finished  and  the  4  times  of  the  day  sketched.  And  now  still  to   come  are  the  laborers  of  the  field.”  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  515  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  July  14,   1885.  Van  Gogh  wrote:  “The  figure  of  the  peasant  and  the  workman  started  more  as  a  ‘genre’—but   nowadays,  with  Millet   in  the  van  as  the  eternal  master,   it’s  the  very  heart  of  modern  art  and  will   remain  so.”  See  also:  Toos  Van  Kooten  and  Mieke  Rijnders,  eds.  The  Paintings  of  Vincent  Van  Gogh  in   the  Collection  of  the  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum  (Otterlo,  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  2003)  117.   28  Marije  Vellekoop,  ed.  Van  Gogh  at  Work  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  2013)  103.       29  On   Delacroix’s   critical   reception,   see:   Andrew   Carrington   Shelton,   “Ingres   versus   Delacroix,”   Art   History  23.5  (December,  2000):  726-­‐742.   30  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  515  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  July  14,  1885.           24   considered  Delacroix  modern  and  he  studied  passages  from  former  director  of  the   École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  Charles  Blanc’s  essay  on  Delacroix  in  Les  artistes  de  mon  temps   (1876).31  While   Van   Gogh   was   in   the   midst   of   working   on   The   Potato   Eaters,   he   thought  of  Delacroix’s  use  of  color  and  how  the  master  painter  encouraged  artists  to   paint  from  memory.32  For  The  Potato  Eaters,  Van  Gogh  made  many  life  studies  and   ended  up  painting  the  final  work  “largely  from  memory.”33  To  move  in  the  direction                                                                                                                   31  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  290  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  November  5,  1882.  “Think  further   back,  I  say,  Leys,  Gavarni,  Degroux  (to  name  just  a  few),  or  still  further,  Ingres,  Delacroix,  Géricault,   think  how  old   it  already  is,  modern  art.  Add  to  them  many  who  are  aged.”  On  Charles  Blanc,  Van   Gogh  wrote   letter  449  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Friday,  June  6,  1884.   In  Blanc’s  passage,  the   author   discussed   Delacroix’s   use   of   color,   noting   that   he   did   not   use   local   color   (the   color   that   describes  the  subject  in  white  light).  Van  Gogh  was  interested  in  Blanc’s  ideas  on  hue  and  also  read   his  Grammaire  des  arts  (1867).  See  also:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  545  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  late   August  or  early  September  1884.  “I’ve  been  given  a  magnificent  book,  J.F.  Millet  by  Sensier,  and  I   myself  bought  a  book  by  Blanc,  Grammaire  des  arts  du  dessin,  because  of  a  passage  from  it  quoted  in   Artistes  de  mon  temps.  This  book  deals  with  something  like  the  same  questions  as  the  little  book  by   Vosmaer,  but  for  my  part  I  would  much  rather  read  Blanc.  You  can  read  Blanc’s  book  and  the  Millet   too,   if  you   like.”  On  Delacroix,  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  461  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Monday,   September  22nd  or  Sunday,  September  28th,  1884.  Vincent  was  acquainted  with  Delacroix’s  paintings,   such  as  Liberty  Leading  the  People  (1830),  which  he  encouraged  Théo  to  visit  during  an  exhibition.   “You   say   there’s   soon   to   be   an   exhibition   of   Delacroix’s   work.   Very   well—you’ll   certainly   see   a   painting  there,  The  barricade,  that  I  only  know  from  biographies  of  Delacroix.  I  think  it  was  painted  in   1848.”   A   fellow   peer   in   Cormon’s   class   noted   how   Van   Gogh   felt   about   Delacroix:  François  Gauzi,   “Vincent  van  Gogh  (1886-­‐1887)”quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  33.  “Delacroix,”   Gauzi  recalled,  “was  [Van  Gogh’s]  God,  and  whenever  he  spoke  of  this  painter  his  lips  trembled  with   emotion.”  See  also:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  575  to  Bernard  from  Paris  in  December  1887.  In  Paris,  Van   Gogh  also  shared  an  essay  about  Delacroix’s  work  with  his  new  friend  Bernard.   32  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  496  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Tuesday,  April  28,  1885.  “It’s  the  second   time  that  I’ve  derived  a  great  deal  from  something  Delacroix  said.  The  first  was  his  theory  of  color,   but  I  also  read  a  conversation  that  he  had  with  other  painters  about  the  making,  that  is  the  creation,   of  a  painting.  He  asserted  that  one  made  the  best  paintings—from  memory.  By  heart!  he  said.  And  I   read  of  the  conversation  in  question  that  when  all  those  good  people  were  going  home  late  in  the   evening—Delacroix,  with  his  usual  vivacity  and  passion—  shouted  out  after  them  in  the  middle  of  the   boulevard,  By  heart!  by  heart!,  probably  to  the  great  surprise  of  respectable  passers-­‐by.”   33  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  497  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on  April  30,  1885.         25   of  the  painters  he  encountered  at  Goupil  &  Cie.,  he  did  not  want  to  stay  in  rural   Nuenen.  There,  “one  must  paint  the  peasants  as  if  one  were  one  of  them,”  so  he   decided  to  establish  connections  in  a  city  with  an  art  market,  either  “in  Antwerp  or   later  in  Paris.”34     After  a  few  weeks  in  Antwerp,  Van  Gogh  made  a  cityscape  painting.  Although   the  painting   is  unknown,  a  drawing  survives:  View  of  Het  Steen  (December  1885)   [figure  16].  The  artist  showed  View  of  Het  Steen  to  dealers  to  see  if  he  could  sell  it,   but  he  had  no  success.35  In  the  drawing,  Van  Gogh  quickly  sketched  the  castle  of   Antwerp,   a   landscape   depicting   an   older   vestige   of   the   city.   Van   Gogh   drew   the   castle  in  two-­‐point  perspective  allowing  it  to  dominate  the  middle-­‐ground  and  rise   up  from  a  small  hill.  The  artist  populated  the  foreground  with  figures  in  silhouette,   some   of   whom   have   brightly   colored   garments.   When   he   shopped   the   painting   around,   he   became   discouraged   that   the   dealers   did   not   want   his   work   and   had                                                                                                                   34  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  543  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on  November  20,  1885.  “You’ll  understand  why   I’m  leaving  next  Tuesday  when  you  realize  firstly  that  I’m  really  longing  to  go—secondly  that  I’m  in   danger   of   becoming   stuck   with   my   work   here   for   want   of   models,   while   working   outdoors   has   stopped  because  of  the  cold.”  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  552  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  between  the  12th   and  16th  of  January  1886.  “So  just  let  me  scratch  around,  and  for  heaven’s  sake  don’t  lose  heart  or   weaken.   I   don’t   think   that   you   can   reasonably   ask   me   to   go   back   to   the   country   for   the   sake   of   perhaps  50  francs  a  month  less,  when  the  whole  stretch  of  years  ahead  is  so  closely  related  to  the   associations  I  have  to  establish  in  town,  either  here  in  Antwerp  or  later  in  Paris.”   35  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  548  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  December  17  1885.  “Today,  for  the  first  time,   I  feel  rather  dejected—I’d  made  a  painting  of  Het  Steen  and  took  it  round  the  dealers.  Two  of  them   were  out,  and  one  didn’t  like  it,  and  one  lamented  in  a  dreadful  manner  that  literally  no  one  had  set   foot  in  his  shop  in  a  fortnight.  This  isn’t  very  cheering,  particularly  when  the  weather’s  cold  and  bleak,   and  one  has  already  broken  into  one’s  last  5  franc  piece  and  is  faced  with  a  fortnight  in  which  one   sees  no  way  ahead.”         26   heard   that   “heads   and   figures   of   women   were   most   likely   to   sell.”36  He   aimed   to   paint  figures  because  the  market  was  saturated  with  landscapes.  In  some  ways,  Van   Gogh’s   View   of   Het   Steen   resembles   Lane   at   the   Jardin   du   Luxembourg.   In   both   images,   small-­‐scale   brightly   hued   figures   occupy   a   contemporary   landscape.   Sketched  quickly  with  the  artist’s  implement,  the  figures  veer  away  from  those  he   was  studying  in  his  classes  and  suggest  that  he  maintained  an  interest  in  descriptive   landscape  imagery  and  moved  toward  a  contemporary  depiction  of  figures.     Through  his  work  at  Goupil  &  Cie.  and  interest  in  Delacroix,  Van  Gogh’s  ideas   about   the   art   market   and   figure   painting   grew   in   some   ways   from   the   French   government-­‐sponsored  Salon  structure.  In  order  to  have  a  good  chance  at  gaining   entry   into   the   juried   Salon   exhibition,   many   young   artists   attended   the   training   offered  at  the  École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  where  artists  first  drew,  then  attempted  to  paint   from  a  plaster  cast  and  finally  from  a  model.37  This  practice  was  in  contrast  to  Van   Gogh’s  work  painting  peasants  outdoors,  modeling  them  with  robust  forms  bulging   beneath  layers  of  cloth  as  he  did  in  Nuenen.  In  Antwerp,  Van  Gogh  wanted  to  paint   from  a  model,  so  he  visited  the  Antwerp  Academy  and  Verlat’s  studio.  After  several   failed   attempts   to   meet   Van   Gogh,   Verlat   eventually   saw   the   painter’s   work.   The                                                                                                                   36  Letter  548.   37  Harrison  C.  White  and  Cynthia  A.  White,  Canvases  and  Careers:  Institutional  Change  in  the  French   Painting  Word  (Chicago  and  London:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1965,  1993)  19.         27   teacher  was  uninterested  in  Van  Gogh’s  landscapes.  38    When  he  saw  the  painter’s   portraits,  though—probably  Portrait  of  an  Old  Man  (December  1885)  [figure  17]— he  allowed  Van  Gogh  entry.  In  the  portrait,  Van  Gogh  found  a  balance  between  the   anatomy   of   the   head’s   features   and   the   application   of   stroke.   The   shades   and   highlights  convey  a  sense  of  musculature  and  also  capture  the  figure’s  forlorn  gaze.   Thick   paint   strokes   similar   to   those   Van   Gogh   developed   more   distinctly   in   Paris   appear,  helping  to  shape  the  anatomy  of  the  facial  features  and  indicate  a  change  in   texture.  The  figure’s  beard,  for  example,  consists  of  unblended  strokes  in  hues  that   relate   to   skin   tone   and   to   the   graying   beard,   unifying   the   elements   of   the   facial   features.         A  fellow  pupil  of  Van  Gogh’s  at  the  Academy,  Victor  Hageman,  recalled  that   he   painted   rapidly   and   layered   paint   thickly,     “so   heavily   that   his   colors   literally   dripped  from  the  canvas  onto  the  floor.”39  Although  only  The  Discus  Thrower  and  a   painting  of  wrestlers  (which  the  artist   later  painted  over)  survive  from  the  artist’s   time  in  the  Academy,  Van  Gogh  painted  Head  of  a  Skeleton  with  a  Burning  Cigarette                                                                                                                   38  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  553  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  20,  1886.  “Wanted  to  tell  you  that   Verlat  has  seen  my  work  at  last,  and  when  he  saw  the  two  landscapes  and  the  still  life  that  I  brought   with  me  from  the  country,  he  said—‘yes,  but  that  doesn’t  concern  me’—when  I  showed  him  the  two   portraits,  he  said—‘that’s  different,  if  it’s  the  figure  you  can  come.’  So  I’m  going  to  begin  tomorrow   by  starting  work  in  the  painting  class  at  the  academy.”  Van  Gogh  began  his  studies  on  January  21st   and  worked  there  throughout  February.  See  also:   letter  565,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo  from   Antwerp  on  February  22,  1886.     39  Victor   Hageman,   “Vincent   in   Antwerp   (1886),”   Van   Gogh   in   Perspective,   ed.   Bogomila   Welsh-­‐ Ovcharov  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice-­‐Hall,  Inc.  1974)  27.           28   (January-­‐February   1886)   [figure   18]   during   the   month   he   studied   at   the   atelier.40   Van   Gogh’s   brushwork,   unlike   that   of   Verlat,   provides   a   texture   for   the   form.   In   Verlat’s   Ariadne   et   amor   (1880)   [figure   19],   smooth   strokes   of   gradient   tint   and   shade  form  mass  and  volume.  In  contrast,  Van  Gogh’s  wide  marks  appear  to  have   been   applied   with   a   brush   loaded   with   paint   and   give   form   to   the   bones   with   unblended  highlights.  When  Verlat  came  around  to  critique  Van  Gogh’s  work,  the   master  quipped:  “I’ll  not  correct  these  dogs.”41  This,  according  to  Hageman,  angered   Van  Gogh  who  worked  “eagerly”  and  attempted  to  grasp  the  lessons  at  hand.     Van  Gogh  also  studied  drawing  under  Eugène  Siberdt,  a  painter  who  used  a   palette  of  color  that  describes  the  figures  and  landscape  accurately  and  with  a  tight,   controlled  brushstroke  [figure  20].  Van  Gogh’s  The  Discus  Thrower  exemplifies  the   lessons  Van  Gogh  attempted  in  Siberdt’s  class.  Siberdt  taught  students  to  depend  on   the  outline  of  the  figure’s  form.42  Once  a  student  crafted  the  contour  lines,  he  could   begin  to  use  shade  to  develop  volume.  For  The  Discus  Thrower,  Van  Gogh  drew  a   thick,   solid   chalk   line   around   the   figure’s   torso,   and   he   used   well-­‐blended   hatch   marks   to   define   the   musculature   of   the   upper   back,   arms,   and   legs.   Hageman   recalled  that  when  given  an  assignment  to  draw  a  plaster  cast  of  the  Venus  de  Milo,                                                                                                                   40  Vellekoop  101.   41  Karel  Verlat  quoted  in  Hagemen,  “Vincent  in  Antwerp  (1886)”  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van   Gogh  in  Perspective  27.   42  Vellekoop  101.           29   Van  Gogh  enlarged  her  hips,  making  them  the  rotund  forms  in  his  Nuenen  imagery   and   perhaps   similar   to   those   he   depicted   in   Female   Nude   Standing.   According   to   Hageman,   upon   seeing   Van   Gogh’s   drawing   of   Venus   with   its   “deformations,”   Siberdt  ripped  up  Van  Gogh’s  study  and  explained  the  “canons  of  design,”  on  which   Venus’s  proportions  could  serve  as  instruction.43  At  this,  Van  Gogh  “flew  into  a  rage”   and  yelled:  “It’s  obvious  you  don’t  know  what  a  young  woman  is   like,  damn  it!  A   woman  must  have  hips,  buttocks  and  a  pelvis  in  which  she  can  carry  a  child!”44  In   Hageman’s  estimation,  Van  Gogh  was  more  inclined  to  consider  the  life  of  the  form,   rather   than   its   classical   measurements.   Van   Gogh’s   inclination   to   subordinate   anatomical  correctness  to  use  a  figure’s  build  to  convey  a  sense  of  identity,  relates   to   the   contemporary   figures   Van   Gogh   included   in   Jardin   du   Luxembourg.   The   modern  silhouette  of  women’s  and  men’s  fashion—bustles  and  top  hats—does  not   indicate  the  figure’s  form,  but  suggests  their  upper-­‐class  status.  Similarly,  Van  Gogh   also  rendered  the  foliage  flatly  and  privileged  the  use  of  paint  medium  rather  than  a   sense   of   depth.   The   abstract   marks   on   the   left   of   Jardin   du   Luxembourg   do   not   create  a  depth  within  the  structure  of  a  tree  and  its  branches,  but  remain  on  the   surface  of  the  canvas.                                                                                                                     43  Hagemen,  “Vincent  in  Antwerp  (1886)”  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  28.   44  Hagemen   and   Vincent   van   Gogh,   “Vincent   in   Antwerp   (1886)”   quoted   in   Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,   Van   Gogh  in  Perspective  28.           30   Van  Gogh  considered  the  lessons  in  the  Antwerp  Academy  not  only  as  a  way   to  change  the  direction  of  his  approach,  but  also  to  become  ready  for  the  Parisian   atelier.45  Shortly   after   arriving   in   Paris,   he   attended   Cormon’s   atelier   from   March   through   the   first   week   of   June.  46  Anecdotes   from   Van   Gogh’s   peers   from   letters,   essays,  and  interviews,  give  the  sense  that  Cormon  was  not  interested  in  painters   who  thought  independently,  and  he  wanted  his  students  to  focus  on  painting  the   plaster   casts   as   Van   Gogh   was   doing   in   Torso   of   Venus   (June   1886)   [figure   7].   “Cormon  demanded,”  classmate  François  Gauzi  recalled,  “that  they  limit  themselves   to  studying  from  the  model,  which  is  to  say  that  they  copy  strictly  what  they  had   before  their  eyes,  without  changing  anything.”47  Bernard,  who  attended  Cormon’s   atelier  from  1884  until  April  1886  where  he  crossed  paths  with  Van  Gogh,  angered   the  master  by  using  saturated  color.  Student  A.S.  Hartrick  recalled  that  Bernard  was   painting  a  brown  sail  that  hung  behind  a  model  with  “alternate  streaks  of  vermilion                                                                                                                   45  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  555  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  28,  1886.  Van  Gogh  wrote:  “…  just  to   be   admitted   anywhere   in   Paris   one   has   to   have   been   somewhere   else   and   have   lost   one’s   rough   edges,  and  one  always  has  to  contend  with  fellows  who’ve  already  worked  at  an  academy  for  some   length  of  time.”    Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  565  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  February  22,  1886.  Van  Gogh   felt  that  he  “derived  benefit  from  coming  to  Antwerp,”  so  he  wanted  “to  go  straight  on”  to  Paris.       46  Louis   van   Tilborgh,   “Van   Gogh   in   Cormon’s   Studio:   A   Chronological   Puzzle,”   Current   Issues   in   Nineteenth-­‐Century  Art  (2007):  52-­‐71.  See  also:  letter  569,  note  14.       47  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  33.         31   and  vert  veronese,”  two  saturated  green  hues.48      Bernard  “saw  [the  sail]  that  way,”   and  Cormon  expelled  young  Bernard  for  his  painting  practice.  49     Like  Verlat  and  Siberdt,  Cormon  taught  students  to  draw  figures  with  contour   line   and   shade   thereafter,   a   process   evident   in   Van   Gogh’s   Standing   Male   and   Seated  Female  Nudes  and  Studies  of  a  Seated  Girl  (March-­‐May  1886)  [figures  5  &   6].50  Cormon   required   mimetic   description   of   the   casts   and   models   and   did   not   tolerate   deviation,   and   “students   followed   rigidly   this   advice”;   like   Bernard,   Van   Gogh  sometimes  “ignored   it.”51  Van  Gogh,  who  worked  with  a  “fury…even  during   rest  period,”  experimented  with  color  as  well  as  texture  while  in  Cormon’s  studio  as   he  had  in  Verlat’s.52  Cormon  met  Van  Gogh’s  work  with  a  characteristic  silence  and   kept  his  comments  to  the  structure  of  the  drawing  rather  than  Van  Gogh’s  use  of   color.  Gauzi  remembered  that  Van  Gogh  painted  blue  drapery  hanging  behind  the   model  with  a  “blue  of  an  unexpected  intensity,”  which  Van  Gogh  “juxtaposed  with                                                                                                                   48  A.S.  Hartick,  “Vincent  van  Gogh  (1886-­‐1887)”  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective   30.     49  Mary   Ann   Stevens,   ed.   Emile   Bernard,   1868-­‐1941:   A   Pioneer   of   Modern   Art   (Waanders   Verlag,   Zwolle:  Wanders  Publishers,  1990)  95.  Bernard  left  for  Brittany  in  early  April,  where  he  stayed  until   sometime  around  October,  when  he  and  Van  Gogh  connected.   50  Vellekoop  107.     51  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  33.   52  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  34.         32   the  golden  yellow  of  the  woman’s  skin…[and]  unmodified  violet  tones  which  were   mutually  intensifying.”53     Only   one   of   Van   Gogh’s   painted   studies   from   Cormon’s   remains,   but   the   artist  created  Torso  of  Venus  around  the  time  he  attended  the  atelier.54  In  Torso  of   Venus,  Van  Gogh  used  a  Prussian  blue  as  the  backdrop.  The  painter  left  large  swaths   of  brushstrokes  semi-­‐blended  and  seems  to  have  mixed  the  darker  hues  with  lighter   values  directly  on  the  panel.  Rather  than  cascade  softly  against  the  cast’s  white  skin,   the  strokes  extend  from  the  model,  forming  a  rudimentary  outline.  The  painter  used   Naples   yellow   as   a   highlight   on   the   round   forms   of   the   torso,   and,   rather   than   continue  with  local  color,  he  drew  short  Prussian  blue  marks  from  the  background  to   express   the   figure’s   shadow.   Van   Gogh   modeled   the   classical   form   with   brushstrokes,  a  process  in  contrast  to  giving  volume  to  form  through  layers  of  thinly   applied   tint   and   shade.   Van   Gogh   would   have   been   expected   to   understand   the   latter  approach,  smoothing  out  his  marks  and  indicating  the  round  quality  of  hips   with  the  gradual  interplay  of  shade  and  highlight.  Instead,  Van  Gogh  thickly  applied   paint.  Torso  of  Venus,  painted  at  the  time  he  decided  to  leave  the  atelier,  indicates   that  although  he  attempted  to  use  a  limited  palette  and  model  with  tints  and  shades                                                                                                                   53  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  34.   54  Vellekoop  107.  Nude  girl,  seated  (1886)  survives.           33   and   paint   classical   forms,   he   did   not   entirely   adjust   his   practice   to   an   academic   technique.     Portrait  of  an  Old  Man,  Head  of  a  Skeleton,  and  Torso  of  Venus  represent   images   that   lead   from   Van   Gogh’s   atelier   training   but   clearly   move   toward   the   expressive   brushwork   and   inventive   use   of   hue   and   texture   the   artist   created   in   Paris.  While  he  began  to  dedicate  himself  to  the  academic  model,  he  remained  open   to  artistic  influences  and  modes  of  image  making  that  informed  the  forward-­‐thinking   images   he   generated   shortly   thereafter.   When   Van   Gogh   definitively   shifted   his   perspective  regarding  the  merits  of  the  atelier  structure  and  the  criteria  of  figure   painting—depth,  perspective,  proportion,  muscular  definition,  and  smooth  gradual   color  shifts—he  had  already  begun  to  consider  the  role  of  the  impasto  brush  mark  in   depicting  form.     When  Van  Gogh  left  the  atelier,  he  wrote  to  painter  Horace  Mann  Livens:   I  have  been  in  Cormon’s  studio  for  three  or  four  months  but  did   not  find  that  as  useful  as  I  had  expected  it  to  be.  It  may  be  my   fault  however,  [sic]  any  how  I  left  there  too  as  I  left  Antwerp  and   since   I   worked   alone,   and   fancy   that   since   I   feel   my   own   self   more.                   Trade  is  slow  here,  the  great  dealers  sell  Millet,  Delacroix,  Corot,   Daubigny,  Dupré,  a  few  other  masters  at  exorbitant  prices.  They   do  little  or  nothing  for  young  artists.55                                                                                                                     55  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  569  to  Horace  Mann  Livens  from  Paris  during  September  or  October  1886.           34   The  atelier  lessons  supported  an  idealized  form  that  could  occupy  the  central  plane   of  a  canvas,  but  Van  Gogh  sought  out  emerging  artists  who  constructed  imagery  that   was  akin  to  the  experimental  aspects  of  his  paintings,  such  as  the  beard’s  energetic   brushwork  in  Portrait  of  an  Old  Man.  Painting  formulaically  no  longer  interested  Van   Gogh.  When  he  embarked  on  a  painting  practice  that  allowed  him  to  transform  the   modern  world  in  which  his  lived,  he  wrote  to  Bernard:  “one  finds  oneself  obliged  to   learn  to  live,  as  one  does  to  paint,  without  resorting  to  the  old  tricks  and  trompe   l’oeil  of  schemers.”56     At   this   point,   he   took   his   lessons   from   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionists   whose   imagery   he   could   observe   in   independent   exhibitions,   work   that   had   become   increasingly   accessible   and   experimental   by   1886.   The   Impressionists  circumvented  the  hierarchical  organization  of  the  École  and  Salon  and   mounted  their  own  exhibitions,  creating  new  avenues  by  which  artists  could  make  a   living,  and  made  landscapes  one  of  their  foci.  57  For  the  Impressionists,  the  École  and   atelier   training   were   supposed   to   legitimize   their   rise   through   the   Salon’s                                                                                                                   56  Letter  575.   57  Jane  Mayo  Roos,  Early  Impressionism  and  the  French  State  1866-­‐1874  (Cambridge  and  New  York:   Cambridge   University   Press,   1996)   204.   The   Impressionist   exhibitions   were,   in   some   respects,   opposed  to  the  Salon  model,  a  system  Paul  Cézanne  petitioned  against  throughout  the  1860s,  arguing   for  a  different  juried  body.         35   hierarchy.58  Instead,   academic   training   represented   the   ideals   against   which   their   work   and   their   co-­‐operative   gallery   experience   railed.   When   Van   Gogh   began   to   explore  the  avant-­‐garde  works,  his  attitude  toward  marketable  art  and  his  purpose   changed.   “In   one   word,   with   much   energy,”   Van   Gogh   wrote   to   Livens,   “with   a   sincere   personal   feeling   of   color   in   nature   I   would   say   an   artist   can   get   on   here   notwithstanding  the  many  obstructions.  And  I  intend  remaining  here  still  longer.”59   Van   Gogh   had   become   immersed   in   “seeking”   color   “oppositions”   to   “harmonize   brutal  extremes,”  a  perspective  he  attributed  to  the  Impressionists  whom  he  had   not  known  before  living  in  Paris.60     Contemporary   in   mark-­‐making,   color   use,   and   subject   matter,   Jardin   du   Luxembourg   [figure   8]   is   an   early   example   of   Van   Gogh’s   familiarity   with   the   Impressionist  approach.  Bright  crimson  parasols  and  distant  red  forms  seem  to  make   an  implied  line  across  the  mid-­‐plane  of  the  canvas,  juxtaposing  the  several  hues  of                                                                                                                   58  White  and  White  114  and  table  12.  Nearly  all  the  Impressionists,  except  for  Cézanne,  had  either   attended  the  École  or  spent  time  training  in  the  atelier  of  an  academic  painter.  Although  the  first   Impressionist  exhibition  was  held  in  1874,  the  artists  also  contributed  to  the  Salon.  Early  modern  and   Impressionist   painters—Manet,   Degas,   Pissarro,   Cézanne,   Renoir   and   Alfred   Sisley—had   all   been   accepted  to  the  Salon,  showing  in  the  state-­‐run  exhibitions  throughout  the  1870s.  Manet  and  Renoir   exhibited  at  the  Salon  into  the  early  1880s,  and  Cézanne  continued  to  submit  work  until  1886,  but   was  consistently  rejected.  Pissarro,  Degas  and  Monet  began  to  show  solely  in  group  exhibitions  in  the   1880s.   Their   independent   shows   brought   about   a   change   in   the   gallery   system   whereby   dealers   sought  out  new  artists  and  were  able  to  market  their  works  to  respective  buyers.   59  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  569  to  Horace  Mann  Livens  from  Paris  in  September  or  October  1886.   60  Letter  569.  “In  Antwerp  I  did  not  even  know  what  the  Impressionists  were,  now  I  have  seen  them   and   though   not   being   one   of   the   club,   yet   I   have   much   admired   certain   Impressionist   pictures— Degas,  nude  figure–Claude  Monet,  landscape.”         36   green  in  the  foliage  and  creating  the  opposition  that  interested  Van  Gogh.  Although   the  family  members  in  The  Potato  Eaters  were  contemporaries  of  Van  Gogh’s,  they   were  rural,  and  the  painted  surface  crafted  with  relatively  smooth  marks.  In  Jardin   du   Luxembourg,   he   depicted   a   modern   city   and   drew   silhouetted   figures   with   a   sense  of  weight  and  solid  use  of  contour  line  he  honed  in  the  atelier.  The  brushwork   in   the   trees   and   the   unblended   greens,   ochres,   and   Naples   yellow   relate   to   the   texture   the   artist   developed   in   the   Portrait   of   an   Old   Man   around   the   figure’s   temples,  or  the  shadows  in  Torso  of  Venus  that  form  the  figure’s  lower  abdomen.   The  academic  paintings  show  his  first  attempts  at  gestural  mark-­‐making  against  the   lessons  of  his  instructors.  Conversely,  for  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  he  drew  from  some   of   his   more   inventive   academic   work   to   create   one   of   his   earliest   paintings   of   modern  life,  leaving  an  overlap  in  technique  between  his  academic  studies  and  first   experiences  with  avant-­‐garde  painting.       Théo  at  Goupil’s   Upon  his  arrival,  Van  Gogh  considered  his  entry  into  the  art  market  through   the  conventional  channels  of  academic  painting.  Perhaps  one  of  the  most  important   lessons  in  gaining  a  place  in  the  market  came  from  Théo,  who  was  in  a  managerial   position  at  Goupil  &  Cie.  to  work  with  the  Impressionist  painters.  At  the  time,  Goupil         37   &  Cie.  was  one  of  the  top  firms  in  Europe  and  had  international  branches.61  Richard   Thomson  points  out  that  Théo’s  work  with  the  Impressionist  painters  should  not  be   mythologized,  and  that  the  dealer  cannot  be  considered  a  champion  of  the  avant-­‐ garde   painters.62  Nonetheless,   Thomson’s   scholarship   positions   Théo   as   a   dealer   with  access  to  their  works.  Although  dealers  on  the  forefront,  such  as  Durand-­‐Ruel,   had  begun  selling  Impressionist  paintings  the  previous  decade,  Théo  was  in  business   with  the  painters  as  early  as  1885.     Théo  exposed  Vincent  to  the  new  modes  of  painting  during  a  time  when  the   dealer  was  seeking  to  forge  business  alliances  with  the  Impressionists,  an  aspect  of   the  developing  market  Vincent  saw  firsthand.  Théo  developed  a  relationship  with   the  avant-­‐garde  painters  shortly  before  Vincent’s  move.  The  dealer’s  work  at  Goupil   &  Cie.  gave  Vincent  access  to  the  Impressionist  works,  which  enabled  the  artist  to   reconsider   the   role   of   the   figure   in   contemporary   canvases   and   the   use   of   compositional   tools   to   challenge   traditional   ideals   of   depth   and   perspective.   Although   scholars   acknowledge   Théo’s   dealings   with   the   Impressionists   as   an   influence  on  Vincent’s  shift,  the  unique  painterly  strategies  the  painter  developed  in                                                                                                                   61  John   Rewald,   “Théo   van   Gogh,   Goupil   and   the   Impressionists,”   Gazette   des   Beaux-­‐Arts   LXXXI   (January-­‐February  1973):  2.  Léon  Boussod,  Théo’s  employer,  joined  the  company  with  a  controlling   share  equal  to  Uncle  Cent’s  in  1856.  See:  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  69.  Goupil  &  Cie.  had  branches  in   London,  Brussels,  The  Hague,  Paris,  New  York  and  Berlin.   62  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  123.           38   connection  with  the  work  Théo  handled  have  generally  been  overlooked.63  Although   Van  Gogh  came  into  contact  with  Bernard  and  Henri  Toulouse-­‐Lautrec  at  Cormon’s   atelier,  Théo’s  connections  to  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists  had  a  long-­‐ term  impact  on  Van  Gogh’s  painting  lessons  in  Paris  and  thereafter.  In  the  month   after  Van  Gogh  left  Cormon’s,  the  painter  transitioned  from  his  anatomy  studies  to   scenes   of   everyday   life   like   those   of   the   Impressionists,   such   as   in   Jardin   du   Luxembourg  and  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  He  began  using  broken  strokes  and  hues  to   convey   a   sense   of   atmosphere,   motion,   and   space.   I   aim   to   interpret   Vincent’s   newfound  approach  among  the  works  with  which  Théo  came  into  contact  during  the   artist’s  stay  in  the  capital,  which  set  the  painter  on  a  course  to  develop  his  symbolic   conception  of  the  use  of  paint  and  texture  within  a  market  structure  that  supported   experimental  imagery.     Théo  began  working  for  his  Uncle  Cent’s  Brussels’s  branch  in  1873,  where  he   oversaw   the   stockroom,   and   sold   both   prints   and   images.  64  When   Uncle   Cent   transferred  Théo  to  The  Hague  branch  later  that  year,  Théo  sold  works  by  artists   such  as  Jacob  Maris,  Israëls,  and  Millet.  Théo  and  Vincent  often  traded  prints  and                                                                                                                   63  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  Van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  15-­‐16.  Homburg  33.  Zemel  189-­‐190.     64  In  January  1873,  Théo  moved  to  Brussels  and  at  fifteen  (he  would  turn  16  May  1st),  he  was  the   branch’s   youngest   assistant.   See   also:   Letter   2.   Upon   finding   out   the   news,   Van   Gogh,   who   was   working  at  The  Hague  branch  wrote:  “I’m  so  glad  that  both  of  us  are  now  in  the  same  line  of  business,   and  in  the  same  firm;  we  must  correspond  often.”  See  also:  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  22.           39   discussed   the   acquisitions   of   their   respective   branches.65  “Today   we   received   the   nouveautés,”  Théo  wrote  to  his  brother,  “which  included  the  print  after  Rembrandt   [figure  21].  It  looks  beautiful,  the  figure  of  Jesus,  in  particular,  is  beautiful,  and  the   whole  is  noble.”66  Uncle  Cent  then  sent  Théo  to  Paris  where  he  took  a  position  in  the   Montmartre  branch  and  became  manager  in  1881.  67    Perhaps  most  importantly  in   terms  of  Vincent’s  development  as  a  career-­‐driven  painter,  Théo  took  part   in  the   new   kind   of   dealer-­‐artist   relationship   necessitated   by   the   rise   in   independent   exhibitions,  which  in  part  changed  the  company’s  direction.     In   1873,   Goupil   &   Cie.   considered   artists   such   as   Gérôme   and   Rousseau   modern,  and  a  steady  stream  of  work  that  had  hung  in  the  Salon  passed  through                                                                                                                   65  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  141  to  Théo  from  Amsterdam  on  February  18,  1878.  “I  think  of  you  so  often   and   also   long   for   you,   and   every   morning   the   prints   on   the   wall   of   my   study   remind   me   of   you,   Christus  Consolator  and  pendant,  that  wood  engraving  after  Van  Goyen,  Dordrecht,  the  portrait  of   the  Rev.  Heldring,  The  oven  by  T.  Rousseau  and  so  on,  because  I  got  them  all  from  you,  and  so  the  pot   called  the  kettle  black  when  you  wrote  that  it  was  so  wrong  of  me  to  give  you  a  print  for  your  room   now  and  then,  if  I  find  something  that  goes  with  what  you  already  have.  So  enough  about  that,  I  say   in  turn,  but  write  and  tell  me  whether  you’ve  added  some  good  thing  or  other  to  your  collection,  do   continue  with  it,  because  the  way  you  do  it  and  set  about  it,  it’s  most  certainly  a  good  work.”     66  Théo   wrote   letter   45   to   Van   Gogh   from   The   Hague   on   October   7,   1875.   Théo   referred   to   Rembrandt’s  The  Pilgrims  at  Emmaus  (1648).   67  Letter  152,  note  16.  By  the  late  1870s  Goupil  &  Cie.  had  three  shops  connected  to  galleries:  9  Rue   Chaptal  (with  a  printing  press,  hotel,  and  artist  studios),  19  Boulevard  Montmartre  (a  gallery  with  the   ground  floor,  a  mezzanine,  and  a  basement),  and  2  Place  de  l’Opéra  (the  most  lavish  space).  See  also:   Stolwijk  and  Thomson  78,  69.  Théo  visited  one  of  Goupil  &  Cie.’s  Paris  branches  in  1878  to  help  with   the  company’s  Exposition  Universelle  stall  and  moved  to  Paris  in  November  1879.  At  this  time,  Uncle   Cent  sold  his  shares  to  René  Valadon  (Boussod’s  son-­‐in-­‐law)  and  retired.           40   Goupil  &  Cie.,  either  as  a  canvas  or  reproductive  print.68  In  the  1880s  Goupil  &  Cie.’s   interest  in  work  vetted  at  the  Salon  did  not  waver,  but  Théo  visited  exhibitions  of   emerging   artists   and   began   making   a   few   deals   with   Impressionist   painters.   Théo   made   his   first   Impressionist   trade   in   March   1884,   a   landscape   by   Pissarro.69  Théo   sold  three  more  Impressionist  canvases  the  following  year:  a  winter   landscape  by   Alfred  Sisley,  a  garden  scene  by  Renoir,  and  Monet’s  Vétheuil  (c.  1878-­‐1881)  [figure   22].   From   this   point   on,   Théo   handled   a   good   number   of   Pissarro   and   Monet’s   respective  work.  70  From  his  experience,  Théo  tried  to  explain  to  Vincent  the  avant-­‐ garde   developments,   but   it   was   difficult   for   the   artist   to   understand   the   new   pictorial   aims   because   he   could   not   study   the   imagery   while   he   was   living   in   Nuenen.71   Théo   had   come   to   find   the   Impressionists’   painterly   contribution   worth   trading  and  continued  to  explain  to  Vincent  the  merits  of  the  new  methods,  which   impacted  the  artist  indirectly.  “My  brother  was  here  just  recently,”  Vincent  wrote  to                                                                                                                   68  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  4.   69  Théo  may  have  had  a  buyer  in  mind  because  the  painting  changed  hands  the  same  day.   70  Letter  569,  note  3.  Letter  528,  note  9.  Renoir  dealt  mainly  with  Durand-­‐Ruel—Goupil’s  brokered   only   five   sales   for   Renoir   between   1885   and   1892—and   Goupil’s   purchased   a   modest   number   of   Sisley’s   canvases,   eleven   between   1885   and   1892.   See   Rewald,   “Théo   Van   Gogh,   Goupil   and   the   Impressionists”  5.     71  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  450  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  in  mid-­‐June  1884.  “And  from  what  you  said  about   Impressionism,  I’ve  grasped  that  it’s  something  different  from  what  I  thought  it  was,  but  it’s  still  not   entirely  clear  to  me  what  one  should  understand  by  it.”         41   Anthon  van  Rappard  a  few  months  after  Théo’s  first  Monet  sale;  “he  told  me  several   things   about   what’s   going   on   in   Paris   [and]   I   was   interested   in   what   he   told   me   about…Claude  Monet,  a  colorist   landscape  painter.”72  Van  Gogh  did  not  elaborate   on  what  he  meant  by  “colorist  landscape  painter,”  but  at  the  time  he  was  thinking   about   using   complementary   colors   and   of   “breaking   colors.”73  The   water   in   the   foreground  of  Monet’s  Vétheuil,  for  instance,  depends  on  the  relationship  between   the  shape  of  the  brush  and  unblended  violets,  umbers,  and  highlights  that  depict  the   reflection  of  the  church  rising  in  the  mid-­‐ground.  Color  in  Monet’s  Vétheuil  is  literally   broken;   marks   appear   as   if   floating   on   the   surface   they   intend   to   describe.   The   church’s  colors  mirror  those  in  the  water,  unifying  the  foreground  and  mid-­‐ground   through  hue,  but  their  respective  textures  remain  in  contrast.  Although  Van  Gogh’s   encounter   with   Vétheuil   is   not   documented,   describing   Monet   as   a   colorist   landscape  painter  accurately  encompasses  the  ways   in  which  Monet’s  use  of  hue   and  texture  innovate.  Van  Gogh  would  soon  adopt  Monet’s  approach  in  Paris.     The  year  Vincent  arrived  in  Paris,  Goupil  &  Cie.  underwent  several  changes   that   would   allow   he   and   Théo   to   explore   the   work   of   artists   who   exhibited                                                                                                                   72  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  528  to  Anthon  van  Rappard  from  Nuenen  on  August  18,  1885.     73  Letter  528.             42   independently.  74  Throughout   the   early   1880s,   Goupil   &   Cie.   handled   paintings   by   Delacroix,   Gérôme,   and   academic   painter   William-­‐Adolphe   Bouguereau,   work   Thomson  refers  to  as  “safe  stock.”75  Paintings  that  had  shown  at  the  Salon,  and  that   were  academically  driven,  sold.  In  1887,  Goupil  &  Cie.  held  a  sale  to  liquidate  this   stock,  began  reorganizing  the  company,  and  did  not  renew  contracts  with  successful   artists,   such   as   Bouguereau.   After   this   restructuring   period,   Théo   began   dealing   more  frequently  more  with  the  Impressionists.  With  the  capital  raised  through  the   sale  of  the  old  stock,  Théo  investigated  new  artistic  options  and  was  in  charge  of   finding  emerging  artists.76  Théo  hung  their  works  in  the  mezzanine,  introduced  their   paintings   to   buyers,   and   included   their   imagery   in   a   dialog   with   other   respected   avant-­‐garde  artists.77                                                                                                                     74  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  69.  Adolph  Goupil  stepped  down  in  1884  and  in  1887  retired,  leaving  Goupil   &  Cie.  to  partners  Léon  Boussod  and  his  son-­‐in-­‐law  René  Valadon.  They  renamed  the  company  and   created  a  new  insignia,  Boussoud  &  Valadon  successors  of  Goupil  &  Cie,  keeping  the  name  Goupil  as  a   way  to  mark  their  lineage  (though  many  still  referred  to  the  company  as  “Goupil”).   75  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  75.     76  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  137.   77  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  7.  Although  the  archival  records  of  Goupil   &   Cie.   sales   do   not   list   the   broker   who   sold   particular   paintings,   the   records   do   indicate   a   steep   increase  in  sales  of  Impressionist  works—and  they  were  most  likely  purchased  by  the  Montmartre   branch   because   the   Place   d’Opéra   branch   did   not   sell   Impressionist   paintings   until   the   1890s.   Furthermore,  artists  may  have  left  work  on  consignment,   in  which  case  the  clerk  at  Goupil  &  Cie.   would  have  listed  the  date  of  purchase  and  date  of  sale  as  the  same  day.  That  the  paintings  were  sold   on  the  same  day  the  company  acquired  them  may  indicate  that  the  dealer  had  a  buyer  lined  up.  If  the   dealer  had  a  buyer  in  mind,  the  deal  was  not  as  risky  as  investing  in  a  painter’s  work.  If  a  painting  was   not  sold  on  the  day  of  acquisition,  there  is  no  telling  how  long  a  work  on  consignment  would  have   been   in   stock   nor   what   works   Goupil   &   Cie.   had   on   hand   but   did   not   sell.   See   also:   Stolwijk   and   Thomson   123.   Thomson   points   out   that   due   to   factors   such   as   these,   Théo’s   work   with   the         43   After   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition   in   1886,   Théo   began   aggressively   acquiring  avant-­‐garde  works,  whose  market  had  developed  after  over  a  decade  of   artist-­‐run  exhibitions.78  Pissarro,  for  instance,  placed  two  paintings  with  Goupil’s  in   1887,   including   Récolte   des   joins   and   Marché   de   Pontoise.  79  Thereafter,   Pissarro   dealt   regularly   with   Théo   and   Goupil   &   Cie.,   where   he   sold   23   more   paintings   between  1888  and  1895,  most  of  which  fetched  prices  of  over  1000  francs.  In  1887,   Goupil   &   Cie.   handled   15   canvases   by   Monet,   such   as   images   of   Belle-­‐Isle   and   Étretat,  eight  of  which  sold  that  year.80  The  Impressionist  painter  exchanged  nearly   100  paintings  with  Goupil  &  Cie.  thereafter,  and  his  works  demanded  higher  prices   than  those  of  Pissarro,  selling  for  about  3000  francs.81  Although  Goupil  &  Cie.  did  not   handle  as  many  of  Manet’s  and  Renoir’s  paintings  as  they  did  Monet’s,  Goupil  &  Cie.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Impressionists   should   not   cast   him   as   a   champion   of   Impressionism.   I   find   that   Théo’s   role   in   marketing  the  Impressionist  works  cannot  be  overlooked  in  terms  of  Van  Gogh’s  exploration  of  avant-­‐ garde  painterly  methods.     78  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  81.     79  Camille  Pissarro,  Camille  Pissarro:  Letters  to  his  Son  Lucien,  eds.  John  Rewald  and  Lucien  Pissarro   (New  York:  Pantheon  Books  Inc.,  1943)  120.  “Things  are  picking  up,”  Pissarro  wrote  to  his  son  Lucien   in  September  1887,  “I  received  a  letter  along  with  eight  hundred  francs  from  Théo  Van  Gogh;  he  sold   [collector  George]  de  Bellio  my  large  painting;  the  one  in  grey  light.”  See  also:  Rewald,  “Théo  van   Gogh,   Goupil   and   the   Impressionists”   appendix   1.   Goupil   &   Cie.’s   ledger   from   1887   indicates   that   both  paintings  sold  the  day  of  acquisition.   80  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  appendix  1.  Three  of  Monet’s  paintings   were  listed  as  selling  the  day  of  acquisition.   81  One  of  Monet’s  snow  landscapes  sold  to  a  New  York  collector  in  1889  for  10,350  francs.         44   acquired  Manet’s  Marine  (an  unknown  painting)  in  1886,  which  sold  for  200  francs,   and  bought  and  sold  Renoir’s  Canotiers  (1875)  [figure  23].82     Théo  also  made  investments  in  works  by  artists  such  as  Degas,  which  paid  off   in   the   long   term.   Degas,   who   placed   Femme   accoundée   près   d’un   pot   de   fleurs   (1865)  [figure  24]  with  Goupil’s  in  1887,  sold  in  1889  for  5500  francs,  twice  as  much   as   some   of   the   equivalently   experimental   images.   Théo   also   maintained   relationships  with  buyers  who  were  interested  in  new  work  by  established  artists,   such   as   Monet,   and   up-­‐and-­‐coming   artists,   such   as   Gauguin.83  From   Théo,   the   collector  Jean  Baptiste  Casimir  Dupuis  purchased  several  recently  painted  images  in   1887,  such  as  Monet’s  Tempête  sur  les  côtes  de  Belle-­‐Isle  (1886)  and  Pyramides  de   Port-­‐Coton,   Belle-­‐Isle   (1886),   Gauguin’s   Baigneurs   [figures   25-­‐27]   and   Armand   Guillaumin’s  Paysage,  bord  de  rivière.84  Théo  developed  longstanding  relationships                                                                                                                   82  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  7,  note  10.  Marine  sold  to  an  artist  named   Boggs.   See   also:   letter   570,   which   Van   Gogh   wrote   to   Charles   Angrand   from   Paris   on   Monday,   October  25  1886.  Van  Gogh  wanted  to  exchange  work  with  Boggs  and  wrote  to  Angrand  about  it.  See   also:  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  appendix  1.  Canotiers  sold  on  the  same   day  in  November  of  1887  for  350  francs.   83  On  Théo  and  Gauguin’s  patron-­‐like  relationship,  see:  Théo’s  letter  711,  which  he  wrote  to  Vincent   from  Paris  on  Tuesday,  October  23,  1888.  Théo  sold  several  of  Gauguin  paintings  to  Dupuis,  as  well  as   other  collectors  such  as  Ambroise  Vollard,  through  Goupil  &  Cie.  “What  will  please  you,”  Théo  wrote   to  Vincent  in  October  1888,  “is  that  I’ve  sold  Gauguin’s   large  painting,  the  Breton  women,”  which   Théo  had  sold  to  Dupuis.  Théo  paid  Gauguin  monthly  in  exchange  for  work.  Although  the  relationship   lasted  only  until  Gauguin  visited  Vincent  in  Arles  in  1888,  Théo’s  work  with  Gauguin  represents  a  new   way  of  conducting  business  during  a  time  when  many  independent  artists  sought  a  gallery-­‐dealer  to   stabilize  their  livelihoods.     84  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  75.         45   with  clients  who  were  interested  in  developing  a  collection  of  contemporary  work,   and  he  fostered  a  patron-­‐like  relationship  with  emerging  artists,  such  as  Gauguin.85     The  Impressionists  proved  that  landscapes  and  urban  subjects  not  only  held  a   viable  market  niche,  but  that  salable  canvases  could  challenge  conventional  notions   of   composition.   The   group   of   images   Goupil   &   Cie.   purchased   and   sold   between   1884   and   1887   represent   both   new   works,   such   as   those   by   Monet,   and   older   paintings,   such   as   Degas’s   and   Renoir’s   canvases.   Taken   together,   the   canvases   capture   the   range   of   techniques   within   Impressionism   and   provide   a   frame   of   historical  reference,  from  the  1860s  through  the  1880s.  For  instance,  Tempête  and   Pyramide,  painted  while  Monet  was  staying  on  Belle-­‐Isle  an  island  of  Brittany,  have  a   flattened  figure-­‐ground  relationship  and  Monet’s  characteristic  use  of  deep  blue  and   violet   hues   to   craft   shadows.   Although   logistical   market   concerns   governed   decisions,  the  initial  buying  pattern  at  the  start  of  Goupil  &  Cie.’s  relationship  with   contemporary   and   Impressionist   artists   shows   an   interest   in   the   wide-­‐ranging   perspectives  the  group  of  painters  had  to  offer—from  landscape  to  still   life,  from   modern   working-­‐class   boaters   to   upper-­‐class   portraits   and   from   the   loose   brushwork  of  Renoir’s  Canotiers  to  Degas’s  tightly  rendered  Femme.                                                                                                                     85  White   and   White   111,   126.   Durand-­‐Ruel,   and   his   rival   Georges   Petit,   and   Goupil   &   Cie.   began   paying  painters  in  advance,  creating  a  patron-­‐like  system  that  allowed  for  a  good  deal  of  autonomy  so   artists   could   create   innovative   imagery.   This   gave   dealers   first   glance   at   new   work   and   a   steady   number  of  paintings  to  show  collectors  interested  in  avant-­‐garde  work.             46   Van   Gogh’s   exposure   to   the   techniques   and   scope   of   subject   matter   is   evident  in  his  landscapes  and  street  scenes  from  this  period,  subject  matter  to  which   he   returned   after   his   short   foray   into   academic   paintings.   In   the   vein   of   Renoir’s   Canotiers,   Van   Gogh   depicted   a   contemporary   Montmartre   café   scene   during   the   day  in  La  Guinguette  [figure  28]  in  the  fall  of  1886.  He  continued  to  depend  on  the   dark   umbers   and   sienna   hues   he   used   in   The   Potato   Eaters   and   Peasant   Women   Digging  up  Potatoes,  but  the  sky  opens  with  a  light  hue,  and  the  highlights  in  the   lamp  post  and  table-­‐tops  reflect  atmospheric  effects.   In  La  Guinguette,  Van  Gogh   applied  heavy  impasto  paint  and  indicated  some  the  figures  in  a  silhouette,  unlike   Renoir’s   brushwork   in   Canotiers.   Canotiers   shows   Renoir’s   soft   scumbled   mark-­‐ making,   a   complex   combination   of   hue,   translucent   highlights,   and   saturated   lowlights.  The  texture  Renoir  generates  allows  the  figures  to  appear  as  if  the  sun’s   light  moves  over  the  fabric  of  their  clothing,  reflecting  glimmers  of  tints  that  quickly   transition  to  deep  shadows.  Although  Renoir’s  surface  quality  is  sophisticated,  Van   Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  in  Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps:  pont  de  Clichy  (spring  1887)   [figure  29]  likewise  conveys  lighter  brushwork.  Van  Gogh  left  the  mark  of  the  brush   unblended  and  clustered  light  whites,  yellows,  and  greens  together  to  convey  light   reflecting  from  the  foliage.  Based  on  a  prism  of  greens,  Van  Gogh  attempted  a  sharp   shift   from   highlights   to   lowlights,   indicated   with   dense   emerald   hues   situated   adjacent  to  opaque  yellows.  Like  Renoir’s  Canotiers,  Van  Gogh  included  a  body  of         47   water  in  Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps  peeking  through  the  middle-­‐ground  grasses,   providing  a  reflective  backdrop  framed  by  the  trees  and  bushes.  In  both  Canotiers   and   Bords   de   rivière   au   printemps,   the   artists   painted   the   water   with   a   different   motion  and  texture  to  contrast  the  foliage.  Van  Gogh’s  sense  of  textural  depth  led   from  Renoir’s  in  some  ways  as  the  artist  recognized  Renoir’s  “pure,  clean  drawing”   and  attempted  to  paint  with  a  keen  understanding  of  the  ways  in  which  the  sun’s   light  can  give  shape  to  water  and  foliage.86   Monet’s   landscape  also   influenced  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  perspectival  devices.   Monet’s   Tempête   and   Pyramides   from   Étretat   both   have   a   compounded   figure-­‐ ground  relationship.  By  1886  Monet  was  experimenting  with  a  visual  rhetoric  that,   although   grounded   in   the   optical   studies   of   Impressionism,   reduced   the   subject   toward  the  symbolic  and  moved  away  from  the  mode  of  mimetic  painting  associated   with  early  Impressionism.87  While  the  waters  of  Monet’s  Étretat  paintings  simulate   the   horizon’s   distance,   the   furthest   point   seems   to   dissolve   in   Tempête   and,   in   contrast,   the   horizon   line   delineates   rectangular   shapes   in   Pyramides.   In   both   instances,  rather  than  recede  into  space,  the  horizon  fosters  the  flattened  figure-­‐                                                                                                                 86  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  603  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Friday,  May  4,  1888.  “I  very  often  think  of  Renoir   here  and  his  pure,  clean  drawing.  That’s  just  the  way  objects  or  figures  are  here,  in  the  clear  light.”   87  Robert  Goldwater,  Symbolism  (New  York,  New  York:  Westville  Press,  1979)  1-­‐2.  Goldwater  asserts   that   Monet’s   Êtretat   and   Belle-­‐Isle   pictures   from   1886   moved   “in   the   direction   of   ‘scientific   objectivity’—a  parallel  to  the  neo-­‐impressionist  goal”  (2).  On  Monet,  Goldwater  further  clarified  that   “concentration  and  reduction  remove  the  scene  from  transcription   in  the  direction  of  symbol  and   towards  the  fuller  development  of  the  nineties  and  later”  (2).         48   ground  relationship,  causing  the  image  to  appear  as  an  abstract  plane  of  hue  and   texture.   Other   than   the   rock   formation’s   shadows,   the   sense   of   the   sun’s   light   is   absent  in  the  sky  itself,  and  the  brushstrokes  generate  a  pattern  of  hue  and  light  that   signifies  the  sun’s  presence.     Van  Gogh  incorporated  these  compositional  strategies  in  Bank  of  the  Seine   (summer   1887)   and   Femme   dans   un   jardin   (summer   1887)   [figures   30   &   31].   He   used  a  pattern  of  varying  hues  to  suggest  water  lapping  against  the  shore.  In  Femme   dans  un  jardin,  he  complicated  the  sense  of  the  sun’s  light  and  that  of  the  depth  of   field   by   raising   the   horizon   line,   as   Monet   did   in   Pyramides.   The   compositional   devices  at  work  in  Van  Gogh’s  two  paintings  not  only  indicate  that  he  was  studying   Monet’s   imagery,  but  that  he  too  was  able  to  push  aside  considerations  of  depth   and   atmospheric   perspective   to   understand   the   ways   in   which   hue,   stroke,   and   texture  could  transform  the  surface.  He  effectively  generated  the  expression  of  the   landscape  through  the  medium  of  his  palette  rather  than  through  descriptive  local   color.  For  instance,  Van  Gogh  did  not  indicate  a  sense  of  depth  in  Femme  dans  un   jardin,  and  moved  into  a  symbolic  realm  that  focused  on  the  figure  as  a  vehicle  of   shape  and  color,  intricately  bound  to  the  landscape’s  formal  qualities.     For  Van  Gogh,  the  figure  was  no  longer  a  form  centralized  in  a  space,  whose   limbs  and  expression  he  had  to  capture  with  subtle  hints  of  modeled  color  as  he  had   done  in  the  atelier  of  Verlat  or  Cormon.  The  figure  in  Femme  dans  un  jardin  becomes         49   a   form   within   the   structure   of   the   composition,   and   suggests   that   Van   Gogh   reconsidered  the  overall  organization  of  a  picture  plane.  In  contrast,  for  the  figures   in  Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes,  Van  Gogh  used  their  clothing  to  show  the   shape  of  their  bodies  beneath  the  fabric.  Situated  firmly  in  the  middle-­‐ground,  Van   Gogh  framed  the  figures  with  the  sky,  field  and  trees.  The  orange  fabric  in  Femme   dans  un  jardin  complements  the  greens  of  the  grasses,  providing  a  counterpoint,  and   positions   the   figure   in   an   unusual   play   of   spatial   depth.   Van   Gogh   created   a   triangular  sense  of  space  through  the  orange  of  the  woman’s  skirt  and  the  similar   hue   found   at   either   corner   of   the   image’s   foreground.   Among   the   sea   of   grasses   indicated   with   elongated   strokes,   the   triangular,   recessive   shape   the   orange   hue   creates  through  implied   lines   is  countered  by  the  wall-­‐like  view  of  abstract  green   marks.  Monet’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  respective  images  belie  a  sense  of  depth.  They  use   hue  and  facture  to  flatten  a  subject  matter  that  typically  conveys  a  deep  sense  of   space,  an  ocean  and  a  woman  in  a  field  respectively.   Van  Gogh  transitioned  from  mastering  the  figure’s  proportions  to  a  body  of   work  that  included  the  figure  as  a  part  of  the  picture-­‐plane’s  compositional  devices,   and   crafted   images   that   challenged   academic   standards.   The   competition   among   dealers  generated  a  market  that  allowed  painters  more  freedom  and  provided  an   income,  though  sometimes  insecure.  As  a  dealer,  Théo  was  a  part  of  the  process,   from  selecting  artist’s  work,  to  managing  a  body  of  images.  This  economic  system         50   led  Monet  to  generate  increasingly  innovative  works  that  re-­‐considered  perspectival   ideals  and  showed  an  up-­‐and-­‐coming  artist,  like  Van  Gogh,  how  avant-­‐garde  work   could  not  only  sell,  but  set  the  standard.  Théo’s  impact  on  the  Impressionists  was   long  felt.  Emerging  artists,  such  as  Guillaumin  and  Bernard,  sought  Théo  because  he   could   hang   their   works   in   the   mezzanine   of   Goupil   &   Cie.   alongside   those   of   Monet.88  Vincent  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  (Wil)  that:  “Théo  works  for  all   the   Impressionists,  he’s  done  something  for  and  sold  for  all  of  them,  and  will  certainly  go   on  doing  so.”89  After  Théo’s  untimely  death  in  1891,  Pissarro  noted  that  his  imagery   could  not  be  “understood”  without  Théo’s  steadfast  leadership.90  Théo’s  work  with   the  Impressionists  eventually  led  to  their  general  acceptance  by  the  1890s,  a  decade   in  which  Pissarro,  Renoir,  and  Monet  earned  sizable  incomes.91  For  his  brother,  Théo   modeled  an  example  as  to  how  avant-­‐garde  work  functioned  within  a  viable  market,   and   in   part   fostered   Vincent’s   shift   from   the   atelier   to   the   Impressionist’s   exhibitions.  Although  Van  Gogh  could  not  generate  an  income  through  his  painting   practice  within  his  lifetime,  the  connections  he  made  while  trying  to  do  so  became                                                                                                                   88  Neifeh  and  White  Smith  544-­‐546.     89  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  from  Arles  on  Wednesday,  June  20,  1888.   90  Pissarro  163.     91  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  73.         51   the  foundation  by  which  the  influential  critic,  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier,  drew  attention  to  his   paintings  and  propelled  his  reputation  and  career.92       8me  Exposition  de  peinture   Bridges   across   the   Seine   at   Asnières   depicts   a   sunny   afternoon   along   the   docks  in  the  residential  neighborhood  just  north  of  the  city  [figure  9].  A  woman  with   a  fashionable  silhouette  and  a  bright-­‐pink  parasol  and  matching  dress  seems  static,   as  if  she  has  paused  in  a  moment  of  leisure.  Painted  quickly  with  a  few  black  strokes,   a  monochromatic  figure  with  slumped  shoulders  and  the  outline  of  a  working  man’s   hat   sits   on   the   dock   overlooking   the   river,   pictorially   disjointed   from   the   woman   through   his   scale,   color,   and   form.     Aspects   of   the   modern   industrial   city   frame   them:  railway  cars  rush  toward  the   industrial  Commune  de  Clichy,  smoke  plumes   interrupt  the  sky,  bridges  appear  between  pilings  obliterating  the  horizon  line,  and   boats  float  along  the  river.  John  House  has  interpreted  Bridges  across  the  Seine  as  a   utopian   vision   of   leisure,   industry,   and   nature,   and   James   Rubin   as   a   study   of   modern   life   derived   from   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   images.93  Van                                                                                                                   92  Carol  M.  Zemel,  The  Formation  of  a  Legend:  Van  Gogh  Criticism,  1890-­‐1920  (Ann  Arbor  Michigan:   UMI  Research  Press,  1977)  62-­‐73.     93  John   House,   “Towards   the   Modern   Landscape,”   Vincent   van   Gogh   and   the   Painters   of   the   Petit   Boulevard,   ed.   Cornelia   Homburg   (Saint   Louis:   Saint   Louis   Art   Museum,   2001)   166.   House   reads   Bridges   across   the   Seine   as   a   utopia   of   leisure,   industry,   and   nature.   See   also:   James   H.   Rubin,   Impressionism  and  the  Modern  Landscape:  Productivity,  Technology,  and  Urbanization  from  Manet  to   Van  Gogh  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  2008)  162-­‐164.  Rubin         52   Gogh   encountered   their   works   as   a   varied   body   of   mark-­‐making   technique   and   subject   matter   at   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition,   which   led   to   images   such   as   Bridges  across  the  Seine.     Furthermore,  their  mode  of  modernism  was  distinct  in  that  their  images  did   not   necessarily   entail   a   direct   study   of   the   material   world,   but   a   description   that   depended  on  an  idiosyncratic  translation  through  paint,  color,  line,  or  form.  Through   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  Van  Gogh  learned  to  construct  modern   life   through   notions   of   referential   illusion,   a   modernist   mode   of   verisimilitude   defined  by  Roland  Barthes  by  which  the  artist  empties  the  sign  of  its  signified,  so  the   real  becomes  a  connoted  signified.94  In  other  words,  Van  Gogh’s  painterly  rhetoric   was  not  tied  to  the  model,  to  Asnières,  but  to  the  visual  construction  of  place,  to   signs  of  modernity,  and  to  the  medium  and  techniques  themselves.  In  Bridges  across   the   Seine,   Van   Gogh   belied   conventional   description   and   depended   on   non-­‐ functional   descriptive   details,   elements   that   do   not   describe   Asnières   realistically,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               acknowledges   that   the   image   shows   Van   Gogh’s   interest   in   the   new   techniques   of   Neo-­‐ Impressionism.     94  Roland  Barthes,  “The  Reality  “Effect,”  The  Rustle  of  Language,  trans.  Richard  Howard  (New  York:   Hill  and  Wang,  1986)  147-­‐148.  Using  Gustave  Flaubert’s  Madame  Bovary  (1857),  Barthes  noted  that   Flaubert’s  referent  (his  medium)  is  connected  to  a  culturally  bound  representation,  not  to  the  model.   For  Flaubert  Rouen  was  a  blank  canvas,  so  to  speak,   for  metaphorical  and  symbolic  meaning;  the   author  sought  a  new  reason  to  describe—he  did  not  aim  to  be  realistic,  but  to  use  the  structure  of   description  to  notate  meaning.         53   but  connote  the  experience  of  a  contemporary  place  through  the  structure  of  the   painting.95     The  modernist  ideals  Barthes  observed  suggest  that  reality  is  an  effect,  and   avant-­‐garde  artists  challenged  representation  by  postponing  the  object  and  halting   the  subject  by  mediating  the  object’s  depiction  through  color  and  form.96  At  the  last   Impressionist   Exhibition,   where   Degas,   Seurat,   Pissarro,   Signac,   and   Gauguin   included  paintings,  Van  Gogh  would  have  seen  paintings  and  drawings  of  innovative   textures,   saturated   colors,   and   modern   subject   matter.   Seurat   debuted   his   new   pointillist   technique   in   Sunday   Afternoon   on   the   Island   of   La   Grande-­‐Jatte   (1884-­‐ 1886)  [figure  32].  Pissarro  submitted  pointillist  imagery,  such  as  Apple  Picking  (1886)   [figure   33],   and   Signac   a   painting   that   merged   both   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionist   modes   in   The   Gas   Tanks   at   Clichy   (1886)   [figures   34].   From   their   influence,  Van  Gogh  incorporated  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  technique  in  Interior  of  a   Restaurant   (1887)   [figure   35].   Van   Gogh   included   varying   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionist   factures   in   Bridges   across   the   Seine.   From   broken   strokes   akin   to   Monet’s  to  stippled  marks  like  Seurat’s,  Bridges  across  the  Seine  conveys  a  sense  of   stasis  and  movement  through  the  methods  Monet  and  Seurat  employed.    Bridges   across   the   Seine   is   a   symbol   of   modern   life   painted   in   the   vernacular   of   his                                                                                                                   95  Barthes  146.   96  Barthes  141,  148.         54   contemporaries,  descriptive  elements  that  connect  Van  Gogh  to  the  Parisian  avant-­‐ garde  and  provide  the  effect  of  modern  life  through  the  painting’s  properties.     Since  the  Impressionist’s  first  1874  exhibition,  they  had  maneuvered  financial   difficulties   and   generated   a   new   market   system,   which   gave   them   increasing   exposure   and   the   ability   to   push   the   boundaries   of   their   individual   practices.  97   Among   the   paintings,   spectators   could   view   Monet’s   Impression:   Sunrise   (1873)   [figure  36].98  Individually,  their  subject  matter  was  distinct,  from  rural  landscapes  to   bourgeois  pastimes,  and  their  painterly  approach  was  divergent  as  well.  Degas  was,   in  the  words  of  critic  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  a  “master  of  drawing…[who]  has  sought                                                                                                                   97  Roos  205.  The  Impressionists  held  the  first  exhibition  from  April  15th  thru  May  15th  in  the  former   studio  of  Nadar  on  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  where  they  hung  165  works  and  received  more  than   3500  visitors  over  the  course  of  the  month.  They  staged  the  first  exhibition  to  run  concurrent  to  the   Salon.  The  Salon,  though,  welcomed  hundreds  of  thousands,  but  3500  (roughly  100  visitors  per  day)  is   quite  a  large  number  considering  the  small  scale  of  the  exhibition.  The  co-­‐operative  exhibitions  were   a  way  to  claim  a  new  part  of  the  market  and  to  assert  their  idiosyncratic  vision  against  the  values  of   the  Salon.  See  also:  Paul  Tucker  “The  First   Impressionist  Exhibition  in  Context,”  The  New  Painting:   Impressionism,  1874-­‐1876,  ed.  Charles  S.  Moffett  (San  Francisco:  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  106.   From  its  first  iteration,  the  group  show  was  an  early  instance  when  artists  merged  resources  to  host   an  exhibition  free  from  a  juried  process,  allowing  painters  the  freedom  to  explore  subjective  painterly   processes.   98  Stephen   F.   Eisenman,   “The   Intransigent   Artist   or   How   the   Impressionists   Got   Their   Name,”   in   Critical  Reading  in  Impressionism  and  Post-­‐Impressionism:  An  Anthology,  ed.  Mary  Tompkins  Lewis   (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  2007)  149.  Louis  Leroy  derogatorily   called   Impression:   Sunrise   just   an   impression,   arguing   that   the   canvases   could   not   be   considered   complete  works  of  art.  “Wallpaper  in  its  embryonic  state,”  the  critic  wrote  chidingly,  “is  more  finished   than  that  seascape.”98  The  artists  eventually  voted  to  adopt  the  name.  By  the  third  exhibition  in  1877,   the  Société  anonyme  des  artists  voted  to  adopt  the  once  satirical  name  and  referred  to  themselves  as   the  Impressionists.         55   delicate  lines.”99  In  contrast,  in  Boulevard  des  Capucines  [figure  37]  Monet  captured,   according  to  critic  Ernest  Chesneau,  the  city  “in  all   its  tremendous  fluidity…in  this   marvelous   sketch.”100  Although   mark-­‐making   approaches   differed,   the   painters’   imagery   revolved   around   scenes   from   contemporary   life   painted,   in   Mallarmé’s   words,  “freely  and  without  restraint…an  incentive  to  a  new  manner  of  painting.”101   A  common  underlying  factor  was  that  the  artists  prioritized  their  respective  painterly   vocabulary.    Their  facture  was  thus  an  integral  a  part  of  their  conceptual  ideals,  and   a  part  of  their  aesthetic  that  allowed  the  Impressionists  to  depict  the  material  world   through   referential   illusion   by   depending   on   their   respective   notational   painterly   devices.   Due  to  market  considerations,  the  last  Impressionist  exhibition  in  1886  was   perhaps  one  of  the  most  diverse  in  terms  of  facture,  form,  and  hue.  Under  Degas   and   Pissarro’s   leadership,   planning   for   the   last   exhibition   began   in   October   1885                                                                                                                   99  Stéphane   Mallarmé,   “The   Impressionists   and   Édouard   Manet”   in   Moffett   33.   Since   the   first   exhibition,  a  wealth  of  criticism  on  the  works  provided  a  perspective  into  the  artist’s  compositional   and  theoretical  innovations,  namely  Mallarmé’s  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  (1876)  and   Edmond  Duranty’s  “The  New  Painting:  Concerning  the  Group  of  Artists  Exhibition  and  the  Durnad-­‐ Ruel   Galleries”   (1876),   written   in   response   to   the   second   exhibition.   Mallarmé’s   and   Duranty’s   respective  ideas  helped  to  shape  the  discourse  surrounding  the  exhibitions,  providing  a  framework  to   consider  the  value  of  avant-­‐garde  work.   100  Ernest  Chesneau  in  Moffett  130.   101  Mallarmé  quoted  in  Moffett  31.           56   amid  financial  setbacks  that  caused  the  artists  to  manage  the  exhibition  carefully.102   For  the  first  time,  the  Impressionist  painters  had  to  compete  against  solo  exhibitions   during  an  uncertain  financial  period.103  Degas  pressed  to  schedule  the  show  as  they   had   the   first:   concurrent   to   the   Salon.104  To   enhance   their   marketable   presence,   Degas   wanted   to   widen   the   painterly   scope   of   canvases   and   omitted   the   term   “Impressionist”  from  the  exhibition’s  pamphlet,  titling  it  simply  the  “8me  Exposition   de  peinture.”  As  Cormon  hung  his  works  at  the  Salon  that  year,  the  8me  Exposition  de   peinture  opened  its  doors,  running  from  May  15th  thru  June  15th  and  including  works   by   recognized   Impressionists—Degas,   Pissarro,   and   Berthe   Morisot—and                                                                                                                   102  Ward,   “The   Rhetoric   of   Independence   and   Innovation”   in   Moffett   421-­‐422.   In   1882,   the   Union   Générale   bank   collapsed,   which   directly   affected   Durand-­‐Ruel   who   had   received   financial   backing   from  the  bank’s  director.  There  was  a  failed  attempt  to  launch  an  Impressionist  exhibition  in  1884   because  Durand-­‐Ruel  was  selling  off  his  stock  to  recoup  his  losses  during  the  financial  depression.  See   also:  Joel  Jackson  “The  Painters  Called  Impressionists”   in  Moffett  377.  The  decisions  regarding  the   1882  Impressionist  Exhibition  were  driven  by  economic  restraints  and  the  need  to  make  a  profitable   turn.   Durand-­‐Ruel   purchased   a   lot   of   paintings   as   this   time   in   the   hopes   of   providing   a   suitable   income   for   the   painters.   Painting   prices   had   to   drop.   To   combat   the   deficit,   Durand-­‐Ruel   also   ambitiously  lent  the  paintings  internationally  and  held  solo  shows  for  Monet,  Pissarro,  and  Renoir  in   his  gallery  in  spring  1883,  which  were  not  financially  successful.  “Business  is  bad,”  Manet  wrote  to   Berthe   Morisot:   “Everyone   is   penniless   as   a   result   of   the   recent   financial   events,   and   painting   is   feeling  the  effect.”  See  also:  White  and  White  126.  Unlike  Goupil  &  Cie.,  Durand-­‐Ruel  had  purchased   a  considerable  number  of  Impressionist  canvases.     103  White  and  White  144.  In  1885  and  1886,  Georges  Petit,  hosted  several  solo  shows  for  Monet  and   Renoir,  neither  of  whom  exhibited  with  the  Impressionists  in  the  eighth  exhibition.  See  also:  Ward,   “The  Rhetoric  of  Independence  and  Innovation”  421-­‐439.  Ward  argues  that  the  competition  against   solo  shows  complicated  the  group’s  notion  of  independence.     104  Pissarro,   Camille   Pissarro:   Letters   to   his   Son   Lucien   69.   Pissarro   wrote   to   Lucien   from   Paris   on   March   2,   1886.   Pissarro   felt   Degas’s   idea   was   risky   in   terms   of   sales,   but   Degas’s   view   persisted.   “Nothing  to  report  about  the  exhibition.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  held  on  account  of  Degas  who  insists   that  it  run  from  May  15  to  June  15—Absurd!”  See  also:  Pissarro,  Camille  Pissarro:  Letters  to  his  Son   Lucien  71.  Pissarro  wrote  to  Lucien  from  Paris  in  March  1886.         57   newcomers  Seurat,  Signac,  and  Odilon  Redon.  The  last  exhibition  brought  together   several  artistic  perspectives  of  modern  life,  from  a  Degas’  nude  [figures  38  &  39]  to   Seurat’s   symbolic   urban   scene   and   from   Pissarro’s   rural   pointillist   landscape   to   Signac’s   industrial  suburb.   In  a  series  of  narrow  rooms  above  the  Maison-­‐Doré,  a   visitor  would  be  able  to  observe  the  seascapes  of  Seurat  [figure  40]—misty,  still,  and   carefully  executed—along  with  Signac’s  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,   Saint-­‐Briac  (1885)  [figure  41],  a  textural  seascape.  For  an  emerging  artist  like  Van   Gogh,  the  ways  in  which  artists  could  approach  a  similar  subject  matter  suggest  new   possibilities.105     The  body  of  work  at  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture  underscored  that  artists   did   not   need   to   reach   a   cohesive   painterly   rhetoric   but   could   explore   varying   methods   among   a   body   of   work   and   within   one   canvas.   Gauguin   studied   with   Pissarro  in  Pontoise,  and  his  paintings,  such  as  Edge  of  the  Pond  (1885)  [figure  42],   resemble  those  of  his  teacher.  Similar  to  Pissarro’s  canvas  View  from  My  Window  in   Cloudy   Weather   (1886-­‐1888)   [figure   43]   Gauguin’s   Edge   of   the   Pond   depicts   a   compressed  figure-­‐ground  relationship,  organic  hues  of  greens  and  umbers,  and  a                                                                                                                   105  When  Van  Gogh  arrived  in  Paris,  there  were  several  other  venues  besides  the  8me  Exposition  de   peinture  in  which  he  could  observe  Impressionist  and  Néo-­‐Impressionist  works.  In  June,  George  Petit   held  an  exhibition  of  Renoir  and  Monet.  In  late  August,  Van  Gogh  could  have  observed  canvases  by   Seurat  and  Signac  at  the  Société  des  artistes  indépendants  and  again  studied  Grand-­‐Jatte  or  Signac’s   landscapes  from  Andelys.           58   rural   subject   matter   of   farm   animals   and   foliage.   In   contrast,   one   of   Gauguin’s   paintings,   Women   Bathing   (1885)   [figure   44],   moves   away   from   Pissarro’s   aesthetic.106  Women  Bathing,  like  Monet’s  paintings  of  Belle-­‐Isle,  lacks  depth  and  is   a   seascape   of   flat   horizontal   lines   without   perspective.     Gauguin   used   clear   wide   bands  to  delineate  space  rather  than  light  and  shadow  to  show  a  spatial  distance   between  the  distant  sailboats  and  the  near  shore  where  the  bathers  wade.  Although   the  brushwork  is  visible  in  the  foreground  and  middle-­‐ground,  Gauguin  included  a   near-­‐solid  plane  of  bright  green  on  the  horizon.  Where  the  image  should  typically   roll  softly   into  the  distance,  Gauguin’s  use  of  a  saturated  hue  makes  the  furthest   waters   appear   flat.   Signac   created   a   comparable   image,   though   he   drew   from   Monet’s  use  of  a  gestural  stroke  in  Brisk  Breeze.  Unlike  Signac’s  pointillist  Gas  Tanks   at  Clichy,  Brisk  Breeze  conveys  rough  waters  along  the  coast  with  gestural  strokes   and  stark  white  highlights  to  show  the  peaks  of  the  waves.  Both  Gauguin  and  Signac   were  in  the  process  of  honing  their  respective  artistic  voices,  using  varying  modes  to   experiment  with  hue  and  spatial  perspective.     Similarly  to  Gauguin  and  Signac,  Van  Gogh  explored  several  genres  through   different  factures  and  use  of  hue.  Degas  included  a  series  of  pastel  nudes,  Girl  Drying   Herself   (1885)   and   The   Baker’s   Wife   (1885)   [figure   37   &   38].   Van   Gogh   admired                                                                                                                   106  Paul  Adam  quoted   in  Moffett  458.  On  Women  Bathing,  critic  Paul  Adam  wrote:  “An  enormous   metallic  sea  undulates  and  rolls,  advancing  in  sheets  toward  some  women….”         59   Degas’s  nudes,  although  it   is  uncertain  which  nudes  the  painter  observed.107  With   Degas’s  series,  Van  Gogh  would  have  been  met  with  figures  seemingly  related  to   those   he   had   hoped   to   paint   in   Cormon’s   studio.   In   contrast,   Degas   treated   the   female  subject  as  a  vehicle  for  expressive  color  and  mark-­‐making  and  subverted  the   smooth   forms   and   the   classical   canon   of   proportions   to   depict   “vulgar   slattern”   figures  who  could  never  be  mistaken  for  a  classical  nymph.108  The  color  of  Degas’s   nudes   is   opaque   and   intentionally   inconsistent   compared   to   the   golden-­‐hued   goddesses   of   Bouguereau’s   canvases,   for   example.   A   professor   at   the   Académie   Julian   and   at   the   École   des   Beaux-­‐Arts,   Bouguereau   was   a   well-­‐known   artist   who   idealized  the  female  form  in  the  tradition  of  classical  art.109  In  Degas’s  images,  the   women  are  most  likely  prostitutes  who  often  bathed  in  front  of  customers;  their  red   hands   and   faces   indicate   their   ruddy   complexions   and   lower-­‐class   status.110  Dark,   unblended  contour  lines  delineate  the  figure’s  flesh  from  that  of  the  setting.  Shown                                                                                                                   107  Letter  569.  “In  Antwerp,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Livens,  “I  did  not  even  know  what  the  impressionists   were,  now  that  I  have  seen  them  and  though  not  being  one  of  the  club  yet,  I  have  much  admired  the   impressionists’  pictures—Degas,  nude  figure—Claude  Monet,  landscape.”   108  Maurice  Hermel  quoted  in  Moffett  452.     109  Damien  Bartoli,  “William  Bouguereau  the  Teacher,”   In  the  Studios  of  Paris:  William  Bouguereau   and  His  American  Students,  ed.  James  F.  Peck  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  2006)   47-­‐56.   110  Joris-­‐Karl  Huysmans  in  Moffett  454.  “He  chooses  her  fat,  potbellied  and  short…drowning  any  grace   of   contour   in   tubular   rolls   of   skin…no   matter   to   what   social   class   she   belongs…[she   is]   a   creature   whose   vulgar   form   and   coarse   features…persuade   horror.”   Anthea   Callen,   The   Spectacular   Body:   Science,  Meaning,  and  the  Method  in  the  Work  of  Degas  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  1995).   See  also  a  review  on  Callen’s  book:  Thérèse  Dolan,  Art  Journal  18.2  (Autumn  1997  –  Winter  1998):  39-­‐ 42.         60   in  the  act  of  drying,  Degas’  figures  convey  the  physiognomy  of  working  women  with   stocky  rotund  forms.     Van   Gogh’s   Plaster   Cast   of   a   Woman’s   Torso   (February-­‐March   1887)   and   Reclining   Nude   (January-­‐March   1887)   [figures   45   &   46]   both   show   the   painter’s   consideration  of  the  nude  through  the  spectrum  of  Impressionism.  Painted  almost  a   year  after  Van  Gogh  left  Cormon’s,  Plaster  Cast  of  a  Woman’s  Torso  illustrates  the   artist’s  aim  to  carefully  craft  the  classical  nude  form.  The  texture  and  use  of  hue   resembles  Degas’s  Suite  of  Nudes.111  Van  Gogh’s  hatch  marks  crisscross  down  the   length   of   the   figure’s   back,   moving   between   cool   blue-­‐greens   and   warm   orange-­‐ reds.   Although   the   technique   of   hatching   can   create   subtle   tonal   shifts   when   blended,  Van  Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  is  like  Degas’s  in  that  he  left  the  marks  visible  as  a   sign  of  the  drawing  process.  The  artists  also  used  the  crosshatch  technique  to  depict   the   rug   and   background   respectively,   but   ultimately   the   application   flattens   the   picture  plane,  merging  the  background  and  central  figure  with  abstract  marks.     During   the   same   time   Van   Gogh   created   Plaster   Cast   of   a   Women’s   Nude   Torso,  he  was  also  painting  Reclining  Nude  from  a  live  model.  Compositionally,  Van   Gogh’s  Reclining  Nude  draws  from  Francisco  Goya’s  (1746-­‐1828)  La  maja  desnuda   (1797-­‐1800)   [figure   47],   though   it   also   follows   Degas’s   example.   Similar   to   Girl   Drying   Herself   and   The   Baker’s   Wife,   Reclining   Nude   depicts   an   explicitly   sexual                                                                                                                   111  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  17-­‐18.         61   woman  whose  large  hip,  jutting  up  a  bit  further  than  would  be  anatomically  correct,   conveys  her  less-­‐than-­‐idealized  form.112  La  maja’s  small,  delicate  hips  are  narrower   than  her  shoulders;  whereas  the  torsos  in  both  Degas’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  female  grow   from   a   wide   set   of   legs,   buttocks,   and   hips.   With   eyes   closed,   the   figure   in   Van   Gogh’s   Reclining   Nude   folds   her   arms   above   her   head,   leaving   her   body   fully   exposed.  Her  breasts  hang,  making  a  concave  shape,  and  contrast  with  the  round   swell  of  flesh  Goya  depicted.  The  overall  texture  of  Van  Gogh’s  canvas  is  a  pattern  of   long  strokes,  shaping  the  bed’s  folds,  the  curtain’s  canopy,  the  skin’s  warm  hue,  and   the  hair’s  dark,  unruly  nature.  Van  Gogh  used  a  soft  ochre  to  delineate  the  lower  leg   and   upper   arm   from   that   of   the   bed,   akin   to   the   umber   outline   around   Degas’s   prostitutes.  The  emerging  artist  studied  a  modern-­‐day  lower-­‐class  woman  through   the   lens   of   Degas’s   drawing   aesthetic.   In   critic   Edmond   Duranty’s   words,   Degas’s   drawing   abilities   rendered   “the   relationship   between   forms,   and   reflect   the   inexhaustible   diversity   of   character…[and   bid]   farewell   to   the   anatomical   model   beneath   the   nude.”113  Rather   than   study   the   form’s   underlying   skeletal   structure,   Van  Gogh  exaggerated  the  figure’s  anatomy.     In  the  landscape  genre,  Van  Gogh  merged  aspects  from  Seurat,  Monet,  and   Renoir  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine.  Similar  to  Seurat’s  Grand-­‐Jatte  in  which  high  and                                                                                                                   112  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  76.     113  Duranty  quoted  in  Moffett  43.           62   low-­‐class   Parisians   enjoy   the   day   along   the   Seine,   Van   Gogh’s   painting   includes   lower-­‐class   laborers   and   a   middle-­‐class   woman   in   Asnières,   a   suburb   of   Paris   accessible   by   train.   The   charcoal   colored   silhouette   of   the   slumped-­‐over   man   perched  on  the  water’s  edge  provides  a  counterpoint  to  the  brightly  clothed  woman   in   the   tailored   pink   dress.   Parasols   and   resting   workmen   populate   Seurat’s   large   canvas,  but  these  elements  exist  seemingly  separate  from  one  another  and  convey  a   static  quality.  Van  Gogh’s  figures  likewise  seem  motionless  and  do  not  engage  but   remain  in  their  respective  compositional  planes.    Unlike  Seurat,  Van  Gogh  painted   them   with   an   impressionistic   facture.   The   man   on   the   dock   and   those   in   the   background  resemble  the  quickly  rendered  figures  in  Monet’s   Impression:  Sunrise,   painted  monochromatically  with  a  few  strokes.  Poised  along  the  edge  of  the  Seine,   the   man   and   fashionable   women   in   stasis   contrast   the   waters   that   ripple   below,   providing  a  sense  of  movement.     Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   water   in   Bridges   across   the   Seine   resembles   the   techniques  of  Renoir  and  Monet.  The  Impressionist  painters  included  similar  strokes   in  their  respective  images  of  the  suburb  Grenouillère  [figures  48  &  49].  Renoir  and   Monet   depicted   the   leisurely   working-­‐class   in   Grenouillère,   both   using   broad   unblended  bands  of  color  to  signify  the  water’s  ever-­‐changing  reflection.  Likewise,   Van   Gogh’s   indication   of   the   water’s   movement,   affirms   the   immediacy   of   his   painting   technique   before   sunlight’s   fleeting   effects   [figure   50].   Although         63   Impressionist   paintings   seem   to   be   painted   quickly,   not   all   were. 114  The   impressionistic  comma-­‐like  stroke  became  a  symbol;  painters  intentionally  created   well-­‐constructed  fleeting  moments.  Van  Gogh  worked  with  a  varied  array  of  distinct   factures,  from  the  point  to  the  elongated  mark  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine,  depicting   transitory  moments  to  suggest  that  he  was  capturing  what  was  immediately  before   him.   He   also   captured   a   sense   of   movement,   such   as   rippling   waves,   reflecting   sunlight,  swaying  grasses,  puffing  smoke,  and  a  speeding  train.  While  Van  Gogh’s  use   of  brushwork  resembles  Renoir  and  Monet’s  Grenouillère  imagery,  his  use  of  color   connects  to  Seurat.  In  Grand-­‐Jatte,  Seurat  juxtaposed  greens  and  reds,  yellows,  and   violets,  complementary  colors  that  when  placed  adjacent  fortify  hue,  making  a  blue   next  to  an  orange  more  vibrant.  The  colors  found  in  Van  Gogh’s  depiction  of  the   Seine   range   from   violets   to   Naples   yellow   and   from   deep   reds   to   sage   greens.   Ultimately,   the   facture   is   Impressionistic,   but   his   choice   of   color   suggests   his   application  of  Seurat’s  techniques.         On   the   bridge,   a   steam   train,   loaded   with   passengers,   travels   from   the   suburbs  to  the  city;  the  plumes  of  smoke  billowing  behind  it  suggest  its  speed.  The   train   was   a   well-­‐developed   theme   in   Monet’s   work   from   Argenteuil,   a   suburb   located   twenty   minutes   from   the   city   and   easily   reached   by   train,   exemplified   by                                                                                                                   114  Richard  Brettell,  Impressionism:  Painting  Quickly  in  France,  1860-­‐1890  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  2000).         64   Monet’s   landscapes   in  which  locomotives  trail  smoke:  Train   in  the  Countryside  (c.   1870)  and  The  Railway  Bridge  from  the  Port  (1873)  [figures  51  &  52].115  In  the  same   vein  as  Monet’s  Argenteuil  project,  Van  Gogh  conceptualized  that  the  suburbs  were   linked  to  Paris,  signified  by  the  steam  train  running  before  the  horizon.  Closer  to  the   city  than  Argenteuil,  Asnières’  series  of  bridges  were  rebuilt  in  the  1850s,  creating  a   direct  route  to  Asnières  through  Argenteuil,  and  allowing  it  to  grow  rapidly  into  a   modern  suburb.116  In  Asnières,  there  were  relatively  inexpensive  activities  available   to   the   middle   classes,   such   as   dining   in   cafes,   strolling   through   parks,   or   renting   boats.  Van  Gogh  depicted  some  of  these  activities  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine,  such   as   the   boats   floating   on   the   Seine.   He   did   not   seek   a   cohesive   system   of   mark-­‐ making  but  aimed  to  set  differing  components  in  a  dynamic  tension.     Similar  to  the  artists  hanging  their  work   in  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture,   Van  Gogh  depended  on  the  notation  of  facture  and  hue.  For  Barthes,  experiencing   the  artist’s  notation  was  the  essence  of  the  viewer’s  encounter  of  the  object.117  Van   Gogh’s  exposure  to  experimental  paint  applications  and  compositional  devices  led   him  to  generate  images,  such  as  Bridges  across  the  Seine,  in  which  the  textures  and                                                                                                                   115  Rubin  91-­‐119.  Paul  Tucker  Hayes,  The  Impressionists  at  Argenteuil  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale   University  Press,  2000).  Richard  Brettell,  Pissarro  and  Pontoise:  The  Painter  in  the  Landscape  (New   Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1990).   116  Robert   Herbert,   Impressionism:   Art,   Leisure   and   Parisian   Society   (New   Haven:   Yale   University   Press,  1988)  196-­‐201.   117  Barthes  148.           65   hues   act   to   show   fashionable   silhouettes   and   poor   working-­‐class   posture,   mechanical  speed,  and  the  Seine’s  reflections.  The  brushstrokes  that  convey  stillness   and  motion  do  not  mimetically  describe  but  connote  the  painterly  rhetoric  of  the   avant-­‐garde  artists  Van  Gogh  encountered  in  Paris.  In  so  doing,  Bridges  across  the   Seine  represents  the  signifiers  of  modern  painting  though  the  facture  and  color  of   those  Van  Gogh  studied.  Although  Bridges  across  the  Seine  conveys  contemporary   subject  matter,  its  modernity  lies  in  the  artist’s  dependence  on  the  meaning  of  the   brushwork   and   color,   which   deny   the   viewer   access   to   the   object   of   Asnières.   Instead,   the   viewer   is   met   with   Van   Gogh’s   avant-­‐garde   painting   practices   and   a   mode  of  verisimilitude  that  does  not  mimetically  convey  the  suburb  itself,  but  the   role   suburban   communities   played   in   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   work.   Rather  than  seek  a  recognizable,  unified  texture  and  surface,  as  he  had  done  in  The   Potato  Eaters,  the  effect  Van  Gogh  created  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine  is  that  of  the   representation  of  the  multiple  languages  of  avant-­‐garde  facture  to  convey  the  signs   of   the   contemporary   world:   class,   mechanization,   and   the   suburban   community’s   connection  to  the  city.118                                                                                                                       118  Carol  Armstrong,  “Introduction  Manet’s  ‘Inconsistency,’”  Manet  Manett  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  2002)  xi-­‐xviii.  According  to  Armstrong,  Manet’s  style  was  built  on  a  fractured   foundation,  and  she  underscores  that  the  artistic-­‐self’s  singularity  was  put  together  with  “multiple   personalities  and  many  manners,  borrowed  from  elsewhere,  and  set  in  new  relation  to  one  another”   (xviii).  Armstrong’s  assertion  overturns  the  notion  that  the  modern  artist  desired  to  reach  a  creative   zenith,  a  succinct  and  recognizable  style.         66   Conclusion   Walking  away  from  Cormon’s  atelier  and  his  academic  studies  led  Van  Gogh   to   experience   the   contemporary   art   market   at   a   time   when   innovative   artists   struggled   to   assert   a   unique   artistic   voice   within   a   community   of   peers.   Théo   facilitated  Van  Gogh’s  access  to  Impressionist  works,  which  heightened  the  artist’s   awareness  of  their  unique  talent  and  aesthetic  distinctiveness.  In  one  of  Van  Gogh’s   first  attempts  at  avant-­‐garde  painting,  Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  the  artist   captured  the  likeness  of  a  city  street,  a  depth  of  perspective  and  the  overall  sense  of   space  filled  with  foliage  and  light  within  a  cityscape.  The  varying  approaches  within   8me  Exposition  de  peinture  underscored  that  artists  could  practice  the  language  of   color  and  form  in  idiosyncratic  ways  and  did  not  need  to  reach  a  homogenized  body   of  work  with  related  surface  qualities.  Van  Gogh’s  facture  and  use  of  hue  in  Bridges   across  the  Seine  in  Asnières  suggests  that  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture  fostered  his   study  of  avant-­‐garde  painters  and  introduced  the  practice  of  incorporating  differing   aspects  from  their  canvases  into  his  composition.  That  his  works  reflect  divergent   aspects   of   avant-­‐garde   imagery   underscores   that   he   became   exposed   to   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐Impressionists   at   once   and   did   not   see   their   varying   aesthetics  develop  over  the  course  of  a  decade.   Van  Gogh  expected  to  find  options  to  market  his  work  in  the  capital.    As  he   did,  he  found  a  new  way  to  express  himself  though  the  diverse  painterly  modes  of         67   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists.   In  Paris  there  were  several  currents  of   theory  that  opened  Van  Gogh’s  studies  to  different  ways  of  conceiving  an  image  to   which   he   did   not   have   access   in   The   Netherlands   and   Belgium:   the   Impressionist   understanding  of  abstracting  from  nature  and  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  ideas  of  texture   and  symbolic  form.  After  experiencing  the  independent  exhibitions  in  Paris,  he  too   set  out  to  organize  some  of  his  own  installations  with  members  from  his  emerging   community,  Bernard  and  Signac.   In  a  newfound  market  with  opportunities  to  sell   avant-­‐garde   art   in   solo   gallery   or   collective   exhibitions,   Van   Gogh   developed   opportunities  to  mount  exhibitions  for  his  new  works  and  those  of  the  artists  he  met   in  the  capital.                               68   CHAPTER  3:  NEW  CONSIDERATION  OF  VAN  GOGH’S  PARIS  EXHIBITIONS       “What  regards  my  chances  of  sale,  look  here,  they  are  certainly  not  much  but   still   I   do   have   a   beginning,”   Van   Gogh   wrote   to   painter   Horace   Mann   Livens   regarding   the   state   of   the   market   for   an   emerging   artist   in   Paris.119  Although   the   prices  of  works  by  unknown  artists  were  low  (50  francs),  Van  Gogh  saw  potential:   “[It’s]  certainly  not  much  but—as  far  as  I  can  see  one  must  sell  cheap  to  rise,  and   even  at  costing  price....Paris  is  Paris,  there  is  but  one  Paris  and  however  hard  living   may  be  here  and  if  it  became  worse  and  harder  even—the  french  [sic]  air  clears  up   the  brain  and  does  one  good—a  world  of  good.”120  At  this  time,  Van  Gogh  had  lived   in   Paris   for   about   seven   or   eight   months,   and   with   enthusiasm   and   new   artistic   connections,  he  was  determined  to  establish  himself  in  the  Parisian  market.     In  1887,  after  living  in  Paris  for  a  year,  Van  Gogh  began  organizing  exhibitions   about   which   little   is   known,   except   that   they   were   not   successful   in   terms   of   attendance,  sales,  and  press.121  He  staged  three  exhibitions:  one  of  Japanese  prints                                                                                                                   119  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  569  to  Horace  Mann  Livens  (a  Dutch  painter)  from  Paris  in  September  or   October   1886.   “At   this   present   moment   I   have   found   four   dealers   who   have   exhibited   studies   of   mine.  And  I  have  exchanged  studies  with  several  artists….  Now  the  prices  are  50  Francs.”   120  Letter  569  to  Livens.   121  On  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  exhibitions:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  640  to  Théo  from  Arles  around  Monday,   May  14,  1888:  “When  I  was  in  Paris  I  always  hoped  to  have  a  showroom  of  my  own  in  a  café;  you   know  that  that  fell  through.  The  exhibition  of  Japanese  prints  that  I  had  at  the  Tambourin  had  quite   an   influence   on   Anquetin   and   Bernard,   but   it   was   such   a   disaster.   For   the   2nd   exhibition   at   the   showroom  of  the  boul.  de  Clichy,  I  have  fewer  regrets  about  the  time  and  effort.  Bernard  having  sold   his  first  painting  there,  Anquetin  having  sold  a  study  there,  and  I  having  made  the  exchange  with         69   he   and   Théo   collected   and   another   of   his   flower   still   lifes   both   at   the   Café   Tambourin,  and  a  collective  show  at  the  Grand  Bouillon,  Restaurant  du  Châlet.  He   also  included  his  work  in  the  Théâtre  Libra  d’Antoine  alongside  avant-­‐garde  artists.   Overall,   scholars   note   that   Van   Gogh’s   goal   to   exhibit   in   places   such   as   the   Café   Tambourin  and  Grand  Bouillon  was  his  way  of  entering  into  the  Parisian  market,  but   in  establishments  befitting  an  unknown  and  lower-­‐class  artist.  122  For  a  painter  in  a   new  city,  the  venues  were  first  attempts  at  exhibiting,  but  were  not  on  par  with  the   gallery   space   of   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition,   for   instance.   The   avant-­‐garde   approach  to  painting  Van  Gogh  took  and  the  venues  in  which  the  work  hung  were  at   odds—the   restaurant   and   café   patrons   remained   unmoved   or   unaware   of   the   emerging  artistic  ideals.123  Nevertheless,  scholars  note  the  exhibitions  in  discussions   of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  period  because  they  show  the  artist’s  first,  albeit  unsuccessful,   attempts  at  becoming  a  marketable  artist  within  a  modernist  realm.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Gauguin,   we   all   got   something.   If   Gauguin   were   willing   we   could   do   a   Marseille   exhibition   all   the   same.  But  better  not  rely  any  more  on  the  people  of  Marseille  than  on  Paris.”  See  also:  Steven  Naifeh   and  Gregory  White  Smith,  Van  Gogh:  The  Life  (New  York:  Random  House,  2011)  552-­‐553.     122  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period,  1886-­‐1888  (Den  Haag  and  Utrecht:   Editions  Victorine,  1976)  36-­‐37.  This  is  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  dissertation,  completed  at  the  University  of   Toronto  in  1976.  Cornelia  Homburg,  “Vincent  van  Gogh’s  Avant  Garde  Strategies,”  Vincent  van  Gogh   and   the   Painters   of   the   Petit   Boulevard   (Saint   Louis:   Saint   Louis   Museum,   2001)   26,   32.   Richard   Thomson,  “The  Cultural  Geography  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  Painters  of  the   Petit  Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Museum,  2001)  81.  Andreas  Blühm,   “Displaying   Van   Gogh,   1886-­‐1999,”   Van   Gogh   Museum   Journal   (1999):   67-­‐68.   http://www.dbnl.org/tekst/_van012199901_01/_van012199901_01_0007.php.   Carol   Zemel,   Van   Gogh’s   Progress:   Utopian,   Modernity,   and   Late   Nineteenth-­‐Century   Art   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:  University  of  California  Press,  1997)  185-­‐187.   123  Zemel  188-­‐189.           70   Since  Van  Gogh  wrote  few  letters  while  in  the  capital,  the  exhibitions  reveal   the   artists   with   whom   the   painter   had   contact   in   Paris’s   emerging   artistic   community,  namely  Émile  Bernard  and  Paul  Signac.  Van  Gogh  included  Bernard  and   Signac  in  the  Grand  Bouillon,  both  of  whom  had  been  developing  their  techniques   during  the  mid-­‐1880s,  but  had  yet  to  find  their  respective  painterly  voices.  Signac,   for   example,   had   shown   in   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition,   8me   Exposition   de   peinture,   in   1886   making   imagery   closely   related   to   the   forbearers.   In   1887,   Van   Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Signac  emerged  stylistically  and  entered  into  a  unique  modernist   artistic  dialogue  that  led  toward  Symbolism.  Significantly,  Ovcharov-­‐Welsh  highlights   the  importance  of  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  as  a  body  of  work  that  established   artists  who  were  learning  from  the  Impressionists  but  moving  toward  a  Symbolist   aesthetic.124  Though   not   held   in   a   reputable   venue,   I   think   that   the   exhibition   is   more   historically   significant   than   has   previously   been   noted.   My   consideration   of   Van   Gogh’s   exhibition   strategies   reveals   the   symbolic   modes   of   painting   and   conceptual  ideals  Van  Gogh  developed  in  his  own  work  and  sought  in  fellow  artists.   Although   it   is   not   clear   exactly   what   paintings   the   artist   selected   for   the   Grand   Bouillon,  the  work  of  the  artists  exhibiting  in  1886  and  1887,  particularly  Bernard’s   and  Signac’s  canvases,  explore  the  overlapping  qualities  between  Impressionism  and                                                                                                                   124  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  38.  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à   Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988)  20.         71   Neo-­‐Impressionism   as   Van   Gogh,   Bernard,   and   Signac   moved   toward   a   symbolic   painterly  rhetoric.     Moreover,  I  interpret  the  shift  in  Van  Gogh’s  work  from  the  mimetic  to  the   symbolic  within  the  aesthetic  contributions  of  critic  Félix  Fénéon.  The  critic  defined   “Néo-­‐impressionnisme”   in   response   to   the   last   Impressionist   Exhibition   where   Seurat  announced  the  new  pointillist  technique  with  Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island   of   La   Grande   Jatte   (1884-­‐1886).   John   Rewald   and   Joan   Ungersma   Halperin   acknowledge   Van   Gogh’s   awareness   of   Fénéon’s   criticism,   and   Halperin   traces   Fénéon’s  alignment  with  Symbolism  in  1886,  but  neither  attribute  the  critic’s  ideas   to  Van  Gogh’s  new-­‐found  understanding  of  symbolic  use  of  color,  line,  and  form.125   This  omission  suppresses  the  Symbolist  ideals  to  which  Van  Gogh  had  direct  access   in  Paris.     In  1886,  on  the  heels  of  the  Impressionist  exhibition,  Fénéon  wrote  “Le  Néo-­‐ impressionnisme”  and  provided  a  formula  (so  to  speak)  to  paint  with  the  pointillist   dot.  While  Fénéon’s  ideals  are  connected  to  Seurat’s  methods,  I  find  that  the  critic’s   texts   also   provided   Van   Gogh   with   the   notion   that   the   canvas   was   to   generate   a   sensorial   experience   for   the   viewer,   an   important   aspect   of   Symbolism.   Fénéon’s                                                                                                                   125  John   Rewald,   “Félix   Fénéon,   critique   d’art,”   26   no.   3   (March   1950):   67-­‐71.   John   Rewald,   Post-­‐ Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin,  3rd  ed.  (Boston:  New  York  Graphic  Society,  1978)  87-­‐93,   136-­‐138.   Joan   Ungersma   Halperin,   Félix   Fénéon:   Aesthete   &   Anarchist   in   Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle   Paris   (New   Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)  57-­‐69,  89,  115.         72   critical  accounts  privilege  the  sensation  the  canvas  conveyed  rather  than  serving  as  a   descriptive  study,  a  foundational  difference  between  Van  Gogh’s  earlier  works  from   the   Netherlands   and   those   of   his   Paris   period.   The   critic   also   underscored   a   theoretical   structure   that   laid   the   groundwork   for   symbolic   imagery   through   experimentation   with   both   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism.     In   Paris,   Van   Gogh  did  not  transition  from  Impressionism  to  Neo-­‐Impressionism  chronologically,   but   experimented   with   elements   from   both   groups   of   artists   simultaneously   to   develop  a  unique  pictorial  vocabulary.     The  Exhibitions   The  first  exhibition  in  February  and  March  1887  included  Vincent  and  Théo’s   Japanese  woodblock-­‐print  collection  in  Agostina  Segatori’s  Café  Tambourin,  located   in  Montmartre  at  62  Boulevard  de  Clichy  close  to  the  brothers’  rue  Lepic  apartment   [figures   1-­‐3].126  The   Japanese   prints   are   well   documented,   unlike   the   subsequent   collections   of   the   artist’s   work   exhibited   in   Paris.127  The   Tambourin   Exhibition   of                                                                                                                   126  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  36-­‐37.  See  also:  Zemel  185-­‐187.     127  Van  Gogh  began  studying  Japanese  prints  before  arriving  in  Paris.  When  he  was  living  in  Antwerp,   he  wrote  to  Théo  on  Saturday,  November  28,  1885  (letter  545),  which  is  the  first  instance  the  painter   referenced  Japanese  prints  (see  note  3).  Vincent  told  Théo  that  he  hung  Japanese  prints  on  the  wall   of  his  studio,  which  made  the  space  “tolerable.”  And,  he  told  Théo  about  a  morning  walk  near  the   docks   of   Antwerp.   He   compared   the   docks   and   landscape   to   Japonaiserie.   He   had   read   Jules   de   Goncourt’s  Maîtres  et  petits  maîtres  (1877)  and  quoted  the  novel-­‐-­‐“Japonaiserie  for  ever!”—when   describing   the   “fantastic,   singular,   strange”   Antwerp   wharves.   On   the   exhibition   see:   Welsh-­‐ Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  86.  On  the  influence  of  Japanese  prints  (Japonisme)  in  relation  to  Van         73   Japanese  prints  had,  in  Van  Gogh’s  words,  “quite  an  influence”  on  painters  Bernard   and   Louis   Anquetin.128  Through   the   formal   influence   of   Japanese   prints   and   the   conceptual   ideals   of   literary   Symbolism,   Bernard   and   Anquetin   developed   Cloisonism,   a   painting   style   that   set   off   flat   monochromatic   shapes   with   bold   outlines.129  During  the  time  of  the  exhibition,  the  café  proprietor  sat  for  the  artist,   and  in  the  painting  a  Japanese  scroll  with  two  female  figures  is  faintly  visible  on  the   right-­‐hand   side   [figure   4].   That   summer,   amid   some   personal   strife   with   Segatori   with  whom  Van  Gogh  may  have  had  a  romantic  relationship,  he  mounted  another   exhibition  at  the  Café  Tambourin  of  his  own  works.  In  exchange  for  meals  and  in  a   gesture  of  courtship,  Van  Gogh  gave  Segatori  flower  still  lifes  that  covered  the  café’s   walls.  In  the  café,  Van  Gogh  may  have  exhibited  Basket  of  Pansies  (1886)  [figure  5],  a   painting  of  flowers  in  somewhat  muted  colors  spilling  out  of  a  basket  resting  on  a   table-­‐top  made  from  a  tambourine,  one  smaller  but  similar  to  the  table  on  which                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Gogh’s  work  see:  Mark  Roskill,  “The  Japanese  Print  and  French  Painting   in  the  1880s,”  Van  Gogh,   Gauguin   and   the   Impressionist   Circle   (London:   Thames   and   Hudson,   1970)   57-­‐85.   See   also:   Fred   Orton,  “Vincent’s  Interest  in  Japanese  Prints,”  Vincent:  Bulletin  of  the  Rijksmuseum,  Vincent  van  Gogh   1  no.  3  (1971):  2-­‐32.  Tsukasa  Kōdera,  “Van  Gogh’s  Utopian  Japonisme,”  Catalogue  of  the  Van  Gogh   Museum’s   Collection   of   Japanese   Prints   (Zwolle:   Waanders   Publishers,   1991)   11-­‐46.   Axel   Rüger,   “Vincent  Van  Gogh  and  Japan,”  Japonisme  and  the  Rise  of  the  Modern  Art  Movement:  The  Arts  of  the   Menji   Period,   ed.   Gregory   Irvine   (New   York,   New   York:   Thames   and   Hudson,   2013)   13-­‐15.   Kris   Schiermeier,   “Imitation   or   Innovation?”   Van   Gogh’s   Japonaiserie   and   Japanese   Art   of   the   Menji   Period,”   Japonisme   and   the   Rise   of   the   Modern   Art   Movement:   The   Arts   of   the   Menji   Period,   ed.   Gregory  Irvine  (New  York,  New  York:  Thames  and  Hudson,  2013)  140-­‐165.     128  On  Segatori:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letters  571  and  572  to  Théo  from  Paris   in   late  July  1887.   I  quote   directly  from  letter  640.  See  also:  Homburg  26,  32.     129  Roskill  106.   See  also:  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Birth  of  Cloisonism.   (Toronto,  Canada:  Art  Gallery  of  Toronto  and  Musée  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  de  L’ontario,  1981).         74   Segatori   rests   her   arms.130  Bernard,   the   main   source   of   information   about   Van   Gogh’s  Paris  exhibitions,  noted  that  Van  Gogh  hung  flower  still  lifes  to  decorate  the   café,   similar   to   Fritillaires,   couronne   impériale   dans   un   vase   de   cuivre   (April-­‐May   1887),   in  which  he  explored  the  then-­‐new  pointillist  technique  in  the  background   [figure  6].131     The   largest   show   Van   Gogh   organized   took   place   in   November   1887.   The   artist   curated   and   mounted   an   exhibition   at   the   popular   Grand   Bouillon   at   43   Avenue  de  Clichy  in  Montmartre,  also  not  far  from  the  brothers’  apartment.132  The   Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  was  like  those  held  in  Paris  during  1886  and  1887,  such  as   the   8me   Exposition   de   peinture   or   the   two   Société   des   Artistes   Indépendants   installations,   in   which   Camille   Pissarro,   Seurat,   and   Signac   participated.   Likewise,                                                                                                                   130  See  letter  572,  note  3.  Van  Gogh  wrote  this  letter  while  living  in  Paris  to  Théo  sometime  around   July  23  thru  the  25,  1887.  See  also:  Émile  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  (November-­‐ December  1908)  in  Van  Gogh:  A  Retrospective,  ed.  Susan  Alyson  Stein  (New  York:  Hugh  Lauter  Levin   Associates,  Inc.,  1986)  93.  Originally  published  in  the  Mercure  de  France,  November-­‐December  1908.   “It  was  about  this  time  that  Vincent  frequented  a  tavern  called  Le  Tambourin,  owned  by  an  extremely   beautiful  Italian  woman,  a  former  model,  who  let  sprawl  her  robust  and  imposing  charms  onto  a  bar-­‐ top  she  made  exclusively  hers.  Vincent  agreed  to  do  several  paintings  a  week  for  Le  Tambourin  in   exchange  for  meals.  He  wound  up  covering  the  large  walls  of  the  establishment  with  his  studies.  They   were  mostly  flower  studies,  and  there  were  some  excellent  ones.  This  went  on  for  a  few  months;   then  the  place  went  to  ruin,  was  sold,  and  all  the  paintings  in  a  pile,  were  sold  off  for  a  laughable   sum.”   131  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  118.  See  also:  Van  Gogh’s   letter  number  571,  note  3.  Émile   Bernard,  “Les  Peintres  Impressionnists:  Vincent  Van  Gogh,”  Emile  Bernard,  1868-­‐1941:  A  Pioneer  of   Modern  Art,  ed.  Mary  Anne  Stevens  (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1990)  382-­‐383.     132  Blühm  67.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  38-­‐40  and  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  19-­‐20.   Homburg   32.   Thomson   80-­‐81.   Zemel   187-­‐189.   Part   of   Bernard’s   account   of   the   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition  can  be  found  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.           75   Van   Gogh   aimed   to   draw   together   a   large,   multi-­‐faceted   body   of   work   from   a   number   of   artists   with   whom   he   connected   in   Paris,   an   ambitious   and   important   event  for  the  emerging  painter.133  The  proprietor,  Monsieur  Martin  [figure  7],  gave   Van  Gogh  a  large  dining-­‐room  space  in  which  to  hold  the  exhibition.  At  this  time,   Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Bernard  explaining  that  he  aimed  to  do  what  he  could  to  make   the   exhibition   a   success.134  He   attempted   to   bring   together   a   collective   of   artists   who  could  work  towards  a  common  goal  of  exhibiting  for  the  sake  of  the  group  and   put   aside   “petty   jealousies.”135  Despite   Van   Gogh’s   intention   to   orchestrate   the   images  of  a  community  of  artists  he  hoped  to  support,  the  restaurant  patrons  did   not   receive   the   painter’s   efforts   openly.     According   to   Bernard,   they   “were   somewhat  horrified”  and  a  “little  disconcerted”  by  the  “forbidding  aspect[s]”  of  the   paintings.136  Unfortunately,  Van  Gogh  had  an  argument  with  Monsieur  Martin,  and                                                                                                                   133  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  218-­‐223.  In  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  appendix,  she   provides  a  list  of  exhibitions  concurrent  with  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  stay.     134  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  575  to  Bernard  while  in  Paris  in  December  1887,  probably  shortly  after  the   Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  ended.  “I’ll  gladly  do  all  I  can  to  make  a  success  of  what  was  started  in  the   dining-­‐room,  but  I  believe  that  the  first  condition  for  success  is  to  put  aside  petty  jealousies;  it’s  only   unity  that  makes  strength.  It’s  well  worth  sacrificing  selfishness,  the  ‘each  man  for  himself,’   in  the   common  interest.”   135  Letter  575.     136  Bernard  quoted  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.             76   subsequently  ended  up  angrily  hauling  all  of  the  paintings  away  in  a  wheelbarrow  to   his  apartment  on  the  rue  Lepic.137     Although  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  ended  abruptly  and  neither  garnered   criticism  nor  had  an  accompanying  catalog,  the  artists  Van  Gogh  included  represent   the  artistic  avant-­‐garde  developing  after  the  last  Impressionist  exhibition:  Bernard,   Signac,  Anquentin,  Henri  Toulouse-­‐Lautrec,  Harold  H.  Koning,  and  (perhaps)  Armand   Guillaumin.  Together  they  exhibited  over  fifty  paintings,  such  as  Bernard’s  Portrait  of   the   Artist’s   Grandmother   (1887)   and   Ragpickers   at   Clichy   (1887)   [figures   8   &   9],   Anquetin’s  Boat  at  Sunset,  Lautrec’s  paintings  of  prostitutes,  and  Koning’s  apple  still   lifes.138  Pissarro,  Seurat,  and  Paul  Gauguin  (who  had  just  returned  from  Martinique   in  November)  saw  these  images  when  they  each  visited  the  exhibition,  which  was,   Bernard  wrote,  “by  far  the  most  advanced  thing  in  Paris.”139  The  event  was  also  the                                                                                                                   137  Bernard  quoted  in  Van  Gogh’s   letter  575,  note  9.  Bernard  wrote  about  the  dining  room  of  the   Grand  Bouillon  exhibition  and  referred  to  the  altercation  between  Van  Gogh  and  Monsieur  Martin:   “The  room  referred  to  here  is  the  dining-­‐room  of  a  working-­‐class  restaurant  on  avenue  de  Clichy,   whose  owner  Vincent  had  won  over,  and  which  he  had  turned  into  an  exhibition  of  our  paintings.   Unfortunately,   this   socialist   exhibition   of   our   inflammatory   canvases   came   to   a   rather   sorry   end.   There  was  a  violent  altercation  between  the  owner  and  Vincent,  which  made  Vincent  decide  to  take  a   hand-­‐barrow  without  delay  and  cart  the  whole  exhibition  to  his  studio  in  rue  Lepic.  Obviously,  the  art   of  the  Petit  Boulevard  had  not  been  understood  by  its  Barnum.”   138  Bernard  quoted  in  Zemel  188.  See  Zemel,  chapter  five,  notes  44,  45  and  48  (pages  272-­‐273).  On   Bernard’s  Ragpickers  at  Clichy,  see:  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  200-­‐201.  On  the  number  of   paintings  exhibited,  see  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  33.     139  Bernard  quoted  in  Zemel  188.  See  also:  Ronald  Pickvance,  Van  Gogh  (Martigny  Suisse:  Foundation   Pierre  Gianadda,  2000)  75.             77   first  time  Van  Gogh  met  Seurat.  The  pointillist  artist  recalled  first  meeting  the  Dutch   painter  at  the  Grand  Bouillon,  “a  working-­‐class  restaurant  located  near  la  Fourche,   avenue  de  Clichy…[in]  an  immense  sky-­‐lighted  hall…decorated  with  his  canvases.”140   Van   Gogh   himself   included   flower   still   lifes   and   landscapes   from   Clichy   and   Asnières.141  Bernard   identified   three   paintings   Van   Gogh   exhibited,   Factories   at   Clichy  (1887),  The  Factory  at  Clichy  (1887),  and  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy  (fall  1887)   [figures  10-­‐12].142  For  Bernard,  Van  Gogh’s  works  were  the  most  prominent  of  the   exhibition,   conveying   a   “joyful,   vibrant,   harmonious   impression.”   143  Bernard’s   comment  suggests  that  Van  Gogh  was  developing  the  early  patterns  of  his  Arlesian   imagery.   Vincent  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  (Wil)  about  images  similar  to  the  flower   still   lifes   exhibited   in   the   Café   Tambourin   and   the   landscapes   and   portrait   in   the   Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition:   Last  summer,   I  painted  almost  nothing  but  flowers  to  accustom   myself   to   a   colour   other   than   grey,   that’s   to   say   pink,   soft   or                                                                                                                   140  Letter  from  Georges  Seurat  to  Maurice  Beaubourg,  Paris,  28  August  1890,  in  Stein  90.     141  Bernard   quoted   in   Stevens   382-­‐383.   Bernard   quoted   in   Zemel   188.   Bernard   quoted   in   Rewald,   Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.     142  Bernard   quoted   in   Stevens   382.   Ronald   Dorn,   “The   Artistic   Reception   of   Vincent   van   Gogh’s   Work—Prologue,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Modern  Movement,  1890-­‐1914  (Amsterdam:  Van  Gogh   Museum,  1990)  189.     143  Bernard  quoted  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.             78   bright  green,  light  blue,  violet,  yellow,  orange,  fine  red.  And  when   I   painted   the   landscapes   in   Asnières   this   summer   I   saw   more   colour  in  it  than  before.  I’m  studying  this  now  in  portraits.144       “Last  summer”  refers  to  Van  Gogh’s  first  summer  in  Paris  when  he  was  first  exposed   to   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐Impressionists.   He   used   flowers   to   practice   using   color  and  then  did  so  with  more  complex  subjects  that  may  not  lend  themselves  to   saturated   hue,   such   as   portraiture   and   landscape.   One   of   the   portraits   he   was   working  on  at  the  time  for  the  Grand  Bouillon  was  of  Julien  Tanguy,  known  as  Père   Tanguy,  a  well-­‐known  Paris  paint-­‐store  owner  who  sold  paint  to  Claude  Monet  and   Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir,  championed  Paul  Cézanne,  and  who  let  Van  Gogh  hang  his   paintings  in  the  shop.  A  great  source  of  artistic  inspiration,  the  shop,  Boutique  du   Père   Tanguy   located   in   Montmartre,   was   a   place   Van   Gogh   frequented   often   to   discuss   painting   concepts. 145  Van   Gogh   also   hung   work   at   the   Théâtre   Libra   d’Antoine  at  96  rue  Blanche  in  Montmartre  sometime  during  the  winter  of  1887-­‐                                                                                                                 144  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  574  to  his  sister  Wil  from  Paris  in  late  October  1887.     145  Charles   Angrand   in   Conversation   in   Stein   89.   Angrand   was   a   painter   associated   with   the   Neo-­‐ Impressionists  during  the  time  Van  Gogh  lived  in  Paris.  “About  Van  Gogh  I  have  very  few  memories.   Without  a  doubt,  we  found  ourselves  sometimes  at  père  Tanguy’s;  but  what  has  most  remained  in   my  memory  is  the  visit  he  paid  me  at  the  end  of  one  November  at  the  Collège  Chaptal.  I  could  meet   him  only  at  the  café.  I  remember  that  he  didn’t  want  to  drink  anything.  He  came  above  all  to  make  an   exchange,  an  instance,  I  believe  of  his  mania.  I  had  at  père  Tanguy’s  then  a  thickly  painted  canvas  of  a   woman  followed  by  chickens.  Had  he  been  seduced  by  the  impasto?  A  little  later,  he  had  to  leave   Paris.  Anyway,  we  didn’t  stay  in  contact.  I  knew  his  brother  better  than  him.”           79   1888.  Seurat  and  Signac  also  included  works  at  the  Théâtre  Libra.146  Although  there   is   little  surviving  evidence,  Van  Gogh  exhibited  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières   [figure  13].     Together  the  paintings  Vincent  exhibited  in  Paris  exemplify  the  rapid  change   his  work  underwent  in  1887,  from,  as  he  noted  to  Wil,  grey  to  robust  color  and  from   the   descriptive   to   the   symbolic.   Although   Van   Gogh’s,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   respective  canvases  are  distinct,  the  emerging  painters  conceived  of  the  relationship   among   the   artist,   canvas,   and   viewer   similarly.   In   1886,   the   artists   had   varying   contact  with  the  Impressionist  artists  and  with  each  other.  By  1887  they  developed   into   a   group   of   artists   who   highlighted   the   discord   between   the   image   and   the   natural   world   from   which   they   derived   their   subject   matter,   approaching   their   respective  art-­‐making  processes  by  acknowledging  a  disassociation  between  nature   and  the  image’s  form.  In  this  way,  they  generated  a  participant-­‐canvas  relationship   that  privileged  the  image  as  a  subjective  creation,  emphasizing  its  artifice.  Although   their  subjects  were  often  nature  or  their  surrounding  environments,  they  depicted   highly  individual  interpretations  that  relied  on  their  imaginations.  For  example,  their   canvases   depicting   factory   landscapes   became   a   conceptually   visual   paradox   because  the  subject  matter  was  the  means  to  experiment  with  medium  and  form,   not  to  render  the  sunlight’s  effects  or  the  smokestack’s  plume.  To  them,  the  canvas                                                                                                                   146  Blühm  67.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  104.  Thomson  80.         80   was  a  visual  field  that  provided  a  catalytic  response  between  the  participant  and  the   artist,  one  that  privileged  a  contemplative  gaze  to  engage  the  viewer’s  imagination.  I   explore  the  lineage  of  this  painterly  concept  through  Édouard  Manet  and  Pissarro,   painters   who   influenced   the   critical   lexicon   and,   in   Pissarro’s   case,   the   emerging   painters  directly.  Pissarro  also  worked  closely  with  Fénéon  to  craft  the  ideals  of  Neo-­‐ Impressionism.   Thus,   I   also   consider   the   symbolic   methods   Fénéon’s   criticism   espouses  to  a  generation  of  up-­‐and-­‐coming  artists,  such  as  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and   Signac.  For  them,  the  critic  addressed  the  formal  and  conceptual  ways  in  which  a   painter  could  subordinate  mimetic  rendering  to  focus  on  the  artist’s  unique  ideation   of  the  material  world  to  convey  an  experience  symbolically.  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period   imagery,   particularly   the   canvases   he   included   in   exhibitions,   conceptually   emphasize  the  artist’s  vision.       Manet’s  and  Pissarro’s  Influence   Underscoring   what   the   viewer   understood   as   reality   and   what   the   painter   subjectively   translated   had   been   a   concept   in   painting   practice   since   the   early   nineteenth   century,   finding   precedent   in   Jacques-­‐Louis   David’s   imagery.   TJ   Clark   defines  David’s  modernism  with  the  painter’s  Death  of  Marat  (1793),  arguing  that   Marat  is  fundamentally  modernist  because  it  challenged  the  boundary  between  the   subject  (what  is  mimetically  depicted  in  the  literal  sense)  and  the  visual  (the  painting         81   in  a  transformative  sense).147  Marat,  for  instance,  is  holding  a  letter;  but  he  is  dead,   so  how  can  his  fingers  grasp?  With  Marat,  David  raised  important  questions  with   which  nineteenth-­‐century  painters  grappled:  is  it  possible  to,  in  Clark’s  words,  “say   what  we  are  looking  at,  or  see  what  we  are  saying?”148     Creating  an  image  that  intentionally  highlighted  the  painting  as  a  fiction  of   reality,  one  that  was  based  on  the  artist’s  idiosyncratic  vision  that  had  an  effect  on   the  viewer’s  imagination  is  a  modernist  concept  that  finds  further  roots  in  the  work   of  Manet.  Michael  Fried  characterized  Henri  Fantain-­‐Latour,  James  McNeill  Whistler,   Alphonse   Legros,   and   Manet   as   the   generation   of   1863.149  Fantain-­‐Latour   paid   respect   to   their   generation’s   roots   in   Homage   to   Delacroix   (1864).   Fried   finds   a   common  link  among  the  painters:  their  canvases  mark  a  shift  in  the  beholder-­‐canvas   relationship.   Rather   than   create   imagery   that   is,   to   use   Fried’s   term,   absorptive,   figures   in   paintings   acknowledged   the   spectator’s   gaze.   Significantly,   Manet   subverted  seemingly  absorptive  subject  matter.  Manet’s  modernism  was  not  solely   due  to  his  choice  of  subject  matter  and  evident  facture  but  more  so  to  his  ability  to   construct  an  image  that,  although  it  may  include  a  figure  staring  directly  out  at  the                                                                                                                   147  TJ  Clark,  “Painting   in  the  Year  2,”  Farewell  to  an  Idea  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University   Press,  1999)  42.   148  Clark  42.     149  Michael  Fried,  “Manet  in  His  Generation:  The  Face  of  Painting  in  the  1860s,”  Critical  Inquiry  19.1   (Autumn  1992):  22-­‐69.         82   viewer,   could,   in   Fried’s   words,   read   as   “a   single   instantaneously   apprehensible   facing  entity…to  compel  the  beholder  to  take  it  in  as  a  whole,  a  single  intense  facing   object  of  vision.”150  This  is  an  aim  the  Impressionists  made  effective.     Stéphane  Mallarmé’s  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  (1874)  hailed   Manet   as   the   forerunner   of   the   Impressionists,   arguing   that   the   artist   based   his   paintings  upon  “a  new  creation  of  the  mind…the  eye  should  forget  all  else   it  has   seen,  and  learn  anew  from  the  lesson  before  it.”151  The  eye,  Mallarmé  continued,   “should  abstract  itself  from  memory,  seeing  only  that  which  it  looks  upon,  and  that   for  the  first  time;  and  the  hand  should  become  an  impersonal  abstraction  guided   only   by   the   will.”152  For   Mallarmé,   Manet   was   a   painter   whose   imagery   operated   “outside   mere   Realism”   to   strike   a   visual   dichotomy   between   what   the   viewer   is   looking  at,  the  painting,  and  real  life.153  Manet’s  contemporary  critics,  such  as  Émile   Zola,  also  considered  the  notion  of  constructing  a  canvas  as  a  manifestation  of  the   artist’s  inner  mind.  In  Zola’s  defense  of  Manet’s  work,  Mon  Salon  (1866),  he  argued   that  there  is  not  a  fixed,  canonical  sense  of  beauty  and  that  the  term  “realist”  held                                                                                                                   150  Fried,  “Manet  in  His  Generation”  61,  60.   151  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet,”  The  New  Painting:  Impressionism,   1874-­‐1876,  ed.  Charles  S.  Moffett  (San  Francisco,  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  29.   152  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  29.   153  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  29.           83   no   significance   for   him.   Rather,   a   successful   work   of   art   depends   on   the   artist’s   subjective  perspective,  writing:     I   want   something   alive,   I   want   a   new   creation,   previously   unknown,  true  to  the  artist’s  own  eyes  and  temperament.  What  I   seek  above  all  in  the  painting  is  the  man  and  not  the  painting.       There  are,  in  my  opinion,  two  elements  in  a  work:  the  element  of   reality,   which   is   nature,   and   the   personal   element,   which   is   man.154       He   emphasized   that   Manet   painted   in   a   higher   tone   than   those   found   in   nature,   evidence  of  the  painter’s  artistic  temperament.155     Zola’s   use   of   the   word   temperament   did   not   have   to   do   with   the   artist’s   emotional  life,  but  the  painter’s  artistic  proclivities.  Ultimately,  Zola  argued  that  an   artist   needed   to   reinvent   Nature   in   his   own   temperament,   an   important   idea   regarding  the  notion  of  subjectivity  in  the  Impressionist  aesthetic.  For  Mallarmé  and   Zola,  the  role  of  the  artist  is  two-­‐fold:  first,  to  see  Nature  not  as  it  is,  but  as  an  artist   could  use  it  to  inventively  craft  an  image  in  accordance  to  the  imagination,  not  to   reality;  and  second,  to  provide  the  spectator  an  opportunity  to  observe  not  a  lived   reality   through   the   eyes   of   an   artist,   but   rather   a   reality   that   only   existed   in   the                                                                                                                   154  Émile  Zola,  “Mon  Salon,”  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology  of  Changing  Ideas,  eds.  Charles   Harrison,   Paul   Wood   and   Jason   Gaiger   (Massachusetts,   Oxford   and   Victoria,   Australia:   Blackwell   Publishing,  1998)  552.     155  Émile  Zola,  “A  New  Manner  in  Painting:  Édouard  Manet,”  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology   of  Changing  Ideas,  eds.  Charles  Harrison,  Paul  Wood  and  Jason  Gaiger  (Massachusetts,  Oxford  and   Victoria,  Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998)  559.         84   language  of  expression,  the  medium  of  explication,  and  a  form  perceptible  senses.156     The  modernist  notion  of  reality  explored  through  Zola  and  Mallarmé  emphasized  the   divergence   from   depicting   Nature   toward   an   ability   to   participate   in   a   canvas   investigating  and  revealing  the  experimentation  of  a  painting’s  construction  and  its   process,   one   that   grew   from   the   artist’s   temperament,   his   unique   lens.   Manet’s   imagery   recognizes   the   visual   dichotomy   between   what   is   seen   and   how   it   is   depicted.  Some  of  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists  addressed  the  visual   fissure   Manet   ironically   articulated   to   acknowledge   that   the   aim   of   their   imagery   was   to   intentionally   generate   a   discord   between   describing   the   subject   and   constructing  an  image.     In  1874  when  the  not-­‐yet-­‐named  Impressionists  sought  a  venue  outside  of   the  Salon  system,  Pissarro  wrote  the  initial  co-­‐op  post—a  Co-­‐operative  Joint  Stock   Company   of   Artists   in   Painting,   Sculpture,   etc.,   of   Paris—calling   for   interested   participants  to  apply  to  the  exhibition-­‐oriented  group.157  Pissarro  went  on  to  show  in   all   of   the   eight   exhibitions,   changing   his   technique   for   the   1886   exhibition   while   engaging  with  Seurat’s  pointillism.  In  1886,  Fénéon  relied  on  Pissarro  and  used  the                                                                                                                   156  Jean   Moréas,   “A   Literary   Manifesto—Symbolism   (1886),”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans   and   ed,   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,   1994)   151.   When   noting   that   artists   generate   a   form   perceptible   to   the   senses,   I   am   paraphrasing  the  Symbolist  poet  Jean  Moréas.     157  Camille   Pissarro,   “A   Co-­‐operative   Joint   Stock   Company   of   Artists   in   Painting,   Sculpture,   ect.,   of   Paris,”  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology  of  Changing  Ideas,  eds.  Charles  Harrison,  Paul  Wood   and  Jason  Gaiger  (Massachusetts,  Oxford  and  Victoria,  Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998)  569-­‐571.         85   painter’s  break  in  technique  to  characterize  a  new  group,  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists,   which  was  built  on  the  Impressionist’s  analytic  approach.  In  his  Neo-­‐Impressionist   canvases,  Pissarro  blurred  the  boundary  between  what  we  see  and  what  we  know   we  can  see.  For  instance,  in  Camille  Pissarro’s  Apple-­‐Picking  (1886),  exhibited  in  the   1886  Impressionist  exhibition,  the  viewer   is  not   looking  at  what  can  be  rationally   described  as  apple  trees  in  an  expansive  field  [figure  14].  How  can  the  foreground   figure  merge  with  a  tree  that  appears  to  be  growing,  not  from  the  ground  the  figures   occupy,  but  from  a  space  before  the  canvas,  the  space  in  which  the  viewer  stands?  A   description  of  Apple  Pickers  would  diverge  from  an  explanation  of  what  one  would   perceive   before   a   field.   Pissarro   conceived   the   painting’s   composition   through   formal  devises,  not  by  depending  on  a  study  of  the  figures’  relationship  to  the  field.   In  Apple  Pickers  Pissarro  subverted  the  canvas’s  visual  interplay  between  an  actual   field  and  a  painting  of  a  field  to  assert  the  picture  plane  as  a  single  visual  object.   Apple  Pickers  is  a  field  literally  and  metaphorically.     In  1896  and  1897,  Louis  Le  Bail  worked  with  Pissarro  and  in  his  notes  wrote   down  some  of  Pissarro’s  advice  about  how  to  abstract  from  nature:     Look   for   the   kind   of   nature   that   suits   your   temperament.   The   motif   should   be   observed   more   for   shape   and   color   than   for   drawing.   There   is   no   need   to   tighten   the   form   which   can   be   obtained   without   that.   Precise   drawing   is   dry   and   hampers   the   impression  of  the  whole;  it  destroys  all  sensations.  Do  not  define   too  closely  the  outlines  of  things;  it  is  the  brush  stroke  of  the  right   value  and  color  which  should  produce  the  drawing.  In  a  mass,  the         86   greatest  difficulty  is  not  to  give  the  contour  in  detail,  but  to  paint   what  is  within.  Paint  the  essential  character  of  things,  try  to  convey   it   by   whatever   means   whatsoever,   without   bothering   about   technique….The  eye  should  not  be  fixed  on  one  point,  but  should   take  in  everything  while  observing  the  reflections  which  the  colors   produce  on  their  surroundings….Don’t  paint  according  to  rules  and   principles,  but  paint  what  you  observe  and  feel.…One  must  have   only  one  master—nature;  she  is  the  one  always  to  be  consulted.158     Written   a   decade   after   Neo-­‐Impressionism   developed,   Le   Bail’s   words   summarize   Pissarro’s  perspective,  include  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist’s  notion  of  the  picture  plane,   and   attest   to   the   artist’s   ability   to   rely   on   subjective   temperament.   For   Pissarro,   although  the   image  is  rooted  in  nature,   it   is  essential  that  the  artist  use  what  he   observed  to  subordinate  the  subject’s  mimetic  description  and  to  explore  the  canvas   as  an  optical  vehicle  of  form  separate  from  the  material  world.  The  goal  was  not  to   depict  a  focused  subject  situated  against  a  background,  but  to  consider  the  subject   as  the  painting’s  form.     Van  Gogh  and  the  emerging  artists  marked  an  important  paradigmatic  shift   and  grew  from  Impressionism  and  by  extension  David  and  Manet.  In  1886,  Paris  had   a  community  of  artists  who  were  grappling  with  the  distinction  between  depicting   what  could  be  seen  and  what  could  be  crafted  through  medium  and  form.  Due  to   avant-­‐garde   connections,   Van   Gogh   emerged   from   his   two-­‐year   stay   in   Paris   as   a                                                                                                                   158  Louis  Le  Bail,  “Pissarro’s  Advise  to  a  Young  Artist,”  Impressionism  and  Post-­‐Impressionism,  1874-­‐ 1904,  ed.  Linda  Nochlin  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice-­‐Hall,  Inc.,  1966)  59-­‐60.  See  also:  John   Rewald,  The  History  of  Impressionism  (New  York:  The  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  1973)  458.         87   modernist  painter  who  had  studied  the  visual  effects  of  the  Impressionist  canvas  and   shaped  his  imagery  to  interact  with  nature  in  a  way  that  diverged  from  his  previous   work.   Bernard,   Signac,   and   Van   Gogh   developed   canvases   in   1886   and   1887   that   moved   markedly   from   the   depictions   of   nature   and   landscape   than   their   Impressionist   forerunners,   ideas   that   Pissarro   and   Fénéon   articulated   and   supported.       Félix  Fénéon   Fénéon   was   a   significant   writer   in   the   critical   lexicon   of   both   the   Parisian   literary  and  visual  arts  from  the  1880s  through  the  1890s.159  Pissarro  and  Fénéon   had  significant  voices  in  the  shift  from  Impressionism  to  Neo-­‐Impressionism  due  in   part  to  the  dialogue  surrounding  the  last  Impressionist  exhibition,  in  which  Fénéon   theorized   about   the   imagery   and   heralded   a   younger   generation   of   artists.  160   Pissarro  was  in  regular  contact  with  Vincent  and  Théo  during  the  former’s  stay  in   Paris.  Van  Gogh  also  met  Fénéon  in  Paris  when  the  writer  discussed  the  differing   visual   aspects   between   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Lucien   Pissarro,                                                                                                                   159  Halperin,  Félix  Fénéon  5.  Fénéon  was  “so  active  in  the  Paris  literary  and  art  world  of  the  1880s  and   1890s  that  every  major  account  of  the  period  names  him  as  a  pivotal  figure.”   160  Martha  Ward,  Pissarro,  Neo-­‐Impressionism  and  the  Spaces  of  the  Avant-­‐Garde  (Chicago  &  London:   The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1995)  50-­‐59,  88-­‐97.             88   Camille   Pissarro’s   son   and   a   pointillist   painter   who   received   a   signed   copy   of   Fénéon’s   1887   essay   on   Neo-­‐Impressionism,   drew   a   picture   of   the   critic   and   Van   Gogh  talking  to  one  another  in  Paris  [figure  15].161  In  Lucien’s  image,  Fénéon  turns   to  speak  to  Van  Gogh,  who  in  turn  stares  ahead  pensively,  and  with  a  wrinkled  brow   and  crossed  arms  the  painter  ponders  the  critic’s  words.  The  critic  gazes  toward  Van   Gogh  who  looks  out  of  the  picture  plane,  as  if  perhaps  studying  the  modern  world   he  aimed  to  translate  on  canvas.  There  are  also  signs  of  the  relationship  between   the   Parisian   dandy   and   a   maker   of   paintings,   a   laborer   in   a   sense.   Van   Gogh’s   shoulders   are   slumped   and   he   wears   a   working-­‐class   hat   and   nondescript   jacket,   while   Fénéon   sits   regally   straight,   shoulders   back,   in   top   hat,   collar,   and   lapels.   Lucien  depicted  an  exchange  between  one  who  toils,  brush  to  canvas,  and  one  who   has   the   time   to   dress   well   and   who   seeks   pleasurable   imagery.   In   Charles   Baudelaire’s  words,  the  dandy  “has  no  other  occupation  than  the  perpetual  pursuit   of   happiness.”162  Lucien’s   drawing   conveys   the   critic   in   pursuit   and   the   influence   Fénéon’s  ideas  may  have  had  on  emerging  painters  like  Van  Gogh.  Van  Gogh  and   Fénéon’s  meeting  was  fortuitous  because  at  this  time  the  critic  was  in  the  midst  of                                                                                                                   161  Pissarro,  Letters,  85,  footnote  1.   162  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life,”  The  Painter  of  Modern  Life  and  Other  Essays,   trans  and  ed.  Jonathan  Mayne  (London  and  New  York:  Phaidon  Press  Limited,  2001)  28-­‐29.           89   defining  how  Pissarro,  Signac,  and  Seurat  differed  from  the  Impressionists  when  Van   Gogh  was  planning  his  exhibitions.     A  regular  at  Mallarmé’s  Tuesday  Salon  since  1885,  Fénéon  was  perhaps  the   closest   critic   to   the   emerging   painters   and   had   interactions   with   avant-­‐garde   painters,   such   as   Monet,   Seurat,   Gauguin,   and   Pissarro.163  In   1886   he   founded   La   Vogue,  spearheaded  by  Gustave  Kahn  and  co-­‐founded  with  Charles  Henry  and  Jules   Laforgue,  and  he  had  a  direct  role  in  theorizing  the  significance  of  Seurat’s  pointillist   technique.164  Having  worked  with  many  central  figures  of  Impressionist,  Symbolist,   and   Post-­‐Impressionist   theory—Kahn,   Laforgue,   Pissarro,   Signac,   Seurat,   among   others—he  crafted  several  texts  that  gave  way  to  an  understanding  of  the  picture   plane  based  on  Impressionism  and  a  new-­‐found  curiosity  of  the  image-­‐participant   relationship,   namely   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886”   (published   in   La   Vogue   and   edited   by   Kahn)   and   “Le   Néo-­‐impressionnisme”   (published   in   L’art   moderne   de   Bruxelle   on   May   1,   1887),   in   which   he   defined   the   Neo-­‐Impressionist   studio   technique  and  conceptual  framework.165                                                                                                                     163  Félix  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme  (1887),”  Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans   and  ed.  Henri  Dorra  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1994)  157.     164  Joan  Ungersma  Halperin,  “Catching  up  with  Seurat  and  the  Impressionists  in  1886,”  Félix  Fénéon:   Aesthete  &  Anarchist  in  Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle  Paris  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)  73-­‐ 91.     165  Félix  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886”  and  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme,”  Félix  Fénéon:  Œuvres   plus  que  complètes,  ed.  Joan  Ungersma  Halperin  (Genève,  Switzerland:  Librairies  Droz,  S.A,  1970)  27-­‐ 38,  53-­‐58,  82-­‐85.  The  first  three  sections  of  Fénéon’s  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  is  translated  in  in         90   The  above-­‐mentioned  texts,  as  well  as  Pissarro  and  Fénéon’s  exchanges  over   the  years,  represent  the  points  of  view  they  passed  down  to  painters  coming  into   their  own  in  1886  and  1887,  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Signac  included.  Pissarro,  who   became   acquainted   with   Fénéon   due   to   his   involvement   in   the   last   Impressionist   exhibit,   encouraged   Fénéon’s   ideas,   reviewed   his   essay   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886,”   and   sought   him   out   to   write   for   their   work.166  Fénéon   asked   Pissarro   to   review   a   draft   of   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886,”   specifically   the   section   on   technique,   but   Pissarro   was   worried   that   painters   would   “take   advantage”   of   the   directives   and   make   similar   paintings. 167  Fénéon   first   used   the   term   “néo-­‐ impressionnisme”   in   the   1886   essay   in   which   he   named   only   Pissarro   as   a   practitioner.168  The  critic  underscored  that  Pissarro  brought  a  systematic  rigor  to  the   new-­‐found   Neo-­‐Impressionist   approach   and   it   is   the   earliest   instance   where   the                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans.  Henri  Dorra  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:   University   of   California   Press,   1994)   157-­‐163.   The   fourth   and   last   section   of   “Le   Néo-­‐ impressionnisme”  is  not  translated,  but  it   includes  a  short  list  of  Néo-­‐Impressionist  artists:  Charles   Angrand,  Maximilien  Luce,  Lucien  Pissarro,  Albert  Dubois-­‐Pillet,  Georges  Seurat,  and  Paul  Signac.  See   also:   Camille   Pissarro,   Letter   to   his   Son   Lucien,   eds.   Lucien   Pissarro   and   John   Rewald   (New   York:   Pantheon  Books,  Inc.,  1943)  81,  footnote  1.   166  Pissarro,  Letter,  81,  footnote  1,  95,  111,  134-­‐135.  In  a  letter  to  Lucien,  dated  September  15,  1886,   Pissarro  told  his  son  that  Fénéon  sent  him  a  draft  of  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886.”   167  Pissarro,  Letters,  81.     168  Halperin,   Félix   Fénéon:   Aesthete   &   Anarchist   in   Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle   Paris   92.   Fénéon,   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886”   in   Halperin   37.   Fénéon   concluded   his   1886   essay   with   brief   comments   about   Pissarro   and   Lucien.   He   found   Lucien’s   watercolors   “delightful   and   fresh”:   “Ses   aquarelles   d’illustration  sont  savoureuses  et  fraîches,  et   il  a  gravé  sur  bois  une  série  d’êtres  ruraux,  bêtes  et   gens,  avec  la  simplicité  exemplaire  des  primitifs  xylographes.”         91   critic   used   the   term   “néo-­‐impressonnisme.”169  Fittingly,   the   term   first   appears   in   reference  to  Pissarro,  a  painter  who  had  authority  in  the  Impressionist  millieu  and   switched   to   using   the   pointillist   paint   application   in   1886.   In   the   revised   1887   version,   “Le   Néo-­‐impressionnisme,”   Fénéon   named   Pissarro,   Seurat,   and   Signac   (among  others)  Neo-­‐Impressionists.170   A  critic  who  bridged  the  gap  between  Impressionism  and  Symbolism,  Fénéon   sought  painters  who  could  craft  not  an  image  that  included  symbols,  but  rather  an   image  that  was   itself  a  symbol.  This  distinction  characterizes  Van  Gogh’s  painting   practice   in   Paris   as   he   transitioned   from   didactic   narrative   to   visual   devices   that   suggested   the   symbol   of   an   experience.   In   images   such   as   Factory   at   Clichy   (addressed  below),  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  elongated  strokes,  hyper  foreshortening,  and   compressed   perspectival   angle   formally   indicate   a   lack   of   depth   and   symbolically   convey   a   laborer’s   work   environment.   Van   Gogh’s   imagery   need   not   explicitly   include   the   pointillist   approach   to   suit   Fénéon’s   aims   as   the   critic   articulated   the   means  by  which  to  craft  a  symbolic  image.  Fénéon  addressed  technique  to  assert   that  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists’  respective  canvases  were  individually  unique,  despite                                                                                                                   169  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886”  in  Halperin  37.   170  Félix  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886,”  in  Félix  Fénéon  Oeuvres  plus  que  complètes,  tome  I,   ed.  Joan  U.  Halperin  (Genève:  Librarie  Droz,  1970)  27-­‐37.         92   having   rallied   around   a   similar   painterly   approach   of   constructing   local   color   (the   hue  in  white  light)  by  using  complementary  colors.     Although   Fénéon   focused   on   the   formal   aspects   of   the   works   and   the   pointillist   technique,   he   set   Monet,   Pissarro,   and   Degas   as   leaders   of   a   painting   revolution,  noting  that  they  influenced  Manet  and  he  them.  He  also  located  Seurat,   Signac,   Pissarro,   and   Lucien   Pissarro   as   innovators   within   the   Impressionist’s   revolutionizing   tradition.   Seurat   was   the   first,   according   to   Fénéon,   to   create   brighter  colors  by  applying  complementary  hues  with  the  tip  of  the  brush,  allowing   colors   to   appear   brighter   and   to   mix   in   the   viewer’s   retina,   inviting   spectator   participation.171  In  terms  of  the  viewer-­‐canvas  relationship,  Martha  Ward  points  out   that  Fénéon  and  Pissarro  were  attracted  to  the  temporal  aspect  of  pictorial  devices,   which  were  in  action.172  Through  an  emphasis  on  visual  effects,  a  painting  could  be   in  a  state  of  coming  into  being.  In  Van  Gogh’s  imagery,  a  sense  of  motion,  a  dynamic   tension  between  painterly  elements,  and  an  increase  in  color  that  relates  to  color   rather  than  to  the  object  at  hand,  correspond  to  Fénéon’s  notion  that  a  painting  can   be  experienced  sensorially  and  optically.173  Although  the  critic  depended  on  optical   effects  in  terms  of  Seurat,  he  also  prioritized  the  surface  and  the  materiality  of  the                                                                                                                   171  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886”  in  Halperin  35.   172  Ward  96.  “…the  action  of  the  pictorial  elements  as  inexhaustible  and  the  image  as  forever  in  a   state  of  coming  into  being  or  continuous  renewal”  (96).   173  Ward  89.           93   painting.174  In  this  way,  he  argued  not  for  a  fixed  moment  of  a  transitory  effect,  but   for  an  image  in  which  the  elements  communicated  with  one  another  and  were  not   tied   to   the   depicted   object.   The   viewer   engaged   with   a   painting   of   the   artist’s   translation   of   the   natural   world   mediated   through   medium,   which   exposed   the   spectator  to  an  experience  with  the  painter’s  imagination,  rather  than  the  material   realm.     Fénéon  and  Pissarro’s  relationship  continued,  and  in  1889,  Fénéon  prepared   an   article   for   Pissarro,   and   asked   the   artist   to   clarify   his   ideas   on   landscape   and   technique.  In  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  the  critic  noted:  “Pissarro,  a  searcher  of  clarity   and  light,  adopted  the  division  because  it  seemed  to  be  the  best  way  invented  until   now  to  paint  the  sun  and  shade.”175  In  1892,  Fénéon  wrote  more  specifically  about   the   painter’s   use   of   symbolic   ornament,   locating   the   painter   in   the   realm   of   Symbolism.  The  critic  wrote:                                                                                                                     174  Ward  93-­‐94.     175  Pissarro,   Letters,   134-­‐135,   footnote   1.   The   exchange   between   Pissarro   and   Lucien   is   dated   February  20,  1889  and  Fénéon’s  quoted  essay,  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  was  dated  January  1889,  so  it   does  not  seem  likely  that  Pissarro  is  referring  to  Fénéon’s  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  but  the  letter  bears   mention.  “I  don’t  know  what  to  write  Fénéon  about  the  theory  of  ‘passages.’  I  will  write  him  what   seems  to  me  to  be  the  truth  of  the  matter,  that  I  am  at  this  moment  looking  for  some  substitute  for   the  dot;  so  far  I  have  not  found  what  I  want,  the  actual  execution  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  rapid   enough  and  does  not  follow  sensation  with  enough  inevitability;  but  it  would  be  best  not  to  speak  of   this.”  See  also:  Félix  Fénéon,  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  Félix  Fénéon:  Œuvres  plus  que  complètes,  ed.  Joan   Ungersma  Halperin  (Genève,  Switzerland:  Librairies  Droz,  S.A,  1970)  137.  My  translation.  The  essay   was  initially  published  anonymously;  John  Rewald  identified  it  in  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh   to  Gauguin  (1956).         94   Having   the   rich   memory   of   all   the   phenomena   of   reality   he   fervently  observed  for  hours,  seasons  and  landscapes,  he  stopped   painting   outdoors,   treating   Nature   like   a   index   of   decorative   motifs,  freely  releasing  and  calming  the  antagonism  of  these  two   characteristics:   energy   and   sweetness—and   reaching   highly   unconscious  symbolizations.176     Fénéon  continued,  citing  a  fictional  conversation  between  a  gallery  owner  and  the   artist:   “And   if   Durand-­‐Ruel   was   surprised   by   this   unexpected…cow,   the   good   old   Pissarro  would  say:  “But  it's  not  a  cow,  it  is  an  ornament."177  The  passages  address   the  discord  between  the  natural  world,  a  realm  used  like  a  dictionary  (to  paraphrase   Baudelaire),   and   the   image,   the   ornament.178  Fénéon   positioned   Pissarro   as   a   painter  who  sought  to  deduce  the  material  world  into  symbols,  not  to  study  it.  For   Fénéon,   the   image   as   a   whole   became   the   symbol,   one   that   relayed   an   allusive                                                                                                                   176  Félix   Fénéon,   “Exposition   Camille   Pissarro,”   Félix   Fénéon:   Œuvres   plus   que   complètes,   ed.   Joan   Ungersma   Halperin   (Genève,   Switzerland:   Librairies   Droz,   S.A,   1970)   209.   The   essay   was   initially   published   in   L’Art   moderne   de   Bruxelles,   February   14,   1892.   “La   mémoire   riche   de   tous   les   phénomènes  d’une  Réalité  si  fervemment  épiée  heures,  saisons  et  panoramas,  il  cesse  de  peindre  en   plein   air,   traite   la   Nature   en   répertoire   de   motifs   décoratifs,   la   libère   de   l’accidental,   pacifie   l’antagonisme  de  ces  deux  caractères:  énergies  et  douceur—et  atteint  à  de  hautes  symbolisations   inconscientes.”     177  Félix  Fénéon,  “Exposition  Camille  Pissarro”  in  Halperin  209.  “Et  si  Durand-­‐Ruel  s’étonne  de  cette   vache  imprévue  des  photographes,  le  bon  vieillard  Pissarro  dira:  “Mais  ce  n’est  pas  une  vache,  c’est   un  ornement.”   178  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Salon  of  1859,”  Art  in  Paris:  Salons  and  Other  Exhibitions,  trans  and  ed.   Jonathan  Mayne  (Oxford  Press  Limited,  1965)  159-­‐162.  Baudelaire  relegated  Nature  to  a  dictionary   and  called  for  artists  to  depend  on  their  imaginations.  “Painters  who  are  obedient  to  the  imagination   seek   in   their   dictionary   the   elements   which   suit   with   their   conception….But   those   who   have   no   imagination  just  copy  the  dictionary.  The  result  is  a  great  vice,  the  vice  of  banality….”         95   idea.179  In  a  1908  catalog  preface  for  Van  Gogh,  the  critic  classified  the  artist’s  work   into   categories,   writing   that   one   can   understand   the   development   of   the   painter   who  was  “a  great  innovator  of  forms  and  harmonies,”  stressing  the  artist’s  ability  to   depend  on  his  medium  in  relation  to  the  canvas’s  surface.180       The  Artists  of  the  Petit  Boulevard   Within   the   critical   milieu   Fénéon   and   Pissarro   helped   to   shape,   Van   Gogh   began  to  connect  with  artists  while  he  was  living  in  the  capital.  Some  of  Van  Gogh’s   exhibited  canvases  explore  this  new  technique  of  separating  hue  and  applying  paint   by  stippling,  a  way  of  laying  the  paint  on  the  canvas  in  a  small  dot  without  blending   it,  and  they  also  read  as  one  field  of  vision.  The  exhibition  of  his  flower  still  lifes  at   the  Café  Tambourin,  the  factory  landscapes  and  portrait  at  Grand  Bouillon,  and  at   the   park   landscape   at   the   Théâtre   Libra   d’Antoine,   show   the   aesthetic   Van   Gogh   developed  in  1886  and  1887  within  the  influence  of  an  emerging  artistic  community.   He  included  artists  in  his  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  who  were,  like  him,  influenced  by                                                                                                                   179  Ungersma  Halperin,  Félix  Fénéon,  63-­‐  64.  Fénéon  wrote  about  art  for  several  decades  thereafter,   and  he  supported  the  painters  he  admired  long  term.  He  often  wrote  catalog  entries  and  organized   their  respective  works  for  their  estate  or  for  an  exhibition  after  their  deaths.   180  Félix  Fénéon,  “Preface,”  l’Exposition  Van  Gogh,  Félix  Fénéon:  Œuvres  plus  que  complètes,  ed.  Joan   Ungersma  Halperin  (Genève,  Switzerland:  Librairies  Droz,  S.A,  1970)  247.  The  catalog  was  organized   for  an  exhibition  at  the  Bernheim-­‐Jeune  Gallery   in  1908.  The  in-­‐text  translation  is  mine.  “Les  cent   tableaux  que  voici—qui  constitute  le  quart  ou  le  cinquième  de  son  œuvre  peint—s’échelonnent  avec   régularité  sur  cette  brève  carrière,  et  l’on  y  peut  suivre  sans  à-­‐coups  le  développement  d’un  grand   inventeur  de  forms  et  d’harmonies.  Ils  sont  classés  ici  en  cinq  périodes:  Nuenen,  Paris,  Arles,  Saint-­‐ Remy,  Auvers.”         96   Impressionism  and  engaging  with  the  new  pointillist  technique  and  exposed  to  new   attitudes  toward  painting.    Van  Gogh  called  the  emerging  artist  acquaintances  he   made   in   Paris   the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard,   referring   to   Gauguin,   Seurat,   Signac,   Anquetin,   Guillaumin,   Bernard,   Toulouse-­‐Lautrec,   and   Lucien   Pissarro.   The   petit  boulevard  painters  were  a  group  of  artists  who  shaped  Van  Gogh’s  developing   ideas   and   were   in   turn   shaped   by   his.181  Van   Gogh   called   the   Impressionists   the   painters  of  the  grand  boulevard—referring  to  Claude  Monet,  Edgar  Degas,  Renoir,   and  Alfred  Sisley—and  asserted  his  place  (and  that  of  the  other  artists)  as  an  heir  of   the  Impressionist  tradition.182     Van   Gogh   and   the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard   were   geographically   separate   from   the   painters   of   the   grand   boulevard.183  The   former   socialized   and   exhibited  in  Montmartre  and  Clichy  among  varying  social  classes,  in  contrast  to  the   Impressionists   who   showed   in   the   Georges   Petit   and   Paul   Durand-­‐Ruel   galleries,   which  by  the  late  1880s  were  at  the  heart  of  the  Parisian  art  market.  The  areas  north                                                                                                                   181  Homburg  21-­‐56.  See  also:  letter  584,  written  to  Théo  from  Arles  in  March  1888.   182  See  letter  584,  note  6.  Van  Gogh  asked  Théo  if  the  Impressionists  could  create  an  association,  sell   their   paintings,   and   share   the   proceeds.   “Then   the   great   Impressionists   of   the   Grand   Boulevard,   giving   their   paintings   that   become   common   property,   would   retain   their   prestige,   and   the   others   won’t  be  able  to  criticize  them  for  keeping  to  themselves  the  benefits  of  a  reputation  gained  without   any  doubt  by  their  efforts  and  by  their  individual  genius  in  the  first  place—but—nevertheless,  in  the   second  place,  a  reputation  that  is  growing  and  is  now  also  being  consolidated  and  supported  by  a   whole  battalion  of  artists  who  have  so  far  been  working  while  constantly  broke.”   183  Thomson  65-­‐108.             97   of  the  city’s  center  attracted  artists  who  experimented  based  on  the  Impressionist’s   innovations.  The  artists  of  the  petit  boulevard  held  similar  positions  regarding  the   market.   Paris   had   a   viable   European   art   market,   and   the   painters   maturing   after   Impressionism   likewise   sought   new   and   interesting   places   to   exhibit   their   work   outside  of  the  capital,  which  was  ripe  with  opportunity,  such  as  Café  du  Tambourin   or  Julien  Tanguy’s  paint  shop.184  “Guillaumin,  Pissarro,  Renoir,  Gauguin,  Van  Gogh,   [Francisco]  Oller…Anquetin,  Signac,  Lautrec  and  countless  others,”  Bernard  wrote,   “strolled  into  the  little  black  shop  at  14,  rue  Clauzel  to  simultaneously  put  up  their   works.”185  With   all   of   those   paintings   available   for   study,   Tanguy’s   shop   was   an   important  place  to  make  contacts;  it  is  where  Van  Gogh  met  Signac  and  connected   with  Bernard.186     Although   Fénéon   did   not   employ   Van   Gogh’s   terms   petit   and   grand   to   characterize   the   groups,   the   critic’s   1887   text   sets   the   Impressionists   apart   from   those  who  used  the  pointillist  dot.  Fénéon  described  the  painters  who  developed   Impressionism—namely,   Manet,   Pissarro,   Renoir,   Monet,   Sisley,   Cézanne,   and   Ludovic   Piette—as   artists   who   were   groundbreaking   because   of   their   sensitivity   toward   color   and   their   ability   to   generate   one   hue   through   a   contrast   of                                                                                                                   184  Homburg  31-­‐32.     185  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92.     186  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  195.  On  when  Van  Gogh  met  Bernard,  see:  Stevens  95.           98   complements  to  create  luminous  surfaces.  Their  subject  matter,  he  noted,  was  not   anecdotal,  dream-­‐like  or  historical,  but  a  “rapid  execution  before  nature”  or  modern   life.187  Their  overall  effect  he  considered  “summary,  brutal  and  approximate,”  and   underscored  their  use  (Monet’s  specifically)  of  violet  to  describe  cast  shadows.188  In   contrast,   Seurat   and   Pissarro   used   dots,   not   swift   brushstrokes.   Whereas   the   Impressionists  wanted  to  capture  nature’s  transient  aspects,  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists   sought  to  provide  its  “sensation”  by  considering  how  color  can  convey  the  artist’s   subjective  emotions—“a  superior  sublimated  reality,”  the  critic  wrote,  “into  which   their  personality  transfuses  itself.”189  The  underlying  difference  was  formal  (stroke,   use   of   color,   and   surface   quality),   but   Fénéon   privileged   the   canvas’s   affect.   In   Fénéon’s  terms,  form  reflects  the  connection  between  the  artist’s  inner  mind  and   the  medium,  a  notion  that  united  the  canvases  of  the  petit  boulevard  painters.     Although   the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard   were   pictorially   diverse,   Thomson  notes  that  they  all  gravitated  to  “simply  drawn  forms”  and  exaggerated   “chromatic  and  textural  effects,”  and  that  they  wanted  to  sell  their  work.190  In  the   fall   1887,   Van   Gogh   organized   the   Grand   Bouillon   exhibition   with   painters   of   the                                                                                                                   187  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  160.     188  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  161.   189  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162-­‐163.     190  Thomson  68.         99   petit   boulevard. 191  Reminiscing   about   the   exhibition   to   Théo,   Vincent   wrote:   “Bernard  having  sold  his  first  painting  there,  Anquetin  having  sold  a  study  there,  and   I  having  made  the  exchange  with  Gauguin,  we  all  got  something.”192  Bernard  sold  his   painting  (which  is  unknown)  to  a  dealer,  George  Thomas,  and  Anquetin  likely  sold   Old   Peasant   (1886)   [figure   16].   Although   the   exhibition   ended   poorly,   Van   Gogh   focused  on  the  relationships  he  was  forging.  The  painter  gave  Gauguin  Sunflowers   Gone  to  Seed  (1887)  and  Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  two  paintings  (with  the  same   title)  of  a  close  up  of  sunflowers  [figures  17  &  18].  Similar  to  the  flower  paintings   Van  Gogh  exhibited  at  the  Café  Tambourin,  they  show  his  transition  to  using  color   and  robust  brush  work  in  the  vein  of  Impressionism,  and  his  engagement  with  Neo-­‐ Impressionism’s  approach  to  mark-­‐making  and  focus  on  the  painting’s  surface  in  his   use  of  broken  color  and  texture.     The  petit  boulevard  had  an  impact  on  Van  Gogh  after  leaving  Paris  as  well,   but   he   wanted   to   maintain   his   connection   to   the   Impressionist   painters.   In   1888,   after   having   moved   to   Arles,   he   still   considered   himself   a   part   of   the   petit   boulevard—a  group  that  for  him  pioneered  new  painting  methods  that  grew  directly   from  the  pictorial   inventions  of  the  Impressionists.  He  wrote  to  Théo  that  he  was   trying  to  convince  H.G.  Teersteg,  his  old  boss  at  Goupil’s  Dutch  branch,  that  he  really                                                                                                                   191  Homburg  32.  See  also:  Letters  575  and  640.     192  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  640  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Sunday,  July  15,  1888.  Letter  640,  note  7.         100   was  “an  Impressionist  of  the  Petit  Boulevard”  and  that  he  expected  “to  retain  that   position.”193  The   younger   generation   developed   a   slightly   different   relationship   among  the  canvas,  the  painter,  and  the  viewer.  They  created  an  extreme  version  of   an   instantaneously   beheld   canvas,   an   object   to   be   visually   apprehended.     In   the   canvases   from   the   petit   boulevard,   the   image-­‐beholder   relationship   became   one   that   was   a   single-­‐facing   visual   object   that   belied,   in   some   ways,   the   signs   of   the   natural   world.   Their   imagery   not   only   considered   the   difference   between   the   mimetic   and   the   transformative,   but   also   defined   the   picture   plane   within   the   modernist  lineage  to  read  as  a  symbol  of  form,  color,  or  movement,  generating  a   tenuous  relationship  between  reality  and  the  canvas.     Flower  Still  Lifes  at  the  Café  Tambourin   Van   Gogh   painted   still   lifes   at   the   beginning   of   his   painting   career   that   indicate  the  ways  he  taught  himself  how  to  use  a  limited  color  palette  and  model   with   tones   and   highlights.   Before   moving   to   Paris   and   having   access   to   Parisian   avant-­‐garde   painters,   Van   Gogh   visited   the   Rijksmuseum,   “longing   most   of   all   for   Rembrandt   and   Frans   Hals,”   and   the   subtle   play   of   tint   and   shade   that   revealed   objects   and   unfolded   forms   through   a   contrast   of   dense   shadows   and   diffuse                                                                                                                   193  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  592  to  Théo  from  Arles  around  Thursday,  April  3,  1888.           101   light.194  He  made  many  still  lifes  at  this  time,  thinking  that  it  was  a  useful  practice,   and  Basket  with  Potatoes  (1885)  [figure  19]  is  an  example  of  Van  Gogh’s  relationship   to  color  and  his  treatment  of  still-­‐life  subjects  during  his  Dutch  period.195  Basket  is   one  of  several   images  of  potatoes  Van  Gogh  painted  the  same  month  (or  shortly   after)  he  visited  the  Rijksmuseum  during  a  fall  trip  in  October  1885—where  he  had   hardly  any  time  for  anything  other  than  visiting  the  museum196—and  a  few  months   before  his  wintertime  move  to  Paris.  Aiming  to  express  the  potatoes  “such  that  they   become   lumps   that   have   weight   and   are   solid,   which   you’d   feel   if   they   were   thrown,”   dark,   somber   tones   and   an   attention   to   textural   detail   and   form   take   priority.  197  Van  Gogh  set  the  potatoes  before  a  somewhat  deep  space  in  a  central   basket  overflowing  with  a  recent  harvest,  exploring  light  and  shade  (from  one  light   source)   within   a   monochromatic   color   family:   sienna,   a   deep   transparent   reddish   brown.  The  other  potato  still-­‐lifes  he  made  by  studying  variations  of  warm  earthy                                                                                                                   194  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  533  to  Théo  on  Sunday,  October  4,  1885,  from  Nuenen.  He  was  going  to   Amsterdam  to  visit  the  Rijksmuseum  (which  had  opened  in  July  1885).  He  was  in  Amsterdam  from  the   6th  thru  the  8th  (see  note  4,  and  letter  534).    See  also:  Maureen  S.  Trappeniers  Van  Gogh  in  Brabant   (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1987)  233-­‐235.   195  Letter  533.  “As  for  the  work,  I’ve  been  painting  a  lot  of  still  lifes  lately,  as  I  already  wrote,  and  I  like   it  enormously.  I’ll  send  you  some.  I  know  that  they’re  difficult  to  sell—but  it’s  devilish  useful  and  I’ll   go  on  doing  a  lot  to  them  in  the  winter.”   196  Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   543   to   Théo   around   Saturday,   October   10,   1885,   about   his   Amsterdam   museum  trip.     197  Letter  533.           102   colors:   burnt   sienna,   yellow   ochre,   and   red   ochre.198  In   these   studies,   Van   Gogh   explored  one  central  color  as  it  related  to  the  subject  at  hand.     Most  recently,  Anabelle  Kienle  notes  that   in  Paris  Van  Gogh  was  drawn  to   flowers  as  a  subject  matter  so  the  artist  could  begin  working  with  color  and  try  to   reinvent  his  painting  strategies  from  The  Netherlands  and  Belgium  and,  eventually,   use  saturated  color  that  suited  his  temperament  in  his  Paris-­‐period  canvases.199  As   Vincent  mentioned  in  the  above-­‐quoted  letter  to  his  sister  Wil,  the  flower  still  lifes   were  a  vehicle  to  experiment  with  expressive  form  and  innovative  hue.  The  flower   still   lifes   Van   Gogh   supposedly   first   exhibited   at   the   Café   Tambourin,   Basket   of   Pansies   and   Fritillaires   (although   we   are   not   sure   Van   Gogh   exhibited   these   paintings,  Bernard  suggested  he  hung  paintings  along  these  lines),  represent  a  few   paintings   from   a   large   body   of   work   he   made   when   first   living   in   the   capital,   including   the   sunflower   paintings   he   gave   to   Gauguin.   The   still   lifes   Van   Gogh   painted   in   Paris   reveal   a   connection   to   Impressionism,   to   the   avant-­‐garde   ideals   Fénéon  explained,  and  the  interests  of  the  petit  boulevard  painters.  I  find  that  these   paintings,  particularly  Fritillaires,  move  beyond  an  exploration  of  Impressionism  and                                                                                                                   198  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  536  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Tuesday,  October  10,  1885  regarding  his   potato  still-­‐life  studies.   199  Anabelle  Kienle,  “Still  Life,”  Van  Gogh  Up  Close,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  2012)  186-­‐201.  Kienle  explores  the  trajectory  of  Van  Gogh’s  still  lifes  from  his   Paris  period,  makes  connections  to  Renoir’s  and  Monet’s  respective  still  lifes  (Monet’s  Peaches,  1883,   and   Renoir’s   The   Onions   1881),   and   asserts   that   Van   Gogh’s   interest   in   painting   objects   up   close   began  in  Paris.           103   Neo-­‐Impressionism  and  toward  a  sense  of  motion  and  energetic  texture  in  a  genre   associated  with  stasis.     Basket  of  Pansies  [figure  5]  is  similar  to  the  monochromatic  palette  he  used   in  images  such  as  Potato  Eaters  (1885)  and,  in  some  of  the  1886  images  he  painted   during  his  first  year   in  Paris—Le  Cinéraire  (July-­‐August  1886)  and  Roses  Trémières   dans   une   cruche   (August-­‐September   1886)   and   Fleurs   et   Tournesols   (Fall   1886)   [figures   20-­‐22]—lush   brushstrokes   model   petals   and   Van   Gogh   left   some   color   unblended.   He   continued   his   still-­‐life   practice   in   Paris,   but   the   flower   still   lifes   reference   French   painting   traditions,   such   as   Gustave   Courbet’s   deeply   shaded   Hollyhocks  in  a  Copper  Bowl  (1872),  or  Renoir’s  brightly  hued  Mixed  Flowers  in  an   Earthenware   Pot   (ca.   1869)   [figures   23   &   24].   Guillaumin,   like   Van   Gogh,   also   painted   flowers   that   similarly   built   on   the   painterly   rhetoric   developed   by   the   Impressionists,  in  his,  for  instance,  Nature  morte  aux  chrysanthèmes  (1885)  [figure   25].   Guillaumin  used  a  subtle  green  background  to  set  off  yellow-­‐orange  flowers,   and   painted   blue-­‐violet   shadows   surrounding   the   flowers   to   show   the   spatial   difference  between  the  petals  and  table,  attempting  to  do  so  in  a  similar  fashion  as   Monet’s  use  of  violet  in  his  Vase  of  Flowers  (ca.  1881-­‐1882)  [figure  26].     In  Guillaumin’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  flower  still  lifes  from  1885  and  1886,  colors   describe  the  flower’s  natural  appearance.  Similar  to  Courbet’s  and  Renoir’s  still  lifes,   Van  Gogh  modeled  the  Hollyhocks  in  Trémières  with  tints  and  shades  to  resemble         104   the   flower’s   color.   Although   brushstrokes   are   visible,   they   mimic   petals.   And   the   background   serves   as   a   muted   backdrop   that   emphasizes   the   deep   hue   of   the   hollyhocks.   The   roses   and   sunflowers   in   Fleurs   et   Tournesols   remain   in   their   respective  chromatic  color  family,  yellow  and  white  (with  hints  of  pink)  respectively.   Light  reflects  off  the  vase,  suggested  with  quick  white  brushstrokes.  The  background   and  foreground  indicated  by  the  table-­‐line  in  the  background.  Compared  to  still  lifes   Van  Gogh  created  in  1885  in  Holland,  such  as  Basket  with  Potatoes,  the  flower  still   lifes   of   1886   become   bright,   open,   and   incorporate   the   brush’s   mark   to   swiftly   indicate  a  delicate  flower.  And  they  exemplify  the  Impressionist  approach  of  color   and  mark-­‐making,  such  as  in  the  white  baby’s  breath  in  Fleurs  et  Tournesols.  After  a   few  months  in  Paris,  Van  Gogh  felt  that  his  color  had  been  developing  along  the  lines   of  the  Impressionists,  but  could  never  be  “exactly  the  same  as  their  theories,”  and   that   he   could   make   friends   in   the   art   community,   those   who   introduced   him   to   pointillism.200       In  Fritillaires  [figure  6]  several  modes  of  painting  come  together  and  show   Van  Gogh’s  inventive  use  of  both  Impressionist  and  pointillist  mark-­‐making.  Painted   a   year   after   his   arrival,   Fritillaires   shows   the   influences   he   was   studying   and   the   newer  techniques  he  and  the  petit  boulevard  painters  developed.  Van  Gogh  used   the  pointillist  brush  mark  in  the  background,  elongated  strokes  he  developed  during                                                                                                                   200  Letter  569  to  Livens.           105   this  period  on  the  table  and  foliage,  and  Impressionist  mark-­‐making  techniques  to   signify  the  reflection  on  the  copper  vase.  Painterly  influences  also  merge  in  Signac’s   Nature   morte:   oranges,   pomme   et   livre   Au   soleil   (1885)   [figure   27],   in   which   Cézanne’s  influence  can  be  understood—the  furthest  edge  of  the  table  top  appears   to  not  recede  into  one-­‐point  perspective  but  is  raised.  In  this  way,  the  viewer  looks   down  at  the  contents  of  a  table  and  at  the  base  of  the  vase,  both  of  which  would   only  be  partly  seen  if  they  were  foreshortened  to  appear  in  deep  space.  Elements  of   Monet   are   also   evident   in   the   blue   shadows   modeling   the   round   forms   of   the   oranges  and  the  flowers  created  with  one  stroke.  Signac  also  used  the  direction  of   the  brushstroke  to  indicate  the  different  objects.     Signac’s  Nature  morte  and  Van  Gogh’s  Fritillaires   lead  from  influences,  but   both   begin   to   explore   the   artist’s   response   to   the   subject   matter   as   a   means   to   pictorially  engage  with  the  artifice  of  the  canvas’s  medium,  rather  than  as  an  object   to  be  depicted  or  described  for  its  own  sake.  In  Fritillaires,  Van  Gogh,  like  Signac,   used  directional  marks  to  indicate  aspects  of  the  picture  plane,  foreground,  flowers,   pot,   and   background.   Complementary   color,   similar   to   Guillaumin’s   Nature   morte   aux  chrysanthèmes,  organizes  the  relationship  between  the  background  and  flowers.   Movement  in  Fritallaires  is  a  component  that  Van  Gogh  created  by  considering  the   background   and   foreground   elements   as   a   whole—the   background   space   neither   recedes  nor  acts  to  highlight  the  central  bunch  of  flowers.  Long,  unblended  strokes         106   of  the  table  (perhaps  indicating  fabric)  contrast  the  stippled  approach  in  the  blue   background.  The  mark-­‐making  techniques,  although  distinct,  seem  to  work  together,   creating   a   circular   effect   around   the   flowers.   The   typically   static   background   and   table  top,  evident  in  the  still   lifes  Trémières  and  Fleurs  et  Tournesols,  support  the   central  object.  In  Fritillaires,  although  Van  Gogh  indicated  the  space  of  the  picture   plane  with  the  edge  of  a  receding  table  top,  the  edge  on  the  left  and  right  do  not   meet  and  are  thus  not  exactly  in  perspective  (a  trait  found  in  Cézanne’s  still-­‐lifes,   paintings  Van  Gogh  may  have  seen  at  Tanguy’s).  Paint  strokes  move  diagonally  on   the  tabletop  and  the  directionality  continues  into  the  blue  background;  brushstrokes   merge  from  one  surface  to  the  other  on  the  left.  The  fritillaries  become  animated   flowers.  Foliage  winding  out  of  the  copper  pot,  particularly  the  leaves  on  the  left-­‐ hand  side,  generates  movement  in  the  circular  pattern.     In  these  ways,  Van  Gogh’s  Fritillaires  shows  his  use  of  both  an  Impressionist   and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  painterly  vocabulary.  Moreover,  the  techniques  he  used   in   Fritillaires  bring  focus  to  the  surface  and  treat  the  picture  plane  as  a  single-­‐facing   object.  The  planes  in  Fritillaires  function  together  as  a  compelling  whole;  one  part  is   not   necessarily   subordinate   to   the   other.   Similarly,   In   Grapes,   Lemons,   Pears   and   Apples   (1887)   [figure   28],   brushstrokes   radiate   around   the   fruits,   and   the   mark-­‐ making  in  Grapes,  Lemons,  Pears  and  Apples  and  Fritillaires  shows  Van  Gogh’s  new-­‐ found   engagement   with   color   and   his   ability   to   convey   movement   through         107   brushstroke.  The  circular  motion  of  strokes  around  the  bulbs  and  copper  pot  do  not   describe  depth  or  what  Van  Gogh  saw  necessarily,  but  transform  the  whole  of  the   picture  plane  through  texture  and  color  so  that  the  painting  reads  as  a  symbol,  a   painterly  mode  Fénéon  described.     With  the  exception  of  Pissarro,  Fénéon  separated  the  Impressionists  and  the   Neo-­‐Impressionists.   The   former   the   critic   considered   “mechanical   copyists   of   externals,”   and   the   latter   created   a   “sublimated   reality.”201  For   Fénéon,   the   Neo-­‐ Impressionists  generated  images  by  reacting  subjectively  to  color  and  form,  not  to   nature.   Developing   a   color   palette   in   relation   to   nature   is   quite   different   than   constructing  a  canvas  with  respect  to  the  artist’s  experience  before  the  easel—one   approach  considers  hue  as  it  describes  an  object  and  the  other  as  it  relates  to  the   colors   on   the   canvas   or   the   artist’s   response.   Before   arriving   in   Paris,   Van   Gogh   attempted  to  paint  what  he  saw,  what  was  before  him,  and  used  color  mimetically.   In   Basket   with   Potatoes   Van   Gogh’s   chromatic   decisions   relate   to   the   vegetables,   using  shades  and  tints  of  sienna.  In  contrast,  in  Fritillaires,  the  choices  of  brushstroke   and  hue  led  from  Van  Gogh’s  idiosyncratic  reaction  to  the  canvas,  not  precisely  to   the  fritillaries  themselves  but  to  the  liveliness  of  the  flowers.     Fritillaires   conveys   the   sense   of   living   flowers   in   a   copper   pot—and,   in   Fénéon’s   terms—suggests   the   sensation   of   movement   by   considering   the                                                                                                                   201  Fénéon,  “Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  163.         108   relationship  between  the  canvas’s  forms.  The  flowers,  unlike  the  potatoes,  are  not   inert  static  objects  to  hold  color.  Van  Gogh  used  texture  and  color  to  suggest  the   essence  of  motion.  Although  Van  Gogh  modeled  the  fritillaries  with  highlights  and   shades,  saturated  orange  and  yellow  do  not  correspond  to  the  hue  of  the  flower   within   the   atmosphere   or   under   white   light   as   in   Basket   of   Pansies,   but   as   high-­‐ keyed  color  that  responds  in  contrast  to  the  background.  The  color  and  strokes  in   Fritillaires   show   that   Van   Gogh   merged   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   method  to  generate  an  experimental  still-­‐life  technique,  conveying  the  sensation  of   the   living   subject   rather   than   its   still   forms   in   chromatic   reality.   The   two   flower   images  that  may  have  been  in  the  Café  Tambourin  exhibition  suggest  Van  Gogh’s   understanding   of   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   ideals   and   his   goal   to   align  his  practice  with  the  grand  boulevard  painters  and  to  innovate  with  those  of   the  petit.    Van  Gogh  did  not  attempt  to  capture,  for  instance,  a  transitory  moment  of   light  illuminating  the  flowers.  Instead,  the  image  performs  a  sense  of  the  flowers  in   action   and   provides   the   spectator   with   an   experience   of   the   flowers   coming   into   being.       Tanguy’s  Portrait  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition   Fénéon   underscored   the   main   differences   as   he   saw   them   between   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Both   the   critic   and   Van   Gogh,   though,         109   considered   Impressionism   to   be   the   underpinnings   of   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   The   portrait  Van  Gogh  exhibited  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition,  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy   [figure  12],  can,  in  some  ways,  be  more  firmly  located  within  Fénéon’s  ideas  and  the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard,   particularly   in   concept.   Overall,   scholars   read   the   portrait  as  a  testament  to  the  influence  of  Japonisme  and  understand  Van  Gogh’s   depiction  of  Tanguy  as  that  of  a  working-­‐class  outsider,  a  Socialist,  and  a  dealer  in   contrast   to   gallery   owner   Paul   Durand-­‐Ruel.202  Significantly,   Zemel   notes   that   the   image   is   symbolic   in   arrangement,   and   I   intend   to   further   her   observation   to   consider  the  ways  in  which  the  portrait  aligns  with  Fénéon’s  ideals.203  Similar  to  the   flower   still-­‐lifes,   Père   Tanguy   also   moves   between   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionism  while  conveying  the  innovations  Van  Gogh  began  to  make  while  he   was   in   Paris.   Although   Père   Tanguy   falls   into   the   Neo-­‐Impressionistic   painterly   vocabulary,   the   elongated   brushstrokes   that   provide   texture   and   movement   in   Fritillaires  become  a  more  prevalent  aspect  of  the  painting,  complicating  the  figure-­‐ ground  relationship  and  furthering  the  overall  sensation  the  portrait  conveys.     Prior  to  working  on  Tanguy’s  image  in  Paris,  Potato  Eaters  (1885)  stands  as   the  best  example  of  Van  Gogh’s  Dutch  portraiture—he,  for  instance,  made  several                                                                                                                   202  Roskill  81-­‐85.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  165-­‐169.  Zemel  201-­‐205.  See  also:  Elizabeth  Childs,  “Seeking  the   Studio   of   the   South:   Van   Gogh,   Gauguin,   and   Avant-­‐Garde   Identity,”   Vincent   Van   Gogh   and   the   Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Museum,  2001)  121-­‐122.     203  Zemel  204.         110   studies  of  the  central  female  figure  Cordina  de  Grout  (who  Van  Gogh  called  Sein)  of   which   Head   of   a   Peasant   Woman   with   a   Day   Cap   (March,   1885)   serves   as   an   example  [figure  29].204  Similar  to  Van  Gogh’s  Basket  of  Potatoes,  de  Grout’s  portraits   are  studies  of  color,  light,  texture,  and  expression.  “I  haven’t  made  a  head  yet,”  Van   Gogh  wrote  while  he  was  working  on  the  sketches,  “that’s  so  much  painted  with  the   soil.”205  Created  while  he  was  reading  Émile  Zola’s  Germinal  (1885),  a  novel  of  the   hard-­‐labor  coal  miner’s  experienced  in  nineteenth-­‐century  France,  the  portraits  of   Sein  attempt  to  convey  a  forlorn,  sorrowful  look  of  a  person  subject  to  the  obstacles   of   a   peasant’s   life. 206  Her   gaze   peers   off   to   the   side   and   her   simple   dress,   complexion,  and  cap  are  awash  in  brown  and  bear  the  mark  of  a  field  laborer.  In   Potato  Eaters,  Van  Gogh  situated  Sein’s  portrait  within  a  home  painted  (like  her  skin)   the  color  of  the  dirt,  connoting  the  family’s  livelihood.     Tanguy,   a   significant   figure   in   the   Parisian   avant-­‐garde,   was   a   subject   Van   Gogh   and   Bernard   painted   several   times.207  Van   Gogh’s   choice   to   paint   Tanguy   is   somewhat   similar   to   his   Dutch-­‐period   portrait   subjects   in   that   Van   Gogh   chose   a                                                                                                                   204  Trappeniers  161-­‐162.   205  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  505  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Thursday,  May  28,  1885.     206  Letter  505.  “I’ve  just  received  Germinal,  which  I  started  on  immediately.  I’ve  read  50  pages  of  it— which  I  think  splendid.  I  also  walked  there  once...  Regards,  thanks  again  for  Germinal,  I’m  still  reading   it  as  I  write.  It’s  splendid.”   207  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92-­‐94.           111   financially   struggling   working-­‐class   shopkeeper   with   socialist   politics.   Despite   Tanguy’s   economic   situation,   he   supported   artists   with   a   free   venue   and   paint   supplies  on  credit  or  through  a  trade.  Tanguy  is  similar  to  the  family  in  the  Potato   Eaters  whose  meager  livelihood  and  commitment  to  work  connected  to  Van  Gogh’s   study   of   laborers   throughout   his   body   of   imagery.   According   to   Bernard—whose   short   essay   “Julien   Tanguy,   Called   Le   Père   Tanguy”   (1908)   explains   the   unique   relationship  between  the  shopkeeper  and  Van  Gogh—Tanguy  was  as  interested  in   the  artist’s  socialist  politics  as  he  was  in  his  paintings.208     In  an  artistic  way,  the  choice  to  depict  Tanguy  is  significant  in  terms  of  the   emerging  and  established  painters  from  whom  Van  Gogh  was  learning.  Van  Gogh   could  be  found  often  in  Tanguy’s  shop,  where  he  “practically  lived,”  and  where  he   met   painters   contributing   to   the   avant-­‐garde   theories   in   the   Parisian   community,   such   as   Cézanne   and   Signac.209  Like   an   “apostle”   who   had   found   a   sympathetic   leader,   a   “sage,”   Van   Gogh   defined   “his   own   artistic   movement”   as   Tanguy   listened.210  In  turn,  the  shopkeeper  “venerated”  Van  Gogh’s  paintings  as  a  “tangible   manifestation   of   his   hopes   and   dreams.”211  Tanguy   supported   Van   Gogh   with                                                                                                                   208  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  93.   209  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  93.   210  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92-­‐93.   211  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92-­‐93.         112   supplies  and  allowed  him  to  exhibit  works  in  the  shop  (although  the  painter  had  an   altercation  with  the  shop  owner’s  wife).212    The  September  after  Van  Gogh’s  arrival   in   Paris,   he   had   been   able   to   hang   a   painting   in   the   shop   with   the   help   of   two   dealers,  which  was  his  first  “beginning”  as  an  exhibiting  artist  in  Paris,  and  around   this   time   he   painted   Tanguy.213  Tanguy’s   portraits   are   symbolic   of   the   energetic   community  in  which  Van  Gogh  found  himself  and  a  way  to  assert  his  entry  into  a   realm  of  newly  developed  painterly  techniques.   Van   Gogh   painted   three   portraits   of   Tanguy   that   speak   to   the   artist’s   developing  theories,  leading  from  Sein’s  monochromatic  expression  and  toward  the   type  of  experiential  sensation  Fénéon  described.  Van  Gogh’s  approach  was  in  some   ways  similar  to  Sein’s  portrait,  but  his  paint  application  and  use  of  color  relates  to   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists.    Before  creating  Tanguy’s  portrait  against                                                                                                                   212  Vincent  referred  to  Tanguy  in  two  letters  he  wrote  to  Théo  while  in  Paris,  letter  571  and  572.  In   letter  571,  written  to  Théo  from  Paris  sometime  between  July  17th  and  19th,  1887,  he  commented  on   the  incident  with  Tanguy’s  wife  (see  note  8).  “Because  remember  when  I  started  in  Asnières,  I  had   lots  of  canvases  and  Tanguy  was  very  good  to  me.  He  still  is,  when  it  comes  down  to  it,  but  his  old   witch  of  a  wife  noticed  what  was  going  on  and  objected  to  it.  Now  I  gave  Tanguy’s  wife  a  piece  of  my   mind  and  said  it  was  her  fault  if  I  wouldn’t  buy  anything  else  from  them.  Père  Tanguy’s  wise  enough   to  keep  quiet,  and  he’ll  do  what  I  ask  of  him  all  the  same.”  Tanguy  often  allowed  artists  to  trade   paintings  for  supplies,  and  this  was  a  habit  with  which  his  wife  disagreed.  See  also:  Bernard,  “Julien   Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  93.  According  to  Bernard,  Van  Gogh  brought  Tanguy  to  Le   Tambourin,  a  tavern  that  “greatly  upset  Tanguy’s  good  wife,  who  could  scarcely  imagine  innocent  and   infantile  reasons  for  such…escapades.”       213  Letter  569  (see  note  12)  to  Livens.  “What  regards  my  chances  of  sale,  look  here,  they  are  certainly   not  much  but  still   I  do  have  a  beginning.”  In   letter  718  (see  note  3),  Van  Gogh  confirmed  that  he   started  showing  work  in  at  Paris  Père  Tanguy’s,  writing  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Saturday,  November   10,  1888.  “There  were  few  canvases  at  Tanguy’s  place  first  of  all…”         113   a  wall  of  Japanese  prints,  Van  Gogh  made  two  other  portraits  of  Tanguy  in  1887.214     In  the  first  of  Van  Gogh’s  portraits,  Tanguy  wears  the  apron  of  a  paint-­‐shop  owner   [figure  30].  This  portrait  connects  to  his  previous  Dutch  paintings;  although  Tanguy’s   skin  is  brighter,  the  overall  tone  of  the  painting  is  considered  through  a  limited  color   palette.  Whereas  the  earlier  portrait  commits  to  an  ochre  hue,  the  latter  portrait   meets  some  of  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  objectives  Fénéon  outlined.     In   Père   Tanguy,   Van   Gogh   positioned   the   paint-­‐shop   owner   against   a   backdrop  of  Japanese  prints.  Tanguy  did  not  sell  Japanese  prints  in  his  shop,  so  Van   Gogh  aimed  to  locate  the  influential  shop  owner  among  his  own  pictorial  influences.   The  shopkeeper  appears  as  a  worker,  a  socialist,  indicated  with  his  “planter’s  hat”   and  jacket.215  His  torso  is  fully  frontal  and  his  gaze  stares  directly  at  the  viewer  “like   a  Buddha.”216  Van  Gogh  captured,  in  Bernard’s  view,  Tanguy’s  “upright  character,”   his  “tender  and  soft”  nature,  a  man  who  literally  put  “the  materials  for”  the  artists’   work  into  their  hands.  217  Van  Gogh  mediated  the  subject  through  the  materials— brushes,  tubes  of  paint,  canvases—Tanguy  provided.  Tanguy’s  hands  are  clasped  in   the  same  way  he  spoke  in  person—“he  would  bend  over  a  little  and  rub  his  hands                                                                                                                   214  Zemel  202-­‐205.   215  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  94.   216  Homburg  76.  Childs  121-­‐122.       217  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  94.           114   together   while   speaking   to   you.” 218  In   Van   Gogh’s   portrait,   the   viewer   can   experience   Tanguy’s   essence,   talking   about   art,   while   observing   Japanese   prints   behind   the   figure,   as   if   a   reference   to   Tanguy’s   thoughts.     Considered   within   the   context  of  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition,  Père  Tanguy  provides  the  perspective  of  a   figure  supportive  of  the  new  techniques.    Situated  among  Van  Gogh’s  works,  the   portrait   symbolizes   a   new   mode   of   painting   and   positions   the   viewer   in   dialogue   with   one   of   the   people   responsible   for   Van   Gogh’s   new   ideals   and   those   of   an   emerging  artistic  community.    Formally,  the  prints  share  the  blue  of  Tanguy’s  jacket   and  the  two  images  of  the  Japanese  women  flank  his  torso,  their  gaze  generating  an   implied  line  toward  his  body.     In   contrast   to   Père   Tanguy,   Bernard   depicted   the   shopkeeper   in   formal,   bourgeois  attire  [figure  31].  Vertical  paint  strokes  evident  on  Tanguy’s  face  suggest   that   Bernard   attempted   to   render   his   complexion   but   aimed   to   leave   strokes   unblended,  using  complementary  red  and  violets  to  give  shape  to  Tanguy’s  features.   The   decorative   background   prints   and   the   flat   shape   of   Tanguy’s   torso   relate   to   Bernard’s  portrait  of  his  grandmother  (exhibited  at  the  Grand  Bouillon)  [figure  8]  in   which  un-­‐modulated  shapes  represent  the  figures’  forehead,  hat,  and  dress.  Bernard   conceived   of   the   Portrait   of   the   Artist’s   Grandmother   through   the   ideals   of   Cloisonism,   setting   off   his   grandmother’s   features   with   thick   black   contour   lines.                                                                                                                   218  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  94.         115   Although  Bernard  used  simplified  shapes,  and  Van  Gogh  modeled  forms  with  stroke   and   broken   color,   they   both   arrived   at   a   somewhat   flattened   composition   that   translated   the   figure’s   individuality   through   the   artist’s   temperament.   Fénéon   underscored   that   the   Neo-­‐Impressionist   canvases   were   abstract   and   thus   not   “uniform.”219  “Each   of   them,”   he   wrote,   referring   to   Pissarro,   Signac,   and   Seurat,   “stresses  his  disparity…through  his  own  interpretation  of  the  emotional  meaning  of   colors…but   never   through   a   monopoly   of   deft   studio   tricks.”220  Bernard   and   Van   Gogh  too  found  differing  modes  to  craft  a  portrait.     Thomson  notes  that  Père  Tanguy  does  not  show  an  allegiance  to  the  petit   boulevard   painters. 221  Thomson’s   point   of   view   can   be   understood   in   the   brushstrokes   and   influence   of   Japonisme   found   in   the   flat   shapes   and   the   compounded   figure-­‐ground   relationship.   The   petit   boulevard   artists   experimented   with  varying  approaches.  The  use  of  violet  undertones  in  Tanguy’s  beard  and  hands   in  Van  Gogh’s  Père  Tanguy  relates  to  the  Impressionist  way  of  modeling  shadow.   Van  Gogh  did  not  employ  the  dot-­‐like  stroke  of  Nèo-­‐Impressionism  in  Père  Tanguy.   He  did  use  complementary  hues—a  Prussian  blue  jacket  set  against  a  yellow  print—                                                                                                                 219  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   220  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   221  Thomson  76.             116   and   individual   strokes   that,   in   Fénéon’s   words,   “attuned   [color]   on   the   canvas   according   to   the   law   of   simultaneous   contrast   by   another   series   of   strokes.”222  In   Van   Gogh’s   earliest   portrait   of   Tanguy,   the   painter   addressed   hue   on   the   palette   prior  to  applying  medium  to  the  canvas.   In  the  portrait  with  Japanese  prints,  the   brushstrokes  on  Tanguy’s  trousers,  for  instance,  are  individual  brush  marks  in  light   blues,  umbers,  and  ochres  and  move  lengthwise  across  his  body,  indicating  the  curve   of  his  upper  leg.  Van  Gogh  considered  color  as  hue  related  to  hue.  The  painting  as  a   whole  reads  flatly—Tanguy  does  not  protrude  or  appear  to  be  firmly  seated  on  a   stool.  Although  there  are  a  few  deep-­‐toned  marks  between  his   legs  to   indicate  a   shadow,   for   the   most   part,   he   appears   in   outline   against   the   prints.   Here,   the   complementary   yellow-­‐blue,   green-­‐red   relationships   and   the   compressed   figure-­‐ ground   relationship   speak   to   Tanguy’s   role   in   the   new-­‐found   position   Van   Gogh   aimed   to   secure,   an   avant-­‐garde   painter   exploring   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionism  and  exhibiting  in  a  new  market.  Tanguy  is  a  laborer,  but,  through  the   artist’s  attention  to  the  surface,  the  shopkeeper  is  a  construction  within  a  canvas,  a   symbol  of  the  delicate  divide  between  what  we  see  and  what  can  be  transformed  in   medium.       The  painter  had  hoped  to  sell  his  works,  an  aim  throughout  his  career,  and   Tanguy’s  shop  gave  him  the  opportunity  to  try  to  do  so.  The  painter  hung  a  few  of                                                                                                                   222  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  161.         117   the  landscapes  (although  we  do  not  know  which  images)  from  Clichy  and  Asnières  in   the  shop,  thinking  that  they  may  be  hard  to  sell.  “In  time,”  Van  Gogh  wrote,  “people   will  see  that  there’s  open  air  and  good  cheer  in  them”  and  that  they  would  be  fitting   to  hang  in  a  dining  room.223    Tanguy  invited  the  painter  to  hang  a  work  in  his  front   window  and  the  landscapes  of  Clichy  and  Asnières  may  have  been  similar  to  those   included   in   the   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition.   That   Van   Gogh   choose   to   include   a   portrait  of  Tanguy  in  front  of  Japanese  prints  along  with  the  landscapes,  may  suggest   that  he  paid  an  homage  to  the  shop  keeper  for  supporting  the  images  he  had  been   painting  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  and  the  transformative  approach  his  painting   practice  took.    The  painting  of  Tanguy  in  form  and  subject  represents  the  ideals  Van   Gogh  supported  and  the  way  he  wanted  to  be  perceived  within  the  Parisian  artistic   community—as   a   painter   who   used   his   medium   expressively,   to   convey   the   experience   of   Tanguy,   a   leader   in   the   painter’s   new   conceptually   inventive   community.                                                                                                                           223  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  572  to  Théo  from  Paris  between  Saturday  July  23  and  Monday  July  25  1887.   “I  saw  Tanguy  yesterday  and  he  put  a  canvas  I  had  just  done  in  his  window,  I’ve  done  four  since  you   left,  and  I  have  a  big  one  on  the  go.  I  am  well  aware  that  these  big,  long  canvases  are  hard  to  sell,  but   in  time  people  will  see  that  there’s  open  air  and  good  cheer  in  them.  Now  the  whole  lot  will  make  a   decoration  for  a  dining  room  or  a  house  in  the  country.”         118   Industrial  Landscapes  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition   As  Van  Gogh  began  to  formulate  what  would  become  his  unique  brushstroke   and   compositional   strategies   and   move   away   from   his   Dutch-­‐period   methods,   he   met  and  painted  with  Signac  and  Bernard.  In  1887,  Signac  (in  his  early  twenties)  and   Bernard  (in  his  late  teens)  were  young  painters  considering  new  techniques  within   the   scope   of   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism   and   were   developing   what   would  become  their  respective  recognizable  styles.  The  three  painters  sometimes   worked  together  in  Clichy  and  Asnières  during  spring  1887  (when  Fénéon  published   “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme,”)  and  exhibited  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  in  the  fall.  Working   closely  with  Signac  and  Bernard,  Van  Gogh  organized  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition   that   situated   their   distinct   landscapes   among   one   another’s,   a   manifesto   of   the   emerging  concepts  with  which  they  engaged.     Though  they  were  exploring  their  new  ideas  in  1887,  Van  Gogh’s,  Bernard’s,   and  Signac’s  1885  and  1886  imagery  developed  from  different  modes  of  landscape   painting.   Van   Gogh’s   Dutch-­‐period   landscapes,   such   as   The   Parsonage   Garden   in   Snow  (1885)  [figure  32]  shows  his  consideration  of  the  figure  against  a  garden.  As  he   generally  did  in  this  period,  the  artist  felt  that  exploring  the  subject  matter  through  a   limited   color   scheme   situated   the   figure   in   his   or   her   space,   allowing   the         119   environment  to  literally  shape  the  figure.224  The  clergyman,  for  instance,  has  knotted   limbs  that  reflect  the  gnarly  quality  of  tree  trunks  signifying  his  hard  work  readying   his  garden  for  spring.     Whereas   Van   Gogh   developed   landscape   imagery   in   the   monochromatic   palette  he  used  in  The  Netherlands,  in  1886  Bernard  was  exposed  to  the  gestural,   comma-­‐like  mark  of  the  Impressionists.  Bernard’s  Verger  à  Pont-­‐Aven  (August  1886)   [figure  33]  draws  from  both  Pissarro’s  and  Seurat’s  canvases  from  the  8me  Exposition   de   peinture.225  Broken   brushstrokes,   a   somewhat   geometric   delineation   of   the   picture   plane,   and   lack   of   depth   resemble   Pissarro’s   Apple   Pickers.   Bernard   attempted   to   emulate   the   tree’s   color   by   separating   hue—greens,   blues,   ochre,   sienna—to  compose  the  unified  expression  of  summer  foliage.  Bernard  noted  that   he   and   Van   Gogh   followed   the   Impressionists   and   together   they   worked   “at   the                                                                                                                   224  Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   483   to   Théo   around   February   26,   1885   from   Nuenen   (almost   one   year   before  arriving  in  Paris)  and  commented  on  Parsonage  Garden  in  the  Snow:  “I  painted  a  few  more   studies  of  our  garden  when  there  was  snow  on  it.  The  landscape  has  changed  greatly  since  then—we   now   have   magnificent   evening   skies   of   lilac   and   gold,   above   the   tonal   silhouettes   of   the   houses   between   the   masses   of   the   coppices,   which   are   a   ruddy   colour,   above   which   rise   slender   black   poplars—while  the  foregrounds  are  blanched  and  bleached  green,  varied  by  strips  of  black  earth  and   dry,  pale  reeds  along  the  sides  of  the  ditches.  I  see  all  that,  too—I  find  it  as  superb  as  anyone  else— but  what  interests  me  even  more  is  the  proportion  of  a  figure,  the  division  of  the  oval  of  a  head,  and  I   have  no  grasp  on  the  rest  until  I  have  more  mastery  of  the  figure.  In  short—the  figure  first—for  my   part,   I   can’t   understand   the   rest   without   it,   and   it’s   the   figure   that   creates   the   mood.   I   can   understand,  though,  that  there  are  people  like  Daubigny  and  Harpignies  and  Ruisdael  and  so  many   others,  who  are  absolutely  and  irresistibly  carried  away  by  the  landscape  itself;  their  work  is  totally   satisfying  because  they  themselves  were  satisfied  by  sky  and  soil  and  a  pool  of  water  and  a  bush.   However,  I  think  what  Israëls  said  about  a  Dupré  is  a  mighty  clever  saying—it’s  just  like  a  painting  of  a   figure.”   225  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  196.           120   French   Renaissance…[feeling]   more   French   than   ever   in   this   task;”   and   in   Paris   Vincent   and   Théo   were   “in   their   homeland.”226  Rather   than   make   many   careful   studies,  Bernard  and  Van  Gogh  had  an  enthusiasm  for  painting  outdoors  and  turned   their  attention  to  Paris’s  city  streets  and  suburban  landscapes.  From  the  rue  Lepic,   Van  Gogh  set  out  for  a  day’s  work  with  several  large  canvases  strapped  to  his  back.   He  returned  at  the  end  of  the  day—having  painted  within  Paris’s  neighborhoods,   such  as  Montmartre,  Asnières,  and  Clichy—with  a  “portable  museum,  wherein  were   culled  all  the  emotions  of  the  day.”227  When  he  saw  the  paintings,  Bernard  “savored   their   charm…because   [he]   lived   in   those   places…they   were   the   objects   of   [his]   solitary   walks   and   because   they   were   rendered   with   the   soul   that   [he]   felt   in   them.”228  Van  Gogh  could  make  three  paintings  a  day.  And,  along  his  way,  Van  Gogh   often  visited  Bernard  while  the  latter  was  in  his  family  home  in  Asnières  [figure  34].   These   visits   led   to   painting   Tanguy’s   portraits   and   to   the   Clichy   and   Asnières   landscapes,  where  he  worked  with  Signac  as  well.     Signac   saw   Seurat’s   Bather’s   in   Asnières   (1883-­‐1884)   at   the   Société   de   Artistes  Indépendantes  in  1884  and  met  Pissarro  in  1885.  By  1886,  he  kept  a  studio   next  to  Seurat’s  on  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  in  Montmartre.  Although  Signac  is  typically                                                                                                                   226  Bernard,  “Preface”  in  Stein  91.   227  Bernard,  “Preface”  in  Stein  91.   228  Bernard,  “Preface”  in  Stein  91.         121   associated   with   pointillism   in   1886,   that   year,   he,   like   Bernard,   moved   between   experimenting  with  an  Impressionist  and  a  pointillist  practice.  Prior  to  this  time,  he   used  violet  undertones  similar  to  Monet  in  Pierre  Hâlé’s  Windmill,  Saint-­‐Briac  (1884)   and  expressionist  strokes  in  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,   like  Monet’s  Apple  Trees  in  Bloom  beside  the  Water  (1880),  a  painting  Signac  had   seen  in  1880  and  had  acquired  for  his  collection  in  1932  [figures  35-­‐37].229  Signac   exhibited  both  Pierre  Hâlé  and  Brisk  Breeze   in  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture,  the   only   Impressionist   exhibition   in   which   Signac   participated—he   submitted   fifteen   paintings  and  three  drawings.  From  the  body  of  work  exhibited  at  the  Impressionist   exhibition,  Signac’s  early   interest   in   industrial  Paris   is  evident.  Signac’s  La  Seine  à   Asnières:  la  berge  (November  1885)  and  Paris.  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  Le  neige  (January   1886)  [figures  38  &  39],  also  included  in  the  eighth  Impressionist  exhibition,  speak  to   the  influence  from  Monet  and  Pissarro  whose  images  of  the  streets  of  Paris  capture   the   pace   of   modern   life.   In   Fénéon’s   words,   Signac   “knows   how   to   translate   the   melancholy   overcast   weather,   imprisoning   the   banks   in   its   waters:   as   in   his   Boulevard   de   Clichy.   Le   neige   and   his   Banks   at   Asnières   (November   1885).”230  In   Boulevard  de  Clichy,  there  is  a  clear  sense  of  depth,  and  he  also  shows  atmospheric                                                                                                                   229  Marina   Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon,   “Signac   as   a   Collector,”   Signac,   1863-­‐1935,   eds.   Marina   Ferretti-­‐ Bocquillon  et  al.  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  2001)  55.     230  Fénéon,  “Les   Impressionnistes  en  1886”   in  Halperin  37.  “Il  sait  aussi  traduire   la  mélancolie  des   temps  gris,  emprisonner  ses  eaux  dans  des  quais:  et  l’on  a  son  Boulevard  de  Clichy  par  la  neige  et  sa   Berge  à  Asnières  (November  1885).”         122   effects,   such   as   the   snowy-­‐fog   and   the   sun   reflecting   on   the   rippling   Seine   in   La   berge.     In  La  berge,  he  appears  to  have  included  a  reference  to  Monet’s  studio-­‐boat.   In   the   painting,   a   houseboat   resembling   the   one   Monet   painted   in   Studio   Boat   (1874)  [figure  40],  floats  on  the  bank.  Similar  to  the  opaque,  light-­‐green  color  and   structure   of   Monet’s   houseboat,   Signac’s   inclusion   ties   his   subject   matter   and   painterly   method   to   the   Impressionist   aesthetic.   While   several   canvases   vary   in   mark-­‐making   technique,   some   of   the   images   Signac   presented   in   1886   show   his   dedication  to  the  developing  pointillist  approach,  such  as  in  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy   (1886)   [figure   41].   Gas   Tanks   is   Neo-­‐Impressionist   in   paint   application   and   draws   from  an  Impressionist  practice  in  terms  of  color  and  figure-­‐ground  relationship.231     Due  in  part  to  Fénéon’s  discussion  of  Signac’s  work  in  his  Neo-­‐Impressionist   criticism,  by  1887,  Signac  was  a  significant  artist  in  the  realm  of  the  newly-­‐defined   theory,  had  many  artistic  connections,  and  wrote  on  art  (notably  a  1911  booklet  on   the  connection  between  Delacroix’s  work  and  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  ideals).  A  friend   of  Fénéon’s,  Seurat’s,  and  Pissarro’s,  Signac  met  Van  Gogh  in  1887  at  Tanguy’s  shop,   the  former  having  also  shown  his  works  in  the  paint  shop  as  well.232  Signac  and  Van                                                                                                                   231  John  Leighton,  “Out  of  Seurat’s  Shadow:  Signac,  1863-­‐1935,  An  Introduction,”  Signac,  1863-­‐1935,   eds.  Marina  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  et  al.  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  2001)  5.   232  Roskill   89.   See   also:   Françoise   Cachin,   Paul   Signac   (Greenwich,   Connecticut:   New   York   Graphic   Society  Ltd.,  1971)  41-­‐51.           123   Gogh  painted  landscapes  together  in  the  spring  of  1887  in  Clichy,  Saint-­‐Ouen,  and   Asnières.  They  worked  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine  and,  in  Signac’s  words,  “lunched   at  an  open-­‐air  roadhouse,”  walking  back  to  Paris  along  the  Avenues  of  Saint-­‐Ouen  or   Clichy. 233  Van   Gogh   worked   intensely   while   with   Signac—he   “shouted   and   gesticulated,   brandishing   his   large,   freshly   painted…canvas   in   such   a   way   that   he   polychromed  himself  and  the  passerby.”234  Pissarro   joined  Signac   in  the  winter  of   1887  in  Asnières  as  well,  writing  to  his  son  Lucien  that  there  was  “…nothing  new   since  yesterday,  except  our  meeting  at  Asnières,  attended  by  Fénéon,  Seurat,  and   Signac.”235     On  the  banks  of  the  Seine  in  Clichy  and  Asnières,  Bernard,  Signac,  and  Van   Gogh  explored  the  signs  of  industry  that  fostered  the  economic  system  in  the  areas   north  of  Paris.  Signac  and  Van  Gogh  lived  in  Montmartre  and  set  out  for  the  day   walking  north  toward  Clichy  or  across  the  bridge  to  Asnières,  where  Bernard’s  and   Signac’s   families   had   homes.   North   of   Montmartre,   Clichy   and   Asnières   were   working-­‐class  suburbs  generally  undocumented  by  the  Impressionists,  but  Asnières                                                                                                                   233  A  letter  from  Paul  Signac  to  Gustave  Coquiot,  written  in  1923,  in  Stein  89.   234  Signac  quoted  in  Stein  89.   235  Pissarro  quoted  in  Camille  Pissarro:  Letters  to  His  Son  Lucien  93.  Pissarro  wrote  to  his  son  Lucien   on  January  14,  1887.  Signac  and  Van  Gogh  maintained  a  friendship  after  Van  Gogh  moved  to  Arles  as   well:  one  time  Signac  visited  Van  Gogh  in  the  hospital,  and  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  thank  him,  noting  that   Signac’s  profound  friendship  helped  him  heal.  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  756  to  Signac  from  Arles  on   Wednesday  April  10,  1889.         124   was  an  integral  part  of  Seurat’s  body  of  work.  As  emerging  artists,  Bernard,  Signac,   and   Van   Gogh   struck   out   in   a   location   that   was   associated   with   Seurat’s   Neo-­‐ Impressionistic   imagery   and   in   neighborhoods   that   provided   goods   to   the   city.   Bernard  and  Signac  were  in  the  process  of  changing  their  surfaces  to  reflect  their   individual   approaches.   Signac   was   honing   his   Neo-­‐Impressionistic   technique   and   Bernard  was  working  through  Cloisonism.  Signac’s  and  Bernard’s  approaches  directly   affected   Van   Gogh’s   paintings   formally   and   conceptually,   particularly   those   from   Clichy   and   Asnières.   Bernard’s,   Signac’s,   and   Van   Gogh’s   respective   factory   landscapes  have  commonalities  because  they  considered  the  canvas  as  a  symbol  of   their  environment  and,  through  direct  and  indirect  references  of  industry  and  labor,   they  suggested  the  effects  of  factory  life.  The  industrial  landscapes  Signac,  Bernard,   and  Van  Gogh  generated  in  1887  show  the  differing  techniques  the  painters  of  the   petit   boulevard   undertook.   Like   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐Impressionists,   they   neither  sought  a  unified  approach  nor  a  similar  interpretation  of  a  painterly  ideal.     The  landscape  scenes  Van  Gogh  painted  in  Clichy  and  Asnières  and  exhibited   in  the  Grand  Bouillon—Factories  at  Clichy  and  Factory  at  Clichy  [figures  10  &  11]— relate  to  the  factory  images  by  Signac,  such  as  Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus  (1887)   [figure  42],  a  pointillist  painting,  and  those  of  Bernard,  such  as  Ragpickers  at  Clichy   (1887),   also   exhibited   at   the   Grand   Bouillon,   and   Les   Chiffonniers:   Ponts   de   fer   à   Asnières  (1887)  [figure  9  &  43].  Together,  they  described  the  industrial   landscape         125   along  the  Seine’s  banks  in  a  facture  that,  although  distinct  in  the  painters’  respective   works,   derived   from   Fénéon’s   suggestion   to   “synthesize   the   landscape   into   a   definitive  aspect  that  perpetuates  one’s  sensation  of  it.”236  For  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,   and   Signac,   to   develop   the   pictorial   plane   through   a   synthesis   meant   to   consider   objects  as  forms  and  shapes  in  terms  of  color  to  privilege  an  overall  symbolic  image.   The   planes   of   their   canvases   became   more   compounded—similar   to   the   figure-­‐ ground  relationship  in  Van  Gogh’s  portrait  of  Tanguy  with  Japanese  prints.  To  this   end,  they  considered  the  function  of  the  scene  as  a  vehicle  for  the  canvas’s  affect,  as   a  product  of  the  artist’s  selection  and  imaginative  painterly  description.     Van   Gogh’s   Factory   at   Clichy   and   Factories   at   Clichy   both   have   an   Impressionistic  sky,  but  overall  develop  an  expressionistic  facture  that  forms  shapes   to  enhance  the  images’  symbolism.  Factory  at  Clichy  depicts  an  alley  among  factory   buildings,   the   foreground   path   rises   up   to   the   viewer,   undulating   toward   the   spectator’s  body—the  brushstrokes  assert  a  sense  of  perspective  but  move  directly   down  toward  the  edge  of  the  canvas  in  the  foreground.  The  viewer  is  met  with  a   small  figure,  a  factory  worker,  created  monochromatically  with  a  few  brushstrokes   much   like   the   figures   in   Monet’s   Impression   Sunrise   (1874).   The   figure   does   not   seem   to   acknowledge   the   spectator’s   presence.   The   strokes   invite   the   viewer,   incorporating  the  spectator   in  a  pictorial  narrative  of  walking  along  the  path.  The                                                                                                                   236  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionisme”  in  Dorra  162.         126   experience   locates   the   participant   in   the   midst   of   a   working   factory   among   the   numerous  structures  that  made  up  a  compound.  The  lush  white  volumetric  material   billowing  out  of  the  gates  alongside  the  path  juxtaposes  the  dirty,  well-­‐worn  quality   of  the  buildings.  The  shapes  of  the  buildings  seem  to  lie  on  top  of  one  another  rather   than   show   depth   through   shadow   or   perspectival   angle.   The   structures,   grouped   together,   suggest   the   constricting   space   the   factories   provide   among   textiles   and   smoke.  The  brick-­‐like  brushstrokes  of  the  chimney  appear  in  the  sky  as  well,  belying   the   sky’s   translucent   quality   with   tactile   architectural   details.   In   contrast   to   the   rectilinear  forms  of  the  buildings,  the  painting’s  composition  consists  of  forms  that   foster   the   curvilinear   perspective   of   the   path,   circling   in   toward   center,   the   end   point  of  which  is  the  fellow  worker  cloaked  in  a  color  similar  to  that  emitting  from   the  chimneys,  a  sign  of  his  bodily  connection  to  labor  and  a  confining  factory  life.     Van  Gogh  depicted  a  scene  from  outside  a  factory-­‐building  maze,  showing   the  industrial  complex  rising  beyond  a  field  of  grasses  in  Factories  at  Clichy.237  It  is                                                                                                                   237  Cornelia  Homburg  most  recently  refers  this  painting  as  Factories  at  Asnières,  Seen  from  the  Quai   de  Clichy  in  Van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard  (New  York:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum  in   association   with   Rizzoli   International   Publications,   Inc.,   2001).   I   find   it   unlikely   that   the   factory   complex  Van  Gogh  depicted  was  located  in  Asnières.  Homburg’s  title  suggests  that  Van  Gogh  would   have  been  working  from  the  docks  of  Clichy,  looking  across  the  Seine,  past  the  docks  at  Asnières  and   into   a   complex   of   factories.   Although   Van   Gogh   would   not   have   mimetically   depicted   a   factory   complex,  it  seems  out  of  context  to  consider  that  he  would  have  been  looking  across  a  body  of  water   or  along  the  docks  to  paint  a  field  of  grasses.  See  also:  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  146,  notes   1  and  2.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  points  out  that  the  location  of  the  factories  depicted  in  Factories  at  Clichy  is   unknown.  The  buildings  Van  Gogh  depicted,  she  notes,  do  not  resemble  the  gas  tanks  at  L’Usine  à  gaz   de  Clichy  as  Paul  Signac  realized  them  in  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy  (1886).  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  complex   was  quite  large,  made  up  of  a  number  of  different  types  of  buildings,  and  could  have  been  depicted   from   within   the   complex   in   Signac’s   case   and   from   afar   in   Van   Gogh’s.   Based   on   van   Gogh’s,         127   possible  that  Van  Gogh  was  inspired  by  a  factory  such  as  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  a   large  complex  of  buildings  located  along  the  Seine  and  bounded  by  the  Boulevard   National   on   the   northeast   and   Rue   Chasses   on   the   southeast   [figures   44-­‐46].   As   Signac  noted,  he  and  Van  Gogh  walked  back  and  forth  from  Montmartre  to  Clichy   and  across  the  Seine  to  Asnières  and  would  have  passed  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  or   have  seen  it  from  a  distance  as  it  occupied  quite  a  large  portion  of  land  along  the   banks.  Signac  depicted  one  of  the  factory’s  buildings  located  among  the  complex’s   seven  gas  tanks,  which  appear  behind  the  central  structure  of  Signac’s  Gas  Tanks  at   Clichy.  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  also  included  three  rectangular  buildings  that  housed   the  gas  factory  itself,  a  wheelwright  shop,  and  landing  cranes  on  the  river’s  banks.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Bernard’s,  and  Signac’s  depictions  along  the  banks  and  docks  of  the  Seine  from  both  the  Clichy  and   Asnières  areas,  the  grassland  Van  Gogh  depicted  in  Factories  at  Clichy  does  not  relate  to  images  along   the  docks.  I  think  the  painting  may  be  inspired  by  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  which  was  located  in  an   area  Signac  noted  he  and  Van  Gogh  walked  through  along  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  heading  to  paint  on   the   docks   of   Clichy   and   Asnières.   See   also:   John   Rewald,   Post-­‐Impressionism:   From   Van   Gogh   to   Gauguin  (New  York:  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  1978)  64.  Bernard  referred  to  the  painting  as  Factories   at  Clichy  in  his  account  of  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition.  Père  Tanguy,  who  was  in  possession  of  the   painting,  first  sold  it  for  100  francs  in  the  Hôtel  Drouot  sale  in  1894.  On  the  painting’s  frame,  there  is   an  inscription  in  ink:  Die  Hüth  Werke.  Previous  titles  include:  Die  Hüth  Werke,  Die  Hüttenwerke  and   The  Huth  Factory.  The  painting  changed  hands  a  number  of  times  until  The  Saint  Louis  Museum  of  Art   acquired  it   in  1958,  where  they  list   it  as  Factories  at  Clichy.  For  information  about  the  sale  of  the   painting   and   previous   titles,   see:   Saint   Louis   Museum   of   Art,   nd,   http://www.slam.org/emuseum/code/emuseum.asp?style=Browse¤trecord=1&page=search& profile=objects&searchdesc=van%20gogh&quicksearch=van%20gogh&newvalues=1&newstyle=single &newcurrentrecord=1.   For   a   discussion   of   the   painting,   see:   John   House,   “Towards   the   Modern   Landscape,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint   Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  165-­‐166,  168.  On  the  facture  in  Factories  at  Clichy,  see  also:   James   H.   Rubin,   Impressionism   and   the   Modern   Landscape:   Productivity,   Technology,   and   Urbanization  from  Manet  to  Van  Gogh  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  and  London:  University  of  California   Press,  2008)  164-­‐165.             128   The  semi-­‐rural  area  between  Montmartre  and  Clichy  bordered  the  factory  on  the   southwest.  Had  Van  Gogh  approached  the  factory  from  that  vantage  point—facing   away  from  Montmartre  and  toward  Clichy—the  factory  compound’s  scale,  series  of   structures,   and   various   types   of   buildings   would   have   eclipsed   the   landscape.   Moreover,  he  would  have  been  looking  toward  Asnières,  which  also  had  a  number  of   factories   as   well   and   could   attribute   to   the   endless   view   of   smokestacks   on   the   painting’s  horizon.     In  Factories  at  Clichy,  factories  and  domestic  life  merge,  and  the  notions  of   an   industrial   presence   infuse   the   environment.   Van   Gogh   provided   an   expansive   view,  indicating  the  overwhelming  quality  of  a  factory  in  contrast  to  the  small-­‐scale   of   a   couple,   dwarfed   by   the   flues   extending   into   the   sky.   In   this   landscape,   smokestacks  spill  into  the  air  far  off  on  the  horizon  while  the  couple  pauses,  arms   linked,  to  observe  a  spectacle  of  modern  industry.  Rather  than  marvel  at  a  sunset,   they  see  a  horizon  that  has  been  obscured  by  an  unending  series  of  smoke  stacks.   Compositionally,  the  couple  aligns  with  the  largest  smoke  stack  in  the  center  of  the   canvas.     The  smokestacks  in  Factories  at  Clichy  rise  among  roofs  of  homes  or  smaller   factory-­‐related  structures  and  are  similar  in  color  to  the  roof  in  Signac’s  Gas  Tanks.   In  Van  Gogh’s  painting,  though,  the  roofs  are  geometrically  simplified  through  use  of   line   and   quick   brushstrokes.   The   smaller   structures   stand   closely   to   a   fence   that         129   marks  a  boundary  between  the  open,  undeveloped  grasslands  in  which  the  couple   walks  and  the  complex  of  factories  so  congested  there  is  not  a  sliver  of  sky  between   the   buildings.   The   fence   divides   the   natural   world,   constructed   with   unblended   brushstrokes   of   light   blue,   green,   ochre,   and   Naples   yellow,   from   that   of   the   manufacturing  plants  depicted  in  rectilinear  shapes  and  in  darker  saturated  reds  and   violets.   The   facture   changes   beyond   the   fence   to   a   tightly   controlled   mark   and   unified   texture.   The   fence   figuratively   excludes   the   idiosyncratic   expressive   brushwork  from  the  industrial  commune,  suggesting  the  separation  of  nature  and   industry.     With   over   a   dozen   smoke   stacks,   Van   Gogh   suggested   pervasive   factory   emissions  and  the  impact  on  the  senses.  Through  the  implication  of  wind,  emulated   in  the  directionality  of  the  grasses  moving  toward  the  left  of  the  painting  in  the  same   course  as  the  smoke,  Van  Gogh  evokes  a  sense  of  movement  and  thus  a  synthesis  of   the  natural  and  industrial  realms  regardless  of  the  arbitrary  boundary  of  a  fence.  The   painting  itself,  Bernard  noted,  “smelled  so  strongly  of  coal  and  gas,”  conveying  the   atmosphere   in   which   it   was   painted. 238  Bernard’s   comment   is   synesthetic,   an   important   aspect   of   Symbolism.   Synesthesia   is   the   concept   that   the   participant’s                                                                                                                   238  Bernard  quoted  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.           130   body  has  been  affected  when  one  sense  triggers  another.239  In  Bernard’s  instance,   looking  at  Van  Gogh’s  image  of  smokestacks  informs  his  sense  of  smell,  creating  an   imaginative   experience   before   the   picture   plane   and   placing   the   spectator   in   the   position  of  the  artist  during  the  moment  of  creation.    Van  Gogh’s  Factories  at  Clichy   provided   Bernard   with   the   feeling   of   walking   through   the   industrial   suburban   commune.   Bernard’s   experience   also   connects   to   Fénéon’s   notion   regarding   the   temporality  of  the  work  of  art.  For  Fénéon,  the  viewer  experiences  the  image  anew   because  the  texture,  color,  and  forms  can  operate  to  convey  a  moment  in  action   each   time   a   viewer   stands   before   the   work.   240     This   is   antithetical   to   the   Impressionist   sense   of   “a   unique   moment   never   to   be   recaptured,”   one   fixed   transitory  instance.241     Factories   were   a   prominent   motif   in   Signac’s   landscapes   as   well,   though   unlike   Van   Gogh’s,   they   convey   a   sense   of   stillness   due   to   Signac’s   pointillist   application.  Although  they  maintain  a  sense  of  stasis,  Signac’s  unified  texture  and                                                                                                                   239  Lauren   Silvers,   “Beyond   the   Senses:   The   Cenesthetic   Poetics   of   French   Symbolism,”   Modern   Philology  112  no.  2  (November  2014):  381-­‐404.  See  also:  Wallace  Fowlie,  Poem  and  Symbol:  A  Brief   History  of  French  Symbolism  (University  Park  and  London:  The  Pennsylvania  State  University  Press,   1990).  Charles  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  (1857),  The  Flowers  of  Evil  &  Paris  Spleen:  Poems  by   Charles  Baudelaire,  trans.  William  H.  Crosby  (Brockport,  NY:  BOA  Editions,  Ltd.,  1991)  28.  Although   Silvers  takes  issue  with  considering  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  the  origin  of  synesthesia,  for  the   Parisian  Symbolist  writers  and  poets,  Baudelaire’s  body  of  work  and  the  ideals  therein  permeated  the   tenets  of  their  critical  discourse  (in  some  cases  directly,  such  as  in  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier’s  critical  accounts   of  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin).     240  Ward  96.     241  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionisme”  in  Dorra  162.         131   surface   quality   relates   to   Fénéon’s   symbolically   constructed   canvas.   Signac   developed   a   committed   Neo-­‐Impressionistic   mark   in   images   of   Clichy,   such   as   in   Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus,  located  on  the  Seine  downstream  from  the  tanks  at   L’Usine   à   gaz   de   Clichy   in   Gas   Tanks.   To   paint   Sunlight,   Signac   faced   northeast   (downstream)  toward  the  Pont  d’Asnières.242  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  on  the  Seine’s   south  bank  of  the  Clichy  docks  would  be  on  the  right  but  is  not  visible.  The  plant’s   coal  cranes  are  evident  on  the  right,  to  the  left  of  a  smoke  stack.  Here,  although  the   atmospheric  effect  of  the  sun  appears  to  be  the  focal  point  of  the  image,  the  overall   sense  of  shapes  take  primary  form.  The  light  marks,  typically  used  to  show  the  light’s   reflection   or   the   spatial   relationships   in   the   picture   plane,   tend   to   delineate   rectangular-­‐like  areas.  Signac  painted  the  foreground,  for  instance,  with  several  long   rectangles   outlined   with   lighter   hues   that   run   parallel   to   one   another   similar   to   perspectival  lines,  simplifying  the  docks.  The  lightest  parts  of  the  canvas,  such  as  the   bank   directly   behind   the   trees   and   the   building   to   the   right,   seem   to   not   be   representative  of  the  sun’s  fleeting  effects  and  the  nuances  of  daylight  but  more  so   a  product  of  Signac’s  intention  to  use  color  to  build  forms  with  outlines  of  highlights.   The  horizon  line,  similar  to  Van  Gogh’s  in  Factories,  is  obscured  by  (from  left  to  right)   the  bridge  crossing  the  Seine,  the  trees,  and  the  buildings  near  the  gas-­‐tank  plant,   which  was  set  back  from  the  docks.                                                                                                                     242  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  128.         132   In  Ragpickers  in  Clichy  [figure  9]  and  Les  Chiffonniers:  Ponts  de  fer  à  Asnières   [figure  43],  similar  in  perspective  to  Signac’s  Sunlight,  Bernard  depicted  the  docks  of   the  Seine  on  the  Asnières  and  Clichy  banks.  In  both  images,  rag  pickers  dressed  in   contemporary  lower-­‐class  clothing  stroll  along  the  docks  of  the  Seine,  framed  with   signs  of  modern  life,  such  as  a  steam  train,  an  iron  bridge  and  oil-­‐company  cranes,   evident  on  the  left-­‐hand  side  of  Ragpickers.243  Although  the  landing  cranes  Bernard   depicted  are  not  identified,  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy’s  landing  cranes  were  located  on   the  Quai  de  Clichy  on  the  stretch  of  the  Seine’s  banks  the  gas  company  occupied.     Similar  to  Van  Gogh  and  Signac,  Bernard  obscured  the  horizon  with  signs  of  industry   in   Les   Chiffonniers.   Unlike   Van   Gogh   and   Signac,   he   diluted   hue   with   white   to   generate  an  opaque  surface  and  generally  did  not  allow  quick  brushwork  to  show.  In   1887  he  visited  Signac’s  studio  and,  regarding  Neo-­‐Impressionism,  Bernard  felt  that   although  the  application  of  paint  in  dots  or  broken  strokes  “was  good  for  the  vibrant   reproduction   of   Light,   it   spoilt   the   color,”   so   he   “instantly   adopted   an   opposite   theory”—Cloisonism.244  The   paintings   exemplify   Bernard’s   Cloisonism,   which   grew   to  be  highly  abstract  Synthetism  by  1888.  At  this  time,  Bernard  outlined  flat  shapes   of  un-­‐modulated  color  with  black  contour  lines,  depicted  figures  in  silhouette,  and                                                                                                                   243  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  200.         244  Bernard  quoted  in  Stevens  70.             133   geometrically   reduced   forms.   The   cranes,   for   instance   in   Ragpickers   are   vertical   Impressionistic   brushstrokes   and   the   locomotive’s   components   in   Les   Chiffonniers   are  squares  and  rectangles.245  He  simplified  signs  of  suburban  industry  to  a  painterly   vernacular  that  he,  in  some  ways,  shared  with  Signac  and  Van  Gogh.     That   Van   Gogh’s,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   respective   canvases   replace   the   horizon   line   with   bridges,   industrial   buildings,   and   smoke   stacks,   imply   that   the   industrialized  landscape  eradicated,  in  some  respects,  the  natural.  Pissarro’s  images   of  work  and  industry  of  the  1860s,  in  contrast,  maintain  depth  through  atmospheric   perspective   and   reflection.   In   Barge   at   La   Roche-­‐Guyon   (circa   1865)   [figure   47],   laborers   load   a   barge   docked   on   the   banks   of   the   Seine   and,   in   the   distance,   although  a  boat’s  emissions  trail  above  the  river,  distant  rolling  hills  preserve  a  sense   of  the  natural  world  in  an  image  focused  on  labor.246  Pissarro’s  L’Ile  Lacroix  (1888,   probably   painted   in   late   1887)   [figure   48]   represents   his   return   to   Impressionist   ideals  after  his  foray  into  Neo-­‐Impressionism,  though  he  maintained  the  pointillist   approach.247  Along   the   banks   of   the   Seine   in   Rouen,   Pissarro   made   labor   and   industry  a  focus.  Although  he  used  smaller  strokes  and  constructed  a  unified  surface,   the  picture  plane  recedes,  with  a  clear,  central  site-­‐line  leading  to  a  soft,  tranquil,                                                                                                                   245  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  198-­‐199.   246  Rubin  79-­‐83.     247  Ward  115.         134   horizon  suggested  with  a  band  of  strokes  and  hue.  Although  a  barge  with  laborers   floats   in   the   foreground   and   a   chimney   releases   fumes   into   the   sky,   the   overall   structure   of   the   composition   relies   on   the   artist’s   ability   to   consider   atmospheric   effects  and  craft  a  convincing  three-­‐dimensional  space.  For  Bernard,  Signac,  and  Van   Gogh,   the   horizon   line   need   not   convey   depth,   denying   the   viewer   from   experiencing   the   landscape’s   space;   instead,   the   spectator’s   gaze   remains   in   a   shallow  space  confined  by  industry.       Although   Bernard,   Signac,   and   Van   Gogh   painted   in   Clichy   and   Asnières,   Bernard  argued  with  Signac  and  had  a  riff  with  the  pointillist  painter.  It  seems  that   Bernard  may  not  have  wanted  to  exhibit  with  Signac  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibit   and  was  going  to  pull  his  paintings  from  the  show.  Van  Gogh  urged  Bernard  to  find   common  ground  with  Signac  so  that  they  may  work  together.248  Above  all,  Van  Gogh   stressed  the  importance  of  being  open  to  painting  practices  emerging  at  the  time.   “If…you’ve  already  considered,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Bernard,  “that  Signac  and  the   others  doing  pointillism  often  make  very  beautiful  things  with  it—Instead  of  running   things  down  one  should  respect  them…especially  when  there’s  a  falling  out.”249  He   wrote  this  advice  shortly  (about  a  month)  after  the  Grand  Bouillon  exhibition  began.   Aiming  to  continue  what  Van  Gogh  started  in  the  exhibition—a  coming  together  of                                                                                                                   248  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  575  to  Bernard  from  Paris  in  December  1887.     249  Letter  575.           135   differing   painterly   modes   about   which   the   group   could   reflect—he   attempted   to   sooth  the  break  between  them.     That   Van   Gogh   included   his,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   images   of   Clichy   and   Asnières  in  the  Grand  Bouillon  exhibition  suggests  that,  as  an  emerging  painter  in   the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde,  he  was  interested  in  exploring  varying  techniques  of  mark-­‐ making   and   color   that   lead   from   the   artist’s   idiosyncratic   translation   of   nature,   guided  by  their  respective  temperaments.  The  differences  in  the  paintings  indicate   that   he   was   open   to   the   possibilities   of   the   Neo-­‐Impressionists   but   was   also   interested  in  developing  his  own  approach.  In  terms  of  subject  matter,  the  artists   remain  connected  by  addressing  the  financial  means  of  the  neighborhoods,  but  they   innovate   in   their   own   ways:   Van   Gogh   through   expressionistic   facture,   Signac   through   the   overall   quality   of   his   surface   due   to   the   application   of   the   dot-­‐like   stroke,  and  Bernard  due  to  his  engagement  with  Cloisonism.     The  artists  connect  conceptually  through  Fénéon’s  ideals.  They  did  not,  for   instance,  develop  a  similarity  of  approach  but  rather  mediated  the  subject  through   their  respective  artistic  sensibilities.  Fénéon’s  1887  text  outlines  the  formal  aspects   of   Neo-­‐Impressionist   painting   that   Pissarro   feared   would   reveal   too   much   about   their   practices.   That   aspect   of   the   text   aside,   the   critic’s   overall   ideal   privileges   a   fictional  imagistic  creation  transcribed  in  medium  and  the  ability  metaphorically  to   convey   the   experience,   or,   in   his   terms,   the   sensation   of   the   landscape.   Signac’s         136   paint  application  aligns  with  Fénéon’s  formalist  definition  of  Neo-­‐Impressionism,  a   definition  Signac  had  a  hand  at  developing:  to  make  “individual  brushstrokes  [that]   are  the  outcome,  not  of  swift  dashes  of  the  brush.  But  of  the  application  of  minute   dots.”250  In   Sunlight,   Signac   is   not   necessarily   attempting   to   portray   the   light’s   reflection   on   the   water’s   surface   nor   modeling   with   bright   light.   Signac   suggests   sunlight  through  brightly  toned  shapes.  In  this  way,  Signac’s  canvas  leans  toward  an   organization   of   form   similar   to   Bernard’s.   Together,   Van   Gogh’s,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   landscapes   lead   from   a   common   “stimulus”—factories   and   the   industrial   signs   connected   to   the   complex—and   interpret   the   “emotional   meaning   of   colors.”251  By   conveying   movement,   simplifying   forms   and   geometrizing   the   scene   before   them,   the   painters   addressed   a   pervasive   component   of   life   in   Clichy   and   Asnières  and  allowed  the  viewer  to  partake  in  this  experience.  Their  geometry  and   mark-­‐making  address  the  subject’s  essence,  reducing   it  to  a  grid-­‐like  pattern  of  a   factory  suburb  or  an  encompassing  series  of  factory  structures.  Unlike  their  work  of   the   years   prior,   in   which   they   emulated   the   Impressionist   rhetoric,   the   symbolic   ideation   of   landscape   factories   convey   how   the   industrial   complex   shaped   the   landscape   outside   of   Paris.   Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   wind   symbolizes   the   pervasiveness   of   the   emissions,   Signac’s   bright-­‐hued   canvas   the   sun’s   presence                                                                                                                   250  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   251  Fénéon,  “Le-­‐néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.           137   within  an  industrialized  horizon,  and  Bernard’s  simplified  linear  forms  a  metaphor  of   mechanization  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine.         A  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  Park  Landscape  at  the  Théâtre  Libra  d’Antoine   The  final  venue  where  Van  Gogh  hung  a  painting  and  perhaps  the  one  for   which  there  is  the  least  amount  of  evidence  was  at  the  Théâtre  Libra,  where  André   Antoine  opened  a  small  theater  on  May  30th  1887.252  Antoine,  who  had  the  support   of   writers   such   as   Zola,   Impressionist   critic   Louis   Edmond   Duranty,   and   Symbolist   writer  Paul  Adam,  allowed  artists  to  hang  their  works  in  the  theater’s  entryway,  an   informal   venue.   Seizing   on   this   opportunity   for   visual   artists,   Signac   and   Seurat   (whose  studios  were  located  next  to  the  theater)  hung  their  works  on  the  foyer’s   walls.   Van   Gogh,   having   ended   his   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition,   placed   Voyer   d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières  [figure  13]  in  the  lobby.253  It  is  not  clear  when  Van  Gogh   installed  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park,  but  most  likely  in  the  last  few  months  of  living  in   Paris.  He  left  the  capital  on  February  19th,  1888,  so  it  is  possible  he  hung  his  painting                                                                                                                   252  Thomson  80.  See  also:  “Le  Théâtre  libre:  saisons  1887  à  1889,”  Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France,   last   modified   August   23,   2013,     http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k58333014.r=theatre+libre+1887.langEN.   253  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  592  to  Thèo  from  Arles  on  April  3rd,  where  he  had  been  since  mid-­‐February:   “The  painting  with  the  lovers  is  at  the  Théâtre  Libre.”  This  is  the  only  reference  to  the  painting  from   Van  Gogh  and  the  reason  we  know  it  hung  the  Théâtre  Libre,  and  probably  stayed  there  after  he  left   Paris.             138   in   the   Montmartre   theater   sometime   in   the   fall   or   winter   of   1887-­‐1888.   Having   worked   closely   with   Signac   by   this   point,   the   theater,   although   not   an   organized   exhibition,   was   the   last   Parisian   public   place   where   Van   Gogh   attempted   to   seek   recognition  within  the  avant-­‐garde.     Considering   the   presence   of   Seurat’s   and   Signac’s   images   in   the   Théâtre   Libre’s  foyer  as  well,  Van  Gogh’s  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  is  one  of  the  most  striking   examples  of  his  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  approach.  Aside  from  the  couples,  there  is  an   overall  uniform  size  of  stroke  and  similar  surface  patterns,  unlike  Père  Tanguy,  or   Factory   at   Asnières   in   which   varying   mark-­‐making   techniques   are   evident   in   one   canvas.   Although   Van   Gogh   used   an   elongated   stroke   rather   than   the   Neo-­‐ Impressionist   dot   in   Voyer   d’Argenson   Park,   Fénéon’s   directives   seem   to   be   underlying  Van  Gogh’s  painting  methods.  Van  Gogh  instilled  a  sense  of  motion  in   this   canvas   as   well,   using   “individual   brushstrokes”   that   break   down   a   hue   to   be   combined   on   the   viewer’s   retina.254  Van   Gogh   also   created   “delicate   modeling   transitions”  and  “subtle  gradations  of  hues…”255  The  sky’s  hue,  for  instance,  threads   throughout   the   foreground,   the   grasses   and   the   couples’   clothing,   flattening   the   picture’s  depth  into  a  single  plane.  The  texture  of  the  sky,  tree  foliage,  and  grass   blend,  encompassing  three  couples  who  seem  to  be  situated  within  the  pattern  of                                                                                                                   254  Fénéon,  “Le-­‐néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   255  Fénéon,  “Le-­‐néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.         139   the   brushstrokes,   rather   than   the   park’s   atmosphere.   As   in   a   study,   the   couples’   positions   depict   the   three   ways   Van   Gogh   could   include   figures   in   a   landscape— seated,   lying   in   the   grass,   and   standing.   They   may   be   a   product   of   his   decision-­‐ making   process   rather   than   a   studied   observation.   Paint   and   stroke   here   differentiate  and  connect  the  figures  to  their  environment.  A  way  of  asserting  the   subject   matter   as   a   creation   of   medium,   Voyer   d’Argenson   literally   and   metaphorically  addresses  the   interwoven  relationship  between  the   landscape  and   the  figures.     The  color  of  men’s  jackets—light  blue,  waist-­‐length  garments—connects  to   the  sky’s  hue.  The  jackets  are  also  similar  to  one  another’s  as  well  as  to  the  one   Tanguy  wears  in  Père  Tanguy,  and  to  the  smock  Van  Gogh  wears  in  his  Self-­‐portrait   as   a   Painter   (January-­‐February,   1888)   [figure   49].   Signac   recalled   that   when   Van   Gogh  painted,  he  was  dressed  in  “a  blue  jacket  of  a  zinc  worker,”  and  had  “small   dots  of  color”  on  his  sleeves,  a  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  thinker  indeed.256  A  sign  of  their   working-­‐class  status  in  Asnières,  the  jackets  represent  the  labor  that  supported  the   area.  In  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park,  the  men  appear  in  a  public  park  that  was  formerly  a   grand  private  residence.  The  land  for  the  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  had  been  a  part  of  a   large  eighteenth-­‐century  estate  and  was  established  as  a  public  space  in  Asnières   (adjacent  to  the  Château  Voyer  d’Argenson)  a  few  years  before  Van  Gogh  arrived  in                                                                                                                   256  Signac  quoted  in  Stein  89.         140   Paris.257  The   park   included   a   pond   and   rustic-­‐looking   bridges;   and   the   tree-­‐lined   docks  on  the  Seine  in  Asnières  bounded  the  park’s  south-­‐west  entrance.  Here,  the   public  park’s  history  as  part  of  the  grounds  of  the  Château,  had  been  repurposed,   allowing   for   the   leisurely   afternoon   of   these   lower-­‐class   couples.   The   figures   embedded  into  the  paint’s  texture,  appear  to  consider  the  nature  of  the  park  as  a   constructed  landscape  for  the  working-­‐class  suburb.         Conclusion   By   the   end   of   Van   Gogh’s   stay   in   the   capital,   he   had   made   an   enormous   effort  to  secure  a  financial  future  for  himself  and  the  painters  of  the  petit  boulevard.   Meeting  with  artists  such  as  Lucien  and  Camille  Pissarro,  Signac,  and  Bernard,  led   him   to   focus   on   sustaining   a   livelihood   while   creating   experimental   imagery   that   dovetailed  with  both  the  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  aesthetics.  “In  these   discussions,”   he   wrote   to   Gauguin   in   fall   1888   reminiscing   about   his   Paris   artist   friends,  “it  was  often  a  matter  of  the  thing  that’s  so  dear  to  our  hearts,  my  brother’s   and   mine,   the   steps   to   be   taken   in   order   to   preserve   the   means   of   production   (colours,   canvases)   and   to   preserve   to   them   the   share   of   the   price...” 258  He   attempted  to  forge  a  group  dynamic  similar  to  the  exhibition  practices  in  Paris  at  the                                                                                                                   257  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  104.     258  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  695  to  Gauguin  from  Arles  on  Wednesday,  October  3rd  1888.           141   time,  and  worked  to  establish  a  platform  for  the  generation  of  artists  developing  in   1886   and   1887.   Although   the   exhibitions   went   virtually   unnoticed,   the   venues   in   which  Van  Gogh  attempted  to  stake  a  presence  show  his  dedication  to  entering  into   a  culturally  rich  gallery  system  to  which  he  was  exposed.     In   1886   Pissarro   commented   on   the   Neo-­‐Impressionists’   diverse   surface   qualities,  writing  to  gallery  owner  Paul  Durand-­‐Ruel  to  explain  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist   theory   and   the   divergent   interpretations   of   the   ideals   Fénéon   laid   forth:   “as   for   execution,  we  regard  it  as  inconsequential,  of  very  little  importance:  art  has  nothing   to  do  with  it;  originality  consists  only  in  the  quality  of  the  drawing  and  the  vision   particular  to  each  artist.”259  Pissarro  also  urged  Durand-­‐Ruel  to  review  Fénéon’s  text   should  he  have  further  questions.  Fénéon’s  definition  of  the  formalist  methods  may   seem   to   apply   only   to   Seurat,   the   exemplar   of   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Fénéon’s   text   describes  qualities  beyond  the  formal,  such  as  the  phenomena  of  standing  before  a   landscape.  While  facture  does  play  a  part  in  the  painting’s  meaning,  what  Pissarro   and  eventually  Van  Gogh  aimed  to  discover  was  a  difference  between  the  world  that   can   be   depicted   and   that   which   can   be   created.   The   artists   Van   Gogh   brought   together  generated  distinct  canvases  based  on  Fénéon’s  principles.  At  this  time,  Van   Gogh,   Bernard,   and   Signac   combined   compositional   strategies   from   the                                                                                                                   259  Camille  Pissarro  quoted  in  Nochlin  54.  Pissarro  wrote  to  Durand-­‐Ruel  from  Eragny  on  November  6   1886   answering   the   gallery   owner’s   request   that   Pissarro   send   a   brief   description   of   the   Néo-­‐ Impressionist’s  ideals.           142   Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists  throughout  their  bodies  of  work.  The  artists   ultimately   translated   the   Neo-­‐Impressionist   method   in   their   own   terms   and   considered  the  canvas  a  vehicle  for  the  viewer’s  participation.  Van  Gogh,  Signac,  and   Bernard   focused   on   the   sensation   of   the   subject,   which   led   to   their   symbolic   representations  of  still-­‐life,  portraiture,  and  landscape.                                           143   CHAPTER  4:  AGRICULTURE  AND  INDUSTRY  IN  VAN  GOGH’S   MONTMARTRE  AND  CLICHY  IMAGERY       “When   I   say   I’m   a   poor   painter,”   Vincent   wrote   to   Théo   from   The   Hague,   “and  still  face  years  of  struggle—in  my  daily  life  I  have  to  arrange  things  more  or  less   as  a  farm  laborer  or  factory  worker  does….”260  From  the  beginning  of  his  painting   career,  Van  Gogh  displayed  empathy  toward  the  labor-­‐class—weavers,  coal  miners,   farmers,   factory   workers—and   addressed   the   individual   struggle   of   the   laborer   amidst  hard  times.261  The  artist’s  perspective  on  the  labor-­‐class  was  an  aspect  of  his   clerical  studies  that  carried  over  into  his  painterly  aims,  and  he  depicted  those  who   toiled  in  the  dirt,  sat  behind  a  loom,  or  filed  into  a  factory.   Carol  Zemel  has  drawn  attention  to  Van  Gogh’s  pictorial  engagement  with  a   socio-­‐political   idea   in   his   images   of   weavers   in   the   rural   village   of   Nuenen   in   Brabant.262  The  painter  depicted  weavers  confined  by  the  looms  that  provided  their   livelihood  in  small,  dank  spaces  [figure  1].  Dominated  by  their  looms,  the  workers                                                                                                                   260  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  374  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Friday,  August  1883.   261  James   H.   Rubin,   Impressionism   and   the   Modern   Landscape:   Productivity,   Technology,   and   Urbanization   from   Manet   to   Van   Gogh   (Berkeley,   California,   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  2008)  165.  In  a  brief  discussion  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  industrial  landscape,  Factories  at   Clichy  (1887),  Rubin  notes  that  Van  Gogh’s  “leftist  sympathies  for  the  working  man”  led  to  his  interest   in  depicting  images  of  industry  and  an  urban  environment.   262  Carol  Zemel,  “The  ‘Spook’  in  the  Machine:  Pictures  of  Weavers  in  Brabant,”  Van  Gogh’s  Progress   (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1997)  55-­‐85.  Nuenen  is  a  village  in   the  North  Brabant  province.  The  life  of  an  artisan  was  in  every  way  connected  to  his  domestic  life  as   Van  Gogh  indicated  by  including  familial  signs,  such  as  babies  in  highchairs  and  men  working  before   small  windows  that  provided  little  light  in  their  meager  houses.         144   appear  as  non-­‐descript  tradesmen,  “caged  artisans”  trapped  in  a  cycle  of  economic   hardship.263  Zemel  notes  that  the  series  of  weavers  do  not  provide  an  explicit  call  for   socialist   reform.     Nevertheless,   they   underscore   the   disintegrating   role   of   the   weaver  within  an  uncertain  economic  situation  and  convey  a  sense  of   loss  of  the   artisan’s  way  of  life.264     In  Paris,  Van  Gogh  depicted  Montmartre’s  social  center  on  the  Boulevard  de   Clichy,   such   as   Interior   of   a   Restaurant   (summer   1887)   and   Boulevard   de   Clichy   (February-­‐March  1887)  [figures  2  &  3],  in  which  gaslights  illuminate  café  tables,  a   top   hat   hangs   on   the   wall,   and   figures   cross   wide   boulevards   lined   with   Second-­‐ Empire  architecture.  Van  Gogh  also  explored  the  laborer  in  the  agricultural  areas  on   Montmartre’s  Butte,  which  was  a  short  walk  from  the  Boulevard,  and  the  Commune   de  Clichy,  an  industrial  suburb  that  bordered  Montmartre  to  the  north.  To  set  out   for  the  day  to  paint,  Van  Gogh  walked  from  the  arrondissement,  to  the  boundary   between   Paris   and   the   banlieue   (the   industrial   suburbs),   through   the   city’s   fortifications,  and  into  Clichy.265  Within  this   landscape,  he  considered  some  of  the                                                                                                                   263  Zemel  60.   264  Zemel  85.     265  A   letter   from   Paul   Signac   to   Gustave   Coquiot,   written   in   1923,   Van   Gogh:   A   Retrospective,   ed.   Susan  Alyson  Stein  (New  York:  Hugh  Lauter  Levin  Associates,  Inc.,  1986)  89.  “Yes,  I  knew  Van  Gogh   from   the   shop   of   Père   Tanguy.   I   would   meet   him   other   times   at   Asnières   and   at   Saint-­‐Ouen;   we   painted  on  the  river-­‐banks,  lunched  at  an  open-­‐air  roadhouse,  and  we  returned  by  foot  to  Paris  by   the  avenues  of  Saint-­‐Ouen  and  Clichy.”         145   aspects   akin   to   his   Dutch-­‐period   imagery:   working-­‐class   laborers   and   their   relationship   to   the   agricultural   terrain   and   the   built   environment.   Van   Gogh   pictorially  studied  the  allotments  on  Montmartre’s  Butte  and  a  relatively  newly  built   factory  that  turned  coal  into  gas,  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  along  the  Seine.    The  area   between   Montmartre’s   semi-­‐rural   Butte   and   L’Usine   à   gaz   was   in   transition   as   agricultural  and  factory  practices  underwent  a  shift  during  the  Third  Republic:  from   meeting  the  needs  of  local  markets  to  those  of  a  consumer-­‐driven  metropolis,  and   from   reliance   on   skilled   artisanal   craftsman   to   large-­‐scale   mechanized   processes.   Walking  between  Montmartre’s  robust  nightlife  and  artistic  scene  and  L’Usine  à  gaz,   Van  Gogh  observed  a  landscape  shaped  by  the  needs  of  a  modern  Parisian  consumer   market.     Scholars  have  not  addressed  Van  Gogh’s  images  of  Montmartre  and  Clichy  in   light  of  socio-­‐political  changes  that  affected  farmers  and  factory  laborers.266  In  the   mid-­‐1880s,   peasants   in   semi-­‐rural   Montmartre   farmed   land   for   their   own   sustenance  and  sometimes  sold  the  surplus  produce.  Socialist  leaders  argued  that                                                                                                                   266  André  Krauss,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  Studies  in  the  Social  Aspects  of  his  Work  (Atlantic  Highlands,  NJ:   Humanities  Press  International,  Inc.,  1983).  Krauss  briefly  addressed  some  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period   industrial   landscapes   in   connection   to   socialist   politics.   He   characterizes   Van   Gogh’s   images   of   laborers  prior  to  his  Paris-­‐period  as  dogmatically  realist  and  maintains  this  point  of  view  in  the  Paris-­‐ period.   Krauss   asserts   that   the   artist   did   not   aim   to   “treat   subjects   outside   the   realm   of   physical   reality”  (126).  Van  Gogh  was  not  a  mimetic  painter.  He  explored  the  socio-­‐political  climate  through   his   images   of   peripheral   communities   by   transforming   the   landscape   and   using   color   and   form   symbolically.  I  lead  from  Zemel’s  claims  regarding  his  weaver  series  as  her  argument  considers  how   Van  Gogh’s  formal  devices  convey  socio-­‐political  meaning.             146   farmers  should  be  able  to  maintain  small  plots  of  land,  rather  than  merge  farms  and   manage   them   collectively.267  Additionally,   in   1887,   the   Paris   Gas   Company   (PGC)   marketed   gas-­‐powered   lighting   and   stoves   to   those   living   in   upper-­‐class   arrondissements,   generating   the   largest   margin   of   growth   in   domestic   sales   and   increasing  the  demand  for  factory  workers.268  I   intend  to  explore  how  Van  Gogh’s   paintings  of  Montmartre  and  Clichy  convey  the  land’s  relationship  to  the  economic   livelihood   of   its   inhabitants,   highlighting   the   land’s   significance   in   the   day-­‐to-­‐day   operations  of  modern  Paris.  To  do  so,  I  do  not  take  a  polarizing  interpretation,  such   as  a  utopian  view  of  labor  or  a  condemnation  of  the  capitalist  model.  In  line  with   Zemel,   I   consider   how   Van   Gogh   constructed   the   landscape—and   what   role   the                                                                                                                   267  Leslie   Derfier,   Paul   Lafargue   and   the   Flowering   of   French   Socialism,   1882-­‐1911   (Cambridge,   Massachusetts  and  London,  England:  Harvard  University  Press,  1998)  124-­‐125.  In  1883,  the  French   Work’s  Party  (Parti  ouvrier  français  or  POF)  formed  to  fight  for  worker’s  rights.  The  Party  was  part  of   a   larger   movement   to   provide   better   living   and   working   conditions   to   those   dependent   on   labor-­‐ based  wages.  Two  POF  leaders  differed  regarding  how  to  manage  small-­‐scale  farms.  Jules  Guesede   feared   that   peasant   farmers   would   disappear   if   they   owned   their   individual   farms:   a   “swift   and   inevitable  disappearance  of  petty  proprietors  in  the  face  of  capitalist  encroachments.”  In  contrast,   Paul  Lafargue  fought  against  the  strategy  to  collectivize  the  smaller  plots  and  for  the  rights  of  the   peasant  and  his  or  her  small  allotment  of  land.  He  understood  the  collective  approach  as  a  capitalist   system  in  which  someone  would  eventually  out-­‐earn  others  at  the  expense  of  those  who  had  worked   their   land   for   generations.   Lafargue   argued   that   by   preserving   the   family-­‐owned   and   operated   peasant   farms,   the   worker   would   be   in   control   of   his   own   livelihood   and   not   succumb   to   the   capitalist-­‐driven  system  of  appropriating  land  that  could  be  passed  down  for  generations.   268  Lenard  R.  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  and  Industrial  Conflict  in  Nineteenth-­‐Century  France:  A  Social   History   of   the   Parisian   Gas   Company   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles,   and   Oxford:   University   of   California   Press,  1991)  15,  51  &  82.  In  1887,  the  Paris  Gas  Company  instituted  a  fee-­‐free  program  to  increase  its   customer  base.  PGC  salesmen  asked  65,000  residents,  who  mostly  all  lived  in  luxury  buildings  near  a   gas  main,  if  they  would  like,  at  the  company’s  expense,  to  outfit  their  apartments  with  gas  lines,  a   lighting  fixture,  and  a  stove.  In  1887,  12,000  residents  enrolled  in  the  program.  Through  the  fee-­‐free   program,  PGC  effectively  captured  the  upper-­‐class  market  and  the  commodity  was  mass  marketed  to   the  bourgeoisie  as  an  easy-­‐to-­‐have  resource,  but  gas  lighting  fixtures  and  stoves  had  yet  to  reach  the   middle  and  lower-­‐class  markets.                 147   landscape   held—in   relation   to   labor   and   industrial   growth   within   the   context   of   socialist  reform  strategies  developing  in  the  early  1880s.     I   begin   my   discussion   where   Van   Gogh’s   journey   began—looking   out   the   window   from   his   rue   Lepic   apartment   atop   Montmartre’s   Butte,   a   geographic   highpoint—and   follow   his   path   to   the   rural   side   of   the   Butte,   through   the   city’s   fortifications,   and   among   the   smokestacks   in   the   banlieue.   In   Montmartre   and   Clichy,  Van  Gogh  created  an  encompassing  view  of  the  landscape  and  its  resources   by  including  varying  aspects  of  industry,  labor,  and  agriculture—the  components  of   an  interrelated  work  force  that  served  an  urban  population.  Similar  to  his  weaver   images,  the  landscape  paintings  from  Montmartre  and  Clichy,  such  as  Montmartre:   Windmills  and  Allotments  (March-­‐April  1887)  and  Factories  at  Clichy  (1887)  [figures   4  &  5]  overpower  the  figure.  In  contrast  to  his  weaver  images,  laborers  in  his  Paris-­‐ period   landscapes   are   small-­‐scale,   ingrained   within   farming   plots   or   among   an   immense  landscape  populated  with  smokestacks  that  pump  emissions  into  the  sky.   The  figures  are  parts  of  a  greater  whole,  operating  in  a  macro-­‐system  of  demand   and  production.       Socialism  in  Paris   From  the  perspective  of  his  window,  Van  Gogh  painted  a  scene  overlooking   the   roofs   of   Montmartre   toward   the   center   of   Paris   in   The   View   from   Vincent’s         148   Room,  rue  Lepic  (spring  1887)  and  View  from  Théo’s  Apartment  (March-­‐April  1887)   [figures  6  &  7].269  The  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  in  the  city’s  center  appears  on  the   horizon,   indicating   that   the   view   from   the   brother’s   apartment   at   the   top   of   the   Butte  of  Montmartre  is  to  the  southeast.270  Blocking  an  otherwise  panoramic  view  of   the   city   on   the   right   is   a   new   building.   The   building   was   under   construction;   its   façade   was   left   unfinished   to   abut   another   structure.   The   squat   building   in   the   foreground,  which  is  more  visible  in  View  from  Théo’s  Apartment,  was  a  tenement   for   workers,   the   poorest   living   on   the   top   floors. 271  The   paintings   from   the   apartment  window  visually  underscore  the  peripheral  relationship  of  Montmartre’s   working  classes  in  relation  to  the  distant  Parisian  center.     In   the   1830s,   Montmartre   was   a   village   with   a   population   of   about   6,000   people,  and  a  commune  outside  of  the  city’s  boundary  marked  by  the  Octroi  wall.  272                                                                                                                   269  When  Vincent  arrived  in  Paris  in  February,  Théo  lived  on  the  rue  Laval  south  of  the  busy  Boulevard   de  Clichy  and  Boulevard  de  Rochechouart.  Four  months  later,  in  June,  they  moved  across  the  main   Boulevards  to  the  rue  Lepic  on  the  Butte.  Living  there,  Van  Gogh  began  painting  images  from  the   Butte’s  summit.   270  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period,  1886-­‐1888  (Den  Haag  and  Utrecht:   Editions  Victorine,  1976)  94-­‐96.     271  Richard  Thomson,  “Introducing  Montmartre,”  Toulouse-­‐Lautrec  and  Montmartre  (Washington  and   Chicago:  National  Gallery  of  Art  and  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  2005)  66.  Thomson  identified  the   worker’s  tenement  as  the  tall  building  in  the  foreground.   272  Robert   Herbert,   Impressionism:   Art,   Leisure   and   Parisian   Society   (New   Haven   and   London:   Yale   University   Press,   1988)   13-­‐14.   Émile   Zola,   L’Assommoir,   trans.   Margaret   Mauldon   (Oxford:   Oxford   University  Press,  1995)  441,  note  7.  The  Octroi  wall  was  at  the  Boulevard  de  Rochechouart  and  de  la   Chapelle.  See  also:  Ernest  Alfred  Vizetelly,  Paris  and  Her  People  Under  the  Third  Republic  (1919;  repr.,   Charleston,  South  Carolina:  Bibliolife,  2009)  1.    Although  communes  such  as  Montmartre  and  Passy   were  surrounded  by  the  fortifications  under  Louis-­‐Philippe,  they  were  not  considered  part  of  Paris         149   Under  the  Second  Empire,  Prefect  of  the  Seine  Baron  Georges-­‐Eugène  Haussmann   expanded   the   city’s   borders   in   1860   to   include   Montmartre,   and   at   this   time   the   arrondissement’s  population   increased  to  over  100,000.   In  his  novel  Nana  (1880),   Émile  Zola  (1840-­‐1902)  used  Montmartre  to  indicate  lower-­‐class  status.  In  the  novel,   which  Van  Gogh  read  in  1882,  Montmartre  serves  as  the  backdrop  of  the  downfall  of   Nana,  a  prostitute  who  grew  up  in  the  “slum[s]”  of  the  arrondissement.273  Due  to  the   number   of   working-­‐class   inhabitants,   their   concerns   became   part   of   the   political   platform  as  socialist  candidates  gained  support  in  the  early  to  mid-­‐1880s.274  At  this   time,  the  tension  between  republican  capitalism  and  the  large  population  of  manual   laborers  caused  the  rising  socialist  party  to  call  for  a  number  of  legislative  reforms                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               until  1860.  The  Octroi  wall  separated  the  communes  until  they  were  absorbed  into  the  city’s  political   structure  during  the  Second  Empire.   273  Émile  Zola,  Nana,  trans.  Douglas  Parmée  (Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press,  1992)   190,  226.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  250  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  July  23,  1882,  noting  that  he   had  read  Nana.  Nana  experienced  physical  abuse  at  the  hands  of  her  lover,  and  held  the  company  of   a   lower   class   of   prostitutes   who   were   visibly   poorer   “little   draggle-­‐tailed   tarts”   than   their   counterparts   who   worked   in   the   center   of   the   city   for   higher-­‐class   clientele.   On   Montmartre   as   a   topographical  feature  in  Zola’s  novels,  see:  Eduardo  Febles,  “Anarchy  as  Narrative  Capital,”  Explosive   Narratives:  Terrorism  and  Anarchy  in  the  works  of  Émile  Zola  (Amsterdam:  Editions  Rodoli,  2010)  65-­‐ 107.  Febles  analyzes  the  author’s  1898  novel  Paris.   In  Febles’  words  the  Butte  was  “the  center  of   subversive  practices”  and  thus  offered  a  backdrop  to  the  varied  aspects  of  Montmartre:  “from  the   resistance   to   industrial   capitalism”   upheld   by   the   large   population   of   artisans   to   the   avant-­‐garde   artists  (76-­‐77).   274  Lenard  R.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris,  1871-­‐1914  (Baltimore  and  London:  The  Johns   Hopkins  University  Press,  1984)  155,  159.  Not  all  working-­‐class  constituents  were  ready  to  support   socialist  politics.  In  1886,  the  socialist  candidate  who  ran  as  a  supporter  of  the  worker  during  a  time   of   economic   crises,   Ernest   Roche,   gained   40%   (up   considerably   from   1881)   of   the   vote   in   the   arrondissement,  a  large  portion  of  the  vote  in  Clichy,  and  was  supported  by  the  socialist  press.  Roche   had  gained  popularity  as  a  politician  during  the  Decazeville  miner’s  strike.           150   that  were  similar  in  scope  to  those  at  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century.  By  the   mid-­‐1880s,  working-­‐class  politics  under  the  Third  Republic  (1870-­‐1940)  occupied  a   central  platform.  In  contrast,  the  early  agenda  of  the  Third  Republic,  founded  under   Adolphe   Thiers   (r.   1871-­‐1873),   was   based   on   conservative   politics   that   aimed   to   protect  France,  ward  away  revolutionary  sentiments,  and  maintain  peace.  Fearing  a   cycle   of   “humiliating   progress   from   anarchy   to   despotism   and   from   despotism   to   anarchy,”   Thiers   suppressed   socialist-­‐party   politics   after   the   fall   of   the   Paris   Commune   in   1871.275  During   a   time   of   innovation   in   agriculture   and   modern   technologies,   there   was   pressure   on   the   working   class   to   rise   to   new   production   standards  while  living  in  unsafe  conditions  and  working  for  low  wages.     The   discord   between   the   working-­‐class   population   and   the   conservative   republican   administration   led   to   a   labor-­‐rights   movement.276  By   the   mid-­‐1870s,   there  was  a  resurgence  of  a  socialist  agenda  and  a  call  for  work-­‐place  reform  and  the   appearance  of  a  number  of  socialist  publications.  In  1880  and  1882,  two  worker’s                                                                                                                   275  Adolphe  Thiers,  “Chamber  of  Deputies,”  Journal  officiel  de  la  République  française  (13  November   1872)  in  William  Fortescue,  ed.,  The  Third  Republic  in  France,  1870-­‐1940:  Conflicts  and  Continuities   (London  and  New  York:  Routledge,  2000)  27.  Many  socialists  faced  sentencing  and  exile,  and  thus   their   politics   lost   its   leaders   and   a   voice   in   an   otherwise   traditionalist   administration   that   never   wanted  to  “witness  again”  the  atrocities  that  occurred  between  the  fall  of  the  Second  Empire  and  the   rise  of  the  Third  Republic.   276  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  151.  The  tension  was  on  par  with  that  of  1848  and  the  ensuing  revolution   that  overthrew  the  Orléans  Monarch.           151   parties  were  founded.277  They  sought  reforms  to  protect  property-­‐less  wage-­‐earners   under   republican   capitalism,   such   as   legislation   to   regulate   the   business   day,   set   standards  of  working  conditions,  supply  financial  support  for  injured  employees,  and   grant   funds   for   retirement.278  In   1883,   the   French   Worker’s   Party   (Parti   ouvrier   français   or   POF)   organized,   calling   for   a   six-­‐day   work   week,   minimum-­‐age   requirements  for  workers  (fourteen-­‐years  old),  standard  minimum  wages,  a  position   for   workers   in   the   managerial   system,   mandatory   schooling   for   the   children   of   working-­‐class   parents,   and   proper   care   for   the   elderly.279  The   Union   Générale,   a   merchant  bank  that  had  national  and  international  dealings,  stopped  payments  in   January  1882,  which  contributed  to  an  economic  crisis  and  the  dire  circumstances  of   the   labor-­‐class.   As   agricultural   production   rose,   the   value   of   crops   and   products,   such  as  corn  and  wine,  dropped  considerably   in  1885.280  During  the  first  working-­‐                                                                                                                 277  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  154.  The  Militants  favored  strikes  and  action,  and  the   Blanquists  were  anarchists  who  represented  the  Communes.   278  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  154-­‐155.     279  Jules  Guesde  and  Paul  Lafargue,  “Le  Programme  du  Parti  Ouvrier:  son  histoire,  ses  considérants,   ses  articles,”  Paris:  Henry  Oriol,  1883  in  Fortescue  35.  POF   leaders,  Guesde  and  Lafargue,  stressed   that   the   worker   needed   to   gain   a   role   in   the   system   that   determined   their   earning   potential.   An   “interference   by   employers”   regarding   banking   needed   to   cease;   they   wanted   laborers   to   have   “exclusive”  control  over  their  financial  livelihoods  and  work-­‐place  conditions.   280  Jean-­‐Marie   Mayeur   and   Madeleine   Reberioux,   The   Third   Republic   from   its   Origins   to   the   Great   War,  1871-­‐1914,  trans.  Maison  des  Sciences  de  l’Homme  and  Cambridge  University  Press  (New  York,   New  Rochelle,  Melbourne  and  Sydney:  Cambridge  University  Press,  1973)  46,  62-­‐63.           152   class  congress  in  1876,  representatives  did  not  support  protest  and  strike.281  By  the   early   1880s,   the   economic   depression   led   to   widespread   strikes   that   took   on   defining   strategies.   Unions   called   for   a   complete   stoppage   of   all   work   within   a   factory,  and  members  had  an  ability  to  express  demands,  pinpoint  needs,  and  utilize   negotiation  tactics.282     Within   this   time   of   labor   reform,   economic   crisis,   and   protest,   Van   Gogh   considered  the  life  of  the  labor-­‐class.283  “I  immersed  myself  in  religious  and  socialist   affairs,”  Vincent  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  from  Paris,  “and  considered  art  more   sacred,  more  than  now.”284  To  this  end,  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  portrayed  the  worker’s   role   under   the   Third   Republic   through   agricultural   images   of   Montmartre   and   industrial   landscapes   of   Clichy,   some   of   which   he   hung   in   the   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition.  Émile  Bernard  considered  the  exhibition  at  the  Grand  Boullion  in  which   Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Paul  Signac  included  imagery  to  be  a  “socialist  exhibition,”                                                                                                                   281  Fortescue  36.  The  working-­‐class  congress  held  their   first  meetings   in  Paris  and  Lyon   in  fall  and   winter  1876.   282  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  169-­‐174.  There  was  an  increase  in  protests  in  the  early   1880s  that  paralleled  those  of  the  early  twentieth  century:  in  1881  there  were  42  strikes  and  37  in   1882,  more  than  half  of  which  (66%)  were  full-­‐stop  work  orders  from  the  unions.   283  Van  Gogh  moved  to  Montmartre  under  the  Third  Republic  during  the  administration  of  Jules  Grévy   (r.  1879-­‐1887),  a  moderate  republican  who  resigned  in  December  1887  due  to  a  scandal  involving  his   son-­‐in-­‐law,   and   the   transition   to   President   Sadi   Carnot   in   the   winter   of   1887-­‐1888   who   was   assassinated  in  1894  by  an  anarchist  (r.  1887-­‐1894).   284  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  574  to  Willemien  from  Paris  in  late  October  1887.           153   an   ideology   that   may   have   contributed   to   the   show’s   abrupt   end.285  Bernard   also   noted  that  Père  Tanguy  and  Van  Gogh  engaged  in  a  socialist  discourse,  writing:     Julien   Tanguy,   a   faithful   reader   of   Le   Cri   du   peuple   and   L’intransigent   espoused   a   doctrine   of   single-­‐minded   love   of   the   poor,   fixing   his   ideal   on   a   future   filled   with   goodness   and   love,   when   all   human   beings   would   turn   toward   one   another   and   personal   struggles   and   ambitions,   always   so   bitter   and   bloody,   would  come  to  an  end.  Vincent  only  diverged  from  this   ideal   in   that   his   artistic   nature   sought   to   make   a   kind   of   religion   and   esthetic  credo  of  the  notion  of  social  harmony.  286         Camille  Pissarro,  Félix  Fénéon,  Georges  Seurat,  and  Signac  all  concurred  and  were   open   about   their   socialist   or   even   anarchist   ideals. 287  Van   Gogh   had   collegial   friendships  with  Père  Tanguy,  Fénéon,  Pissarro,  and  Signac  whose  beliefs  shaped  not   only  their  political  leanings  but  also  their  respective  criticism  and  imagery.288  Signac   and  Pissarro,  for  example,  drew  political  influence  from  Pierre-­‐Joseph  Proudhon,  a                                                                                                                   285  Bernard  quoted  in  Van  Gogh’s  letter  575,  note  9.   286  Bernard,   “Julien   Tanguy,   Called   Le   Père   Tanguy”   (November-­‐December   1908)   in   Van   Gogh:   A   Retrospective,  ed.  Susan  Alyson  Stein  (New  York:  Hugh  Lauter  Levin  Associates,  Inc.,  1986)  93.   287  John  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  Van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  (New  York:  Museum  of  Modern  Art,   1978)  141-­‐142.  See  also:  Joan  Ungersma  Halperin,  Félix  Fénéon:  Aesthete  &  Anarchist  in  Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle   Paris  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)  33-­‐34  &  56.  See  also:  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon   47-­‐48.   Fénéon   published   Lafargue’s   writing   after   the   socialist   writer’s   death.   Fénéon   also   thought   that  anarchy,  rather  than  socialism,  would  lead  to  more  effective  reform  measures.  When  President   Carnot  was  assassinated  on  June  24,  1894  at  the  hands  of  an  anarchist,  the  government  investigated,   bringing  charges  against  known  anarchists.  During  this  incident,  critic  Fénéon  and  painter  Maximilien   Luce  both  found  themselves  in  lawsuits.  Fénéon  was  jailed  during  the  1894  anarchist  bombings  and   assassination   of   President   Carnot,   but   was   acquitted.   He   stayed   in   Belgium   at   this   time;   Signac   offered  him  financial  help.     288  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  46-­‐47.             154   philosopher  writing  in  mid-­‐century  who  studied  economic  inequalities  and  saw  art   as  a  means  to  dispose  of  a  confining  material  culture.289  Proudhon  argued  that  art   had,  with  the  paintings  of  Gustave  Courbet,  “become  rational”  and  could  “no  longer   profess[]  indifference  in  matters  of  faith,  government,  or  morality.”290     Although  the  view  Van  Gogh  provided  from  his  rue  Lepic  window  is  not  an   explicit  statement  about  “matters  of…government,”  the  artist  used  the  window,  the   tenement   house,   and   a   newly   constructed   building   to   crop   and   frame   the   urban   metropolis.  The  towers  of  Notre  Dame  on  the  horizon  appear  in  a  minuscule  scale,   and   the   tenement-­‐housing   complex   and   unfinished   structure   dominate   the   foreground.  Van  Gogh’s  pictorial  use  of  scale  relates  to  the  reality  of  working-­‐class   residents   of   Montmartre.     In   1886,   Montmartre   was   home   to   a   disproportionate   number  of  manual  laborers  versus  white-­‐collar  employees.  More  than  60-­‐70%  of  the   residents  of  the  arrondissement  were  of  the  labor  class.291  To  create  the  painting,   the  artist  looked  over  those  who  work  for  the  city,  and  represented  the  labor-­‐class   from  their  marginal  role  in  the  city’s  structure.  As  a  population,  they  remain  outside                                                                                                                   289  Pierre-­‐Joseph  Proudhon,  “Definitions  of  the  New  School,”  Art  in  Theory,  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology   of  Changing  Ideas.  Eds.  Charles  Harrison  and  Paul  Wood  with  Jason  Gaiger  (Oxford,  UK:  Blackwell   Publishers,  1999)  404-­‐410.   290  Proudhon  quoted  in  Harrison  410.   291  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  12-­‐13,  figure  1  &  2.  In  comparison,  less  than  25%  (and  in   some  areas  less  than  50%)  of  the  population  made  up  manual  laborers  just  south  of  Montmartre  in   the   Ninth   arrondissement.   Between   25-­‐50%   of   the   population   was   of   the   labor-­‐class   near   the   Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.         155   of  the  metropolis.  As  in  the  weaver  paintings,  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  does  not  posit  a   political   stance,   but   addresses   the   realities   of   their   condition   through   pictorial   metaphors,  such  as  scale  and  point-­‐of-­‐view.  In  so  doing,  the  artist  obliquely  suggests   the  boundary  between  class  structures  and  provides  a  perspective  of  someone  who   sees  the  city  from  the  peripheral  status  of  the  labor-­‐class.       Montmartre’s  Butte   When  Vincent  arrived  in  Paris,  Théo  lived  on  the  rue  Laval,  just  south  of  the   busy  Boulevard  de  Clichy  and  Boulevard  de  Rochechouart.  Four  months  later  in  early   summer,  the  brothers  moved  across  the  main  boulevards  to  the  rue  Lepic  on  the   Butte.   When   Van   Gogh   lived   in   Montmartre,   the   Butte   was   known   for   three   prominent  windmills—neighborhood  attractions  with  cafés  and  a  viewing  platform   upon  which  observers  could  overlook  Paris  [figures  8-­‐10].292  During  his  first  summer   in  the  capital,  Van  Gogh  took  advantage  of  the  perspective  from  the  viewing  terrace                                                                                                                   292  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988)  56.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van   Gogh:   His   Paris   Period,   1886-­‐1888   232.   Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon   95.   Kooten   and   Rijnders   141-­‐142,   161.   Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  clarifies  the  different  mills,  as  do  subsequent  scholars,  by  their  respective   location:  the  Moulin  Le  Blute-­‐fin  was  located  on  the  rue  Lepic  and  included  the  viewing  platform,  the   Moulin   Le   Radet   on   the   corner   of   rue   Girardon   and   Norvins,   and   the   Moulin   à   Poivre   on   the   rue   Norvins.  See  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  map  in  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  on  page  37:  Le  Radet  (called  “The  Moulin  de   la  Galette”),  the  Moulin  à  Poivre  (“Pepper  Mill”  and  also  called  Moulin  Debray),  and  the  Blute-­‐fin   (associated   with   the   viewing   deck).   All   were   also   known   as   the   Moulin   de   la   Galette.   The   Debray   family,  who  owned  two  of  the  mills  for  most  of  the  nineteenth  century,  possibly  decided  to  name  the   mills  “Moulin  de  la  Galette”  to  attract  tourists  to  the  eateries  and  to  the  viewing  deck  overlooking   Montmartre   and   all   of   Paris,   as   marketed   in   Jules-­‐Aldolphe   Chauvet’s   illustrative   postcards   of   the   mills  (addressed  below).  “The  Moulin  de  la  Galette”  was  also  a  phrase  used  to  distinguish  the  entire   top  of  the  Butte  from  1834  to  1895.         156   and  painted  the  crowded  metropolis  stretching  off  into  the  horizon  toward  the  heart   of   the   city   in   View   of   Paris,   from   Montmartre   (late   summer   1886)   [figure   11].293   Smokestacks  rise  above  the  roofs  punctuating  the  cityscape,  indicating  the  factory   labor  supporting  the  city.  That  winter,  the  artist  also  depicted  the  observation  deck   from  the  point  of  view  of  leisurely  observers  in  Terrace  and  Observation  Deck  at  the   Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,  Montmartre  (early  1886-­‐1887)  [figure  12].  Painted  in  the  muted   earth  tones  of  his  summer  cityscape,  he  included  elements  of  a  modern  city,  such  as   gas-­‐lights  and  figures  in  contemporary  dress  enjoying  the  city  vista  in  winter.     Just   off   the   rue   Lepic,   the   windmills   were   not   far   from   the   bustle   of   café   culture   on   the   Boulevard   de   Clichy.294  The   Debray   family,   a   well-­‐known   family   in   Montmartre,  owned  two  (possibly  all  three)  of  the  mills  and  perhaps  the  farmland   on  the  Butte  for  most  of  the  nineteenth  century  [figure  13].  295  A  short  walk  uphill   from   the   Boulevard,   the   windmills   were   places   to   socialize.   Illustrations   by   Jules-­‐                                                                                                                 293  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  46-­‐47.   294  Mary  Weaver  Chapin,  “The  Chat  Noir  and  the  Cabaret,”  The  Spirit  of  Montmartre:  Cabarets,  Humor   and   the   Avant-­‐Garde,   1875-­‐1905,   eds.   Phillip   Dennis   Cate   and   Mary   Shaw   (New   Brunswick,   New   Jersey:  Rutgers,  The  State  University  of  New  Jersey,  1996)  90-­‐91.  The  Butte  was  located  close  to  café   life   on   the   Boulevard   Clichy:   the   famous   Moulin   Rouge,   Le   Chat   Noir   Cabaret   (which   opened   in   November  1881,  and  a  second  location  on  the  rue  Laval  in  1885),  Aristide  Bruant’s  cabaret  Mirliton   (which   took   over   the   first   Le   Chat   Noir   location   in   1885   at   84   Boulevard   Rochechouart),   and   the   Théâtre  Libre.   295  Although   there   is   not   a   study   or   summary   of   the   Debray   family,   the   father   and   his   sons   are   mentioned  in  two  histories  of  Montmartre.  Georges  Montorgueil,  La  vie  à  Montmartre,  illustrations   by   Pierre   Vidal   (1899;   Gallica.bnf,   2012),   http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k6377146c.image.r=Debray.f21.langEN.   See   also:   Le   Vieux   Montmartre.   Société   d'histoire   et   d'archéologie   du   XVIIIe   arrondissement   (1886-­‐1935;   Gallica.bnf,   2011)  http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k5690746b.image.r=Debray.f6.langEN.           157   Adolphe  Chauvet  (1828-­‐1906)  provide  an  example  [figures  14-­‐17].  296  In  Montmartre   Le  Moulin  Des  frères  Debray,  Restaurant  la  Guinguette,  people  greet  one  another  in   middle-­‐class  and  upper-­‐middle  class  attire  in  front  of  Restaurant  la  Guinguette.  A  tall   man  to  the  left  raises  his  top-­‐hat  nodding  toward  the  couple  on  the  street  as  the   waiter,   menu   tucked   under   his   arms,   waits   to   the   side.   A   sign   to   the   left   reads   “Jardin  de  la  Galette”  and  a  sign  above  the  establishment  reads  “Debray  Aine,”  or   (aîné)   elder   Debray,   either   referring   to   the   family’s   patriarch   or   the   eldest   son.   Tables  with  empty  wine  bottles  and  half-­‐full  glasses  suggest  that  outdoor  seating  at   this  café  was  a  popular  activity  on  a  sunny  afternoon.  In  this  print,  the  Butte  is  a   destination,  a  place  to  visit,  and  a  neighborhood  with  eateries  and  gardens  that  are   worth  the  walk  up  the  Butte’s  slope.  Chauvet’s  illustration  prioritizes  the  upper-­‐class   and   indicates   a   clean,   well-­‐organized   inviting   area   of   Montmartre   where   middle-­‐ class  visitors  could  take  advantage  of  leisurely  activities.     Van  Gogh  depicted  a  group  of  people  at  the  top  of  the  Butte  in  Moulin  de  la   Galette  or  Le  Radet  (mid-­‐October  1886)  [figure   18]  on  a  corner  at  the  top  of  the   Butte  close  to  the  scene  Chauvet  described.297  While  Van  Gogh  maintained  a  sense                                                                                                                   296  The  Moulin  Le  Radet  is  associated  with  La  Guiguette.  Toos  van  Kooten  and  Mieke  Rijnders,  eds.   The  Paintings  of  Vincent  van  Gogh  in  the  Collection  of  the  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum  (Otterlo:  Kröller-­‐ Müller  Museum,  2003)  161-­‐162.   297  The  image  probably  features  the  Blute-­‐fin  although  it  is  labeled  “Moulin  de  la  Galette.”  Chauvet’s   sketch,   Impasse   des   2   frères   rue   Lepic,   from   1884   is   similar   to   the   corner   Van   Gogh   depicted   in   Moulin  de  la  Galette  or  Le  Radet  (1886).         158   of  mimetic  description,  the  artist’s  ideas  of  the  Butte  convey  a  working-­‐class  area   with   few   upper-­‐class   people.   In   contrast   to   Chauvet’s   print   in   which   people   congregate,   Van   Gogh’s   corner   on   the   Butte   reads   as   a   residential   area,   a   place   where   passersby   are   in   transit.   The   structure   Van   Gogh   depicted   is   also   the   site   represented   in  Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir’s  Bal  du  moulin  de   la  Galette  (1876)  [figure   19],  a  painting  that  shows  the  popular  Sunday  dance  as  a  fun  social  gathering  under   the  shimmering  sun.298  Unlike  Chauvet  and  Renoir,  Van  Gogh  depicted  simple  street   life  and  used  the  umbers  of  his  earlier  imagery  to  create  a  balance  of  earthy  hues   against  an  overcast  sky.  A  sign  that  reads  “commerce  de  vino”  labels  the  structure,   and  Le  Radet  (one  of  the  windmills)  rises  behind  the  café.  To  depict  Montmartre’s   Butte,  the  artist  included  figures  of  differing  classes,  including  the  lower  classes.  The   male  figure  on  the  left  stands  tall  and  wears  a  top  hat;  in  contrast,  the  figure  walking   up  the  hill  slouches  and  wears  a  rounded  hat  and  non-­‐descript  garments.  Van  Gogh   also   studied   the   interior   of   the   café   illustrated   by   Chauvet   in   La   Guinguette   du   Moulin  Le  Radet  (mid-­‐October  1886)  and  La  Guinguette  (mid-­‐October  1886)  [figures   20   &   21].   Aside   from   the   prominent   gas   lamp   in   the   center   of   the   drawing   and   painting,  the  outdoor  seating  area  appears  modest.299  Figures  drawn  with  a  couple                                                                                                                   298  Toos  and  Rijnders  162.  On  Renoir’s  painting,  see:  Robert  Herbert,  Impressionism:  Art,  Leisure  and   Parisian  Society.  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)    62,  132-­‐139.   299  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  58  and  60.  Van  Gogh  painted  the  same  establishment  Pierre-­‐ Auguste  Renoir  did  in  the  Frenchman’s  Bal  du  Moulin  de  la  Galette  (1876),  which  depicts  the  Moulin   Le  Radet,  a  windmill  that  was  quite  close  to  the  apartment  Vincent  shared  with  Théo.         159   of  brushstrokes  in  deep  tones  huddle  over  drinks.  The  couple  seated  in  the  corner   represents  the  upper-­‐classes;  the  woman  wears  a  bright  pink  dress  with  a  modern   silhouette  and  her  companion  a  top  hat.    The  woman  in  the  foreground  sitting  at  the   table  alone  seems  to  be  dressed  more  simply;  her  shoulders  wrapped  in  a  scarf.  Van   Gogh’s  waiter  appears  in  the  center  of  the  image,  not  as  a  figure  on  the  margins  of  a   group  in  conversation  as  in  Chauvet’s  image.  In  Van  Gogh’s  depiction,  the  worker  is   central.     By  the  spring,  Van  Gogh  turned  his  attention  to  the  agricultural  aspects  of   the  Butte  and  omitted  direct  reference  to  the  metropolis,  leisurely  afternoons,  and   the  middle-­‐class.  Van  Gogh  painted  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  (April-­‐May  1886)  [figure   22],   and   the   Debray-­‐family   farm   building   appears   on   the   cusp   of   the   hill.300  Two   paintings   of   the   same   title   The   Hill   of   Montmartre   with   Stone   Quarry   (June-­‐July   1886)  [figures  23  &  24]  show  the  north-­‐facing  slope  from  the  base  of  the  Butte,  and   limestone   quarries   that   appear   like   open   sores   in   the   earth   appear   in   the   foreground.  The  quarries  were  nearly  abandoned  by  the  1880s,  but  had  provided   limestone  for  Parisian  plaster  for  centuries.301  In  the  distance,  the  three  mills  of  the   Butte  and  small  plots  appear  on  the  slope.    Although  these  images  maintain  a  sense   of  realism,  Van  Gogh  chose  to  pictorially  negate  the  city’s  aspects.                                                                                                                     300  Toos  and  Rijnders  141.   301  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  54.           160   In  both  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry  images,  Van  Gogh  took  the   vantage  point  of  someone  standing  at  the  bottom  of  the  Butte   looking  up  to  the   Debray-­‐family  farm.  The  paintings  include  small-­‐scale  figures  viewed  from  someone   who   ostensibly   observes   the   workers   from   within   the   small   plots   or   allotments,   known  as  jardin  ouvriers  or  biens  de  famille.  Allotments  were  small  strips  of  arable   land   operated   by   poor   tenant   farmers   who   paid   rent   to   a   landowner.302  The   allotments  Van  Gogh  depicted  were  located  directly  behind  the  mills,  La  Guinguette,   and  the  Bal  du  Moulin  de  la  Galette.  Van  Gogh’s  perspective  from  the  other  side  of   the   Butte   destabilizes   the   patriarchal   view   in   paintings   by   artists   such   as   John   Constable  (1776-­‐1837)   in,  for  example,  The  Cornfield  (1826)  [figure   25],  an  image   Van  Gogh  knew.303  In  The  Cornfield,  Constable,  himself  from  a  wealthy  landowning                                                                                                                   302  Micheline   Nilsen,   The   Working   Man’s   Green   Space:   Allotment   Gardens   in   England,   France,   and   Germany,  1870-­‐1919  (Virginia:  University  of  Virginia  Press,  2014)  1-­‐3,  7-­‐9,  98-­‐100,  109-­‐111.  Although   poor  peasant  farmers  worked  small  plots  of  land  around  urban  French  centers  since  the  middle-­‐ages,   an  organized  allotment  structure  began  under  the  Third  Republic,  later  than  England  and  Germany.  In   France,  allotments  moved  to  urban  areas  during  the  early  1870s  and  became  a  full-­‐fledged  workers’   garden  movement  in  the  1890s.  Landowners—and  in  France  many  churches  allotted  land—allowed   needy   workers   to   rent   land   to   feed   their   families   and   perhaps   sell   the   surplus,   depending   on   the   landowner’s  rules.  In  some  cases,  selling  the  surplus  was  prohibited;  but,  in  others,  sale  of  the  surplus   helped  the  tenant  gain  a  return  on  his  initial  investment  or  purchase  of  seeds.  An  allotment  typically   had   a   shed   and   a   water-­‐distribution   system   to   feed   the   plants.   The   landowner’s   rules   may   have   applied  to  the  size  of  the  shed,  the  ratio  of  fruits  and  vegetables,  or  ability  to  raise  livestock.  The  first   international  congress  of  jardin  ouvriers  was  held  in  1903,  and  the  second  in  1906.  At  this  time,  there   was  an  increase  in  French  allotments  gardens,  from  6,453  in  1903  to  12,081  in  1906.  On  the  1906   congress,   see:   Robert   Pico,   Deuxième   Congrès   International   des   Jardin   Ouvriers   (1907;   repr.,   Charleston,  South  Carolina:  BiblioLife,  2009)  64-­‐65.   303  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  453  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Monday,  August  4,  1884.  He  also  referred   to  Constable’s  The  Valley  Farm:  Willy  Lot’s  House  (1835).  “…you  certainly  won’t  forget  to  look  at  a   couple  of  very  fine  Constables  there  (Cornfield)  and  also  in  South  Kensington  (where  that  farm  is,   Valley  farm).  I’m  very  curious  as  to  what  will  have  struck  you  most  and  what  you’ll  have  seen  there.”           161   family,   provided   a   view   from   that   of   the   landowner.   The   small   figures   of   the   sheepherder  and  plowman  indicate  a  distance  necessary  to  the  class  system  of  the   patriarchy,   a   separation   that   indicates   how   social   difference   functions   within   the   economy.304  Figures  work  to  support  the  landowner;  his  achievements  are  implied   through  the  vantage  point  overlooking  his   land  and  his  workers.305  As  John  Barrell   has  pointed  out,  Constable’s  figures  should  not  be  understood  as  dabs  of  paint  or   forms  of  color,  but  as  figures  who  are  absorbed  into  the  landscape  as  indiscriminate   aspects  of  work  under  the  gaze  of  the  landowner.306  These  figures  do  not  work,  but   are  worked.   In  The  Cornfield,  Constable  provided  a  view  of  the  land  extending  off   into  the  horizon,  and  from  the  perspective  above  the  path  in  the  foreground,  gaining   a   sense   of   the   vast   landscape   across   several   fields.   Past   the   plowman   in   The   Cornfield,  two  white  forms  topped  with  black  shapes  appear,  and,  in  this  way,  the                                                                                                                   304  On  the  landowner’s  perspective  in  Constable’s  paintings,  see:  John  Barrell,  “John  Constable,”  The   Dark   Side   of   Landscape:   The   Rural   Poor   in   English   Painting,   1730-­‐1840   (Cambridge:   Cambridge   University   Press,   1980)   131-­‐164.   Constable’s   family   position   was   that   of   wealthy   landowners,   and   thus  he  had  a  conservative  “rural  tory”  view  of  workers.  His  figures  of  the  labor-­‐class  are  small  to   underscore  their  insignificance.  The  laborers  do  not  work  in  the  pastoral  sense  “whereby  the  fruits  of   nature   are   easily   come   by,   more   or   less   without   effort”   (132).   Instead,   from   the   perspective   of   a   landowner  (painted  by  an  artist  who  himself  did  not  know  the  names  of  his  father’s  laborers),  they   are  worked  (137).  In  this  way,  they  are  in  harmony  with  the  land  as  their  hard  labor  is  necessary  to   support  patriarchal  aims.  Constable  developed  his  aesthetic  at  a  time  when  a  “class-­‐consciousness   [of]  the  rural  poor”  developed:  there  was  a  perceived  difference  between  the  laborer’s  individuality   and  “what  others  forced  them  to  be”  (156).  Thus,  the  distance  Constable  maintained  in  his  paintings   between  the  small-­‐scale  figures  and  the  viewer  is  one  necessary  to  social  difference,  and  Constable’s   ideas  of  “social  harmony”  are  based  on  “social  division”  (164).   305  Barrell  133.   306  Barrell  141-­‐149.         162   figures  perform  work  in  harmony  with  the  landowning  system,  not  necessarily  with   nature.     Similarly,  Van  Gogh’s  almost  imperceptible  figures  in  The  Hill  of  Montmartre   with  Stone  Quarry  paintings  suggest  a  distance  between  the  viewer  and  the  worker.   Van   Gogh’s   viewer   looks   up   to   the   Debray-­‐family   farm   building   and   thus   to   the   position  of  power  from  that  of  the  worker’s  space  within  his  rented  plot.  The  stone   quarry   in  the  foreground  serves  as  a  reminder  of  the  production  the  land  and  its   workers  yield;  the  figures  peering  over  the  edge  highlight  its  importance.  Van  Gogh’s   perspective   is   from   the   earth,   not   from   hierarchical   position   hovering   above   the   landscape.   Earthy   hues   frame   the   base   of   the   canvas,   providing   a   space   for   the   viewer  who  can  look  down  at  the  ground  from  the  margin  of  the  picture  plane.  Van   Gogh  addressed  class  through  metaphorical  means.  The  figures  operate  under  the   gaze  of  the  landowner  implied  from  the  farmhouse  atop  the  hill,  and  thus  the  viewer   is  alongside  fellow  tenants  among  the  allotments,  casting  an  egalitarian  gaze.  In  the   first   few   images   of   the   Butte,   Van   Gogh   complicated   the   expected   sense   of   land   ownership  and  the  space  of  the  viewer,  yet  conveyed  the  worker  as  an  element  in   the  allotment  system  under  which  peasants  work  their  rented  land.     At  this  time,  Van  Gogh  also  began  studying  the  plots  at  a  closer  range,  within   the  work  area,  and  developed  a  compositional  strategy  that  organized  his  allotment   imagery  through  a  newfound  perspective.  In  one  of  his  earliest  images,  Le  Moulin  de         163   la   Galette   (1886)   [figure   26],   Van   Gogh   conveyed   a   painterly   description   of   allotments.   The   organization   of   urban   allotments   developed   under   the   Third   Republic  in  the  early  1870s.307  The  allotment  system  was  considered  social-­‐reform   and  the  landowner  as  charitable  citizen  because  the  service  allowed  tenant  farmers   to  grow  food  to  feed  their  families.  The  arrangement  was  also  understood  as  a  form   of   social   control   that   upheld   the   conservative   values   of   landowners   because   the   working   poor   had   to   manage   their   land,   rather   than   spend   idle   time   drinking   in   taverns   or   meeting   with   socialist   factions. 308  Allotments   were   organized   as   a   collective   association   of   members   and   rules   were   particular   to   the   landowner.   In   most   cases   the   rules   extended   to   a   tenant’s   behavior   as   well.   Depending   on   the   rules,  tenants  could  also  sell  their  surplus,  which  was  sometimes  encouraged  as  it   enabled  the  laborer  to  pay  his  rent  and  make  a  return  on  his  initial  investment.     Van   Gogh’s   early   depiction   includes   some   basic   elements   of   allotment   farming.   Sheds,   two   of   which   stand   in   the   foreground   framing   the   path,   were   typically  required  on  each  plot  and  were  a  recognized  aspect  of  allotment  aesthetics.   The  allotments  were  also  disconnected  from  a  residence  and  were  often  provided,   though  rent  dues  applied,  from  an  existing  farm  or  smallholding,  a  small-­‐scale  farm                                                                                                                   307  See  note  302  in  this  chapter.   308  Nilsen  110.           164   that   measured   less   than   50   acres. 309  In   the   1870s,   farmers   began   using   new   agricultural   techniques   and   landowners   who   owned   or   leased   smallholdings   and   peasant   farmers   who   worked   the   allotments   were   thus   able   to   provide   a   large   portion   of   goods   throughout   the   nineteenth-­‐century   in   France. 310  By   1884,   smallholdings   occupied   half   of   France’s   landmass,   and   the   productivity   gave   peasants  a  sense  of  financial  security  as  the  output  satisfied  the  country’s  demands   and  hindered  the  need  for  large-­‐scale  practices.311  The  system  also  gave  the  peasant   entry   into   the   agricultural   market,   and,   although   farming   practices   on   allotments   and  smallholdings  maintained  rural  traditions,  new  techniques  yielded  marketable                                                                                                                   309  Peter  McPhee,  “Preface,”  in  Stephen  J.  Russell,  Agriculture,  Prosperity,  and  the  Modernization  of   French  Rural  Communities,  1870-­‐1914:  Views  from  the  Village  (Lewiston,  Queenston  and  Lampeter,   2004)  vii-­‐viii.  A  smallholding  was  land  that  measured  less  than  20  hectares,  or  less  than  around  50   acres.  Russell’s  account  considers  the  Allier,  a  rural  department  in  central  France,  and  the  traditional   farming  methods  of  smallholdings.  In  France,  smallholdings  were  the  primary  agricultural  structure   throughout   the   nineteenth   century   until   World   War   I.   Peasants   operated   smallholdings   and   their   productivity  hindered  the  large-­‐scale  mechanical  process  of  farming  because  the  peasants  kept  up   with  the  country’s  agricultural  demands.  Historians  typically  understand  the  smallholdings  and  their   respective  operations  as  a  disruption  in  the  economy  of  large-­‐scale  farming,  but  Russell’s  research   indicates   that   they   prospered.   Peasants   intentionally   developed   a   system   by   which   they   gained   a   sense   of   financial   security,   feed   themselves,   and   contributed   to   the   French   economy   (4).   On   the   difference   between   an   allotment   and   a   smallholding,   see:   Nilsen   32-­‐33,   56,   161.   Although   Nilsen   bases  her  definition  of  the  smallholding  structure  on  the  English  model  and  the  1908  Small  Holdings   and   Allotments   Act,   her   figures   on   smallholdings   are   the   same   as   McPhee’s   regarding   France.   An   allotment   measured   between   one   and   five   acres   and   a   smallholding   between   one   and   fifty   acres.   Thus,   an   allotment   could   also   be   considered   a   smallholding.   The   allotments   were   also   sometimes   broken  off  from  a  smallholding,  and  an  allotment  typically  measured  two-­‐hundred  to  three-­‐hundred   square  meters.     310  Russell  59-­‐60.   311  McPhee,  “Preface,”  Russell  vii-­‐viii.         165   stock.312     In   terms   of   the   Butte,   I   think   the   Debray   family   may   have   owned   the   smallholding  and  provided  allotments  on  the  Butte’s  north  slope.  Van  Gogh’s  images   represent   a   rural   artisanal   farming   approach   within   an   urban   context,   and   old   farming  systems  that  were  reinvented  to  meet  the  agricultural  needs  of  the  country.   From  the  perspective  of  the  allotment  farmer  behind  Le  Blute-­‐fin,  Van  Gogh  used  a   row   of   unidentifiable   shrubs   to   mark   a   boundary   between   the   space   of   the   poor   tenant  farmer  and  that  of  the  residential  area  and  the  Butte’s  cafés.  Although  the   viewing  platform  crowded  with  observers  remains  in  clear  sight,  the  allotments  were   segmented  both  from  the  landowner’s  plot  and  the  city.  Similar  to  the  perspective   he  painted  from  his  apartment  window,  Van  Gogh  provided  a  view  of  the  middle   classes  from  the  vantage  point  of  the  laboring  poor,  and  kept  the  tenant  farmers  at  a   distance  from  the  leisure  class  that  indicates  the  peasant’s  marginal  status.  Unlike   the   view   from   his   window   that   assumes   the   perspective   of   the   artist   himself,   Le   Moulin  de  la  Galette  takes  the  view  of  a  person  standing  in  the  allotments.   In  so                                                                                                                   312  Stephen  J.  Russell,  Agriculture,  Prosperity,  and  the  Modernization  of  French  Rural  Communities,   1870-­‐1914:   Views   from   the   Village   (Lewiston,   Queenston   and   Lampeter,   2004)   13,   81-­‐82.   Russell   provides  an  example  of  the  relationship  between  the  smallholding’s  owner  and  the  tenant  farmer.  He   cites   a   passage   from   Émile   Guillaumin’s   Rose   et   sa   Parisienne   (1907)   in   which   the   tenant   farmer   worked  the  land  for  his  owner  who  lived  in  Paris,  accruing  for  50,000  francs  per  year.  Tenant  farmers   often  took  on  more  land  than  they  could  cultivate  themselves  and  managed  a  sharecropping  system.             166   doing,  Van  Gogh  begins  to  situate  the  viewer  within  the  canvas’s  narrative.313  The   expanse  of  the  path  runs  along  the  entire  base  of  the  canvas  and  weeds  or  plants   frame   an   implied   space   for   the   spectator,   a   pictorial   organizational   strategy   that   allows   the   participant   to   imagine   standing   on   the   earth   at   the   threshold   of   the   picture  plane.     The  following  year,  Van  Gogh  crafted  aspects  of  the  city   in  miniscule  sale,   and  enlarged  the  slope  of  the  Butte,  swelling  its  form.  Thus,  the  distance  between   those  working  to  feed  themselves  and  Montmartre  becomes  more  exaggerated.  In   Le-­‐Blute-­‐fin:  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette  (March  1887)  [figure  27],  Van  Gogh  relegated   signs  of  the  urban  view  of  Montmartre  to  the  periphery  of  the  otherwise  rural  scene.   The  terrace  platform  rises  to  the  right  of  the  windmill  and  the  streetlights  are  faintly   visible   between   the   foundation’s   pilings.   The   gray-­‐blue   triangle   on   the   far   right                                                                                                                   313  Greg  M.  Thomas,  Art  and  Ecology:  In  Nineteenth-­‐Century  France  (Princeton,  New  Jersey:  Princeton   University  Press,  2000)  34-­‐47.    Here,  and  for  subsequent  images  of  the  allotments  I  discuss,  I  take   Thomas’s   characterization   of   what   he   calls   the   “ellipsoidal   perspective”   in   relation   to   Théodore   Rousseau’s   and   Camille   Corot’s   mid-­‐nineteenth-­‐century   paintings.   Essentially,   Thomas   observes   an   elliptical   form,   created   by   sunlight,   shadow,   or   trees,   for   instance.   The   artists   intentionally   constructed   a   space   in   the   landscape   to   insinuate   the   viewer’s   body   on   the   earth,   within   the   environment,   and   as   a   part   of   the   pictorial   narrative.   Thomas   deems   this   an   ecological   visual   organization  that  disrupts  the  Renaissance  ideal  that  a  disembodied  eye  moves  through  the  painting’s   frame  that  serves  as  a  window.  Moreover,  Thomas  points  out  that  his  visual  evidence  is  in  contrast  to   a   panoramic   view.   In,   for   instance,   John   Constable’s   The   Dung   Heap   (circa   1815)   the   raised   perspective   suggests   that   of   a   landowner   overseeing   his   expanse.   The   landowner   himself   commissioned  the  image  for  his  daughter.  In  Rousseau’s  landscapes,  in  contrast,  the  horizon-­‐line  is   lower   and   there   is   an   attention   to   detail   in   the   foreground   that   places   the   viewer   within   the   perspective   of   the   landscape.   The   viewer   can   thus   become   an   “imagined   physical   body”   in   the   landscape,  standing  at  “the  edge  of  the  picture’s  space”  (37).             167   provides  a  narrow  view  of  the  city  extending  below  the  Butte.314  In  this  image,  Van   Gogh  shifted  from  an  observational  study  to  a  transformative  interpretation  of  the   landscape.   Rather   than   convey   foreshortened   perspective,   he   compressed   the   figure-­‐ground  relationship.  A  viewer  can  look  directly  down  at  the  details  of  foliage   in  the  foreground  but  also  directly  at  the  fence  in  the  middle-­‐ground.  Through  an   inconsistent  series  of  posts  surrounding  the  farms,  Van  Gogh  emphasized  the  fence’s   makeshift  quality  and  used  it  to  divide  uncultivated  land  from  that  of  the  farm.  From   this   vantage   point,   the   artist   placed   the   viewer   outside   the   small   land   plots   and   among   the   grasses,   looking   up   toward   the   Butte.   Although   quotations   of   city   life   emerge  in  the  far  distance,  the  hill  obfuscates  tavern  life  just  beyond  the  terrace.   From   the   position   on   the   grass   signifying   the   Butte   as   a   rural   area,   the   viewer   is   denied  a  view  over  the  Butte  and  exposure  to  the  city’s  offerings.     Through   the   stretch   of   abstract   foliage   in   the   immediate   foreground   in   Le   Blute-­‐fin,  Van  Gogh’s  compositional  strategies  invite  the  viewer  to  be  an  imagined   embodied  participant,  and  subversively  articulate  the  complicated  social  narrative  of   the  Butte’s  allotments.  The  image  raises  questions  of  ownership  and  the  relation  of   work  to  the  land.  If   in  Constable’s   images  work  assumes  a  low-­‐level  role  within  a   system   of   hierarchical   power,   Van   Gogh’s   paintings   reinterpret   the   economic                                                                                                                   314  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  82.           168   structure  because  the  work  performed  is  for  benefit  of  the  laborer,  which  enhanced   his   nutrition,   income,   agricultural   education,   leisure   space,   and   connection   to   nature.315    In  Le  Blute-­‐fin,  the  male  figure  stands  leaning  against  fence,  observing  his   crops   in   a   space   in   which   he   has   some   sense   of   ownership.   Van   Gogh’s   image   problematizes  these  advantages.  Although  the  allotment  tenants  managed  land  they   oversaw  and  their  quality  of  life  had  in  some  ways  improved,  in  Van  Gogh’s  images   they  are  nonetheless  disconnected  from  Montmartre.  The  image  depicts  a  form  of   social  charity  and,  at  the  same  time,  underscores  the  reality  that  the  laboring  poor   did   not   have   access   to   middle-­‐class   Montmartre.   Just   over   the   Butte,   Van   Gogh   captured  a  crowd  of  fashionably  dressed  middle-­‐class  people  descending  the  stairs   of  le  Blute-­‐fin  in  Le  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin  (1886)  [figure  28].  With  hats,  bustles,  and   corseted  silhouettes,  their  presence  is  distinctly  removed  from  the  afternoon  of  the   tenant  farmer,  who  they  can  view  from  the  deck.     In  subsequent  images,  Van  Gogh  took  the  first-­‐hand  perspective  of  a  person   walking  on  the  paths  within  the  allotment  gardens  rather  than  from  afar.  Among  the   plots   in  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments  (March-­‐April  1887)  and  Vegetable   Gardens  of  Montmartre  (summer  1887)  [figure  4  &  29],  the  Butte  halts  the  viewer’s   glimpse  over  the  hill,  indicating  the  truncated  portion  of  land  with  which  the  tenant                                                                                                                   315  McPhee  “Preface,”  in  Russell  viii.  Russell  30-­‐33.  Nilsen  130-­‐131,  143-­‐146,  146-­‐147.           169   farmer  had  to  work.  Staving  off  the  city’s  urban  boundary,  the  Butte  functions  as  a   class  border  between  the  farm  and  the  bustling  metropolis.  Moreover,  the  small-­‐ scale  viewing  platform  in  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments  and  the  Debray-­‐ family  farm  building  in  Vegetable  Gardens  have  become  considerably  smaller  than  in   previous  imagery.  In  this  way,  the  images  explore  notions  of  power  through  visibility.   Those  who  are  entitled  to  observe  from  the  viewing  platform  or  the  farm  and  the   tenant  farmers  who  operate  under  a  hierarchical  gaze  enact  a  visual  dynamic  that   explores  the  precarious  situation  of  the  working  poor.         In   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments,   a   non-­‐descript   pale-­‐yellow   structure  rises  to  the  left  and  the  viewing  terrace  appears  on  the  right,  representing   vague,  distant  signs  of  the  city.  Similar  to  the  foreground  space  in  Le  Blute-­‐fin,  the   rows   of   crops   extend   toward   the   threshold   of   the   picture   plane,   leaving   an   empathetic  space  for  the  viewer  and  including  him  or  her  in  the  position  of  walking   on  the  path  between  the  plots.  The  central  row  of  poles  leads  toward  the  viewer   and   veers   slightly   to   the   right,   indicating   that   the   viewer's   embodied   position   is   situated  between  the  grasses  on  the  left  and  the  fence  on  the  right.  The  spectator   walks  on  a  narrow  path  between  two  allotments  and  completes  an  asymmetrical   triangle   among   the   two   tenant   farmers   who   tend   to   their   fields.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Similarly,   the   path   in   Vegetable   Gardens   recedes   toward   the   mill   in   a   hyper-­‐ foreshortened   way,   moving   down   toward   the   lower   threshold   of   the   canvas   and         170   creating  an  experience  for  the  viewer  as  someone  who  is  walking  down  the  path.   The   viewer   thus   experiences   two   boundaries:   that   of   the   path   between   the   allotment  plots  and  that  of  the  Butte  between  the  allotments  and  the  city.  Whereas   the  path  is  inviting  and  asserts  the  viewer’s  egalitarian  position,  the  Butte  hinders  a   view  of  Montmartre,  severing  the  people  on  the  allotments  from  the  city.     In   contrast   to   Van   Gogh’s   images,   illustrations   of   the   period   celebrate   the   peasant’s  work  in  relation  to  Paris,  suggesting  the  important  tangential  connection   between   the   capital   and   the   farmer.   Panoramic   views   of   Paris,   such   as   that   illustrated  by  Pierre  Vidal   in  1899’s  La  Vie  à  Montmartre,  could  be  seen  from  the   Butte  [figure  30].   In  Vidal’s  image,  a  farmer  works  the  land  with  his  sickle,  but  he   need  only  glance  up  to  see  the  spectacle  of  Paris  to  the  south.  Likewise,  Signac’s   painting  of  the  rue  Caulaincourt  [figure  31],  near  his  Montmartre  studio,  juxtaposes   the  modern  aspects  of  the  arrondissement—city  streets,  sidewalks,  and  gas  lamps— against  the  vegetable  plots  and  the  Moulin  du  Blute-­‐Fin  in  the  background.  With  an   Impressionist   facture,   Signac’s   image   shows   a   flat   cross-­‐section   of   the   modern,   agricultural,   and   social   aspects   of   Montmartre.   In   Vidal’s   illustration   and   Signac’s   painting,  the  agricultural  life  of  the  peasant  visually  supports  Paris,  connecting  the   progressive  center  to  its  fringes  through  signs  of  modern  living.     Van  Gogh’s  visual  separation  of  the  tenant  farmer  from  the  city  underscores   a  subversive  concept  of  a  peasant  farmer  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris  that  was  particular         171   to   the   mid-­‐1880s.   Paris   was   one   of   the   largest   consumer-­‐driven   urban   cities   in   Europe  by  the  mid-­‐nineteenth  century.  When  the  railroads  were  built,  agriculture   moved   outside   the   city   limits.   316  Most   of   the   produce   grown   in   peripheral   communities  made  its  way  to  the  city’s  center  to  be  sold  at  Les  Halles,  which  since   the  1860s  had  been  the  largest  covered  food  market  in  the  world.317  The  concept  of   production-­‐focused  communes  and  their  relationship  to  the  economic  structure  of   Les  Halles  appears  in  Zola’s  The  Belly  of  Paris  (1873),  a  novel  Van  Gogh  read  in  1882   that   “painted”   a   description   of   the   market. 318  Set   during   the   Second   Empire   aftermath  of  the  1851  coup,  the  novel  begins  with  a  train  of  carts,  all  full  of  produce,   shuffling  through  the  night,  heading  to  Les  Halles.319  Zola  noted  that  the  country-­‐to-­‐                                                                                                                 316  Peter  J.  Atkins,  “’A  Tale  of  Two  Cities’:  A  Comparison  of  Food  Supply  in  London  and  Paris  in  the   1850s,”   Food   and   the   City   in   Europe   Since   1800,   ed.   Peter   J.   Atkins   (Hampshire,   England:   Ashgate   Publishing  Limited,  2007)  25.     317  Atkins  30.  Les  Halles  was  a  market  with  stalls  that  sold  meat,  produce,  dairy,  and  fish  in  the  First   arrondissement   in   the   city’s   center,   and   was   remodeled   under   Napoleon   III   and   Baron   von   Haussmann   to   enlarge   it   by   ten   times   its   original   size   and   to   include   gaslights   (a   then-­‐new   development   in   lighting)   so   people   could   work   early   in   the   morning   and   throughout   the   night.   Between  1854  and  1857,  Les  Halles  was  razed—developers  leveled  21  acres—and  rebuilt  to  include   six  pavilions.  Modern  materials,  such  as  iron  and  glass,  dominated  the  architecture  of  the  building.   Four  more  pavilions  were  added  in  the  mid-­‐1860s,  which  made  it  the  largest  covered  food-­‐market  in   the  world.   318  Émile  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris,  trans.  Brian  Nelson  (Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press,   2007).  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  251  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Wednesday,  July  26,  1882.  “I’m  still   under  the  spell  of  Zola’s  books.  How  painted  those  [Les]  Halles  are.”  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  245  to   Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Friday  July  7,  1882.  “P.S:  That  Émile  Zola  is  a  superb  artist.  I’m  now  reading   Le  ventre  de  Paris,  it’s  mightily  clever  [sic].”     319  Théo  wrote  letter  770  to  Vincent  van  Gogh  from  Paris  on  Wednesday,  May  8,  1889,  note  2.  Théo   once  saw  a  cart  with  four  horses  trying  to  pull  a  heavy  load  to  Les  Halles,  an  arduous  task  that  the   cart  driver  eventually  achieved  and  a  moment  that  left  an  impression  on  Théo  “I  remember  seeing         172   city  food  transfer   lulled  Parisians  asleep,  as  they  were  unaware  of  the  hard  labor   involved  and  simply  heard  a  faint  buzzing  noise  of  the  rigorous  commute.  Characters   such  as  widower  Madame  François  lived  a  hard  life  loading  and  carting  vegetables  to   Les  Halles  from  Nanterre.  Similar  to  the  tenant  farmers  on  the  Butte,  she  tended  “a   long   strip   of   ground,   divided   down   the   middle   by   a   narrow   path…on   a   gentle   slope.”320  “Green  hedges  separated  [her  garden]  from  other  plots  of  land,”  and  the   vegetables  she  grew  were  taxed  upon  crossing  into  the  Parisian  boundary  from  the   communes,  but  she  made  the  journey  alone  to  make  a  living.321     Van  Gogh  appreciated  Madame  François  for  her  humanity  as  she  helped  one   of   the   main   characters   Florent   Quenu,   an   activist   who   aimed   to   restructure   Les   Halles  to  feed  the  poor  and  lower  the  taxes  levied  on  produce.322    Zola’s  seventy-­‐two                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               something  that  struck  me  greatly  a  long  time  ago.  In  rue  des  Petits-­‐Carreaux  I  saw  a  very  heavy  dray   which  had  to  climb  that  street.  The  driver  struck  his  four  horses  harder  and  harder,  but  right  in  the   middle  the  worn-­‐out  horses  refused  to  go  a  step  further.  So  he  made  them  turn  round  and,  when   they  were  back  at  the  bottom  of  the  street,  almost  without  resting  them,  he  turned  round  again  and   arrived  at  the  top  of  the  street  without  difficulty.”     320  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  188.   321  Zola,   The   Belly   of   Paris   124,   188,   189.   Émilie   Charles   quoted   in   Russell   3.   Derfier   125.   Peasant   farmers  were  taxed  on  goods  crossing  Paris’s  borders  or  for  violating  new  agricultural  sanctions  and   referred  to  the  Third  Republic  as  “the  first  thief.”   322  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  250  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  July  23,  1882.  “Now  I  must  ask  you   what  you  think  of  Mme  François,  who  picks  up  poor  Florent  as  he  lies  unconscious  in  the  middle  of   the   road   where   the   vegetable   carts   are   passing,   and   lets   him   ride   with   her.   Although   the   other   vegetable  sellers  shout:  ‘Leave  him  lying  there,  the  drunk!  We’ve  no  time  to  pick  up  men  lying  in  the   gutter,’  &c  [sic].  The  figure  of  Mme  François  stands  against  the  background  of  the  Halles  throughout   the  book,  contrasting  with  the  brutal  egoism  of  the  other  women,  so  calm  and  so  dignified  and  so   sympathetic.”  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  124.  Zola’s  character  Florent  Quenu,  an  activist  who  aimed  to   be  a  political  writer,  wanted  to  reorganize  Les  Halles.  Florent  “successively  drafted  an  outline  for  a         173   year-­‐old   Mére   Chantemesse   made   a   mere   forty   sous   a   day   selling   turnips   on   the   street   near   Les   Halles.323  Allotment   farmers   like   Madame   François,   managed   land   autonomously,   grew   food   to   feed   Paris’   citizens,   and   recycled   the   waste   the   city   created.  “Paris,”  Zola  wrote,  “made  everything  rot  and  returned  everything  to  the   earth,  which  never  wearied  of  repairing  the  ravages  of  death.”324  Madame  François   also  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  the  allotment  system:  “…a  great  sense  of  peace…silence   disturbed  only  by  buzzing  insects…the  scent  of  thyme  warmed  by  the  sun.”325     Van  Gogh’s  allotment  paintings  engage  with  the  dichotomy  of  the  working   poor.  Painter  Émile  Bernard  wrote  that  it  was  due  to  Zola’s  influence,  “that  Vincent   thought   of   painting   the   humble   shanties   of   Montmartre   where   the   lower   middle   classes  come  to  cultivate  their  tiny  pieces  of  sand  in  the  early  morning  sun.”326  Van   Gogh  created  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments  and  Vegetable  Gardens  at  a   time  when  socialist  leaders  and  the  peasants  themselves  were  fighting  to  keep  their   land.   In   the   early   1880s,   questions   regarding   smallholdings   occupied   socialist                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               complete  reform  of  the  administrative  system  of  Les  Halles,  a  scheme  for  transforming  the  city  dues,   levied  on  produce  as  it  entered  Paris,  into  tax  on  sales,  a  new  system  for  distributing  provision  to  the   poorer  neighborhoods,  and  finally,  a  vague  humanitarian  scheme  for  the  common  warehousing  of   the   produce   brought   to   markets,   with   the   aim   of   ensuring   that   every   household   in   Paris   would   receive  the  minimum  daily  supply.”   323  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  12,  see  note  on  page  279.   324  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  188.     325  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  189.   326  Émile  Bernard,  “People  of  Today:  Vincent  Van  Gogh”  quoted   in  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  ed.,   Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice-­‐Hall,  Inc.  1974)  38.         174   political   platforms,   such   as   should   small   plots   be   collectively   folded   into   larger   operations?   Or,   should   peasant   farmers   continue   to   individually   work   small   farms?327  By  the  mid-­‐1880s,  socialists  adapted  the  latter  policy  and  argued  to  allow   farmers   to   work   their   land   in   allotments,   hoping   to   ensure   some   financial   opportunities   for   later   generations.328  In   contrast   to   England,   a   country   that   had   moved   toward   progressive   large-­‐scale   agricultural   practices,   France   depended   on   the  smallholdings,  an  agricultural  revolution  that  kept  pace  with  rising  demands.  329   Paris   still   depended   on   smallholdings   for   its   food   supply   more   than   large-­‐scale   production,  causing  almost  half  (47%)  of  its  labor  force  to  work  in  the  agricultural   sector. 330  Part   of   the   move   toward   large-­‐scale   methods   was   based   on   false                                                                                                                   327Derfier  124-­‐125.  In  1883,  the  French  Work’s  Party  (Parti  ouvrier  français  or  POF)  formed  to  fight  for   worker’s   rights.   The   Party   was   part   of   a   larger   movement   to   provide   better   living   and   working   conditions  to  those  dependent  on   labor-­‐based  wages.  Two  POF  leaders  differed  regarding  how  to   manage  small-­‐scale  farms.  Jules  Guesede  feared  that  peasant  farmers  would  disappear  if  they  owned   their   individual   farms:   a   “swift   and   inevitable   disappearance   of   petty   proprietors   in   the   face   of   capitalist  encroachments.”  In  contrast,  Paul  Lafargue  fought  against  the  strategy  to  collectivize  the   smaller  plots  and  for  the  rights  of  the  peasant  and  his  or  her  small  allotment  of  land.  He  understood   the  collective  approach  as  a  capitalist  system  in  which  someone  would  eventually  out-­‐earn  others  at   the  expense  of  those  who  had  worked  their  land  for  generations.  Lafargue  argued  that  by  preserving   the  family-­‐owned  and  operated  peasant  farms,  the  worker  would  be  in  control  of  his  own  livelihood   and  not  succumb  to  the  capitalist-­‐driven  system  of  appropriating  land  that  could  be  past  down  for   generations.     328  Derfier  126.  Writing  in  1882,  Lafargue  urged  his  party  to  support  the  maintenance  of  the  peasant   way  of  life,  calling  it  “madness”  to  collectively  or  co-­‐operatively  organize  “the  small  weaver’s  loom,   the   boatman’s   vessel,   or   the   peasant   proprietor’s   land.”   By   1884,   the   Party   recognized   Lafargue’s   point.  In  an  attempt  to  win  peasants’  votes,  the  Party  made  a  distinction  between  capitalist  owners   and  small-­‐farm  peasant  owners.   329  Russell  13-­‐21.     330  Peter  McPhee,  “Preface,”  in  Russell  viii.  On  agricultural  labor  force  statistics,  see:  Derfier  126.         175   assumptions  that  smallholding  farms  were  ill  kept  shantytowns.331  Among  Madame   François’s  neatly  organized  garden,  “the  eternal  cradle,”  there  was  not  a  weed  in   sight,  and  Zola  characterized  her  produce  as  fresh  and  clean.332   Within  the  space  of  the  gardens,  Van  Gogh’s  depiction  of  the  smallholdings   addresses  the  complicated  notions  of  allotment  gardening  and  land  ownership.  In   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   and   Vegetable   Gardens,   the   artist   emphasized  that  farming  production  works  as  a  small-­‐scale  system,  conveying  the   economic   structure   on   which   the   peasants   depended.   Unlike   Van   Gogh’s   Dutch-­‐ period  Flower  Beds  in  Holland  (c.  1883)  [figure  32]   in  which  he  delineated  colorful   banks   of   tulips   with   saturated   hue,   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   he   used  texture  and  shape  to  emphasize  the  differing  crop.  Through  the  motif  of  fences   and   robust   patches   of   color   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments,   Van   Gogh   stressed  the  division  among  the  various  crops  and  plots.  The  posts  and  sheds  are  of   varying  heights,  sizes,  and  qualities,  indicating  that  they  were  built  and  arranged  by   the   tenant   farmers   themselves.   Allotment   sheds   represented   a   tenant   farmer’s                                                                                                                   331  Russell   18.   Stephen   Russell   has   overturned   the   misunderstood   notion   that   smallholdings   were   primitive.  Instead,  the  system  depended  on  a  large  group  of  smaller  farms  that  implemented  new   techniques  and  supported  the  agricultural  industry.   332  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  189.           176   individual  creativity,  rather  than  imposed  standards  of  materials  and  dimensions.333   In  the  painting,  each  shed  has  a  different  shape—squat  and  square  with  a  flat  roof  or   long  and  narrow  with  a  pitched  roof.  The  irregular  construction  of  the  sheds  stems   from   the   tenant   farmer’s   ability   to   build   his   own   structure;   he   need   not   follow   prescribed  measurement.  Among  their  rented  parcels,  they  had  a  sense  of  agency,  a   freedom  within  their  landscape  to  experience  nature.334  Away  from  “dreadful  Paris”   that  aged  him,  Florent  was  “reborn  in  pure  air”  on  Madame  François’s  garden  plot,   where  the  sunshine  shone  in  his  eyes.335  Similarly,  Van  Gogh  indicates  a  pervasive   warm   sunlight   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   in   the   vegetable   garden   through   a   bright   yellow,   a   hue   that   seems   to   blanket   the   earth   beneath   the   vegetables.  The  sun’s  rays  do  not  reflect,  rather  the  vegetables  grow  as  a  symbol  of   the  sun;  its  light  infused  in  the  ground  of  the  allotments.  Tidy  vibrant  rows  unfurl   toward  the  viewer,  signifying  the  growth  occurring  in  the  gardens.     Van   Gogh   directly   connected   the   figures   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   to   their   crops   by   means   of   hue.   The   male   figure   on   the   left   and   the   female   figure   on   the   right   share   colors,   such   as   green,   red,   and   orange,   with   the                                                                                                                   333  David  Crouch  and  Colin  Ward,  The  Allotment:  Its  Landscape  and  Culture  (1988  repr.,  Nottingham:   Five  Leaves  Publications,  2007)  11,  31.  See  also:  Nilsen  144.     334  Nilsen  144.     335  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  190.           177   land.   In   this   way,   the   peasants   are   metaphorically   connected   to   their   fields.   In   Pissarro’s  The  Gardens  of  l’Hermitage,  Pontoise  (c.  1867)  [figure  33],  the  small-­‐scale   figures  are  an  expected  part  of  a  rural  French  landscape  painting.  Richard  Brettell   points   out   that   the   peasant   farmers   in   Pissarro’s   images   of   L’Hermitage   populate   rather  than  define  their  space.336  Pissarro  shows  no  indication  that  he  engaged  with   the   peasants.   Instead,   they   appear   as   a   part   of   the   natural   landscape.   Pissarro   indicated   the   difference   between   the   upper-­‐classes   and   the   rural   farmers   in   Pontoise  by  isolating  classes  within  the  canvas;  only  rarely  did  Pissarro  include  both   upper   and   lower   classes   in   one   image.   Gardens   L’Hermitage   does   not   imply   the   viewer,  but,  similar  to  Constable,  hovers  above  the  fields  gazing  down  on  the  earth   and   the   peasants.   While   the   landscape   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   also   overwhelms   the   figures,   the   path   and   fence   pole   suggest   the   viewer’s   engagement  with  the  Butte  tenant  farmer.  Thus  the  painting’s  perspective  conveys   the  community  the  tenant  farmer  experienced  on  his  plot.     For   the   urban   tenant   farmer   the   break   from   the   city   came   as   a   confined,   controlled   sense   of   freedom.   Van   Gogh’s   allotment   aesthetic   in   Montmartre:   Windmills  and  Allotments  also  conveys  the  tension  of  the  allotment  garden  and  the   tenant   farmer   within   the   landscape.   Although   they   enjoyed   a   temporary   rural                                                                                                                   336  Richard  Brettell,  Pissarro  and  Pontoise:  The  Painter  and  the  Landscape  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  1990)  124-­‐130,  130-­‐135.         178   retreat   from   the   pressures   of   Paris   among   fresh-­‐growing   vegetables,   their   rented   land  is  not  an  expansive  far-­‐reaching  realm,  but  a  tiny  domain  bounded  by  the  city   and  supported  by  a  landowner.  The  viewing  platform  serves  as  a  reminder  that  the   peasants  could  be  observed  and  inspected.337  When  painting   in  Pontoise,  Pissarro   omitted   signs   of   industry   and   bourgeois   pastimes   to,   in   Robert   Herbert’s   terms,   construct   decidedly   rural   images.338  Van   Gogh’s   inclusion   of   a   landowner’s   farm   building  and  a  middle-­‐class  viewing  deck  indicates  that  he  departed  from  Pissarro’s   imagery  by  considering  the  peasant’s  role  within  a  middle-­‐class  urban  context.  On   the  allotments  in  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments,  the  tenant  farmer  remains   fixed,   confined   within   his   plot   and   thus   the   middle-­‐classes   can   exert   their   hierarchical   gaze   over   the   tenant   farmer.   The   allotment   farmer’s   access   to   their   rented  parcel  depended  on  their  behavior  and  ability  to  conform  to  the  landowner’s   agenda.  Thus,  the  viewing  platform  allows  the  middle  class  observer  to  enact  his  or   her   power,   sustaining   the   dominant   relationship   of   the   middle-­‐classes   over   the   working  poor.  Although  the  tenant  farmers  earn  wages,  they  remain  rooted  in  the   environment  and  disconnected  from  the  urban  center  they  work  to  feed.                                                                                                                     337  Michel  Foucault,  “Panopticism,”  Discipline  &  Punish:  The  Birth  of  the  Prison,  trans.  Alan  Sheridan   (1975;  repr.  New  York:  Vintage  Books,  1995)  195-­‐209.  “Hence  the  major  effect  of  the  Panopticon:  to   induce   in   the   inmate   a   state   of   conscious   and   permanent   visibility   that   assures   the   automatic   functioning  of  power”  (201).   338  Robert  Herbert,  A  Day  in  the  Country:  Impressionism  and  the  French  Landscape  (New  York:  Harry   N.  Abrams,  1994)  179.           179   In   Wheatfield   with   Partridge   (June-­‐July   1887)   [figure   34],   Van   Gogh’s   allotment   aesthetic   extends,   in   some   respects,   to   the   crop   itself.   In   depicting   the   field,   the   painter   addressed   the   paradoxical   relationship   between   abundance   and   issues   that   affected   the   lower-­‐class   farmer.339  The   grain   crop,   particularly   wheat,   took   on   a   significant   meaning   as   it   represented   traditional   farming   ways   but   also   signified  a  point  of  economic  disparity  between  the  Third  Republic  and  the  labor-­‐ class.  340  With  a  cut  row  of  grain  in  the  foreground,  and  wheat  swaying  in  the  wind  in   the  background,  Wheatfield  symbolizes  the  cycles  of  the  harvest.  Although  the  crop   appears  abundant,  in  1880s  France,  wheat  was  in  decline.  Between  1878  and  1879,   the   country’s   wheat   supply   could   not   meet   demands,   so   wheat   had   to   be   imported.341  During   a   depression   in   wheat   prices   around   the   world,   the   prices   declined  further  in  France  due  to  the  dependence  on  grain  from  America  and  Russia   where  farmers  had  robust  harvests.  Import  prices  suppressed  financial  wheat  yields   for  French  farmers  into  the  mid-­‐1880s.                                                                                                                     339  Welsch-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  144.     340  Russell  50,  note  13.  Rural  economic  developments  took  hold  slowly.  As  they  did,  the  government   took  an  active  role  in  establishing  best  practices  and  enforcing  protocol.  The  new  techniques  evolved   in  three  stages.  The  first,  beginning  at  the  end  of  the  Second  Empire  and  into  the  1880s,  encouraged   farmers  to  begin  planting  ground  cover  rather  than  have  fields  lie  fallow  and  use  manure  as  the  only   fertilizer.  Aside  from  planting  grains  such  as  wheat,  farmers  were  encouraged  to  begin  varying  crops,   grow  meadows  and  use  plows  that  dug  into  the  soil  more  deeply  for  effective  crop  growth  and  soil   maintenance.   341  Russell  63.           180   In  Sheaves  of  Wheat  (July-­‐August  1885)  [figure  35],  Van  Gogh  had  considered   bountiful   grain   as   a   subject   matter   when   he   was   painting   in   Nuenen.   During   the   summer  harvest  of  1885,  the  artist  painted  several  bunches  of  crop  standing  in  a   freshly  cut  field,  conveying  the  stoic  quality  of  a  new  harvest  against  the  landscape.   The  artist  organized  his  canvas  into  three  planes:  a  foreground  with  cut  grain,  the   central  subject  of  the  crop  itself,  and  a  background  with  a  slightly  overcast  Holland   sky.  He  also  made  drawings  of  laborers,  a  celebration  of  their  commitment  to  their   work   and,   at   the   same   time,   a   reminder   that   they   are   entwined   with   field   labor   [figures   36   &   37].   Large,   robust   bodies   that   have   been   shaped   by   a   lifetime   of   bending,  hoeing,  picking,  and  gathering  seem  to  meld  with  the  shape  of  harvested   wheat   or   the   earth   beneath   them.342  Van   Gogh’s   image   of   an   abundant   crop   monumentalizes   the   peasants’   efforts   and   suggests   that   the   hard   work   of   the   Nuenen  peasant  produced  a  significant  resource.     Writing  to  Willemien  from  Paris  in  the  fall  1887,  Vincent  used  wheat  as  a  sign   of  oppression:                                                                                                                   342  Griselda  Pollack,  “The  Ambivalence  of  the  Maternal  Body:  Re/drawing  Van  Gogh,”  Differencing  the   Canon:  Feminist  Desire  and  the  Writing  of  Art’s  Histories  (London  and  New  York:  Routledge,  1999)  41-­‐ 63.   Griselda   Pollack   observes   that   Van   Gogh’s   drawings   of   women   bending   diverge   from   similar   images  of  bending  women  at  work,  such  as  Millet’s  (46).  This  distinction,  she  argues,  represents  a   gendered  power  dynamic  between  Van  Gogh,  a  bourgeois  artist  who  can  afford  to  hire  a  model,  and   the  model,  a  woman  of  the  working-­‐poor  class  who  is  made  to  bend  before  the  artist.  Pollack  posits   that  the  act  of  bending  is  a  mark  of  class  as  bourgeois  women  would  not  be  able  to  bend  due  to   corsets,  and,  if  they  could  bend,  they  would  not  do  so  before  a  man.  The  hired  model  in  Van  Gogh’s   imagery  bends  before  him,  her  body  vulnerable  before  his  gaze.  Pollack  reads  the  pose  as  sexual  and   thus  Van  Gogh’s  drawings  of  bending  women  as  an  exertion  of  the  male  artist’s  phallocentric  desire.         181   Now  what  shall  I  say  about  your  little  piece  about  the  plants  and   the   rain?   You   see   for   yourself   in   nature   that   many   a   flower   is   trampled,   freezes   or   is   parched,   further   that   not   every   grain   of   wheat,   once   it   has   ripened,   ends   up   in   the   earth   again   to   germinate  there  and  become  a  stalk—but  far  and  away  the  most   grains  do  not  develop  but  go  to  the  mill—don’t  they?     Now   comparing   people   with   grains   of   wheat—in   every   person   who’s  healthy  and  natural  there’s  the  power  to  germinate  as  in  a   grain  of  wheat.  And  so  natural  life  is  germinating.     What  the  power  to  germinate  is  in  wheat,  so  love  is  in  us.  Now   we,  I  think,  stand  there  pulling  a  long  face  or  at  a  loss  for  words   when,   being   thwarted   in   our   natural   development,   we   see   that   germination  frustrated  and  ourselves  placed  in  circumstances  as   hopeless   as   they   must   be   for   the   wheat   between   the   millstones.343     Wheat,  for  Van  Gogh,  metaphorically  relates  to  the  farmer’s  position.  The  “wheat   between  the  millstones”  suggests  a  frustrating  future  for  the  labor  classes,  a  person   who   does   not   get   to   thrive,   but   who   is   instead   “being   thwarted”   in   the   “natural   environment.”   His   remarks   indicate   that   he   saw   wheat   as   an   allegorical   symbol   standing   for   those   who   had   been   “trampled”   by   a   greater   force   as   their   circumstances  did  not  allow  them  to  “germinate”  in  the  farming  system.     Greg  Thomas  notes  that  Barbizon  painters,  indicated  in  Jean-­‐François  Millet’s   imagery,   considered   the   ecology   of   Fontainebleau,   depicting   the   conservation   of                                                                                                                   343  Letter  574.             182   “nonindustrial”   peasant   life   while   peasants   harvest   grain.344     Van   Gogh   admired   Millet  and  copied  the  painter’s  Sower  (1850)  in  an  1881  work  on  paper  [figure  38].345   In  Millet’s  Gleaners  (1857)  [figure  39],  poor  peasants  have  come  to  pick  the  left  over   crop   from   the   main   harvest.   Millet   conveys   the   large   expanse   of   fields   that   surrounded   the   forest   where   peasants   planted   and   reaped   plentiful   harvests.346   Images  of  wheat  from  the  same  year  Van  Gogh  made  his  allotment  paintings,  such   as  Pissarro’s  Haymaking,  Érgany  (1887)  [figure  40],  represent  notions  of  work  in  a   pastoral  sense  as  the  peasants  in  this  field  tend  to  their  tasks  with  little  effort.347  The   peasants  gather  mounds  of  hay  together  after  what  appears  to  be  a  long  day  (based   on  the  low-­‐lying  sun)  of  field  work.  The  horizon  line  far  off  in  the  distance  under  a                                                                                                                   344  Thomas  69,  214-­‐215.  Millet’s  imagery,  painted  during  the  transition  from  the  Second  Republic  to   the  Second  Empire,  focused  on  the  Forest  of  Fontainebleau,  a  royal-­‐game  preserve  intact  since  the   French  Renaissance  south-­‐west  of  Paris  that  Napoleon  III  began  cutting  down  to  make  plantations.   Under  the  Second  Empire,  Barbizon  painters  petitioned  Napoleon  III  (Alfred  Sensier  perhaps  authored   the  document)  to  preserve  the  forest:  “for  artists  who  study  nature,  it  offers  what  others  find  in  the   models…of   the   great   masters   of   past   ages.”     I   quoted   a   petition   to   Napoleon   III   (1852),   probably   written  by  Alfred  Sensier,  Théodore  Rousseau’s  biographer,  who  “made  naturalism  the  core  of  his   richly  documented  study  of  Rousseau’s  life”  (78).     345  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  166  to  Théo  from  Etten  around  Saturday,  April  30,  1881.  “The  sower   is   finished…and  now  still  to  come  are  the  laborers  in  the  field.”  On  Van  Gogh  and  his  understanding  of   Alfred  Sensier,  see:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  210  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Saturday,  March  11,  1882.   “Listen,  Théo,  what  a  man  that  Millet  was!  I  have  the  big  work  by  Sensier  on  loan  from  De  Bock.  It   interests  me  so  much  that  I  wake  up  at  night  and  light  the  lamp  and  go  on  reading.”  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter   158   to   Théo   from   Cuesmes,   Belgium,   on   Friday   September   24,   1880.“What   you   say   in   your   letter  on  the  subject  of  Barbizon  is  very  true  and  I’ll  tell  you  one  or  two  things  that  will  prove  to  you   that  that’s  my  own  way  of  seeing  as  well.”  Van  Gogh  depicted  sower  figures  in  1881  and  1888  and   copied  another  Millet  series  of  figures  binding  sheaves  in  1889.   346  Thomas  151-­‐153.     347  Van  Gogh  Museum,  http://vangoghmuseum.azurewebsites.net/en/collection/s0520S2010.  Théo   sold  this  painting  in  1887,  so  perhaps  Vincent  would  have  seen  it.         183   blue   sky   dotted   with   clouds   conveys   the   large-­‐scale   stretch   of   land.   Pissarro   celebrated  the  figure  among  the  vast  landscape,  and  the  peasant  within  his  or  her   rural   environment   in   collaboration   with   one   another.   In   contrast,   Van   Gogh’s   Wheatfield  alludes  to  the  complicated  relationship  between  the  laboring  farmer  and   a  stifling  financial  situation.  The  wheat  crop  in  his  painting  sways  collectively,  but   each  stalk  can  be  considered  as  an  individual  yearning  for  “power.”348  Van  Gogh’s   crop   reads   as   a   wall,   another   boundary   that   keeps   the   farmer   in   his   respective   economic  place.   In  Wheatfield,  the  shallow  space  of  the  foreground  indicates  the   farmer’s  space  is  limited,  growing  a  product  by  which  he  could  not  make  a  living.   Here,  the  viewer  finds  himself  in  an  inviting,  yet  unforgiving  landscape.  Akin  to  his   allotment  imagery,  Van  Gogh  used  the  landscape  to  convey  a  place  of  labor  that  was   a   respite   from   industrial   Paris,   but   operated   within   a   market   that   controlled   the   working  poor  whose  labor  in  turn  fed  Paris.  Whereas  Millet  and  Pissarro’s  paintings   maintain  a  rural,  non-­‐industrial  context,  Van  Gogh’s  allotment  paintings  and  field  of   wheat  show  the  effects  of  industry  within  a  rural  setting.  In  his  landscape  paintings   of   the   Butte,   Van   Gogh   did   not   maintain   the   character   of   unspoiled   plots   and   plentiful  harvests,  but  a  version  of  rural,  working-­‐class   life  mediated  by  the  city’s   middle  classes,  constructing  the  landscape  as  a  social  negotiation  between  charity   and  labor,  nature  and  sustenance.                                                                                                                         348  Letter  574.         184   Paris’s  Fortifications   The   paths   among   the   gardens   took   on   defining   strategies   in   Van   Gogh’s   allotment  imagery,  occupying  the  base  of  the  painting  and  serving  as  a  vehicle  by   which  the  viewer  enters  the  image.  From  the  path,  issues  of  surveillance  and  social   control  arise  amid  a  tranquil  landscape.  The  compositional  strategy  is  also  at  work  in   the  images  Van  Gogh  made  of  the  fortifications.  Van  Gogh  created  several  works  on   paper  that  depict  the  transitional  spaces  between  the  city  and  its  outlying  suburbs.   Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart  (summer  1887),  Road  Running  Beside  the  Paris  Ramparts   (June  1887),  Fortifications  of  Paris  with  Houses  (summer  1887)  and  Fortifications  of   Paris   (1887)   comprise   four   works   on   paper   in   which   Van   Gogh   considered   the   boundary  between  Paris  and  Clichy  [figures  41-­‐44].349  Richard  Thomson  points  out   that   Van   Gogh’s   fortification   drawings   are   observational   drawings   of   “precise   modernity”   and   do   not   convey   the   complicated   notions   of   a   marginalized   community   among   structures   of   governmental   control.350  Van   Gogh   explored   the   socio-­‐political   climate   through   his   images   of   peripheral   communities   by   using   the   bastions  to  interrupt  the  horizon.  Considering  that  Clichy  was  an  industrial  commune   with   a   socialist   stronghold,   and   Van   Gogh’s   exploration   of   the   allotment   gardens                                                                                                                   349  The  Porte  de  Clichy  was  located  along  the  Avenue  de  Clichy,  which  transitioned  into  the  Boulevard   National,   running   north   throughout   the   Commune   de   Clichy   and   past   the   L’Usine   à   gaz   de   Clichy,   toward  the  Seine,  and  into  Asnières.   350  Richard   Thomson,   “Van   Gogh   in   Paris:   The   fortifications   drawings   of   1887,”   Jong   Holland   3   (September  1987):  14-­‐25.         185   examined   issues   of   class-­‐structure   and   power,   I   find   that   the   roads   through   the   fortifications   likewise   address   peasant   foot-­‐traffic   and   the   relation   between   labor   and  a  consumer-­‐driven  urban  center.351   Van  Gogh  depicted  the  Porte  de  Clichy,  the  passage  through  the  fortifications   between   the   city   proper   in   Montmartre   and   the   Commune   de   Clichy.   A   series   of   fortifications  built  around  Paris  between  1841-­‐1845,  the  boundary  had  a  history  of   class  struggle  as  the  July  Monarchy  (1830-­‐1848)  built  the  bastions  and  forts  to  utilize   force  during  class  warfare.  352  In  the  event  of  a  lower-­‐class  uprising,  the  government   could   extend   its   reach   toward   the   banlieue   quickly   and   forcefully.   Critics   saw   the   project  as  an  exclusionary  symbol  because  the  focus  was  on  the  urban  center,  not   on  those  living  on  the  city’s  boundary.  Some  of  the  land  for  the  fortifications  was   given  over  to  allotment  gardens;  during  the  Third  Republic,  though,  the  fortifications                                                                                                                   351  Berlanstein,   The   Working   People   of   Paris   47,   100,   159,   177.   Clichy   was   a   commune   with   many   different  types  of  factories—gas,  glass,  chemical,  printing—and  a  high  number  of  factory  and  metal   workers.  Although  in  the  1886  election,  Clichy  did  not  vote  in  a  socialist  candidate  to  office  as  had   happened  in  Saint-­‐Ouen,  the  commune’s  socialists  did  come  close.  There  was  also  a  conflict  between   factory   owners   and   the   rising   unions.   The   Paul   Dupont   printing   company   in   Clichy,   for   example,   employed   550   workers   and   provided   benefits,   such   as   pensions,   subsidized   housing,   and   medical   care,  so  that  Dupont  could  stave  off  union-­‐organized  workers.   352  Patricia  O’Brien,  “L’Embastillement  de  Paris:  The  Fortifications  of  Paris  during  the  July  Monarchy,”   French  Historical  Studies  9.1  (Spring  1975):  63-­‐65,  75-­‐76.  In  1844,  Louis  Philippe  completed  a  large-­‐ scale  project  to  build  a  series  of  forts  around  Paris  to  protect  it  militarily  and  to  centralize  the  capital   city’s  power.  Thiers,  then  the  minister  of  the  interior  and  by  1840  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  oversaw   the   plan   to   build   the   fortifications,   a   series   of   bastions,   gates,   and   terraces.     During   the   building   phase,  opponents  criticized  Thiers  and  the  fortification  plan  as  a  way  to  suppress  lower-­‐class  citizens   from  an  armed  revolt  against  the  bourgeoisie.         186   still   occupied   thirty   square   miles.353  In   the   1880s,   the   fortifications   Van   Gogh   depicted  had  an  unsavory  reputation  at  night—the  press  regularly  reported  violent   crimes  and  prostitution—but  by  day  it  was  the  most  open  route  between  the  city   and  the  banlieue.354     Lucien  Pissarro  depicted   laborers  walking  past  the  fortifications   in  1886  at   the  Porte  de  Saint-­‐Ouen,  separating  the  Commune  de  Saint-­‐Ouen  which  was  one  of   the   earliest   Communes   to   industrialize   in   the   1870s,   from   Paris   in   the   northeast   [figure   45].355  In   1886,   Saint-­‐Ouen   was   known   politically   as   a   socialist   commune   because   many   of   the   elected   officials   were   themselves   factory   workers.356  Lucien   drew   the   image   from   the   perspective   of   Paris   as   a   few   people   walk   by   the   fortifications.  With  their  backs  to  Paris,  they  walk  toward  the  industrial  commune   dotted   with   smokestacks   rising   up   from   the   residential   roofs.   Many   clerks   from   Saint-­‐Ouen  and  the  neighboring  Saint-­‐Denis,  had  to  commute  to  Paris  and  made  the   walk.357  The  trip  was  also  considered  a   leisurely  activity  for  the   labor  class.  Zola’s                                                                                                                   353  Nilsen  19.  Vizetelly  1.     354  Thomson,  “The  fortifications  drawings  of  1887”  20-­‐21.     355  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  260.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  28.     356  Berlanstein,   The   Working   People   of   Paris   160.   Saint-­‐Ouen   also   had   socialist   solidarity   among   laborers,  who,  for  example  pulled  funds  together  to  help  the  Decazeville  miners  during  their  strike;   revolutionary  public  addresses  were  also  commonplace.   357  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  22,  32,  106.  In  Saint-­‐Ouen,  a  tanning  factory  that  utilized   mechanical  processes  (as  opposed  to  individualized  craftsman  products)  employed  150  workers,  and   the  Farcot  engineering  firm  employed  550  laborers  in  the  mid-­‐1880s.             187   working-­‐class   characters   in   L’Assommoir   (1877)   who   live   in   Montmartre,   Gervaise   and  Coupeau,  work  long  hours  as  a  laundress  and  roofer  respectively  and  “…took   their  Sunday  walk  over  Saint-­‐Ouen  way.”358  In  Lucien’s  image,  the  constant  steam  of   smoke  emanating  from  the  banlieue  indicates  the  work  of  hundreds  of  laborers.  The   fortifications  in  Lucien’s  drawing  suggest  the  working-­‐class’s  economic  connection  to   the  city  as  their  source  of  livelihood,  and  the  industrial  landscape  as  a  sign  of  the   cyclical  relationship  between  the  capital  and  those  who  produce  in  the  banlieue.  In   his  drawing,  Lucien  took  the  perspective  of  an  observer,  from  the  side  of  the  path,   and  treated  the  landscape  as  a  wide,  far-­‐reaching  expanse.  Just  over  the  fortification   lies  the  horizon,  extending  across  the  width  of  the  picture  plane.     Van  Gogh’s  bright,  sunny  depictions  of  the  fortifications  depart  from  Lucien’s   because  he  considered  the  point-­‐of-­‐view  of  a  working  commuter.  In  this  way,  Van   Gogh’s  drawings  construct  the  fortifications  as  a  passageway  for  the  working  classes,   a  sign  of  Paris’s  military  power,  and  a  class  divide  between  the  city  and  its  outlying   country.  Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart  [figure  41]  is  a  view  toward  Paris  from  the  Porte   de  Clichy.359  A  horse-­‐drawn  omnibus  carries  passengers  outside  of  the  city.  By  1886,   Montmartre  had  grown  into  a  bustling  extension  of  the  capital  with  a  population  of                                                                                                                   358  Émile  Zola,  L’Assommoir,  trans.  Margaret  Mauldon  (Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press,   1995)  95.  Van  Gogh  did  not  mention  L’Assommoir  (1877),  a  story  that  began  in  1850,  specifically  in   his  letters.     359  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  134.           188   over   200,000,   making   it   necessary   for   horse-­‐drawn   omnibuses   to   transport   an   average   of   200   million   passengers   per   year.360  Among   the   crowd,   a   young   boy   perches,  shoulders  slumped,  on  the  edge  of  the  gate,  with  a  posture  reminiscent  of   the   central   working-­‐class   boy   in   Bathers   at   Asnières   (1884).   In   Bathers,   Seurat   connected  industry  and  the  environment  as  Clichy’s  factory  chimneys  chug  smoke   behind  working-­‐class  men  who  find  a  moment  of  repose  in  the  Seine.361  In  line  with   Seurat’s  Bathers,  Van  Gogh  depicted  an  afternoon  of  working-­‐class  transportation   against   the   backdrop   of   industry.   In   Gate   in   the   Paris   Rampart,   a   stand-­‐alone   Second-­‐Empire   building   rises   to   the   south   and   factory   smokestacks   appear   to   its   right,  indicating  the  metropolis  on  the  horizon.  Some  commuters  require  a  rest,  lying   down   along   the   path   behind   the   ramparts   in   Road   Running   Beside   the   Paris   Ramparts  [figure  42].  In  this  image,  another  horse-­‐drawn  omnibus  appears  between   the  fortifications.  Evident  here  as  well,  among  women  with  parasols,  are  the  factory   smokestacks   in   the   far   distance.   In   this   work   on   paper,   Van   Gogh   looked   toward   Clichy;  Montmartre  is  behind  him.  Thomson  identified  the  chimneys  of  the  Gouin   factory,   a   machine   company,   in   the   near   right   and   the   trees   of   Cimétière   des   Batignolles  on  the  left.362  A  place  that  was  neither  home  to  a  residential  community                                                                                                                   360  Herbert,  Impressionism:  Art,  Leisure  and  Parisian  Society  14.   361  Robert  Herbert,  Seurat  at  the  Making  of  La  Grande  Jatte  (Berkeley  and  Los  Angeles:  University  of   California  Press,  2004)  40-­‐45.     362  Thomson,  “The  fortifications  drawings  of  1887”  20.         189   nor  an  industrial  complex,  from  the  perspective  Van  Gogh  provided,  factories  appear   on   both   sides   of   the   boundary.   Thus,   from   both   directions,   industry   remains   the   endpoint,   suggesting   that   the   outskirts   of   the   city   function   to   provide   the   environment  of  the  factory  labor.     In   walking   between   industrialized   areas,   the   laborer   experiences   the   atmosphere  of  the  fortifications—pleasant  weather  and  greenery—as  a  relief  from   the   city   and   the   banlieue.   In   Van   Gogh’s   fortification   drawings,   the   bastions   are   structures  to  walk  through,  not  by,  as  the  bastions  and  walls  conceal  the  horizon  and   hem  in  the  pedestrians.  The  viewer  cannot  look  above  the  wall  and  at  the  horizon  as   in  Lucien’s   image.  In  contrast,  Van  Gogh’s  fortifications  rise  up  on  the  side  of  the   path.  The  fortifications  assert  a  diagonal  boundary,  cutting  into  the  depth  of  field.   The  paths,  which  occupy  the  entire  base  of  the  canvas   in  all   four   images,  extend   sharply   into   the   picture   plane,   radically   narrowing   to   highlight   the   deep   space   between  the  foreground  and  the  middle-­‐ground.  Similar  to  his  allotment  imagery,   the   paths   provide   the   egalitarian   point-­‐of-­‐view   of   a   fellow   commuter   whose   embodied  presence  gazes  down  to  the  footpath  before  him.  From  the  perspectives   of  the  path,  indications  of  both  the  banlieue  and  the  city  are  miniscule,  indicating   the  distance  between  Clichy  and  Montmartre  from  the  fortifications.  The  intransient   space   of   the   fortifications   is   a   route   of   the   working   class,   requiring   a   long   walk   between  working-­‐class  areas  on  either  side  of  the  border  that  transitions  through         190   the   walls   of   the   government.   The   working-­‐class   landscape   consists   of   the   built   structures  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  movement  guided  by  an  implied  sense  of  force   and  surveillance.             The  Banlieue   I  addressed  the  symbolic  nature  of  Van  Gogh’s  Factories  at  Clichy  (1887)  and   Factory  at  Clichy  (1887)  [figures  5  &  46]  in  chapter  three,  and  I  include  a  discussion   of   these   paintings   here   within   the   context   of   the   banlieue   to   highlight   the   connection   between   Van   Gogh’s   Montmartre   allotments   paintings   and   the   Clichy   industrial   environment   images.   Allotment   with   Sunflower   (1887)   [figure   47],   for   instance,  visually  connects  a  peasant  woman  to  the  industrialized  horizon  she  can   see  from  her  plot.  From  the  fence  that  bounds  her  small  allotment  garden,  she  looks   out  over  an  urban  sprawl  at  the  factories  that  appear  in  the  far  distance,  not  toward   the  towering  sunflower  in  the  foreground  she  herself  probably  nurtured.  Similarly,   Van   Gogh’s   factory   images   of   Clichy   address   the   role   of   products   in   the   lives   of   women   such   as   the   peasant   in   Allotment   with   Sunflower.   Although   her   allotment   provides  her  with  sustenance,  she  does  not  have  access  to  amenities  provided  by   the  coal-­‐dependent  factories  Van  Gogh  depicted   in  Clichy,  but  she   is  nonetheless   related  to  the  life  of  the  factory  through  lower-­‐class  labor.           191   The   highly   publicized   Decazeville   (located   in   south-­‐central   France)   coal-­‐ miner’s   strike   highlighted   the   disenfranchised   morale   of   the   working   poor.363  In   January   1886,   2,000   miners   frustrated   with   poor   pay   and   hazardous   conditions   stopped  working  and  protested.364  While  visiting  a  coal  mine  in  Marcasse  in  1879,   Van  Gogh  wrote  of  the  tension  between  laborers  and  management:  the  miners,  he   observed,   “have   a   festering   and   deep-­‐rooted   hatred   and   an   innate   distrust   of   anyone  who  tries  to  boss  them  around.”365  In  Decazeville,  the  distrust  grew  into  an                                                                                                                   363  Similar  to  an  uprising  of  coal  miners  in  Zola’s  Germinal  published  a  year  prior  in  1885,  the  protest   focused  on  the  desperate  lives  of  the  laborers.  Émile  Zola,  Germinal,  trans.  Havelock  Ellis  (Gloucester,   Massachusetts:  Doubleday  &  Company,  Inc.,  1968)  Chapter  V,  313-­‐326.  Led  by  Étienne  Lantier  (who   also  appeared  in  L’Assommoir),  a  mob  of  angry  miners  from  Marseillaise  marched  to  the  owner’s,   Hennebeau’s,  villa.  Shouting  “Bread!  bread!  bread!”  the  mob  surrounded  the  bourgeois  home.  During   the  mob’s  march,  the  republican  Négral  who  was  supposed  to  be  in  support  of  the  working  class,   remarked:  “Take  out  your  scent-­‐bottles,  the  sweat  of  the  people  is  passing  by!”  See  also  Halperin,   Félix  Fénéon:  Aesthete  &  Anarchist  in  Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle  Paris  56.  Zola  based  the  strike  he  depicted  on  one   he  saw  first-­‐hand  at  the  Anzin  mine,  located  in  the  northern  France.  Van  Gogh  lowered  into  a  mine   shaft  and  was  involved  in  a  mine  explosion  while  living  in  the  Borinage;  he  thus  found  Zola’s  Germinal   inspirational  and  drew  miners  during  the  early  years  of  his  painting  practice.  Naifeh  and  Smith  194-­‐ 196  and  200-­‐201.  Théo  sent  Van  Gogh  Zola’s  Germinal,  which  Van  Gogh  received  and  began  reading   on  Thursday,  May  28,  1885  in  Nuenen.  In  letter  505,  Van  Gogh  wrote:  “I’ve  just  received  Germinal,   which  I  started  on  immediately.  I’ve  read  50  pages  of  it—which  I  think  splendid.  I  also  walked  there   once…If  all  goes  well—if  I  earn  rather  more  so  that  I  can  travel  more—well  then  I’ll  also,  I  hope,  paint   the  miners’  heads  sometime.”  In  letter  506,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo,  on  Tuesday  June  2,  1885,   he  noted  that  Germinal  inspired  him  to  paint:  “…among  the  latter  you’ll  find  a  head  that  I  couldn’t   help  painting  after  reading  Germinal.”  In  letter  506,  he  also  paraphrased  passages  from  Germinal.   364  Jules  Guesde,  “Le  Cri  du  peuple  (February  1886),”  Le  Socialism  au  jour  le  jour  (Paris:  V.  Giard  et  E.   Brière,  1889)  in  Fortescue  40-­‐41.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  155.  Derfier  48.     365  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  151  to  Théo  from  Wasmes  sometime  during  the  first  two  weeks  of  April   1879.  “This  mine  has  a  bad  name  because  many  die  in  it,  whether  going  down  or  coming  up,  or  by   suffocation   or   gas   exploding,   or   because   of   water   in   the   ground,   or   because   of   old   passageways   caving  in  and  so  on.  It’s  a  somber  place,  and  at  first  sight  everything  around  it  has  something  dismal   and  deathly  about  it.  The  workers  there  are  usually  people,  emaciated  and  pale  owing  to  fever,  who   look  exhausted  and  haggard,  weather-­‐beaten  and  prematurely  old,  the  women  generally  sallow  and   withered.  All  around  the  mine  are  poor  miners’  dwellings  with  a  couple  of  dead  trees,  completely         192   angry  rage.  The  miners  threw  the  manager  out  of  a  window  and  bludgeoned  him  to   death   when   he   hit   the   ground;   the   government   sent   troops   immediately.366  The   Chamber   of   Deputies   voted   in   favor   of   “maintaining   public   order,”   and   the   “bourgeois   political   parties   joined   together   and   found   themselves   united   against   the…working   class.” 367  The   government   financially   supported   the   coal-­‐mining   company  with  “reduced  transport  charges”  and  a  guaranteed  ten-­‐year  coal  order  for   the  railway—leaving,  in  the  words  of  POF  leader  Jules  Guesde,  “starvation  labor”  to   cry  “for  help  from  members  of  the  government,”  from  those  who  had  forced  the   working  classes  into  “bankruptcy.”368  The  strike  became  one  of  the  most  important   political   events   for   the   French   socialist   movement,   leading   to   a   labor   committee   within  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.369  The  strike  brought  together  socialists,  such  as   Signac,  from  around  the  country  to  financially  and  politically  support  the  worker’s                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               black   from   the   smoke,   and   thorn-­‐hedges,   dung-­‐heaps   and   rubbish   dumps,   mountains   of   unusable   coal....”   366  Derfier  48.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  174.  The  Decazeville  strike  was  national  news,   but   it   was   not   uncommon   for   workers   to   threaten   the   lives   of   the   managerial   staff   under   terse   working  conditions.  In  1887,  a  chemical  company  in  Saint-­‐Denis  (a  commune  northeast  of  Paris,  east   of   Clichy)   lowered   wages;   in   retaliation,   and   in   a   desperate   attempt   to   maintain   a   paycheck,   an   employee  shot  the  foreman  and  held  the  factory  under  siege  for  a  night.   367  Jules  Guesde,  Le  Cri  du  peuple  in  Fortescue  41.  Van  Gogh  arrived  in  Paris  in  early  February,  a  week   or  so  before  the  parliamentary  debate  regarding  the  Decazeville  strike.   368  Jules  Guesde,  Le  Cri  du  peuple  in  Fortescue  40-­‐41.   369  Derfier  48.         193   fight.370  At  this  time,  the  Paris  Gas  Company  built  the  Clichy  factory  between  1880   and   1881,   which   roasted   coal   to   make   gas.371  In   the   wake   of   the   strike,   PGC   developed  a  successful  marketing  strategy  and  gained  the  largest  domestic-­‐gas  sales   gross  in  the  company’s  history  offering  gaslights  and  gas  stoves  at  the  company’s   expense  to  those  living  in  upper-­‐class  arrondissements.372     While   in   The   Netherlands   and   Belgium,   Van   Gogh   addressed   new   factory   processes  and  drew  two  images  akin  to  those  of  the  coal-­‐dependent  Clichy  factories,   Coke  Factory  in  the  Borinage  (July-­‐August  1879)  and  the  gas  tanks  at  The  Municipal   Gasworks   in   Loosduinseweg   in   Gasworks,   The   Hague   (March   1882)   [figures   48   &   49].373  Compositionally,   Van   Gogh’s   Coke   Factory   in   the   Borinage   (coke   is   a   fuel   made  from  coal)  and  Gasworks,  The  Hague  reveals  views  of  a  coal-­‐factory  complex.   At  this  time,  Van  Gogh  visited  the  Marcasse  coal  mine  and  was   lowered   into  the   mine,   one   of   the   most   dangerous   “hidden…underworld[s],”   where   he   spent   six                                                                                                                   370  Signac  quoted  in  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  47.  Paul  Alexis  was  writing  under  the  pen  name,  Trubalt  for  Le   Cri   du   peuple,   a   newspaper.   In   the   wake   of   the   news,   Signac   wrote   that   he   would   support   the   naturalisse   and   the   workers   on   strike   in   Decazeville:   “My   dear   Trublot,   here   five   francs   for   the   naturalisse  subscription.  A  buck  is  not  much,  but  cobalt  blue  is  expensive.”  Paul  Alexis,  a  novelist  and   journalist   writing   under   the   pen   name   Trulbot,   published   part   of   the   letter   Signac   had   written   regarding  the  call  for  support  the  first  week  of  February  1886.  Signac  signed  the  letter  “Paul  Signac,   Impressionist,”  indicating  both  his  connection  to  socialism  and  to  his  trade  as  a  painter.     371  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  81.  PGC  built  another  new  plant  in  Saint-­‐Denis.   372  See  footnote  268  in  this  chapter.     373  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  280  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  November  5,  1882;  see  note  13.           194   hours   at   700   meters   below   ground. 374  He   observed   the   mine’s   hazardous   infrastructure,  a  system  the  company  left  in  disrepair,  and  noted  that  supplying  coal   affected  the  laborer’s  bodies.375  In  Coke  Factory  at  the  Borinage,  Van  Gogh  depicted   an   above-­‐ground   view   where   hundreds   of   workers   refined   the   product   in   the   “underground   prison.”376  Coke   Factory   of   the   Borinage   includes   one   small-­‐scale   worker  who  remains  above  ground,  but  the  chimneys  indicate  the  number  of  those   keeping  the  furnaces  burning.  Children,  horses,  men,  and  women  all  sank  below  the   earth,   lowering   down   in   a   cage,   mining   in   dark,   damp   caves   and   crevices.   In   Gasworks,  The  Hague,  men,  dwarfed  by  the  looming  tanks  and  smokestacks,  head   into  the  complex,  some  with  shovels  flung  over  their  shoulders.  Stokers,  those  who   fueled  the  furnaces  with  coal,  were  essential  laborers  in  the  factory  complex.377  The   stoker   symbolized   new   industry   standards   that   arose   due   to   gas   production:   the   stoker  did  not  complete  intricate  tasks  or  undergo  craftsman-­‐level  training,  but  he   did  perform  a  number  of  arduous  and  dangerous  skills  repetitively.   In  these  early                                                                                                                   374  Letter  151.     375  Letter  151.     376  Letter  151.  See  also  note  5:  Van  Gogh  painted  Coke  Factory  at  the  Borinage,  but  scholars  do  not   know  if  the  image  is  of  the  Marcasse  mine  the  artist  visited.     377  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  262-­‐291.  In  the  early  1880s,  the  stoker  was  a  prominent  laborer  in  a  gas   factory.  Some  factory  models,  such  as  the  gas  company,  did  not  have  an  artisanal  phase  supplanted   by  the  skilled  industrial  worker  because  the  gas  factory  developed  within  the  era  of  mechanization.   Most   importantly,   the   stoker   maintained   pressure   levels   (without   the   right   pressure   levels,   an   explosion   could   ensue)   and   spent   his   days   shoveling   coal   from   the   yard   and   into   the   sweltering   distillation  rooms  before  a  bank  of  furnaces.         195   depictions,  the  artist  did  not  invite  the  viewer  into  the  work  through  a  path.  Instead,   he  blocked  off  the  foreground  with  non-­‐descript  marks,  suggesting  that  he  did  not   aim  to  emphasize  the  lower  portion  of  the  canvas.  Overall,  these  images  take  the   view  of  a  distant  observer  and  offer  a  glimpse  into  the  life  of  a  factory  worker  amid   the  overwhelming  complex.     In   Paris,   the   images   challenge   descriptive   notions   to   unhinge   seemingly   serene  work  environments.  In  Factories  at  Clichy  [figure  5],  a  couple  observes  the   expanse  of  industry,  perhaps  inspired  by  the  large-­‐scale  PGC  complex,  on  a  leisurely   walk.   John   House   reads   the   painting   as   a   utopian   vision   of   industry,   leisure,   and   nature.378  Arguing  for  a  utopian  ideal  overlooks  the  Decazeville  miner’s  strike  and   the  remarks  Van  Gogh  made  while  visiting  the  Marcasse  mine.  I  consider  Factories  at   Clichy  within  the  socialist  agenda  of  factory-­‐worker  reform  and  the  development  of   PGC’s   Clichy   plant.   In   1855,   PGC   was   founded   during   the   Second   Empire. 379                                                                                                                   378  John  House,  “Towards  the  Modern  Landscape,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit   Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  165-­‐166,  168.  House   addresses  Factories  of  Clichy,  a  painting  he  refers  to  as  Factories  at  Asnières,  Seen  from  the  Quai  de   Clichy.  First,  I  think  the  painting’s  subject  matter  is  located  in  Clichy,  not  Asnières.  Second,  House’s   interpretation  does  not  take  into  account  the  other  images  of  industry  Van  Gogh  painted  as  well  as   those   by   Bernard   and   Signac.   Although   House   begins   to   locate   the   image   within   the   anarchist   discourse  shared  by  painters  with  whom  Van  Gogh  worked  in  Paris,  namely  Camille  Pissarro,  I  find  his   approach  reductive.  On  the  facture  in  Factories  at  Clichy,  see  also:  James  H.  Rubin,  Impressionism  and   the   Modern   Landscape:   Productivity,   Technology,   and   Urbanization   from   Manet   to   Van   Gogh   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles,   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,   2008)   164-­‐165.   Rubin   locates   Factories  at  Clichy   in  Clichy,  and  briefly  asserts  that  the  image  suggests  Van  Gogh’s  interest  in  the   industrial  landscape  similar  to  his  contemporaries,  such  as  Pissarro.  Interestingly,  Rubin  observes  that   Van  Gogh’s  idiosyncratic  paint  texture  relates  to  artisanal  methods  and  a  Leftist  political  agenda.       379  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  13.         196   Restaurants  and  homes   in  the  wealthier  arrondissements  could   live  with  the  new   commodity  in  both  the  domestic  and  public  sphere,  but  the  cost  excluded  those  who   earned  a  laborer’s  wage.  In  Zola’s  Nana,  gaslights  metaphorically  reveal  the  greed   and  debauchery  of  the  bourgeoisie.380  The  propensity  of  gaslights  suggest  material   gain  and  literally  shine  light  on  the  aspects  of  upper-­‐class  Parisians  who  were  served   well  under  the  Second  Empire.381  By  1885,  PGC  had  grown  into  the  country’s  largest   manufacturing  company,  but  only  the  bourgeoisie  still  largely  utilized  gas-­‐powered   lights  and  stoves,  despite  claims  that  gas  was  in  “general”  use.382  Those  working  and   living  in  the  commune  would  not  have  been  able  to  afford  gas  in  their  homes.  In                                                                                                                   380  Zola,   Nana   1,   179.   Readers   meet   Zola’s   Nana   at   her   performance   in   the   fashionable   theater   Variétes,   where   “the   gas   jests   of   the   chandelier   were   turned   down   and   in   the   half   light”   and   the   ceiling’s   murals   had   been   “stained   green   by   gas   fumes.”   Gaslights   and   glass   literally   reflect   the   consumerism  of  Count  Muffat  of  Beuville,  one  of  Nana’s  bourgeois  clients,  as  he  strolls  along  Paris’   grand   boulevards   waiting   for   Nana:   “…Count   Muffat   was   walking   through   the   Passage   des   Panoramas…The  glass  roof  was  gleaming  with  bright  reflection  and  the  passage  was  ablaze  with  light   from   white   globes,   the   red   lamps,   the   blue   transparencies,   and   banks   of   flaring   gas-­‐jets   depicting   giant  watches  and  fans  flickering  in  the  air;  and  behind  the  clear  plate-­‐glass  shop  windows,  the  gaudy   displays,  the  gold  of  the  jewelers,  the  crystal  ware  of  the  confectioners  were  all  glittering  in  the  glare   of  the  reflectors….”   381  Zola,   Nana   181,   238.   Gaslights   signified   those   with   a   disposable   income   who   could   attend   the   theater  and  shop  in  fashionable  places—the  light  also  revealed  the  superficial  quality  of  the  “gaudy”   objects.  “To  light  up  the  entrance,”  Muffat  noticed  as  he  waited  by  Nana’s  stage  door,  “there  was   only  one  gas-­‐jet  in  a  frosted  globe.”  In  contrast,  as  Nana  returns  to  low-­‐class,  clandestine  prostitution   along  the  sleazy  backstreets  of  Montmartre,  the  streets  remained  “dark  and  deserted,”  as  “shadowy   female   figures”   walked   along   the   rue   Notre-­‐Dame-­‐de-­‐la-­‐Lorette   waiting   for   a   client.   To   find   light,   prostitutes  clamored  around  delicatessens  and  cafés,  “the  last  corner…which  stayed  alive  at  night.”   382  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  3-­‐4,  13,  15,  51-­‐52,  82.  When  PGC  began  providing  gas  to  daily  customers   in  September  of  1856,  they  served  about  1500  restaurants,  cafés,  bakeries  and  hotels;  the  number   increased  to  190,000  customers  by  1885.  Until  1894,  when  city  officials  pressured  PGC  to  make  the   resource  available  to  low-­‐income  households  and  renters,  only  a  small  fraction  of  the  employees  at   PGC  were  actually  able  to  afford  the  commodity.           197   1888,  less  than  1%  of  residents  in  Montmartre  had  gas  lighting.383  In  contrast,  23.7%   of   residents   in   the   eighth   arrondissement,   which   was   home   to   the   Avenue   des   Champs  Élysées,  used  gas  in  their  homes.384  Through  the  marketing  push  in  1887,   the  introduction  of  gas-­‐powered  light  in  interior  homes  changed  the  way  upper-­‐class   Parisians   lived   and   was   a   resource   that   divided   them   from   the   lower   classes.   Restaurants  and  homes  in  the  wealthier  arrondissements  had  the  new  commodity  in   both  the  domestic  and  public  spheres,  but  the  cost  excluded  those  who  earned  a   laborer’s  wage.     Edgar   Degas’   At   the   Café   Concert:   The   Song   of   the   Dog   (1875-­‐1877)   and   Édouard  Manet’s  A  Bar  at  the  Folies-­‐Bergère  (1882)  [figures  50  &  51]  show  how  gas-­‐ lights   illuminate   the   leisurely   evenings   of   the   upper-­‐classes.   In   1886,   the   Folies-­‐ Bergères   was   one   of   the   top   twenty   customers   of   PGC.385  Manet   depicted   a   sparkling   gaslight   chandelier   hanging   from   the   ceiling   and   round   electric   lights   flanking  the  waitress’s  head.  That  the  Bar  at  the  Folies-­‐Bergère  could  support  two   light   sources   is   in   stark   contrast   to   those   who   could   yet   afford   gaslights.   Unlike   Degas   and   Manet   who   convey   glittering   nightlight   and   the   relationship   between                                                                                                                   383  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  3-­‐4,  13,  21,  table  3.   384  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  21,  table  3.     385  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  19,  table  2.             198   leisure   and   industry,   Van   Gogh   addressed   the   working-­‐class   areas   that   provided   goods.   He   emphasized   the   discord   between   those   who   labored   to   provide   from   those  who  partook.  In  Factories  of  Clichy,  the  couple  serves  as  surrogate  viewers,   inviting   the   spectator   to   consider   the   great   efforts   of   labor   occurring   below   the   smokestacks.  Similar  to  Coke  Factory  of  the  Borinage,  the  workers  are  concealed,   signified  only  by  the  smoke  pouring  out  of  the  stacks  they  stoke  to  keep  burning.  As   they   keep   the   factories   functioning,   the   couple   stands   in   a   field   comprised   of   gestural   brushwork.   The   fence   figuratively   excludes   the   idiosyncratic   expressive   brushwork  from  the  industrial  commune,  suggesting  the  separation  of  nature  and   industry;  as  noted  previously,  the  indication  of  wind  connects  the  two  spheres.     When  the  gas  industry  developed  and  gas-­‐lights  began  lining  the  streets  of   Paris   or   hanging   above   the   dinner   tables   of   the   upper-­‐classes,   there   was   a   new   demand  for  glass  to  house  the  flames.  386  To  meet  demands,  there  were  three  glass   factories  in  Clichy.  The  building  in  Factory  at  Clichy  is  the  Pont  de  Clichy,  Glasshouse,   which  was  built  in  1845,  in  operation  until  1917,  and  located  under  the  bridge  from   Clichy  to  Asnières  immediately  to  the  west  of  the  gas-­‐factory  complex  [figure  52].387                                                                                                                   386  Jim  Friant,  “Van  Gogh  Painting  Shows  a  Glasshouse,”  The  Glass  Club  Bulletin  (Fall/Winter  2008):   21-­‐23.  See  also:  Julien  Turgan,  Les  grandes  usines:  etudes  industrielles  en  France  et  a  l’étranger,  vol.   12  (Paris:  Calman  Lévy,  Libraire-­‐Éditeur,  1879)  239.  http://cnum.cnam.fr/CGI/redire.cgi?4KY15.  Cette   industrie  produit  annuellement  pour  105  million  de  francs  d’objets  fabriqués.  Son  exportation  est  de   35  millions.  Son  exportation  est  de  35  millions  (In  the  1870s,  the  glass  industry  as  a  whole  generated   105  million  objects  annually  and  exported  35  million).  For  more  in  Turgan,  see  Rubin,  chapter  5.     387  Friant  21.           199   Factory  at  Clichy  includes  both  an  outdated  wooden  glass  house  on  the  left  and  a   newer  brick  and  iron  building  in  the  center.  The  smokestacks  are  also  brick,  which   indicates   that   parts   of   the   factory   are   older   since   newer   factories   included   metal   smokestacks.  Analogous  to  his  peasant   images  of  the  Butte,  Van  Gogh  included  a   traditionally  functioning  glass  house  and  the  contemporary  changes  to  the  system,   juxtaposing   both   the   artisanal   and   manufacturing   production   of   glass. 388  The   monochromatic  figure  on  the  path  and  the  two  barely  discernable  figures  on  the   glass   heap   to   the   left   are   similar   to   the   small-­‐scale   farmers   who   are   pictorially   entangled  in  the  factory  environment  providing  a  product  to  which  few  in  the  area   had  access.       In  both  Factories  at  Clichy  and  Factory  at  Clichy,  Van  Gogh  emphasized  the   emissions   wafting   into   the   atmosphere   above   Clichy,   symbolizing   the   labor   happening  within  the  factories.  Foul  odor  due  to  industry  and  waste  indicated  an   unhealthy   environment   and   those   who   could   afford   to,   lived   further   away   from   cesspools   or   a   concentration   of   factories.   In   1886,   Louis   Barron,   author   of   Les   Environs  de  Paris  (1886),  aimed  to  attract  people  to  Asnières  and  noted  that  Clichy   was  a  “collector  sewer”  of  the  Seine  and  to  not  “fear  the  odors”  coming  from  Clichy,                                                                                                                   388  According  to  Friant,  there  are  a  number  of  annealing  (cooling)  ovens  held  in  the  sheds  adjacent  to   the   main   structures,   indicating   that   the   factory’s   products   would   have   varied.   Glassware   was   transported  in  crates,  similar  to  the  wooden  crate  on  the  left.  Heaps  of  broken  vessels  piled  around   the  factory’s  grounds,  such  as  the  vase-­‐like  vessel  that  appears  on  the  ground  on  the  left.             200   those  “full  of  coal  dust  spread  by  workers  unloading  barges,  bordered  by  factories   covered  by  soot…”389  To  emphasize  the  smog,  Van  Gogh  constructed  the  perspective   in   Factories   of   Clichy   from   above,   which   is   similar   to   the   perspective   found   in   Constable’s  landscape  images.  Unlike  Factory  at  Clichy  and  the  allotment  images  in   which  the  path  is  a  central  compositional  element  fostering  a  sympathetic  view  of   the   laborer,   Van   Gogh   did   not   include   a   path   in   Factories   in   Clichy.   Instead,   he   created  a  hierarchical  perspective  over  the  grasslands  and  the  never-­‐ending  horizon   of  factories.  The  artist  problematized  the  utopic  ideal  of  a  landowner’s  prideful  view.   The  vantage  point  serves  to  emphasize  the  unpleasant  effects  of  industry,  and  the   less-­‐than   ideal   environment   of   those   working   in   Clichy.   The   couple   views   an   industrial  landscape  literally  produced  at  the  expense  of  the  laborer’s  body  and  life.   In  Van  Gogh’s  landscape,  the  worker  creates  the  horizon,  not  nature,  and  thus  the   couple’s  point-­‐of-­‐view  acknowledges  the  labor  of  those  who  mine  and  stoke  amid  a   complicated  time  of  industrial  progress  in  gas  and  protest  against  coal  companies,   and  during  reform  measures  for  the  labor  class  in  a  socialist  commune.                                                                                                                     389  Louis  Barron  quoted  in  Rubin  87-­‐88.  See  also:  Barrie  M.  Ratcliff,  “Cities  and  environmental  decline:   elites   and   the   sewage   problem   in   Paris   from   the   mid-­‐eighteenth   to   the   mid-­‐nineteenth   century,”   International   Planning   History   5   (1990):   190.   Parisians   related   unpleasant   smells   as   a   danger   to   public-­‐health.  Parisians  connected  odor  as  a  sign  of  pollution  since  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth   century   when   city   officials   began   planning   to   move   the   sewer   system   outside   the   city   limits   to   eliminate  the  smell  of  decaying  waste.           201   A   decade   prior,   Claude   Monet   painted   Men   Unloading   Coal   (1873-­‐1875)   [figure  53]  from  the  base  of  the  bridge  from  Clichy  to  Asniéres.390  Shadowy  figures   walk  up  and  down  planks  unloading  coal  onto  the  banks  of  Clichy.  Marching  up  to   the  docks  and  back  to  the  barge,  they  work  under  overcast  skies  and  before  Clichy’s   landscape  of  factory  chimneys.  Monet  literally  framed  the  figures  with  industry:  the   bridge,  line  of  barges,  smokestacks,  and  planks  surround  the  workers  who,  trapped   in  a  world  of  industry,  laboriously  unload  coal.  In  the  mid-­‐1880s,  PGC  transported   coal  by  barge  on  the  Seine  as  well,  but  cranes  over  the  river  hauled  the  resource  into   the  factory  complex.  From  the  point-­‐of-­‐view  of  the  same  Bridge  of  Asnières,  where   Van  Gogh  and  Bernard  sat  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine  [figure  54],  they  painted  the   river,  with  the  newly  built  smokestacks  of  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  in  the  background.   Van  Gogh’s  Le  Pont  à  Asnières  (summer  1887)  [figure  55]  shows  the  bridge  reaching   out   across   the   Seine,   south-­‐west   towards   Clichy.391  Three   boaters   maneuver   the   Seine’s   waters;   the   factory   punctuates   the   landscape   generating   the   gas   flaming   within  the  lighting  fixtures  installed  across  the  bridge.  At  the  foot  of  the  bridge  on   the  banks  of  Clichy,  a  circular  form  rises  in  the  far  left  side,  emulating  the  scaffold   shape  surrounding  the  gas  tanks,  similar  to  those  Signac  depicted  in  The  Gas  Tanks   at   Clichy   (1886)   [figure   56].   In   Le   Pont   d’Asnières,   the   bridge,   lined   with   glass-­‐                                                                                                                 390  Rubin  88-­‐89.     391  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  42.           202   covered  gaslights,  pictorially  connects  to  the  company  that  provided  the  resource  to   light  the  bridge.     On   the   same   bridge,   Bernard   depicted   Vue   du   pont   d’Asnières   (late   1887)   [figure  57],  a  scene  from  the  top  of  the  bridge  that  explicitly  connects  the  emissions   rising  from  L’Usine  à  gaz  and  the  pollution  seeping  into  the  Seine.  By  mid-­‐century,   the  Seine  had  become  a  polluted  river  due  to  industrial  dumping.392    The  byproducts   of  refining  coal  to  gas  were  an  essential  economic  development  in  the  success  of   PGC.  393  Chemical  manufacturers  purchased  ammonia  water,  for   instance,  but  PGC   dumped  much  of  into  the  Seine.  In  Bernard’s  image,  two  barges  appear:  an  empty   barge  moving  away  from  the  factory  that  was  just  unloaded,  and  another  docked   alongside   the   cranes   waiting   to   be   emptied.   Smoke   calligraphically   swirls   south   toward  Clichy  and  its  inhabitants  as  the  current  moves  south-­‐east  carrying  a  tide  in  a   color  and  form  that  relates  to  the  chimney’s  plumes,  indicating  the  direct  effect  of   industry   on   the   waterway.   Although   the   two   lower-­‐class   women   occupy   the   foreground  as  they  traverse  the  bridge  from  Clichy  to  Asnières,  the  coal  barge  floats   in   the   Seine   in   the   center   point   of   the   picture   plane,   emphasizing   the   barge’s                                                                                                                   392  Ratcliff  200-­‐201.   393  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  138-­‐139.  Organic  dye,  an  industry  that  developed  alongside  that  of  the   gas,  used  coal  tar.  The  artificial  dye  company  also  developed  during  mid-­‐century,  making  use  of  PGC’s   aniline,  a  byproduct  created  by  refining  the  coal-­‐tar  itself.  In  the  early  years  of  PGC  much  of  the  tar   was   thrown   away.   Ammonia   water,   for   example,   was   a   byproduct   derived   during   coal’s   purifying   process.         203   prominence  in  the  day-­‐to-­‐day  life  on  Seine  in  Clichy.  Similarly,  Signac  depicted  the   cranes  of  the  L’Usine  à  gaz  from  both  the  banks  of  Asnières  and  Clichy  in  Asnières,   Ponton  et  Grues  (1885)  and  Quai  de  Clichy.  Temps  Gris  (1887).394  His  images  depict   the  Seine  as  an  expanse  of  water,  the  cranes  of  L’Usine  à  gaz  lurching  over  its  banks.   From   the   Asnières   side,   chimneys   rise   up   from   Clichy’s   factory   complex   in   the   background,  and,  from  the  Clichy  banks,  Asnières’s  tree-­‐lined  banks  extend  into  the   horizon.   Through  motifs  of  the  Seine,  smokestacks,  cranes  and  gaslights,  Van  Gogh,   Bernard,  and  Signac  emphasized  the  company’s  pervasive  infrastructure  within  the   lives   of   the   laborer   and   the   residents   of   Clichy.   Van   Gogh’s   particular   ability   to   visually  make  connections  between  old  and  new,  gas  and  glass  products,  labor  and   class,   indicate   that   the   landscape   of   Clichy   symbolized   the   shifting   needs   of   a   metropolis.   As   a   production-­‐focused   commune,   Clichy   was   home   to   the   working-­‐ class   laborers   during   a   time   of   strife.   Van   Gogh,   Bernard,   and   Signac’s   respective   approaches  contrast  Pissarro’s  Pontoise  landscapes.  Pontoise  was  historically  a  rural   area,   but   when   Pissarro   arrived   in   1866,   it   was   becoming   an   industrial   area.  395   Located   45   minutes   by   train   from   Paris,   Pontoise’s   agricultural   terrain   had                                                                                                                   394  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  200  and  298.  Unfortunately,  Signac’s  images  are  not  available   in  color  and  are  held  in  private  collections.     395  Richard   Brettell,   “Pissarro,   Cézanne   and   the   School   of   Pontoise,”   A   Day   in   the   Country:   Impressionism   and   the   French   Landscape  (New   York,   New   York:   Harry   N.   Abrams,   Inc.,   Publishers,   1984)  175.           204   modernized  to  provide  an  array  of  produce  to  the  Parisian  market,  and  sugar  and   paint   factories   had   supplanted   some   of   the   pastoral   areas   along   the   Oise   River,   which   was   dredged   to   transport   goods   via   the   Seine   to   the   capital.   Pissarro’s   Pontoise   imagery   rarely   included   signs   of   industry.396  Instead,   Pissarro   aimed   to   study   the   village-­‐like   character   of   this   once   rural   town.   Pissarro’s   Factories   near   Pontoise  (1873)  [figure  58]  is  an  example,  but  the  Seine  and  surrounding  greenery   remains  untouched  by  the  effects  of  industry.  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Signac,  did   not  include  a  factory  within  a  landscape.  Instead,  the  painters  used  the  factory  to   shape  the  industrial  horizon,  and  underpin  the  environment  on  the  Seine  in  Clichy.     Conclusion   While   Van   Gogh’s   imagery   of   the   Butte   maintained   a   rural   depiction   of   Montmartre,  the  segmented  plots  relate  to  the  contemporary  debates  of  land  issues   among  socialists.  Van  Gogh’s  industrial  images  of  the  banlieue  propose  connections   among   issues   surrounding   labor,   class,   and   environment.   Rather   than   depict   a   straight-­‐forward   image   of   back-­‐breaking   labor,   he   provided   the   experience   of   walking   through   allotments,   fortifications,   and   glass   factories.   By   drawing   associations   among   industries,   such   as   coal,   gas,   and   glass,   Van   Gogh   aimed   to   depict   the   lived   experience   of   a   working-­‐class   observer,   one   walking   through   the                                                                                                                   396  Brettell  179.           205   Commune  or  working  there.  An  upper-­‐class  spectator  may  witness  the  fashionable   cafés   Manet   depicted,   but   Van   Gogh   provided   a   lower-­‐class   lens,   enabling   the   viewer  to  consider  a  laborer’s  perspective.   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments,   Vegetable   Gardens,   Factories   at   Clichy,  and  Factory  at  Clichy  represent  adjacent  areas  on  either  side  of  Paris’s  border   that  deliver  products  to  the  city’s  center.  Through  this  imagery,  Van  Gogh  created   connections  among  the  agricultural,  gas,  and  glass   industries,  and  depicted  small-­‐ scale  figures  enmeshed  within  the  rapidly  changing  environment  on  the  periphery  of   the   capital.   Van   Gogh’s   images   complicate   traditional   paintings   of   farming   and   factory   work   by   indicating   that   agricultural   and   factory   processes   were   changing   rapidly   during   the   1880s.   Living   in   Montmartre,   an   arrondissement   rich   with   an   artistic  culture,  Van  Gogh  sought  out  the  rural,  labor-­‐intensive  aspects  that  shaped   the   modern   landscape.   The   artist   preserved   artisanal   methods   of   agricultural   and   industrial   production,   included   new   factory   practices,   and   considered   the   nineteenth-­‐century   laborer   as   a   figure   sequestered   within   his   or   her   respective   realm.   Between   foreshortened   perspective   and   suggestive   color,   the   paintings   symbolically   convey   the   experience   of   a   working-­‐class   person.   The   viewer   is   not   necessarily  looking  at  images  of  work  but  through  the  lens  of  peasants  in  a  field,  a   couple  in  the  banlieue,  or  a  factory  worker  in  his  complex.  The  relationship  between   the  landscape  and  the  peasants  and  factory  workers  shows  that  they  exist  within  a         206   cycle  of  supply  and  demand  that  absorbs  them  into  the  landscape  and  keeps  them   connected   to   the   city   through   their   physical   labor   or   the   commodity   their   work   provides.  For  Van  Gogh,  labor  shaped  the  modern  landscape.                                             207   CHAPTER  5:  SYMBOLISM  IN  PARIS     “I  am  leaving  tomorrow,”  Van  Gogh  told  Bernard  on  the  eve  of  his  departure   from  Paris,  “[and]  we  must  arrange  the  apartment  so  that  my  brother  will  feel  that  I   am   still   with   him.”397  In   the   rue   Lepic   apartment,   Van   Gogh   and   Bernard   hung   Japanese  prints  on  the  walls,  placed  some  of  Van  Gogh’s  paintings  on  easels,  and  left   a  stack  of  canvases.  The  friends  walked  through  Montmartre  and  shook  hands  on   the  Boulevard  de  Clichy—the  petit  boulevard  as  Van  Gogh  called  it—and  that  was   the  last  time  they  saw  each  other.  Almost  two  years  since  coming  to  Paris,  Van  Gogh   left  on  February  19th,  1888,  and  arrived  in  Arles  two  days  later.   Van  Gogh  moved  south  because  Paris  had  become  overwhelming  for  him.   Théo,  too,  felt  the  strain  of  their  living  arrangement.398  The  painter  hoped  to  build   the   artist   collective   that   he   had   been   trying   to   foster   through   the   exhibitions   he   arranged   in   Paris,   and   thought   that   Arles   would   be   conducive   to   his   community-­‐                                                                                                                 397  Van  Gogh  quoted  in  Émile  Bernard,  “Preface  to  the  Letters  of  Bernard,”  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective,   ed.  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice  Hall,  Inc.,  1974)  40-­‐41.     398  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  577  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Tuesday,  February  21,  1888.  “It  seems  to  me   almost  impossible  to  be  able  to  work  in  Paris,  unless  you  have  a  refuge  in  which  to  recover  and  regain   your  peace  of  mind  and  self-­‐composure.  Without  that,  you’d  be  bound  to  get  utterly  numbed.”  On   the  date  of  his  departure,  see  note  1.  Théo  wrote  letter  FR  b908  to  Willemien  from  Paris  on  March   14,   1887   (http://vangoghletters.org/vg/documentation.html).   At   this   point,   Théo   was   certain   that   Vincent  would  eventually  sell  his  canvases,  and  he  wanted  to  support  his  brother  financially.  Living   together  posed  some  inter-­‐personal  problems  between  the  brothers.  Théo  wrote  to  Wil  that  Vincent   was  messy  and  argued  with  guests.  Théo  did  not  enjoy  living  with  his  brother  and  wanted  him  to  find   a  place  to  live  on  his  own,  which  would  take  another  year.             208   minded  goals.  Van  Gogh  felt,  in  Bernard’s  words,  that  “it  is  in  the  south  of  France   that  it  is  now  necessary  to  found  the  artists’  workshop  of  the  future.”399  Van  Gogh   also  sought  the  brighter,  richer  colors  of  the  terrain  of  southern  France,  which  would   allow  him  to  generate  the  saturated  hues  that  were,  according  to  him,   in  market   demand.400  Living  alone  during  his  first  summer  in  Arles,  Van  Gogh  produced  some   of   the   most   captivating   works   of   his   painting   career,   such   as   Sower   (June   1888),   Fourteen  Sunflowers  in  a  Vase  (August  1888),  Terrace  of  a  Café  at  Night  (September   1888)   and   The   Night   Café   (September   1888)   [figures   1-­‐4].   Through   the   subject   matter   of   a   biblical   figure   inspired   by   Jean-­‐François   Millet,   a   flower   still-­‐life,   and   modern   night-­‐life,   Van   Gogh   developed   a   unique   painterly   voice.   He   created   contrasts   between   lush,   intense   colors—Prussian   blue,   chrome   yellow,   emerald   green,   vermilion   red,   orange   lead401 —and   painted   with   controlled,   yet   highly   expressive,  layered  brushwork.     Scholars  typically mark  Van  Gogh’s  shift  to  a  Symbolist  aesthetic  in  the  visual   arts   during   the   early   Arlesian   period.   Deborah   Silverman   argues   that   Van   Gogh’s                                                                                                                   399  Van  Gogh  quoted  in  Bernard,  “Preface  to  the  Letters  of  Bernard,”  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  41.   400  Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   579   to   Wil   from   Arles   on   February   24,   1888.   “You   see   that   I’ve   gone   somewhat  further  to  the  south—I’ve  seen  only  too  clearly  that  I  cannot  prosper  with  either  my  work   or  my  health  in  the  winter—moreover,  nowadays  people  are  demanding  colour  contrasts  and  highly   intense  and  variegated  colours  in  paintings  rather  than  a  subdued  grey  colour.  So  I  thought  for  one   reason  and  another  that  I  wouldn’t  do  anyone  any  harm  if  I  just  went  to  what  attracted  me.”   401  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  593  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Thursday,  April  5,  1888.             209   Sower,  painted  during  his  first  summer  in  Arles,   indicates  this  transition.402  Sower,   Silverman  notes,  conveys  powerful  color  and  animated  brushwork  to  express  what   could  be  an  explicit  parable  figure  in  a  specific  location,  in  a  universal  way.  Van  Gogh   moved   away   from   a   realistic   story-­‐telling   agenda—which   he   employed   in,   for   example,  The  Potato  Eaters  (1885)  [figure  5]—and  considered  the  ways  in  which  the   painterly   components   engage   the   spectator’s   senses.   Van   Gogh’s   reliance   on   intensified  color  and  indirect  references  to  foster  viewer  participation  suggests  that   the   painter   recognized   the   canvas’s   ability   to   provide   the   viewer   an   imaginative   experience.  For  Silverman,  this  experience  is  spiritual.           Recognizing  an  imaginative  escape  depends  upon  perceiving  the  world  in  two   realms.  This  perspective  is  based  on  critic  and  poet  Charles  Baudelaire’s  The  Painter   of  Modern  Life  (1863)  in  which  he  defined  Beauty  in  two  components:  the  material   world  and  an  eternal  world  that  exists  beyond  the  tangible.403  An  imaginative  escape   before  a  work  of  art  allows  the  spectator  to  become  free  from  the  material  world’s   restraints—monotony,  banality,  or  bourgeois  attitudes—and  experience  an  eternal,   invisible   realm   beyond   the   transitory.   Privileging   the   canvas’s   effect   on   the                                                                                                                   402  Deborah  Silverman,  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin:  The  Search  for  the  Sacred  in  Art  (New  York,  New  York:   Farrar,  Straus  and  Giroux,  2000)  49-­‐50,  78-­‐90.  See  also:  Toos  van  Kooten  and  Mieke  Rijnders,  eds.  The   Paintings  of  Vincent  van  Gogh  in  the  Collection  of  the  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum  (Otterlo:  Kröller-­‐Müller   Museum,  2003)  233-­‐237.  In  Paris,  the  École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  held  a  Millet  exhibition  in  spring  1887.     403  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life,”  The  Painter  of  Modern  Life  and  Other  Essays,   trans.  and  ed.  Jonathan  Mayne  (London  and  New  York:  Phaidon  Press  Limited,  2001)  3.         210   spectator’s  senses  is  a  foundational  aspect  of  Symbolist  theory  and  a  principle  found   in   the   work   of   Baudelaire   and   the   critics   and   poets   he   influenced,   namely   Impressionist  critic  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  critic  Félix  Fénéon.   Mallarmé’s  and  Fénéon’s  assertions  built  on  those  of  Baudelaire  as  the  critics  argued   that  the  picture  plane  is  a  means  to  a  unique  experience  standing  before  the  canvas.   Baudelaire’s  influence  also  affected  the  perspective  of  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier,  who  in  1890   was  the  first  critic  to  write  about  Van  Gogh’s  work  and  locate  the  artist  within  the   Symbolist  aesthetic.  In  “Les  isolés—Vincent  van  Gogh,”  Aurier  articulated  how  Van   Gogh’s  paintings,  namely  Sower  and  Starry  Night  (1889)  [figure  6],  ignited  the  critic’s   imagination  and  led  his  mind  on  an  intense  journey.404     I  find  that  the  Symbolist  aspects  extolled  by  Aurier  and  those  that  Silverman   points  out  in  Sower  that  lead  to  such  an  escape  are  also  at  work  in  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐ period  canvases,  such  as  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  (spring  1887),  Patch  of  Grass   (April-­‐June  1887),  Path  in  the  Woods  (May-­‐July  1887),  Exterior  of  a  Restaurant  at   Asnières  (summer  1887),  and  The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène,  Asnières  (summer  1887)                                                                                                                   404  Sjraar  van  Heugten,  Joachim  Pissarro,  and  Chris  Stolwijk,  Eds.  Van  Gogh  and  the  Colors  of  the  Night   (The   Museum   of   Modern   Art   and   the   Van   Gogh   Museum,   2008)   17,   80-­‐85.   Artists   who   depicted   imagery  at  night  needed  to  rely  on  their  imaginations  to  do  so.  Sjraar  notes  that  Van  Gogh  did  not  use   an  under-­‐drawing  to  compose  Starry  Night  and  painted  directly  onto  the  canvas.  He  also  argues  that   Van  Gogh  did  not  have  an  “understanding  of  color  theories”  and  that  they  remained  “beyond   his   grasp”  (81).  I  will  argue  that  the  color  theories  at  work  in  Starry  Night  can  be  found  in  some  of  Van   Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  imagery.           211   [figures  7-­‐10].  In  these  canvases,  there  is  a  suggested  meaning  veiled  in  high-­‐keyed   color   and   forceful   brushwork.   I   contend   that   the   Symbolist   compositional   devices   Robert  Goldwater  deems  “nascent”  in  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  paintings  are  more   overt  than  has  been  previously  discussed.405  In  Goldwater’s  terms,  Symbolist  artists   saw  emotional  ideas  as  a  priority,  making  the  subject  matter  secondary  to  a  means   that   could   acknowledge   a   greater,   mind-­‐altering   goal.  406  The   subject   matter,   in   some  sense,  is  a  vehicle  by  which  the  formal  qualities  convey  something  other  than   a  theme  related  to  the  subject  itself.  For  instance,  in  The  Potato  Eaters,  Van  Gogh   depicted  the  figures  in  an  umber  hue  similar  to  the  color  of  dirt  to  make  an  analogy   between  the  earth-­‐colored  complexions  of  the  peasants  and  the  ways  in  which  they   sustain   their   family   through   a   potato   harvest. 407  To   paint   within   a   Symbolist   aesthetic   was   a   condition   of   the   mind,   a   perception   that   recognized   the   world’s   duality   and   the   ways   in   which   an   imaginatively   generated   canvas   could   lead   the   spectator  to  an  eternal,  universal  state  of  mind.  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  canvases,                                                                                                                   405  Robert  Goldwater,  Symbolism  (Boulder,  Colorado:  Westview  Press,  1979)  127-­‐129.   406  Goldwater  7.   407  Van  Gogh  wrote  Théo  letter  499  from  Nuenen  on  May  2,  1885.  “Now  the  flesh  tones—I  know  that   on  a  superficial  examination,  that  is  if  you  don’t  think  it  through,  they  look  like  what  people  call  flesh   color.  I  did  paint  them  that  way  at  the  beginning  of  the  painting—some  yellow  ochre,  red  ochre  and   white,  for  example.  But  that  was  much  too  light  and  certainly  didn’t  do.  What  was  to  be  done?—I  had   finished  all  the  heads  and  even  finished  them  with  great  care—but  I  quickly  repainted  them  without   mercy,   and   the   color   they’re   painted   now   is   something   like   the   color   of   a   really   dusty   potato,   unpeeled  of  course.”           212   particularly   his   landscapes,   show   the   painter’s   Symbolist   attitude   toward   an   expressive  painterly  vernacular  that  privileged  meaning  through  color  and  form.  Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   park   scenes,   for   instance,   indicates   his   reconsideration   of   a   subject   as   it   lends   itself   to   painterly   exaggeration.   Unlike   The   Potato   Eaters,   the   Paris-­‐period   paintings   do   not   rely   on   color   and   texture   to   clarify   subtext—the   painter’s  tools,  such  as  brushes,  oil  paints,  and  hue,  suggest  meaning  aside  from  that   of  the  scene  at  hand.  In  some  of  the  Paris-­‐period  canvases,  hue  and  texture  convey   metaphors  of  the  relationship  among  a  painter’s  work,  experience  before  nature,   and  imaginative  translation  of  the  material  world.     Moreover,  the  art-­‐historical  narrative  Goldwater  and  Naomi  Margolis  Mauer   develop   to   explain   Van   Gogh’s   exposure   to   Symbolist   theory   begins   with   Paul   Gauguin’s  visit  to  Arles  between  October  and  December  1888.  408  They  conclude  that   during   this   two-­‐month   period,   the   French   painter   imparted   Symbolist   tenets,   notably  depending  on  the  artist’s  imagination  rather  than  the  scene  before  him  to   craft  an   image.  Connecting  Van  Gogh’s  engagement  with  Symbolism  to  Gauguin’s                                                                                                                   408  Naomi  Margolis  Mauer,  The  Pursuit  of  Spiritual  Wisdom:  The  Thought  and  Art  of  Vincent  van  Gogh   and  Paul  Gauguin  (Madison  and  Teaneck:  Fairleigh  Dickinson  University  Press,  1998)  79-­‐88.  Using  a   quotation  from  Gauguin’s  journal,  Mauer  notes  that  Gauguin  felt  he  taught  Van  Gogh  to  paint  from   his  imagination.  Mauer  underscores  that  we  have  no  way  of  knowing  if  Van  Gogh  would  agree,  and   continues  to  argue  that  “it   is   indeed  clear  that  under  [Gauguin’s]  encouragement  Vincent  made  a   brief   foray   into   painting   from   imagination   instead   of   from   the   scenes   around   him.”   See   also:   Goldwater  128.             213   visit   solely   omits   significant   painterly   ideals   that   Van   Gogh   had   begun   in   The   Netherlands   and   developed   in   Paris.   While   painting   from   memory   to   attain   a   likeness  and  drafting  from  the  imagination  are  different  painterly  approaches,  Van   Gogh  began  depending  on  his  memory  when  sketching  for  The  Potato  Eaters,  which   led  to  his  ability  to  rely  on  his  inner  mind’s  esoteric  ideas  in  Paris.409  Depending  on   memory  to  create  allowed  the  artist  to  have  an  energetic  spell,  and,  in  Baudelaire’s   words,   to   experience   “a   fire,   an   intoxication   of   the   pencil   or   brush,   amounting   almost  to  a  frenzy…ideal  execution,  may  become  as  unconscious  and  spontaneous   as  digestion….”410  Drawing  from  memory  unfettered  Van  Gogh’s  mind  and  freed  him   from  wondering  if  he  was  achieving  a  likeness  or  hesitating  before  the  canvas.     Although  Symbolist  aesthetics   in  Van  Gogh’s  painting  practice  did  not  fully   culminate  until  the  summer  of  1888,  constructing  Gauguin  as  a  mythical  sage  and   Van  Gogh  as  a  receptor  circumvents  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  works  that  lead  from   the  palette  and  paint  application  of  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  canvases.   Van  Gogh’s  paintings  include  the  avant-­‐garde  compositional  strategies  that  set  his   painting  practice  on  a  Symbolist  course.  Gauguin  was  somewhat  absent  when  Van                                                                                                                   409  Mark   A.   Cheetham,   “Mystical   Memories:   Gauguin’s   Neoplatonism   and   ‘Abstraction’   in   Late-­‐ Nineteenth-­‐Century  French  Painting,”  Art  Journal  46,  no.  1  (Spring,  1987):  15-­‐21.  Cheetham  attributes   Gauguin’s  move  toward  abstraction  in  1888  to  the  importance  the  artist  placed  on  memory.  For  a   discussion  of  Baudelaire’s  ideas  on  memory  in  his  1846  Salon  see:  Michael  Fried,  “Painting  Memories:   On  the  Containment  of  the  Past  in  Baudelaire  and  Manet,”  Critical  Inquiry  10  no.  3  (March,  1984):   510-­‐542.   410  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life”  17.         214   Gogh   lived   in   Paris.411  Overall,   Gauguin   was   in   Paris   for   about   ten   months   when   Vincent   lived   there,   and,   although   Gauguin   had   been   dealing   with   Théo,   the   two   painters  met  only  briefly.  During  Gauguin’s  last  trip  to  Pont-­‐Aven,  Gauguin  painted   Vision   After   the   Sermon   (1888)   [figure   11],   considered   one   of   his   first   Symbolist   works,  around  the  same  time  Van  Gogh  was  also  making  his  foray  into  a  Symbolist   aesthetic  in  paintings  such  as  Sower.412     After   leaving  the  capital,  Van  Gogh’s   letter  writing  began  at  a  steady  pace   again.   The   painter   was   living   far   away   from   his   brother   who   financially   and   professionally  supported  him.  Van  Gogh  also  continued  to  discuss  art  and  painting   with  Bernard,  an  extension  of  the  conversations  that  had  perhaps  begun  in  Paris.   The  letters  Vincent  wrote  to  Théo  and  Bernard  regarding  his  painting  practice  from   his   first   summer   in   Arles   reveal   some   of   the   Symbolist   ideals   that   draw   from   Baudelaire’s  objectives,  notably:  drawing  from  nature  but  transforming  the  image   through   medium   and   using   his   imagination   to   convey   a   compositionally   symbolic   image,  not  a  descriptive  representation.  Although  Silverman  and  Mauer  argue  that   Van  Gogh  aimed  to  generate  paintings  to  share  his  religious  ideals,  while  in  Paris  he                                                                                                                   411  After  the  8me  Exposition  de  peintre  in  spring  1886,  Gauguin  painted  in  Pont-­‐Aven  in  Brittany  from   June  through  November,  left  for  Martinique  in  April  1887  where  he  stayed  until  November,  and  left   in  February  again  for  Pont-­‐Aven  where  he  painted  with  Bernard  throughout  October.  Gauguin  left   Pont-­‐Aven  and  traveled  to  Arles  to  meet  Van  Gogh  that  October.   412  Silverman   91-­‐118.   On   the   story   of   Jacob   and   the   Angel   in   Symbolism,   see:   Suzanne   Singletary,   “Jacob  Wrestling  with  the  Angel:  A  Theme  in  Symbolist  Art,”  Nineteenth-­‐Century  French  Studies  32   (Spring-­‐Summer  2004):  298-­‐315.           215   engaged   with   formal   strategies   that   were   in   line   with   the   Literary   Symbolist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   theories.   In   so   doing,   the   religious   goals   Van   Gogh   set   in   1880   when  he  first  decided  to  become  a  painter  shifted  as  he  entered  a  modernist  milieu   and   reconsidered   the   role   of   the   canvas.   Considering   Van   Gogh’s   Paris-­‐period   paintings,   such   as   Patch,   as   his   transition   into   a   symbolic   use   of   color   and   form   locates   the   artist’s   developing   Symbolist   aesthetic   within   the   Baudelairean   ideals   that   influenced   the   Impressionists’   subject   matter   and   facture.   I   explore   how   the   Symbolist  theoretical  ideals  propelled  the  changes  in  Van  Gogh’s  painting  practice.   Furthermore,   I  consider  how  the  new  compositional  devices  with  which  the  artist   constructed  his  canvases  led  to  a  highly  reduced  method  of  capturing  natural  effects   and  a  shift  toward  symbolic  imagery  that  sent  Aurier  on  an  imaginative  voyage.       Symbolist  Theory   A  pile  of  more  than  a  dozen  French  novels,  strewn  against  a  wall,  decorated   with  yellow,  green,  pink,  and  red  book-­‐jackets  in  Van  Gogh’s  Romans  parisiens  (fall   1887)   [figure   12]   testify   to   the   artist’s   appreciation   for   books.   Vincent   left   the   painting   in   Paris   with   Théo   who   sent   Romans   parisiens   to   the   third   Société   des   Artistes  Indépendants  exhibition  held  in  spring  1888  to  represent  his  brother’s  new         216   work.  Van  Gogh  was  pleased.413  Judy  Sund  uses  Romans  parisiens  to  assert  that  Van   Gogh  remained  wholly  unmoved  by  the  Symbolist  literature  circulating  in  Paris  in  the   mid-­‐1880s.414  He  was,  she  continues,  captivated  by  Naturalist  writers,  such  as  Émile   Zola,  and  stayed  committed  to  their  novels  and  realistic  approach  to  subject  matter.   Although  A.M.  Hammacher  warned  not  to  read  Romans  parisiens  iconographically,   Sund  calls  attention  to  the  brightly  colored  book-­‐covers,  pointing  out  that  Naturalist   novels  appeared  in  similar  hues.415  Van  Gogh  was  not  a  mimetic  painter,  and,  at  this   point  in  his  painting  career,  he  neither  faithfully  depicted  the  scene  before  him  nor   used  local  color  to  describe  objects.     In  earlier  still  lives  with  texts,  Van  Gogh  underscored  content  or  recognizable   titles.    Van  Gogh’s  Still  Life  with  Bible  (October  1885)  [figure  13]  includes  his  father’s   bible  and  Zola’s  La  joie  de  vivre  (1884),  a  contrast  between  religious  testaments  and                                                                                                                   413  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  582  to  Thèo  from  Arles  around  Friday,  March  2,  1888.  See  note  9.  See  also:   letter  584,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Saturday,  March  10,  1888.   414  Judy   Sund,   “Romans   parisiens:   Reading   Naturalism   in   its   habitat,”   True   to   Temperament   (Cambridge  and  New  York:  Cambridge  University  Press,  1992)  126,  144-­‐152.     415  A.M.  Hammacher,  “Van  Gogh’s  Relationship  with  Signac  (1962),”  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  146-­‐147.   Hammacher  aimed  to  shift  the  conversation  on  Van  Gogh’s  still-­‐life  images  that  included  books  from   an   iconographical   reading   to   an   investigation   of   the   artist’s   “separate   and   conflicting   patches   of   color”  in,  for  example,  Romans  parisiens.  She  stressed  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  the  books  as  rectangular   objects  that  allowed  for  artistic  experimentation  in  terms  of  color.  Sund  later  claimed  that  Van  Gogh’s   inclusion  of  novels  was  more  “purposeful”  than  Hammacher  initially  argued.  I  return  to  Hammacher’s   claims  and  consider  her  analysis  in  light  of  Symbolist  theory  as  I  find  Sund’s  argument  about  the  overt   nature  of  the  book’s  titles  and  content  an   irrelevant  point   in   Romans   parisiens  because  the  artist   omitted  text-­‐related  cues.             217   those  of  a  contemporary  author  who  paints  “life  as  we  feel  it  ourselves….”416  Two   extinguished  candles  may  symbolize  the  passing  of  Van  Gogh’s  father,  who  had  died   a   few   days   before   he   made   this   painting,   which   he   completed   in   one   sitting.417   Painted  in  the  dense  umbers  characteristic  of  the  painter’s  Nuenen  imagery,  Still  Life   with   Bible   addresses   the   notion   of   a   search   for   understanding,   during   which   one   could   refer   to   scripture   or   modern   novels.   In   a   Parisian   still-­‐life   painting,   Three   Novels  (January-­‐February  1887)  [figure  14],  Van  Gogh  drew  legible  book  titles  in  a   deep,  warm  palette  related  to  Still  Life  with  Bible.418  Painted  in  crimson  red,  Zola’s   Au   Bonheur   des   Dames   (1883)   lies   on   a   diagonal   in   the   background,   and,   in   the   foreground,  Jean  Richepin’s  Les  Braves  gens  (1886)  sits  atop  Edmond  de  Goncourt’s   La  Fille  Elisa  (1877).  Although  Still  Life  with  Bible  and  Three  Novels   imply  meaning   between   and   among   the   books’   content,   the   artist’s   color   describes   the   book   jackets,  leaving  the  viewer  to  consider  the  objects  as  they  are  and  the  meaning  the   texts  share  or  juxtapose.                                                                                                                     416  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  574  to  Wil  from  Paris  in  late  October  1887.  “On  the  contrary,  if  one  wants   truth,  life  as  it  is,  De  Goncourt,  for  example,  in  Germinie  Lacerteux,  La  fille  Elisa,  Zola  in  La  joie  de   vivre  and  L’assommoir  and  so  many  other  masterpieces  paint   life  as  we  feel   it  ourselves  and  thus   satisfy  that  need  which  we  have,  that  people  tell  us  the  truth.”   417  See  the  Van  Gogh  Museum’s  brief  overview  of  Still  Life  with  Bible:   http://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0008V1962.     418  Bogomila  Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988)  148.         218   A   principal   component   of   the   Symbolist   aesthetic   is   to   invite   viewer   participation   through   suggestive,   rather   than   literal,   means.   In   Symbolist   terms,   color  need  not  describe  the  subject  matter  for  optimal  clarity,  but  rather  enhance   and  exaggerate  compositional  qualities.   In  Van  Gogh’s  Romans  parisiens  the  titles   are  intentionally  illegible,  and  the  brush  strokes  lend  a  sense  of  motion  around  the   pile  of  inert  books.  While  the  literal  analysis  of  the  book  titles  may  or  may  not  lead   to   either   Naturalist   or   Symbolist   novels,   the   compositional   strategies   Van   Gogh   employed  do  so.  By  omitting  any  indication  of  the  novels’  content,  Van  Gogh  shifts   from  a  direct  literary  reference  and  potential  content-­‐related  themes  to  relying  on   texture  and  hue  to  convey  an  aspect  that  does  not  allow  the  viewer  to  investigate   the   books’   titles,   but   rather   to   consider   the   artist’s   medium.   In   some   cases,   the   application   of   paint   supplants   the   text.   The   artist   later   recalled   that   the   paint   application  was  rather  plain:  “no  stippling,  no  hatching,  nothing;  the  tints  flat,  but  in   harmony.”419     These  painterly  attributes  relate  to  the  developing  Symbolist  aesthetic  of  the   mid  1880s,  evident  in  novels,  manifestoes,  and  critical  accounts,  which  were  rooted   in  Baudelairean  theory.  Romans  parisiens  does  not  convey  typical  textures,  stipple,                                                                                                                   419  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  707  to  Thèo  from  Arles  on  Wednesday,  October  17,  1888.  See  also:  letter   584.  “I  think  it’s  a  very  good  idea  that  you  put  the  books  in  the  Independents’  too.  This  study  should   be  given  the  title:  ‘Parisian  novels’.”           219   or   hatch   marks.   Instead,   Van   Gogh’s   elongated,   somewhat   gestural   strokes   are   unique   to   his   act   of   painting.   Baudelaire   privileged   the   artist’s   imagination—“the   queen  of  faculties”—during  the  creative  process  so  that  the  canvas  could  provide   the   viewer   with   an   experience   that   excited   his   imagination.420  For   Baudelaire,   an   image  constructed  with  the  artist’s  individual  use  of  stroke  and  hue  could  enhance   the  spectator’s  senses.  Rather  than  describe  a  pile  of  books,  Van  Gogh  transcribed   the  subject  matter  through  his  imaginative  use  of  medium.  A  block  of  red  made  with   a   few   vertical   strokes,   for   instance,   appears   on   the   right   wall,   which   neither   connotes  a  shadow  nor  pattern  as  it  is  hue  for  the  sake  of  artifice.     Van   Gogh   was   aware   of   Baudelaire   as   a   poet   and   critic,   but   he   did   not   fervently   study   Baudelaire’s   texts   first-­‐hand   as   he   had   Zola’s,   for   instance.   421                                                                                                                   420  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Salon  of  1859,”  Art  in  Paris:  Salons  and  Other  Exhibitions,  trans  and  ed.   Jonathan  Mayne  (Oxford  Press  Limited,  1965)  163.   421  Charles   Baudelaire,   “The   Salon   of   1846,”   Art   in   Paris:   1845-­‐1862:   Salons   and   Other   Exhibitions   Reviewed   by   Charles   Baudelaire,   trans.   and   ed.   Jonathan   Mayne   (Oxford:   Phaidon   Press,   Limited,   1965)  47.  Before  arriving  in  Paris,  Van  Gogh  must  have  read  Baudelaire’s  “Salon  of  1846”  in  which  the   critic  aimed  to  define  Romanticism  in  terms  of  Eugène  Delacroix’s  paintings,  but  did  so  at  the  expense   of  Rembrandt’s  imagery:  “And  yet  Rembrandt  is  not  a  colourist,  but  a  harmonizer.  How  novel  then   would  be  the  effect,  and  how  matchless  his  romanticism,   if  a  powerful  colourist  could  realize  our   dearest  dreams  and  feelings  for  us  in  a  colour  appropriate  to  their  subjects!”  Van  Gogh  paraphrased   the   critic’s   sentence   regarding   the   difference   between   color   and   harmony   in   letter   536,   which   he   wrote  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Tuesday,  October  20,  1885;  see  note  18.  Van  Gogh  understood   Baudelaire’s  position,  and  he  took   issue  with  the  use  of  black  and  white   in  regards  to  using  color   effectively.   Although   Baudelaire   did   not   specifically   address   the   use   of   black   and   white   in   Rembrandt’s  paintings,  Van  Gogh  could  have  interpreted  the  critic’s  use  of  “harmonizer”  to  mean   using   tints   and   shades.   Ultimately,   I   think   Van   Gogh   disagreed   with   Baudelaire’s   support   of   Delacroix’s  use  of  color  against  that  of  Rembrandt’s.  In  a  subsequent  letter  to  Horace  Mann  Livens   (letter  569  written  from  Paris  in  September  or  October  1886),  Van  Gogh  noted  that  he  was  not  trying   to  render  a  harmony  with  hue,  but  aimed  to  use  “intense  color.”  I  understand  this  statement  as  a  way         220   Baudelaire’s   ideas   about   indirect   meaning   to   engage   the   viewer’s   imagination   became   a   crucial   part   of   the   theoretical   structure   of   Symbolist   author’s,   such   as   Joris-­‐Karl   Huysmans.     While   Van   Gogh   was   enamored   with   Zola’s   writings,   the   painter   also   read   Huysmans’   A   rebours   (1884),   a   novel   for   which   Baudelaire’s   aesthetic  serves  as  a  foundational  tenet.  Van  Gogh  had,  according  to  Bernard,  “a   limitless   admiration   for   Huysmans;   he   especially   liked…A   rebours.”422  Huysmans’   sensitive   character   Des   Esseintes   stays   in   his   Fontenay   home   so   that   his   decrepit   senses   that   have   been   dulled   by   the   monotony   of   the   material   world   can   be   stimulated  by  Gustave  Moreau’s  The  Apparition  (1876)  [figure  15],  and  the  work  of   Odilon   Redon. 423  The   paintings   allowed   him   to   live   in   a   state   of   “dreamy   contemplation,”  away  from  the  “boredom  of  the  drawing-­‐room…the  stupidity  at  the   gaming  table  and  of  the  depravity  of  the  brothel.”424  Moreau’s  imagery  allows  Des   Esseintes   to   escape   the   despair   of   modern-­‐day   Paris   because   Moreau’s   paintings                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               for   Van   Gogh   to   align   his   practice   with   Rembrandt   and   against   Baudelaire’s   assessment   of   Rembrandt’s  color.     Baudelaire  was  an  important  poet  to  Bernard.  In  an  1888  letter  to  Bernard,  Van  Gogh  quoted  a  verse   from   Baudelaire   in   which   the   poet   mentioned   Rembrandt   in   his   poem   “Phares”   published   in   Les   Fleurs  du  mal  (1857).  Van  Gogh  cited  the  verse  that  included  Rembrandt  to  underscore  that  the  critic   knew  “more  or  less  nothing”  of  the  Dutch  artist.    See  letters  628  (note  18)  and  649  (note  6),  which   Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Bernard  from  Arles  during  summer  1888.     422  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  38.     423  Joris-­‐Karl   Huysmans,   A   rebours,   trans.   Robert   Baldick   (New   York   and   London:   Penguin   Group,   2003)  56.   424  Huysmans  198.           221   suggest  meaning  through  ancient  references  that  do  not  form  a  succinct  narrative,   which   lead   the   main   character   to   a   dream-­‐like   state.425  Des   Esseintes’   experience   before  a  Symbolist  work  of  art  is  symptomatic  of  a  shift  in  considering  the  role  of  the   color  and  texture  of  a  canvas.  These  attributes  lent  themselves  to  the  effect  of  the   canvas  on  the  viewer’s  senses,  not  necessarily  to  shape  forms  or  set  objects  into  a   deep   space.   For   Des   Esseintes,   Moreau’s   facture   conveyed   “subtly   evocative   suggestions.”426  Moreau  intended  for  a  somnambulistic  viewer  to  contemplate  his   imagery,   be   jarred   awake   by   the   interesting   use   of   medium   and   unresolved   narratives,  reach  a  higher  reality,  and  realize  that  the  bourgeois  mores  clouded  life’s   vibrancy.427  Moreau   referred   to   the   escape   and   the   subsequent   realization   of   modern  life’s  deterioration  as  a  fixed  dream  (le  rêve  fixe).   Moreau’s  concept  of  the  fixed  dream  is  not  an  explicit  experience  available  in   Van  Gogh’s  Romans  parisiens,  but  the  underlying  aspects  that  lead  to  a  work  that   does   jar   a   viewer’s   senses   are   evident   in   the   artist’s   painting   techniques.     The   “harmony”  between  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  “flat  tints”  and  facture  in  the  painting  is  akin   to   the   relationship   between   the   aspects   of   Moreau’s   canvas   that   engage   the                                                                                                                   425  Huysmans,  A  rebours  56.   426  Huysmans  56-­‐59.   427  Douglas   Druick,   “Moreau’s   Symbolist   Ideal,”   Gustave   Moreau:   Between   Epic   and   Dream,   ed.   Geneviève   Lacambre   (Princeton,   NJ:   The   Art   Institute   of   Chicago   in   Association   with   Princeton   University  Press,  1999)  35-­‐36.         222   spectator  through  indirect  meaning.  The  paint  application  halts  the  subject  matter’s   meaning,  placing  emphasis  on  the  artist’s  painterly  construction.  Van  Gogh’s  use  of   hue   does   not   explain   the   novel’s   meaning,   as   he   had   done   in   Three   Novels,   but   conveys   a   sense   of   motion   in   a   seemingly   still   space.   The   blue   marks   of   the   tablecloth  rush  toward  the  lower  edge  of  the  picture-­‐plane  and  contrast  with  the   green  strokes  moving  up  the  wall  in  the  background.  The  books  are  not  static  but   operate  as  blocks  of  color  within  the  circular  motion  generated  by  the  elongated   brushwork  on  the  table  and  wall.  There  is  a  shift  within  Van  Gogh’s  book  still-­‐life   genre   from   the   directive   and   descriptive   to   oblique   references.   Creating   motion   became   a   visual   technique   in   Van   Gogh’s   paintings,   and   in   Romans   parisiens   this   sense   is   a   contributing   factor   to   the   overall   symbolic   nature   of   the   still   life   as   a   measure  of  the  artist’s  physical  movement  during  the  act  of  creation.     Van  Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  is  an  indication  of  the  artist’s  movement  before  the   canvas.  He  transformed  the  subject  matter  by  capturing  the  actions  he  performed   between   his   medium   and   his   canvas.   Translating   the   natural   world   through   an   exaggerated  use  of  medium  rather  than,  for  instance,  depicting  a  convincing  depth   of   space,   is   another   integral   component   to   Symbolist   aesthetics.   As   the   subject   matter  is  typically  suggestive,  the  paint  application  is  also  experimental  and  often   highly   embellished   texture   and   color.   Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   landscape   in   Paris,   particularly  that  of  parks  such  as  Park  at  Asnières  in  Spring  or  Sous-­‐Bois  (Summer         223   1887)   [figures   7   &   16]   also   lead   from   a   tangible   subject   matter,   foliage   and   underbrush,  yet  move  into  an  expressive  use  of  hue  and  stroke  to  show  that  the   scene   has   undergone   a   rigorous   reinvention   in   the   artist’s   mind.   Van   Gogh’s   approach   to   landscape   in   the   Paris-­‐period   paintings   can   also   be   found   within   Baudelaire’s  theoretical  structure.     Baudelaire  relegated  nature  to  a  “dictionary”  and  urged  artists  to  pull  from   the   material   world   the   aspects   they   could   “digest   and   transform”   using   an   “execution”  that  is  both  “deft  and  unerring.”428  The  critic  encouraged  artists  to  paint   quickly,   losing  the  drive  to  capture  objects  as  they  were  and  instead  tap  into  the   energetic  nature  of  the  brush  on  the  canvas  during  the  intense  process  of  painting.   In   Baudelairean   aesthetics,   the   participant   deduces   symbolic   meaning   from   an   intense   experience   and   the   viewer’s   ability   to   connect   to   his   senses   without   hindrance.  The  eternal  realm  is  one  that  was  a  hitherto  invisible  reality  that  reveals   itself  mysteriously.  The  infinite  is  a  part  of  the  participant’s  interior  world  as  well  as   a  dimension  beyond  Nature,  beyond  mundane  everyday  experiences.  Elevation  into   the  eternal  world  can  be  stimulated  by  scent,  “contemplation  of  a  landscape,”  and   by  a  work  of  art.429  Essentially,  for  Baudelaire,  there  are  signs  in  the  material  world   that  can  trigger  an  experience  of  the  spiritual  world.  The  intermediaries  between  the                                                                                                                   428  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  160-­‐162.   429  F.W.  Leakey  186.         224   two  worlds,  the  transitory  and  the  infinite  realms,  are  the  hidden  correspondence,   signs  available  in  nature,  such  as  sounds,  scents,  and  colors.430  Art  is  the  antidote  to   the  banality  of  the  modern  world,  and  through  a  work  of  art’s  suggestive  nature  and   overstated   use   of   medium,   an   experience   within   an   eternal   realm   is   possible.   In   relation   to   Baudelaire’s   notion   that   artists   should   paint   modern   life,   this   aspect   addresses  the  first  component  of  the  critic’s  definition  of  Beauty,  composed  of  the   material  world  and  the  eternal  realm.  Baudelaire  noted  that  a  participant  could  not   transcend   nature—but   only   in   a   representation   of   nature   that   transcended   reference  to  the  material  world.  “When  nature  is  so  lovely,”  wrote  Van  Gogh,  “…I   am   no   longer   aware   of   myself   and   the   painting   comes   to   me   as   if   in   a   dream”   (687).431  Succumbing   to   the   painting   process,   Van   Gogh’s   dream-­‐like   experience   relates   to   Baudelaire’s   directives   in   terms   of   the   imagination’s   role   during   the   moment  of  creation.     While  there  is  no  evidence  linking  Van  Gogh  directly  to  the  texts  of  Symbolist   poets   Jean   Moréas   and   Gustave   Kahn,   the   Baudelairean   ideals   of   creating   from   nature,  but  entirely  abstracting  the  material  world  can  also  be  found  in  Symbolist   literary   theory.   In   his   Symbolist   literary   manifesto   of   1886,   Moréas   referred   to                                                                                                                   430  Townley  Mathews  29.     431  Van  Gogh  wrote  this  passage  from  Arles  to  Théo  in  a  letter  dated  Tuesday,  September  25,  1888.             225   Platonic  Idea,  the  highest  level  of  Beauty  that  exists  beyond  the  material  world.432   Mallarmé   also   noted   that   the   experience   before   “the   only   authentic   and   certain   merit  of  nature—the  Aspect”  was  Idea.433  Reaching  Idea  is  to  attain  a  state  of  mind,   a   state   that   separates   the   viewer   from   the   constraints   of   the   material   world   and   allows  him  to  experience  an  escape,  one  that  is  triggered  by  the  suggestive  nature   and   high-­‐keyed   color   of   the   canvas.   Similar   to   Moreau’s   fixed   dream,   Moréas   considered   an   intangible   realm,   an   eternal   space   that   was   a   harbor   to   the   over-­‐ wrought  senses  of  someone  living  in  the  modern  world.  Mallarmé  and  Kahn  both   also  noted  that  a  painting’s  idea  is  paramount;  they  did  not  focus  on  the  painting  as                                                                                                                   432  Jean   Moréas,   “A   Literary   Manifesto—Symbolism   (1886),”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans.   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  151.  Erwin  Panofsky,  Idea,  trans.  Joseph  J.S.  Peake  (Columbia,  S.C.:  University  of  South   Carolina  Press,  1968)  4,  6,  13.  Panofsky  explains  that  for  Plato,  only  the  dialectician  could  be  trusted   with  the  divine  task  of  allowing  for  transport  to  the  eternal.  Plato  understood  the  world  as  a  duality;   the  eternal  is  veiled  by  the  transitory  or  material  world.  Pulsing  beneath  what  we  can  see  is  a  beyond   realm  that  is  accessible  through  contemplative  thought  of  something  beautiful  and  traveled  to  by  the   mind.  Idea  exists  in  the  universal  realm  beyond  the  material.  This  high-­‐level  of  beauty  already  exists   in  the  mind  of  an  artist  and  it  is  up  to  the  artist’s  soul  to  recognize  the  pure  ideal  of  beauty  within.   This  beauty  cannot  take  a  material  form;  its  representation,  Plato  stated,  was  simply  an  illusion  able   to  reveal  a  “truth”  through  intellectual  communication.  See  also:  Wladyslaw  Tatarkiewicz,  History  of   Aesthetics:  Ancient  Aesthetic,  Vol.  1.  Ed.  J.  Harrell,   trans.  Historia  Estetyki  and  Estetyka  Starozytna   (Paris:   PWN-­‐Polish   Scientific   Publishers,   1970)   118.   According   to   Tatarkiewicz,   Idea   exists   in   the   universal  realm  beyond  the  material.  Plato  believed  in  the  transcendence  of  the  body  and  soul  to   Idea,  a  constant  eternal  beauty.  For  a  brief  discussion  of  Baudelaire’s  ideas  on  transcendentalism  and   ancient   tradition   see:   F.W.   Leakey,   Baudelaire   and   Nature   (London:   Manchester   University   Press,   1965)  175-­‐  176.   433  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet,”  The  New  Painting:  Impressionism,   ed.  Charles  S.  (San  Francisco:  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  34.             226   a   thing.434  The   prime   experience   happened   through   the   process   of   interpretive   thinking,   not   by   reveling   in   the   formal   details   of   the   subject   itself.435  Although   Baudelaire  did  not  define  his  aesthetic  in  terms  of  an  Ideic  experience,  his  definition   of   Beauty   relates   to   the   Symbolist   poets’   ideals.   Baudelaire’s   Beauty   is   a   duality   between  the  transitory  and  eternal  realms,  and,  in  his  terms,  the  imagination  has  “a   positive   relation   to   the   infinite”   and   is   the   mind’s   conduit   between   the   material   world  and  an  eternal,  universal  feeling.436  In  Baudelaire’s  aesthetic,  the  imagination   can  communicate  through  an  inherent,  universal  language  and  thus  directly  connect   to  the  viewer’s  mind.437  Baudelaire  and  the  Symbolist  theorists  recognize  a  pathway   to  the  eternal  state  of  mind  through  one’s  imagination,  which  could  be  activated  by   a  painting  the  artist  produced  by  drawing  from  his  inner  mind.       Writing  to  Bernard  from  Arles,  Van  Gogh  echoed  this  painting  process:                                                                                                                   434  Townley  Mathews  9-­‐10.     435  Gustave  Kahn,  “Seurat,”  Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans.  and  ed.  Henri  Dorra   (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1994)  172-­‐174.   436  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  156.  “Imagination  first  taught  man  the  moral  meaning  of  colour,  of   contour,  of  sound  and  of  scent.  In  the  beginning  of  the  world  it  created  analogy  and  metaphor.  It   decomposes  all  creation,  and  with  raw  materials  accumulated  and  disposed  in  accordance  with  rules   save  in  the  furthest  depths  of  the  soul,  it  created  a  new  world,  it  produces  the  sensation  of  newness.   As  it  has  created  the  world…it  is  proper  it  should  govern  it…Imagination  is  the  queen  of  truth,  and  the   possible  is  one  of  the  provinces  of  truth.  It  has  a  positive  relation  with  the  infinite.”   437  J.A.  Hiddleston,  “In  Search  of  an  Aesthetic,”  Baudelaire  and  the  Art  of  Memory  (Oxford:  Clarendon   Press,  1999)  41.  See  also:  F.W.  Leakey,  Baudelaire  and  Nature  (London:  Manchester  University  Press,   1965)  195-­‐217.  Through  an  analysis  of  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  (1857),  Leakey  explores  the   relationship  between  Nature  and  the  symbol  in  the  critic’s  aesthetics.             227   But  in  the  meantime  I’m  still  living  off  the  real  world.  I  exaggerate,   I  sometimes  make  changes  to  the  subject,  but  still  I  don’t  invent   the  whole  of  the  painting;  on  the  contrary,  I  find  it  ready-­‐made— but  to  be  untangled—in  the  real  world.438     Untangling  pictorial  elements  from  nature  came  for  Van  Gogh,  in  some  ways,  in  the   form  of  landscape,  as  the  subject  matter  lends  itself  to  intense  abstraction.  In  Park  in   Asnières   in   Spring   and   Sous-­‐Bois,   there   is   an   overall   sense   of   pattern   generated   between   strokes,   layered   in   saturated   greens   and   Naples   yellow,   and   that   of   the   flattened  compositional  frame.  The  sense  of  motion  references,  not  a  breeze  among   the   shrubbery,   but   wind   as   a   metaphor   for   the   act   of   painting,   the   moments   of   uninhibited  creation.  Wind  rendered  in  tactile  medium  becomes  the  experience  of   the  artist  within  the  landscape  and  the  marks  are  evidence  of  his  experience,  which   is  unlike  the  process  of  rendering  the  scene  to  capture  transitory  effects.     In  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring,  the  sun’s  light  illuminates  the  canvases,  but  the   painter   did   not   reveal   the   sun’s   light   source   directly,   only   obliquely   through   the   warm  light  hues  that  permeate  the  canvas.  Van  Gogh  did  not  use  the  sun’s  light  to   shape  the  landscape,  providing  a  depth  within  a  far-­‐reaching  perspectival  space,  but   rather  crafted  the  canvas  as  a  sign  of  the  sun  itself.  Similarly,  Exterior  of  a  Restaurant   in  Asnières  (1887)  [figure  10]  shows  a  canvas  as  a  sign  of  sun  and  light,  rather  than   the  sun’s  rays  illuminating  a  surface,  helping  to  render  it  in  convincing  perspective.                                                                                                                   438  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  698  to  Bernard  from  Arles  around  Friday,  October  5,  1888.         228   In  Park  in  Asnières   in  Spring,  the  wind  and  sun  operate  symbolically,  as  the  artist   suggested  their  effects  but  subordinated  literal  translations  to  evoke  the  indication   of   an   atmospheric   occurrence.   He   did   not   necessarily   explore   his   experience   standing   in   the   park   of   a   forest,   but   that   of   the   relationship   among   his   palette,   brush,  and  image.  The  park  scene  and  forest  do  not  indicate  the  delicate  sense  of   light  upon  branches  or  foliage  but  reference  the  artist’s  relationship  to  his  canvas   and  the  action  of  applying  paint.  Standing  before  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  or  Sous-­‐ Bois,  the  viewer  cannot  recognize  an  area  of  a  familiar  park,  but  instead  experiences   a   generalized   body   of   foliage   depicted   with   an   interplay   of   color.   The   park   is   a   substructure  to  Van  Gogh’s  stroke,  hue,  and  impasto  texture  that  act  to  capture  the   artist’s   imaginative   transcription.   The   landscape   as   the   catalyst   to   the   artist’s   interpretative  use  of  medium  and  the  painting  in  turn  is  the  trigger  to  the  viewer’s   mind-­‐altering  experience.           In  Paris,  Van  Gogh  developed  a  new  approach  to  his  landscape  painting:  he   moved   from   a   world   of   light,   organic   forms,   and   perspective   to   the   underlying   remnants  of  the  natural  world.   In  his   landscape  paintings,  Van  Gogh  shifted  from   attempting   to   create   a   convincing   perspectival   space,   such   as   in   the   Avenue   of   Poplars  in  Autumn  (October  1884)  [figure  17],  to  an  idiosyncratic  experience  within   nature  and  between  the  artist  and  the  canvas.  In  Avenue  of  Poplars  in  Autumn,  an   early  instance  in  which  Van  Gogh  included  bright,  unblended  strokes  to  convey  the         229   sun’s  effect,  he  was  also  committed  to  depicting  a  deep  sense  of  space.  The  blue  sky   peeks  through  the  tall,  vertical  trees,  and  cast  shadows,  tinted  orange  and  Naples   yellow,  extend  over  the  dirt  path.    To  move  into  a  symbolic  painterly  vocabulary,  in   Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  or  Sous-­‐Bois,  Van  Gogh  opted  to  provide  a  depiction  of   nature  that  could  create  the  kind  of  experience  for  which  Baudelaire  called.  For  the   critic,   who   was   writing   during   the   Romantic   period,   one   could   not   transcend   in   nature,   a   Romantic   ideal,   but   one   could   have   a   significant   experience   before   a   canvas   whose   depiction   of   nature   had   been   so   wholly   subsumed   by   the   artist’s   perspective.439  The  participant  can  experience  the  eternal  realm  if  he  experiences  an   aspect  of  Nature  through  a  suggestive  symbol,  one  an  artist  makes  clear  to  a  keenly   intuitive  observer.440     In  Van  Gogh’s  Park  in  Asnières   in  Spring,  the  artist  approached  the  canvas   with  forceful  strokes,  embodied  with  a  sense  of  movement.    There  is  a  path  that   appears   in   the   center   of   the   canvas,   short   light   green   strokes,   highlighted   with   strokes  of  yellow—a  series  of  rock  or  wooden  steps,  perhaps.  The  path  does  not   create  a  recession  into  the  space,  but  instead  complicates  the  notion  of  depth.  The   space  the  path  creates,  one  that  could  typically  imply  the  viewer’s  presence  as  if  he                                                                                                                   439  Leakey  195-­‐217.  Through  an  analysis  of  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  (1857),  Leakey  explores   the  relationship  between  Nature  and  the  symbol  in  Baudelairean  aesthetics.     440  Leakey  179-­‐185.         230   would   enter   the   pictorial   plane   along   the   stepping-­‐stones,   leads   to   a   wall-­‐like   pattern   of   dense   foliage.   Marks   in   the   foreground,   long   green   strokes   made   by   pulling  a  loaded  brush  over  the  canvas’s  surface,  seem  to  disappear  off  the  bottom   of   the   canvas.   Floating   light,   strings   of   short   oval-­‐like   brush   stroke   marks,   link   together.   Is   the   viewer   within   and   looking   down   or   glancing   across   a   field?   From   these  paradoxical  ambiguities,  leaf-­‐like  forms  emerge,  but  they  have  shed  some  of   their  organic  qualities  and  are  instead  cloaked  in  an  impenetrable  pattern  of  paint.   There   is,   though,  a  sense  of  movement,  but  that  of  the  artist’s  brush,  not  of  the   leaves  turning  in  the  wind.  This  suggests  that  light  and  greenery  are  transmutable.   Foliage  forms  and  transitory  effects  become  substantive,  tangible  paint,  belying  their   qualities   and   complicating   the   viewer’s   expectations   of   a   park’s   landscape   as   an   easily  recognizable  genre  scene.     Likewise,   in   Sous-­‐Bois   the   subject   matter   is   the   forest   undergrowth   and   a   glimmer   of   sun   on   the   horizon,   but   Van   Gogh   gave   the   canvas   over   to   a   play   between  stroke  and  hue,  again  indirectly  providing  a  sense  of  fluid  motion  and  light.   Although  a  sense  of  movement  within  underbrush  crowded  with  ground  cover  and   low-­‐lying  shrubs  may  lend  itself  to  conveying  the  effect  of  wind  on  the  leaves,  Van   Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  in  Sous-­‐Bois  renders  organic  greenery  tactilely.  The  strokes  thus   form  an  opaque  pattern  from  which  the  artist’s  process  emerges.  The  quick,  lighter   strokes  in  the  foreground  emulate  the  scale  and  hue  of  the  horizon,  confusing  the         231   depth  and  causing  the  horizon-­‐line,  dotted  with  a  bright,  light  Naples  yellow  to  push   forward  rather  than  gradually  fade.  Van  Gogh  symbolically  suggested  the  aspect  of  a   forest,  but  the  imagery’s  meaning  veers  into  the  ideal  of  the  creation  process  itself   and  the  artist  in  the  act  of  using  his  imagination  to  translate  nature.  In  both  Park  in   Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sous-­‐Bois,  the  picture  plane  becomes  a  subtle  variation  of  a   landscape,   the   specifics   of   which   have   been   subdued   to   create   a   canvas   that   is   almost  entirely  a  flat  field  of  abstract  marks.     Van   Gogh’s   sense   of   creating   from   his   imagination   to   reduce   the   subject   matter  to  the  essence  through  color  and  form  appears  in  a  letter  to  Bernard:   Certainly—imagination  is  a  capacity  that  must  be  developed,  and   only   that   enables   us   to   create   a   more   exalting   and   consoling   nature   than   what   just   a   glance   at   reality   (which   we   perceive   changing,  passing  quickly  like  lightning)  allows  us  to  perceive.441     “Exalting,”  moving  away  from  or  into  another  realm,  depended  on  Van  Gogh’s  ability   to  paint  ambiguous  imagery  that  relates  to  the  material  world,  but  provides  a  unique   effect  through  hue  and  stroke.   In  Paris,  Van  Gogh’s  palette  changed  dramatically,   although  he  used  some  of  the  colors—such  as  Naples  yellow  and  Prussian  blue—as   he  did  in  The  Netherlands.  Two  self-­‐portraits  [figures  18  &  19]  that  include  the  artist   with  his  palette  indicate  the  dramatic  revision  the  colors  of  his  palette  underwent.  In   Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter  (1886),  Van  Gogh  included  his  easel  and  looks  directly  at                                                                                                                   441  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  596  to  Bernard  around  Thursday,  April  12,  1888.           232   the  viewer.  His  flesh  emerges  from  deep  tones  of  greens  and  Prussian  blue.  On  his   palette  sits  a  pot  of  turpentine,  and  several  colors  laid  out  in  a  discrete  row.  From   left  to  right,  a  dark  red,  a  viridian  and  emerald  green,  and  a  bright  orange  appear  in   a  line  of  small  piles  of  medium.  442  Above,  a  light  blue  and  a  yellow  almost  disappear   into  the  shadows,  and  a  few  paint  strokes  of  lead  white  that  have  been  tapped  down   with  a  quick  movements  rest  on  the  corner.  They  all  maintain  a  boundary  on  the   palette,  careful  not  to  be  cross-­‐mixed.  Painting  from  a  mirror,  Van  Gogh  holds  his   palette  close  to  his  body  in  foreshortened  perspective  and  the  object  remains  as  a   signature  of  the  painter  as  a  professional  artist  at  work.   In  the  last  painting  he  made  in  Paris,  Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter  (1887-­‐1888),   Van  Gogh,  wearing  “a  blue  smock  of  coarse  linen,”  peers  out  over  the  easel  before   him  but  his  eyes  do  not  meet  the  viewer’s  gaze.443  The  artist’s  left  pupil  seems  to  be   fixated  on  the  canvas  before  him,  and  the  right  iris,  which  is  a  bit  larger  than  the   other,  remains  in  shadow  and  was  awkwardly  positioned  too  closely  to  the  artist’s                                                                                                                   442  Vellekoop  118.     443  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  626  to  Wil  from  Arles  in  mid-­‐June  1888.  “Here’s  an  impression  of  mine,   which  is  the  result  of  a  portrait  that  I  painted  in  the  mirror,  and  which  Theo  has:  a  pink-­‐grey  face  with   green  eyes,  ash-­‐coloured  hair,  wrinkles  in  forehead  and  around  the  mouth,  stiffly  wooden,  a  very  red   beard,  quite  unkempt  and  sad,  but  the  lips  are  full,  a  blue  smock  of  coarse  linen,  and  a  palette  with   lemon  yellow,  vermilion,  Veronese  green,  cobalt  blue,  in  short  all  the  colours,  except  of  the  orange   beard,  on  the  palette,  the  only  whole  colours,  though.  The  figure  against  a  grey-­‐white  wall.  You’ll  say   that  this  is  something  like,  say,  the  face  of—death—in  Van  Eeden’s  book  or  some  such  thing–very   well,  but  anyway  isn’t  a  figure  like  this—and  it  isn’t  easy  to  paint  oneself—in  any  event  something   different  from  a  photograph?  And  you  see—this  is  what  Impressionism  has—to  my  mind—over  the   rest,  it  isn’t  banal,  and  one  seeks  a  deeper  likeness  than  that  of  the  photographer.”         233   eyelid  to  meet  the  viewer’s  gaze.  Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter  conveys  the  new  ways  in   which  Van  Gogh  approached  his  canvases,  as  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sous-­‐ Bois.  On  the  palette,  two  small  pots  rest  on  the  edge,  one  for  turpentine  and  the   other  for  oil  (used  to  thin  the  paint).444  Paint  colors  similar  to  those  in  the  previous   palette   appear,   with   the   addition   of   orange-­‐reds,   cadmium   yellow,   and   cadmium   orange.445  Perhaps  what  is  most  striking  is  the  way  Van  Gogh  depicted  his  palette  in   use.  There  are  not  small  spots  of  paint,  the  product  of  a  frugal  squeeze  of  medium   from  its  tube.  Instead,  there  are  the  marks  of  the  artist’s  brush,  pushing  together   colors  but,  overall,  the  colors  are  unblended.    This  palette  is  the  byproduct  of  Van   Gogh’s  more  intense  use  of  paint.     There  is  a  stark  difference  between  the  marks  on  the  jacket,  beard,  and  facial   features   from   those   on   the   palette.   The   former   provide   a   sense   a   movement   characteristic  of  the  Paris-­‐period  paintings.  Warm  orange  and  yellow  specks  weave   through  the  cool-­‐blue  jacket,  but  rather  than  form  a  sense  of  the  torso’s  structure,   they   wrap   around   the   figure,   encircling   the   creator   in   his   painterly   vocabulary.   Likewise,  the  flesh  tones  of  the  head  and  neck  seem  to  suppress  the  intense  coloring   peeking  out  from  below  the  lighter  tones.  The  canvas  and  background  are  muted,                                                                                                                   444  Vellekoop  118.     445  Vellekoop  147.             234   drawing  attention  to  the  painter  in  the  moment  of  creation.  That  his  eyes  avoid  the   viewer’s  and  that  there  is  an  array  of  marks  on  the  palette  shifts  the  image’s  focus   from  the  portrait  to  the  act  of  painting   itself,  one  driven  by  the  artist’s  ability  to   determine  color  from  his  inner  mind.  Referring  to  the  portrait  as  an  “impression,”   one   that   “isn’t   banal,”   Van   Gogh   crafted   his   expression   from   careful   study   but   mediated  his  appearance  through  an  intense  color  palette.446     Lastly,  a  component  of  Symbolist  aesthetics  that  Van  Gogh  developed  within   his   Parisian   works   was   that   his   canvases   could   not   only   excite   senses   other   than   vision,  but  also  bring  about  a  state  akin  to  intoxication  in  the  mind  of  the  viewer.   Described   as   a   feeling   similar   to   one   induced   by   drugs   or   alcohol,   Impressionist   critics   made   the   reference   to   explain   how   a   highly-­‐charged   canvas   affected   the   spectator’s  senses.  Referencing  a  drug-­‐affected  mind  was  a  metaphor  for  the  ways   in   which   the   work   of   art   catapulted   the   viewer’s   imagination   on   its   journey.   Comparing  the  state  of  mind  to  a  high  achieved  by  a  drug—hashish,  opium,  alcohol,   or  absinthe—gave  a  concrete  narrative  to  the  metaphysical  journey  associated  with   paintings.  Since  the  transition  from  a  fully-­‐aware  state  before  the  work  of  art  inward   through  the  mind’s  journey  was  not  a  physical  space  the  body  entered,  the  parallel   to   an   inebriated   state   explored   reaching   such   a   feeling:   a   separation   from   the   material  world’s  stresses  and  the  pervasive,  all-­‐encompassing  nature  of  becoming                                                                                                                   446  Letter  626.         235   altered  due  to  consuming  a  mind-­‐altering  substance.  When  considered  within  the   context   of   Baudelairean   aesthetics,   references   to   an   intoxicated   feeling   in   the   presence  of  a  canvas  or  group  of  works  indicate  a  series  of  steps  that  lead  the  viewer   to  Idea.     Baudelaire  used  the  experience  of  hashish  as  a  metaphor  for  the  stages  of   mind-­‐escape   before   a   canvas,   which   attracted   the   eye.   Upon   ingesting   hashish,   Baudelaire  noted  that  the  senses  are  intensely  heightened  and  feelings  amplified  so   one  should  be  in  a  stimulating  place,  such  as  a  “landscape-­‐garden”;  second,  senses   become  “acute”  and,  as  “your  eyes  pierce  the  infinite,”  hallucinations  take  shape,   including   colors   that   hold   music   and   sounds   that   give   way   to   forms. 447     The   intoxicated  person  experiences  a  sensorial  cacophony  of  sights,  sounds,  and  smells,   and  transcends  the  restraints  of  commonplace-­‐life  to  another  world,  soaring  freely   and   without   everyday   struggles.   After   leaving   the   “marvelous,   fantastic   world,”   exaltation   gives   way   to   a   “dizzying   intoxication”   and   a   calm,   blissful   feeling   ensues.448   Impressionist  critics  began  to  note  the  canvas’s  intoxicating  effect  as  well.  “In   certain  canvases,  you  feel  the  vibration  and  palpitation  of  light  and  heat,”  Edmond                                                                                                                   447  Charles   Baudelaire,   “On   Wine   and   Hashish,”   Artificial   Paradises:   Baudelaire’s   Classic   Work   on   Opium  and  Wine,  trans.  Stacy  Diamond  (New  York,  New  York:  A  Citadel  Press  Book,  1996)  14-­‐23.   448  Baudelaire,  “On  Wine  and  Hashish”  21.           236   Duranty  noted  in  his  Impressionist  criticism  of  1876.  “You  feel,”  the  critic  continued,   “an   intoxication   of   light.” 449  Referring   to   the   landscapes   of   some   of   the   Impressionists   (he   did   not   mention   specific   artists   or   painters),   Duranty   differentiated   painters   who   conveyed   the   experience   within   nature   versus   those   who  represented  nature.  From  the  Impressionists,  he  could  feel  light  through  their   use  of  color.  Camille  Pissarro  and  Claude  Monet’s  images  shown  in  the  Impressionist   exhibition   the   year   Duranty   penned   his   text,   exemplify   “impressions   taken   in   a   nature  that  does  not  belong  to  this  world,”  as  one  critic  put  it.450  Pissarro’s  Pond  at   Montfoucault   (1874)   [figure   20]   does   not   convey   a   convincing   scene   observed   in   nature   in   all   the   canvas’s   aspects;   the   pond,   for   example,   appears   to   be   a   solid   square   of   brush   strokes   that   intentionally   falls   short   of   depicting   a   reflection.   Monet’s   Woman   with   a   Parasol   (1875)   [figure   21]   likewise   includes   areas   that   function  to  express  the  painter’s  mark  rather  than  distance,  sunlight  or  shadow,  the   elements   of   a   landscape.   The   lower   portion   of   the   canvas,   while   it   may   serve   to   convey   the   female   figure’s   weight   on   the   mound,   appears   also   to   be   a   flattened   rectangular  shape,  a  study  of  long  marks  acting  as  a  barrier  to  the  curvilinear  form                                                                                                                   449  Louis  Emile  Edmond  Duranty,  “The  New  Painting:  Concerning  the  group  of  Artists  Exhibiting  at  the   Durand   Ruel   Galleries,”   The   New   Painting:   Impressionism,   1874-­‐1876,   ed.   Charles   S.   Moffett   (San   Francisco:  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  43.     450  G.  d’Olby  quoted  in  Moffett  183.             237   the  hill  should  have.  Allowing  parts  of  the  canvas  to  remain  in  a  state  disconnected   from  the  convincing  elements  of  an  outdoor  space  caught  the  attention  of  critics.   After  seeing  a  Moreau  exhibition,  Huysmans  wrote  that  Moreau’s  color  went  to  his   head  and  intoxicated  his  sight;  the  critic  became  so  dizzy  he  had  to  grope  his  way   out  of  Goupil’s  gallery  where  he  remembered  being  transported  to  “distant  realms,”   and  once  out  on  the  street  he  was  met  with  the  “ignoble”  and  “shameful”  streets  of   Paris.451     Van  Gogh’s  Arlesian  painting  Night  Café  (1888)  [figure   4]   conveys  such  an   aesthetic.  The  artist  noted  that  the  clashing  blood-­‐red  and  Veronese  green  suggest   the  underbelly  of  a  late-­‐night  café,  “a  place  where  you  can  ruin  yourself,  go  mad,   commit  crimes.”452  Between  the  gaslights  emitting  waves  of  colors  and  the  skewed   perspective,  the  painting  symbolically  conveys  a  state  of  drunkenness.  The  viewer   himself   is   not   looking   at   an   image   of   inebriation   but   through   the   lens   of   an   intoxicated  state.  In  Paris,  images  such  as  Café  Table  with  Absinthe  (February-­‐March   1887)   [figure   22]   portray   a   drug.   A   direct   statement   about   drug   culture   in   late-­‐ nineteenth-­‐century   Paris,   Café   Table   with   Absinthe   takes   absinthe   as   a   still-­‐life                                                                                                                   451  Joris-­‐Karl   Huymans,   “Gustave   Moreau   (1889),”   Certains,   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans.   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  44-­‐47.   452  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  677  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  September  9,  1888.           238   object  and  the  artist  depicts  the  hazy   liquid   in  white   light  before  a   large  window   looking  out  onto  a  Paris  street.     In  canvases  such  as  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sois-­‐Bois,  the  suggestion  of   an  inebriated  state  through  color  and  mark-­‐making  assumes  a  new  canvas-­‐viewer   relationship.  Although  Van  Gogh’s  landscapes  do  not  depict  an  observed  scene  of   drugs   or   alcohol,   the   artist’s   painterly   approach   relates   to   the   ways   Baudelaire   connected  the  contemplation  of  the  landscape  with  a  drug-­‐induced  mind-­‐set,  a  step   on  the  way  to  an  imaginative  journey.  Depicting  an  overt  reference  to  a  drug  was   not   a   symbolic   means   of   conveying   an   intoxicating   state.   In   Van   Gogh’s   canvases   movement  initiates  the  overall  effect,  leaving  the  viewer  to  contemplate  the  natural   forces  through  the  mediated  means  of  color  and  mark-­‐making.  Rather  than  depict  a   scene  that  appeared  to  convey  a  sense  of  drunkenness  or  include  alcohol  or  drugs   themselves,   the   artist,   similar   to   the   approach   of   Pissarro   and   Monet,   dedicated   much   of   the   canvas   to   a   study   of   the   paint   itself,   and   not   toward   constructing   a   sense  of  distant  space.  While  the  motion  within  the  paintings  could  be  attributed  to   the  wind  within  the  leaves  and  among  the  shrubbery,  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring   and   Sois-­‐Bois   the   motion   does   not   resolve   the   relationship   among   the   natural   elements  depicted  but  the  modes  of  construction  at  work  in  the  canvas.  This   is  a   significant  departure  for  Van  Gogh,  whose  works   initially  aimed  to  situate  figures   and  scenes  within  a  landscape.  In  1887,  the  transformation  his  work  underwent  is         239   evident  in  the  imagery  that  describes  his  process  rather  than  the  scene  before  him.   To  this  end,  the  artist  ventured  into  a  painting  practice  rooted  in  the  Baudelairean   notions  that  prioritized  the  imagination  to  ignite  that  of  the  viewer.  In  doing  so,  he   employed  a  pictorial  language  that  symbolically  suggested  a  translation  in  which  the   painter  intentionally  left  the  relationship  among  the  paintings’  elements  unresolved.   Although  there  is  an  attempt  to  show  depth  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sois-­‐ Bois,  both  may  also  be  read  as  a  whole,  a  wall  of  uninterrupted  abstract  marks.  In   this   way,   Van   Gogh’s   landscapes   engaged   the   viewer’s   senses   to   create   an   experience  that  could  lead  to  a  drug-­‐like  trance.         G.-­‐Albert  Aurier’s  Messiah   Van  Gogh’s  Patch  of  Grass  (April-­‐June  1887)  [figure  8]  indicates  a  departure   from   his   previous   Paris-­‐period   landscapes.   Void   of   depth   and   atmospheric   perspective,   Patch   begins   a   new   painterly   vocabulary   that   led   to   images   such   as   Starry  Night.  Flat  and  abstract,  the  painting  aesthetic  parallels  Baudelaire’s  aesthetic   directives.   Baudelaire’s   ideas   not   only   shaped   the   ways   in   which   the   painter   conceived  the  subject  matter,  but  put  the  emphasis  on  the  artist’s  mindset  and  in   turn   the   viewer’s   imagination   upon   experiencing   the   painting.   In   Patch,   the   artist   omitted  considerations  of   light  and  perspective  and  instead  captured  the  signs  of   the  natural  world  in  a  highly  idiosyncratic  mode  that  subordinated  the  Impressionist         240   and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  goals.  In  some  of  their  canvases,  the  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐ Impressionist   artists,   such   as   Monet,   Pissarro,   Bernard   and   Signac,   consistently   capture  the  sun  or  depth  as  a  way  to  give  spatial  perspective  to  a  somewhat  abstract   image.   In   Patch,   Van   Gogh   interpreted   a   field   in   a   simplified   mode,   but   with   amplified   medium.   Patch,   like   Starry   Night,   is   visually   complicated   as   the   artist   suppressed  the  details  of  the  grasses  and  shrubbery  but  still  emphasized  the  means   by  which  the  image  was  constructed.  The  lack  of  perspectival  depth  in  Patch  and   Starry  Night   forces  the  journey  inward,   into  the  viewer’s   imagination,  rather  than   through   a   visual   experience   within   the   painting’s   pictorial   devices.   In   Patch,   the   viewer’s  gaze  cannot  meander  throughout  the  painting,  but  is  kept  on  the  surface  of   the  canvas.  The  surface  thus  becomes  paramount  and  the  landscape  a  subject  that   the  artist  can  root  obliquely  in  the  natural  world  yet  reinterpret  through  his  artistic   vision.       Patch  and  Starry  Night  have  the  components  that  caused  Aurier  to  consider   Van   Gogh   his   guide   to   Idea   in   “Les   isolés,”   which   appeared   in   the   first   issue   of   Mercure  de  France  in  1890.    During  Aurier’s  research  for  the  article,  Bernard  shared   with  the  critic  some  of  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  (though  unknown)  and  one  letter  Van   Gogh  wrote  while  Gauguin  was  staying  with  him  in  Arles.   Interestingly,  the   letter   included  a  passage  which  Aurier  paraphrased  in  “Les  isolés”  to  underscore  that  Van   Gogh’s  imagery  created  dream-­‐like  experiences  in  a  far-­‐away  world,  a  description  of         241   his  mind’s  journey.453  Although  Aurier  scholar  Patricia  Townley  Mathews  holds  that   Van  Gogh  was  unsettled  by  the  critic’s  article,  Cornelia  Homburg  and  Carol  Zemel   respectively  underscore  that  Van  Gogh  thanked  Aurier  for  the  essay  and  referred  to   it  often  to  his  friends  and  family.454  Van  Gogh  was  not  unsettled  per  se,  but,  rather,   “surprised”  by  the  attention  paid  to  his  work.455  The  painter  was  flattered  by  Aurier’s   essay,   and   both   he   and   his   brother   Théo   applauded   the   critic.456  “Les   isolés”                                                                                                                   453  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  716  to  Bernard  from  Arles  on  the  1st  or  2nd  of  November  when  Gauguin  was   staying  with  him:  “Next,  I  don’t  think  it  will  astonish  you  greatly  if  I  tell  you  that  our  discussions  are   tending   to   deal   with   the   terrific   subject   of   an   association   of   certain   painters.   Ought   or   may   the   association  have  a  commercial  character,  yes  or  no?  We  haven’t  reached  any  result  yet,  and  haven’t   so  much  as  set  foot  on  a  new  continent  yet.  Now  I,  who  have  a  presentiment  of  a  new  world,  who   certainly  believe  in  the  possibility  of  a  great  renaissance  of  art.  Who  believe  that  this  new  art  will   have  the  tropics  for  its  homeland  [sic].”  See  also:  note  2.  As  Van  Gogh  did  in  many  of  his  letters,  he   remarked   on   his   dream   to   have   a   collective   of   artists   working   together.   Aurier   paraphrased   this   passage  in  “Les  isolés”  to  describe  Van  Gogh  as  “an  exalted  believer,  a  devourer  of  beautiful  utopias   living  on  ideas  and  on  dreams.”  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.   454  Patricia  Townley  Mathews,  Aurier’s  Symbolist  Art  Criticism  and  Theory  (Ann  Arbor,  Michigan:  UMI   Research   Press,   1984)   122-­‐23.   Cornelia   Homburg,   “Vincent   Van   Gogh’s   Avant   Garde   Strategies,”   Vincent  Van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Museum,  2001)  53.   Carol  Zemel  The  Formation  of  a  Legend:  Van  Gogh  Criticism,  1890-­‐1920  (Ann  Arbor,  Michigan:  UMI   Research  Press,  1980)  65-­‐67.  Among  Van  Gogh’s  family  members,  his  mother,  sister  Willemien  (Wil)   and  sister-­‐in-­‐law  Jo  (Theo’s  wife)  responded  generally  about  the  essay  shortly  after  it  appeared  (845).   455  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  850  to  Théo  from  Saint-­‐Rémy  on  February  1,  1890.   456  Théo   wrote   letter   T55   to   Aurier   on   August   27,   1890   from   Paris.   See:   Vincent   Van   Gogh,   The   Complete  Letters  of  Vincent  van  Gogh:  with  reproductions  of  the  drawings  in  the  correspondence,  vol.   III  (New  York:  New  York  Graphic  Society,  1978)  589-­‐590.  On  “Les  isolés,”  see  also  Van  Gogh’s  letters   to  Théo,  all  written  from  Saint-­‐Rémy:  850,  853,  854,  863.  Théo  also  wrote  letter  867  to  Van  Gogh   from  Paris  on  Sunday,  May  3,  1890  in  which  he  noted  that  he  received  the  painting  of  cypresses  Van   Gogh  wanted  to  give  to  Aurier.         242   garnered   critical   praise   from   Aurier’s   peers   as   well,   and,   after   its   publication,   the   critic  became  a  sought-­‐after  theorist.457   I   consider   the   framework   Aurier   provided   to   define   Van   Gogh’s   Symbolist   approach   in   Patch.   Aurier’s   text   is   an   explicit   imaginative   voyage   to   Idea,   which   began   by   contemplating   Van   Gogh’s   Starry   Night.   In   considering   the   components   that  culminate  in  a  symbolically  charged  image,  Patch  reflects  the  underpinnings  of   Symbolist  painting  Van  Gogh  undertook  after  leaving  Paris.  While  Aurier  focused  on   later  works,  those  of  the  Paris-­‐period  bear  the  mark  of  the  climactic  images,  such  as   Starry  Night,  that  could  cause  the  viewer  to  pause,  stand  before  the  image,  block   out  the  material  world,  and  through  the  lens  of  the  artist’s  perspective,  engage  in  a   mind-­‐altering  experience.  Although  Patch  led  from  nature,  a  wall  of  texture,  mark-­‐ making  and  hue,  the  painterly  principles  caused  Aurier  to  experience  Idea  and  name   Van  Gogh  his  messiah.  Similar  to  Fénéon,  who  characterized  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists’   approach   as   a   way   to   symbolically   convey   the   subject   matter’s   sensation,   Aurier   defined   Symbolism   in   the   visual   arts   as   a   canvas   so   wholly   deduced   through   the   artist’s  mode  of  painting  that  the  subject  matter  appears  not  as  an  object  to  behold,   but   as   one   that   is   experienced   sensorially.   The   painting’s   formal   qualities   did   not   need  to  correspond  to  the  subject  matter  directly,  but  rather  communicated  with                                                                                                                   457  Mathews  12-­‐13.  On  the  reception  of  “Les  isolés,”  Mathews  writes:  “It  had  a  tremendous  success,   even  among  those  who  knew  nothing  of  Vincent’s  art…[Aurier]  is  acknowledged  as  an  authority  on   Van  Gogh  from  this  point  on.”         243   the  critic’s  senses,  allowing  him  to  make  imaginative  connections  between  the  effect   of  the  color  and  form.  Aurier  quoted  Baudelaire’s  poem  “Correspondances”  (1857)   to  explain  how  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  corresponded  to  an  otherwise  hidden  symbol,  to   which   the   senses   become   attuned   when   stimulated.   For   Aurier,   this   exchange   resulted  in  a  mind-­‐transport  to  Idea.     Aurier  began  “Les  isolés”  by  describing  how  he  regained  his  bearings  after   experiencing  a  journey  to  Platonic  Idea,  the  highest  level  of  Beauty  that  exists  in  a   realm   beyond   the   material   world.   He   reached   the   utopian   state   standing   before   Starry  Night,  a  painting  whose  color  and  form  ignited  his  dormant  senses,  senses   dulled  by  the  material  world’s  monotony.  “Suddenly,”  Aurier  began,  “now  that  I  had   returned  to  the  ignoble,  muddy,  razzle-­‐dazzle  of  the  dirty  street  and  ugly  real  life,   these  disparate  bits  and  pieces  of  verse  emerged  in  my  memory.”458  Once  he  briefly   reached  the  euphoric  state,  he  realized  the  ugliness  of  his  world.  He  then  recounted   the   pathway   to   his   transcendent   voyage.   Starry   Night’s   color,   similar   to   “glaring   sapphire  or  turquoise”  under  skies  of  “molten  metal  and  crystal,”  was  “nature  given   to  excess”  and  was  transformed  into  a  symbol.459  In  Aurier’s  terms,  Van  Gogh  was  a   “messiah,”   a   “drunken   giant”   who   created   imagery   to   provide   a   much-­‐needed                                                                                                                   458  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  220.     459  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  220.           244   escape  from  societal  problems.460  “Without  doubt,”  Aurier  wrote,  “like  all  painters   of  his  race  he  is  conscious  of  the  importance  and  beauty  of  matter,  but  more  often   than  not  he  takes   in  this  magical  matter  only  as  a  marvelous   language  ultimately   intended  to  translate  Idea.”461  Van  Gogh  felt  that  Aurier  wrote  it  as  a  guide,  not  only   for  him  but  also  for  all  of  the  Impressionists,  and  the  painter  thought  that  this  was  a   lot  of  responsibility  to  bear.  Van  Gogh  was  grateful  for  Aurier’s  praise,  writing  also   that   the   essay   “has   its   own   merit   as   a   critical   work   of   art.”462  “I   rediscover   my   canvases  in  your  article,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Aurier  to  thank  him,  “but  better  than   they  are—richer,  more  significant.”463     Patch   closely   resembles   the   works   on   which   Aurier   focused   in   terms   of   formal   qualities   and   painterly   approach.   For   Aurier,   Van   Gogh’s   canvas   was   the   catalyst  to  Idea,  the  “final  cause”  of  the  work  of  art.464  The  concept  that  a  viewer   could  reach  an  eternal  realm  through  the  work  of  art  suggests  a  new  relationship   paradigm   among   the   canvas,   the   artist,   and   the   spectator.   Although   Van   Gogh   remained   a   religious   man   throughout   his   life,   the   short   time   during   which   he                                                                                                                   460  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223,  222.   461  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.     462  Letter  850.     463  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  853  to  Aurier  from  Saint-­‐Rémy  on  February  9th  or  10th,  1890.     464  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.           245   attempted  to  become  a  preacher  like  his  father  had  obscured  his  shifting  ideas  of   reaching   an   infinite,   spiritual   realm.   Through   Baudelairean   concepts,   the   painter   became  exposed  to  new  ways  of  thinking  about  religious  ends.  As  an  artist  capable   of   constructing   enigmatically   inventive   paintings,   Van   Gogh   engaged   with   an   emerging   concept:   that   the   artist   could   be,   in   a   metaphorical   way,   a   preacher   because   his   works   could   lead   the   devotee   to   experience   a   world   free   of   the   hindrances  and  stresses  of  the  material  world.     “Look,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  his  Thèo  in  1881,  “I  find  the  clergyman’s  God  as   dead  as  a  doornail.”465  At  this  point,  Van  Gogh  had  just  left  his  clerical  studies.  He   later  explained  to  Bernard  that  the  emblems  of  religious  beliefs—such  as  the  cross  in   the  small  image  hanging  above  the  patriarch’s  head  in  The  Potato  Eaters—could  be   conveyed   through   color   itself.     “And   in   my   painting   I’d   like   to   say   something   as   consoling   as   music,”   he   wrote   to   Bernard   from   Arles,   “I’d   like   to   paint   men   or   women  with  that   je  ne  sais  quoi  of  the  eternal,  of  which  the  halo  used  to  be  the   symbol,   and   which   we   try   to   achieve   through   the   radiance   itself,   through   the   vibrancy  of  our  colorations.”466  Written  a  month  before  Gauguin’s  visit,  Van  Gogh   associated  the  power  of  hue  with  the  ability  to  convey  a  sensorial  experience  that                                                                                                                   465  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  193  to  Théo  from  Etten  on  December  23,  1881.     466  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  693  to  Bernard  from  Arles  on  Monday,  September  3,  1888.             246   relates   to   the   infinite   realm.   In   a   sense,   these   words   from   the   artist   show   the   trajectory   of   his   thought   process,   particularly   his   views   on   the   role   of   the   paint   medium  on  the  viewer’s  senses  and  the  overall  impact  the  canvas  can  have.     The  roots  of  the  artist  as  messiah  can  be  found  within  Baudelaire’s  criticism.   Baudelaire  believed  in  the  Catholic  notion  of  Original  Sin,  but  not  in  redemption— death   could   not   bring   a   release   and   God   could   not   provide   salvation   from   the   world’s  evils.467  He  considered  religion  “the  highest  fiction  of  the  human  mind”  and   a  misuse  of  the  imagination’s  power.468  The  viewer  of  a  religious  image  must  use  his   imagination  to  believe  in  the  biblical  narrative.  In  Baudelaire’s  estimation,  this  was  a   futile  imaginative  exercise.469  The  imagination  allows  the  painter  to  connect  to  his   dreams,  creating  a  good  picture  that  consists  of  layers  of  the  artist’s  perspective  that   “confer[s]   greater   reality   upon   the   dream.”470  The   notion   of   religion,   as   it   was   traditionally   understood,   did   not   become   outdated   per   se;   rather,   in   Baudelaire’s   mind   it   misused   the   power   of   the   imagination.   For   Baudelaire,   art   provided   the                                                                                                                   467  On  Baudelaire’s  religious   ideals  and  his  concept  of  the  transitory  and  eternal  world,  see:  David   Carrier,   “Introduction:   Baudelaire’s   Metaphysics,”   High   Art:   Charles   Baudelaire   and   the   Origins   of   Modernist  Painting  (University  Park:  The  Pennsylvania  State  University  Park,  1996)  1-­‐5.     468  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  163.     469  Charles   Baudelaire,   Intimate   Journal,   trans.   Christopher   Isherwood   (San   Francisco:   City   Light   Books,  1947,  1983)  46.  “As  for  religion,  I  believe  it  is  useless  to  speak  of  it  or  to  search  for  its  relics….”   470  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  161.           247   antidote   to   the   banality   of   the   material   world,   and   the   critic   articulated   a   relationship   among   the   artist,   canvas   and   viewer   that   was   akin   to   an   intoxicated   experience,  such  as  with  wine  or  hashish.471  Baudelaire  urged  artists  to  depend  on   their  imagination  to  transform  nature  because  the  canvas  could  affect  the  viewer’s   mind   and   lead   the   participant   to   an   eternal   world   beyond   the   material   realm.472   Artists  he  valued  were  those  he  called  “imaginatives,”  those  who  sought  to  paint   their  own  souls  and  who  did  not  conform  to  traditional  art-­‐making  practices.  Instead   they  followed  their  inner  voices,  generating  images  by  dreams  that  were  held  deep   in  their  imaginations.        By  the  1880s,  artists  and  critics  both  equated  the  role  of  the  artist  with  that   of   the   preacher   and   creators   and   viewers   understood   that   the   canvases   had   the   ability   to,   metaphorically   speaking,   intoxicate   viewers.   James   McNeill   Whistler   introduced   himself   as   a   preacher   in   his   public   lecture   “Ten   O’Clock”   (1885)   and   noted  that  the  duty  of  the  artist  is  to  “elevate”  the  viewer’s  mind.473  Bertall  depicted   Édouard  Manet  as  Jesus  with  his  disciples  in  a  caricature  [figure  23],  and  Mallarmé                                                                                                                   471  Baudelaire  “On  Wine  and  Hashish”  14-­‐23.     472  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  144-­‐216,  155-­‐162,  163-­‐188.     473  James   McNeill   Whistler,   “Ten   O’clock,”   The   Correspondence   of   James   McNeill   Whistler,      (12  March  2014).           248   referred   to   Manet   as   a   preacher   in   his   Impressionist   criticism.474  Mallarmé   also   emphasized  that  Manet  and  his  Impressionist  followers  sought  truth  by  focusing  on   the  painting’s  effect  on  the  viewer’s  senses,  rather  than  the  canvas  (the  thing)  itself.   The   critic   concluded   that   painting’s   purpose   is   to   lead   to   Idea.475  Moréas,   in   his   Symbolist  literary  manifesto,  asserted  that  the  artist’s  aim  is  to  “clothe  the  Idea  in  a   form  perceptible  to  the  senses,”  convey,  in  other  words,  a  symbolic  language  within   an  enticing  mode.476  In  response  to  Georges  Seurat’s  pointillist  Sunday  Afternoon  on   the   Island   of   La   Grande   Jatte   (1884-­‐1886)   [figure   24],   critic   Octave   Maus   characterized  the  debate  surrounding  the  painter  as  a  “messiah  of  a  new  art—or  a   cold-­‐blooded  mystifier.”477  Kahn  published  a  response  to  the  symbolist  painters  in   1886   and   in   1891   articulated   that,   in   terms   of   Seurat,   a   painting   is   a   system   of   suggestive   symbols.   The   symbolic   painterly   elements   Kahn   addressed   similarly   shifted  the  perspective  of  a  religious  hierarchy  from  the  pulpit  to  the  canvas.  The                                                                                                                   474  Mallarmé   in   Moffett   28.   On   Manet   as   a   preacher:   “For   it   was   evident   that   the   preacher   had   meaning;  he  was  persistent  in  his  reiteration,  unique  in  his  persistence,  and  his  works  were  signed  by   the  then  new  and  unknown  name  of  Édouard  Manet.”       475  Mallarmé   in   Moffett   34.   “I   content   myself   with   reflecting   on   the   clear   and   durable   mirror   of   painting,  which  only  exists  by  the  will  of  Idea,  yet  constitutes  in  my  domain  the  only  authentic  and   certain  merit  of  nature—the  Aspect.”   476  Jean   Moréas,   “A   Literary   Manifesto—Symbolism   (1886),”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans.   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  151.     477  Octave  Maus  quoted  in  Moffett  469.             249   critics,  Aurier  included,  depended  on  the  artist’s  translation  of  the  objective.478  The   painting  in  the  critics’  terms  did  not  supplant  a  religious  experience,  but  could  act  as   a  starting  point  to  experience  an  imaginative  escape.     In  Paris,  Van  Gogh’s  landscapes,  including  Patch,  became  highly  suggestive.   In  Way  in  the  Voyeur  d’Argenson  Park  in  Asnières  (June/July  1887)  [figure  25]  the   image’s  composition  leaves  a  space  for  the  spectator’s  presence,  acknowledges  the   viewer’s   gaze,   and   provides   richly   saturated   hues   and   forceful   brush   strokes   that   generate  a  pattern  among  the  seemingly  distinct  objects  within  the  painting.  The   woman,   dressed   colorfully   in   a   crimson   blouse   and   floral   skirt   that   bears   little   distinction   from   the   gardens   surrounding   her,   gazes   outside   the   picture   plane.   Although  her  eyes  and  facial  expression  are  obscured,  her  bodily  posture  is  parallel   to  someone  who  would  stand  before  the  canvas,  turning  her  shoulders  away  from   the  path’s  direction  and  toward  the  open  gravel-­‐like  path  beyond  the  curb  on  which   she  stands.  She  appears  to  be  caught  in  a  moment  of  paused  motion,  holding  up  her   skirt   and   looking   at   whoever   has   stepped   upon   the   path.   The   path’s   openness   recognizes  a  space  the  viewer’s  body  could  take,  empathetically  leaving  a  place  for   the   participant   to   meet   the   body   of   the   female   figure.   She,   in   turn,   meets   the                                                                                                                   478  Richard  Shiff,  “Impressionism  and  Symbolism  as  Modes  of  Artistic  Expression,”  Cézanne  and  the   End   of   Impressionism:   A   Study   of   the   Theory,   Technique,   and   Critical   Evaluation   of   Modern   Art   (Chicago  and  London:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1984)  39.  Kahn  also  responded  to  the  paintings   Van  Gogh  included  in  the  Indépendants,  noting  that  the  artist  needed  to  address  his  use  of  value;  a   criticism  Van  Gogh  found  helpful.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  594  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Monday,  April  9   1888;  see  also:  note  15.         250   newcomer’s  gaze.  With  the  female  figure,  Van  Gogh  began  to  assert  a  new  painterly   purpose   because   the   female   figure   is   an   optical   agent,   underscoring   the   act   of   contemplative   viewing.   For   Aurier,   this   was   the   first   stage   of   his   transcendent   journey.     The  overall  blended  painterly  approach  and  the  figure’s  gaze  in  Way  in  the   Voyeur  d’Argenson  Park  is  not  unlike  that  of  Olympia  and  the  elements  surrounding   her   in   Manet’s   1863   painting   [figure   26].   In   his   defense   of   Manet’s   controversial   painting,  Émile  Zola  pointed  out  that  the  artist  simplified  the  figure’s  eyes  and  lips   and  the  large  bouquet.479  In  so  doing,  the  artist  subsumed  facial  details  and  floral   particulars,  which  were  typically  used  to  show  a  hierarchy  among  the  items  of  the   painting’s  subject  matter.  Zola  underscored  that  Manet’s  ability  to  treat  both  figures   and  flowers  as  objects  that  “reconstruct  reality…by  means  of  connect[ing]  surface   shapes   and   large   zones   of   light”   gave   his   work   the   “severity   of   nature.”480  Zola’s   thoughts  on  Manet’s  depiction  of  nature  dovetail  with  Fénéon’s  and  Aurier’s  ideals   as  both  critics  relied  on  the  artist’s  ability  to,  in  Zola’s  words,  “take  a  few  steps  back”   to   translate   nature’s   vital   sensations   in   an   unassuming   form.   Having   read   Zola’s                                                                                                                   479  Émile  Zola  quoted   in  Hajo  Düchting,  Édouard  Manet:   Images  of   Parisian  Life   (Munich  and  New   York:  Prestel-­‐Verlag,  1995)  46-­‐47.     480  Zola  quoted  in  Düchting  46.             251   passage  on  Olympia,  Van  Gogh  found  the  critic’s  analysis  an  effective  way  to  depict   nature,  but  nature  channeled  and  reinvented  through  the  artist.481  Van  Gogh  found   he   needed   to   reduce   forms   and   omit   details   that   alluded   to   a   person   or   object’s   significance   and   allow   the   painting   to   be   read   as   a   surface,   without   defining   characteristics  that  would  draw  attention  to  one  aspect  more  than  another.     The  figure’s  gaze  in  Way  in  the  Voyeur  d’Argenson  Park  parallels  the  painterly   attributes  Zola  outlined.  Although  the  figure’s  shoulders  turn  toward  the  viewer,  her   overall  depiction  blends  with  the  foliage,  presenting  her  level  with  that  of  the  park.   In  Patch  a  similar  approach  of  sublimated  details  appears  for  the  only  indication  of   the   sky   is   a   horizontal   stripe   of   neutral   color   at   the   canvas’s   top.   Van   Gogh   was   neither  interested  here  in  capturing  the  sun’s  fleeting  effects  nor  the  atmospheric   qualities   of   the   sky,   ephemeral   traits   associated   with   Impressionistic   painting.                                                                                                                   481  Although  Düchting  points  out  that  Zola  himself  missed  Manet’s   intentionally   ironic  use  of  paint   medium,  Van  Gogh  read  Zola’s  account  and  used  the  critic’s  words  to  shape  his  own  painting  practice.   On   Zola’s   passage,   Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   359   to   Anthon   van   Rappard   from   The   Hague   around   Tuesday,  July  3,  1883.  “I  would  truly  like  to  begin  by  saying  that  I’m  not  one  of  those  who  blame  Zola   for  this  book.  Through  it  I’m  getting  to  know  Zola,  I’m  getting  to  know  Zola’s  weak  side—insufficient   understanding  of  painting—prejudices  instead  of  correct  judgment  in  this  special  case.  But,  my  dear   friend,  should  I  get  irritated  with  a  friend  on  account  of  a  fault  in  him?—far  from  it.  On  the  contrary,   he  is  all  the  dearer  to  me  because  of  his  fault.  So  I  read  the  articles  about  the  Salon  with  a  most   curious  feeling.  I  think  it  utterly  wrong,  entirely  mistaken,  except  in  part  the  appreciation  of  Manet—I   too   think   Manet   is   clever—but   very   interesting,   Zola   on   art,   interesting   in   the   same   way   as,   for   instance,   a   landscape   by   a   figure   painter:   it   isn’t   his   genre,   it’s   superficial,   incorrect,   but   what   an   approach—not  carried  through—so  be  it—not  quite  clear—so  be  it—but  at  any  rate  it  makes  one   think  and  is  original  and  tingling  with  life.  But  it’s  mistaken  and  most  incorrect,  and  rests  on  shifting   sands.”           252   Instead,  Patch  immerses  the  viewer’s  sight  in  a  cacophony  of  lines,  dotted  color,  and   hue.  Although  Van  Gogh  began  the  image  by  painting  nature,  he  veers  toward  the   abstract   and   does   not   rely   on   underbrush   or   linear   tree   trunks   to   provide   spatial   descriptive   devices.   The   painter   did   not   aim   to   mimetically   articulate   the   shadow   and  scale  of  the  field.  In  the  foreground  the  participant  meets  several  strokes  of  a   light   Naples   yellow,   a   close   up   of   a   plant.   These   organic   forms   have   shed   their   characteristics—their   sense   of   delicacy,   their   connection   to   the   ground,   their   appearance   beneath   the   sunlight.   Nevertheless   there   is   an   overall   sense   of   movement,   as   the   strokes   read   as   one   wall   of   colorful   patterns.   Movement   is   a   symbol  of  the  natural  grace  of  a  field  of  flowers  and  grasses  and  part  of  the  painter’s   experience—and  the  symbolic  reference  to  nature  transformed  is  the  aspect  of  Van   Gogh’s  painting  that  Aurier  would  find  significant.     Patch  shows  the  transition  to  a  denotation  of  movement  through  color  and   form—a   painting   that   emits   chromatic   vibrations   through   a   reductive   painterly   process.  In  Patch  and  Starry  Night,  Van  Gogh  did  not  rely  on  the  atmospheric  issues   of   light   and   reflection,   but   used   the   paint   medium   to   materialize   the   intangible   presence   of   natural   elements,   such   as   implied   motion   from   a   gentle   breeze,   in   a   tactile  medium.  The  thrust  of  the  foliage  leaves  room  for  the  spectator’s  body,  as   the   pattern   moves   in   an   oval-­‐like   shape   from   the   bottom   center   of   the   canvas         253   through  to  the  top.  The  viewer’s  space  is  in  the  center  of  the  oval  as  the  shape  swirls   around  the  periphery.    To  this  end,  there  are  several  monochromatic  Prussian-­‐blue   lines  threaded  throughout  the  plane.  Van  Gogh  painted  a  fiction  of  nature  in  this   sense.   The   blue   lines,   natural-­‐like   forms,   signify   motion   around   the   participant’s   focused  gaze.  Patch  is  significant  because  it  indicates  Van  Gogh’s  ability  to  provide   an   explicit   respite   for   the   viewer’s   gaze   among   his   enigmatic   lines   and   colors,   suggesting  that  the  aim  of  his  painting  becomes  a  means  to  a  transcendent  end.  Van   Gogh,   Aurier   wrote,   was   a   “messiah,   a   sower   of   truth…[who   regenerated]   our   decrepit   art   and   perhaps   our   imbecile   society.”482  After   shedding   the   material   world’s   hindrances,   Aurier   found   imaginative   salvation   through   Van   Gogh’s   Starry   Night,   describing   the   artist’s   process   in   a   manner   that   can   be   applied   to   Patch:   “…often  clumsy  buildups  comparable  to  shimmering  masonry,  and  all  this  gives  his   canvases  the  solidity  of  dazzling  ramparts  of  crystal  and  sunlight.”483  Aurier’s  words   describe   a   contradictory   analogy—dense,   yet   reflective,   and   wall-­‐like,   yet   permeable.     Patch   is   likewise   a   conflicting   landscape   in   that   it   implies   light   and   reflection,  but  is  ultimately  and  thick,  crowded  and  compressed  image  of  a  field.     Van  Gogh’s  approach  reflects  some  of  the  Impressionist  painter’s  practices  as   some  painters  also  complicate  depth  and  simplify  forms  through  an  egalitarian  use                                                                                                                   482  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.     483  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  225.           254   of  paint  stroke  and  texture.  In  Monet’s  Woman  with  Parasol—Madame  Monet  and   Her   Son   (1875)   and   Berthe   Morisot’s   (1841-­‐1895)   The   Wet   Nurse   Angèle   Feeding   Julie  Manet  (1880),  abstract  marks  dominate  the  figures  and  landscape  [figures  27  &   28].  The  peasant  girl  in  Pissarro’s  The  Shepherdess  (1881)  appears  to  be  sliding  down   a   hill   whose   depth   has   been   thrust   forward   to   reconsider   the   spatial   relationship   among  the  foreground,  the  figure  and  the  horizon  [figure  29].  The  three  areas  used   to  provide  illusory  space  have  been  subordinated  to  emphasize  the  medium’s  form.   Le   Chemin   de   fer   de   Dieppe   (1886)   exemplifies   Pissarro’s   pointillism   of   1886,   the   flattened  picture  plane  and  all-­‐over  sense  of  pattern  that  emerged  [figure   30].484   Seurat’s  La  Luzernes,  Saint-­‐Denis:  champ  de  coquelicots    (1885-­‐1886  and  exhibited  at   the   Exposition   des   Indépendants   in   September   of   1886)   [figure   31]   is   a   canvas   strikingly  similar  to  Le  Chemin  because  the  viewer  is  faced  with  a  wall  of  texture  and   pattern  in  the  near  foreground.  A  clear  path  separates  the  abstract  lower  portion   and  the  horizon  dotted  with  structures.  Seurat’s  hatch-­‐marked  foreground  occupies   about  two  thirds  of  the  painting’s  height.  The  foreground  demands  attention,  both   for   its   scale   and   lack   of   depth,   and   in   this   way   actively   vies   for   the   participant’s                                                                                                                   484  Martha   Ward,   Pissarro:   Neo-­‐Impressionism   and   the   Spaces   of   the   Avant-­‐Garde   (Chicago   and   London:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1996)  75-­‐78.  Pissarro  executed  the  painting  in  the  summer   of  1886  and  completed  (retouched)  it  in  December.  During  this  time,  according  to  Naifeh  and  Smith,   Pissarro  and  his  son  Lucien  visited  Van  Gogh  and  Théo  regularly  in  the  apartment  on  the  rue  Lepic   (550).             255   senses.  The  foliage  does  not  connect  to  the  atmospheric  perspective  the  horizon  line   brings.  Seurat  sought  the  symbolic  through  suggesting  nature,  not  denoting  it,  as  the   foreground  foliage  neither  appears  to  grow  from  a  distinct  earth  nor  has  leaf-­‐like   shapes.485  In  these  images,  a  paradox  between  the  medium  and  the  representation   is   at   work.   Whereas   the   painters   depict   open-­‐air   subjects   or   fields   that   extend   infinitely  into  the  horizon,  their  respective  applications  of  hue  and  medium  create  a   dense  screen  that  belies  the  typical  effects  found  in  a  landscape  painting.       As   Van   Gogh   engaged   with   the   Impressionist   canvases   and   experimented   with  perspective  and  brushwork,  Gauguin  was  also  developing  what  would  become   his  Symbolist  style  in  Martinique.  In  Martinique  in  1887,  Gauguin  too  made  paintings   of   foliage   that   became   walls   of   color   and   facture,   compounding   figure-­‐ground   relationships  such  as  in  Tropical  Vegetation  (1887)  [figure   32].   In  Gauguin’s  Notes   Synthétiques,  written  between  1884  and  1885,  he  wrote:     Painting  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  arts;  it  is  the  summation  of   all  our  sensations,  and  contemplating  it  we  can  each,  according  to   our  imagination,  create  the  story,  in  a  single  glance  our  soul  can   be   flooded   with   the   most   profound   reflection;   no   effort   of   memory,  everything  summed  up  in  a  single  instant.—A  complex   art  which  completes  all  the  others.—Like  music,  it  works  on  the   soul  through  the  intermediary  of  the  senses;  harmonies  of  tones                                                                                                                   485  Kahn  quoted  in  Dorra  174.  In  Kahn’s  words  from  the  painter’s  1891  obituary:  Seurat’s  work  was   “the  most  suggestive”  because  “the  symbol…lay  in  the  interpretation  of  a  subject,  not  in  the  subject   itself….”         256   correspond  to  harmonies  of  sounds…486   Gauguin  too  asserted  that  the  viewer’s  soul  can  be  inundated  with  a  reflection,  a   pulse   of   an   instant   that   warrants   significant   meditation.   Gauguin   also   echoed   Baudelairean  theory  and  underscored  his  ability  to  use  the  natural  world  to  convey   the  symbolism  of  universal  ideals.487  Gauguin  had  lost  faith  in  civilization  to  lead  man   to  truth,  and  depended  instead  on  natural  locales  to  guide  him  to  a  transcendent   state.  He  held  that  to  experience  Idea,  one  must  meet  the  artist’s  subjective  view.488     For   Aurier,   Gauguin’s   and   Van   Gogh’s   respective   canvases   held   the   mysterious   symbol   that   could   correspond   with   the   universal   realm   beyond   the   material   world   by   relating   color   and   sound,   triggering   sensory   experiences.   In   Aurier’s   essay   on   Gauguin,   the   critic   began   with   Vision   After   the   Sermon   [figure   11]—in  which  the  preacher’s  profile  resembles  that  of  Gauguin  himself,  leading  the   congregation  through  an  imaginative  journey—and  he  cited  parts  of  the  first  stanza   of   Baudelaire’s   “Correspondances.” 489  Aurier   noted   that   the   Vision’s   symbolic   imagery   had   transformed   in   some   way   into   sound,   leaving   only   the   priest’s   (Gauguin’s)   voice   and   those   of   the   congregation.   Another   artist   in   the   role   of   a                                                                                                                   486  Paul  Gauguin,   Notes  Synthétiques,   quoted   in   Belinda   Thomson,   ed.   Gauguin   by   Himself   (United   Kingdom:  Time  Warner  Books,  2004)  34.       487  Mathews  87-­‐90.   488  Mathews  20  and  42.   489  Aurier,  “Symbolism  in  Painting:  Paul  Gauguin  (1891)”  quoted  in  Dorra  199-­‐200.         257   preacher  draws  forth  a  mind-­‐altering  experience  for  the  viewer.  What  is  particularly   important   in  terms  of  Gauguin’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  symbolic   imagery   is  Baudelaire’s   understanding   of   the   relationship   between   nature   and   the   process   of   correspondance.  Within  nature  lay  a  dictionary  of  signs.  The  artists  made  reasoned   selections  from  the  natural  world  and  transformed  a  field  of  grasses  and  flowers,  for   example,  into  a  symbol  of  movement  (in  Patch  or  Starry  Night)  or  into  a  collection  of   voices  (in  Vision).  Van  Gogh,  in  Aurier’s  words,  wrote  “out  those  forms…according  to   a   mode   susceptible   to   general   comprehension.”490  In   the   critic’s   terms,   Van   Gogh   corresponded   with   complex   ideas   and   forms   to   generate   a   canvas   that   could   accessibly  communicate  through  reductive  means.  What  Aurier’s  senses  responded   to  were  visual  devices  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin  created  to  allow  the  viewer  to  read   the   image   as   one   plane   of   pattern,   form,   facture   and   color.   Both   painters   began   depending   on   their   subjective   vision   and   drew   from   their   inner   minds.   Aurier   described   the   feeling   of   being   drawn   into   a   correspondant   experience,   an   intoxication,  an  inebriated  state  brought  on  by  an  inventive  canvas.       Conclusion   By   the   1880s,   Baudelaire’s   ideas   had   been   absorbed   into   the   theoretical   lexicon   and   critics   explicitly   referenced   his   aesthetic   ideas,   namely   those   that                                                                                                                   490  Aurier,  “Symbolism  in  Painting:  Paul  Gauguin  (1891)”  quoted  in  Dorra  200.         258   addressed  the  changing  role  of  the  painter  within  the  context  of  a  viewer’s  journey.   Van  Gogh  arrived  in  Paris  during  a  time  when  Baudelairean  ideas  helped  shaped  the   Symbolist   literary   and   poetic   milieu,   and   the   painter   become   exposed   to   new   methods  of  eliciting  a  mind-­‐altering  experience  before  the  canvas.  The  journey  itself,   in   Aurier’s   terms,   was   associated   with   a   metaphysical   realm. 491  Although   the   materiality  of  Van  Gogh’s  surfaces  in  images  like  Patch  became  more  concrete  and   literally   solid,   almost   impenetrable,   the   image   paradoxically   invites   the   viewer’s   participation  and  ignite  an  imaginative  journey.  Van  Gogh’s  approach  inverted  the   typically   light   and   airy,   sunshine-­‐filled   canvases   in   images   such   as   The   Restaurant   Rispal   à   Asnières   (summer   1887)   [figure   33].   In   The   Restaurant   Rispal,   Van   Gogh   employed  two-­‐point  perspective;  trees  and  clouds  frame  the  endpoints.  The  main   gentleman  crossing  the  boulevard  appears  in  slightly  more  detail  than  the  working   class  man  in  the  white  jacket  on  the  sidewalk,  owing  to  the  latter  figure’s  distance.   Patch   indicates   that   Van   Gogh   engaged   in   the   Baudelairean   dialog   and   had   been   exposed   to   the   methods   of   painting   that   attracted   Aurier’s   senses   while   in   Paris.   Upon  leaving,  his  color  palette  changed  in  Arles,  but  components  remained  from  his   painting  practice  in  the  capital:  treating  the  picture  plane  not  as  a  translation  of  an   optical  phenomena,  but  rather  as  a  sensorial  body  of  medium.                                                                                                                     491  Cheetham  15.         259   CHAPTER  6:  CONCLUSION     Van  Gogh  accomplished  significant  goals  while  painting  in  Paris,  though  some   of   his   well-­‐developed   imagery—Bridges   Across   the   Seine   at   Asnières   (1887),   Factories  at  Clichy  (1887),  Factory  at  Clichy  (1887),  and  Patch  of  Grass  (April-­‐June   1887)—does  not  necessarily  figure  into  discussions  regarding  the  canonical  paintings   of  the  artist’s  body  of  work.  Between  the  dark,  modeled  forms  of  The  Potato  Eaters   (1885)  and  the  saturated  color  and  movement   in  Sower  (June  1888),  the  imagery   that  attributes  to  the  artist’s  radical  re-­‐conception  of  color,  form,  and  composition   are  those  he  developed  in  Paris.  Attention  to  the  Paris-­‐period  not  only  locates  Van   Gogh’s   pictorial   development   within   the   context   of   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionists,  but  also  establishes  the  ways  in  which  the  artist  diverged  from  the   artistic  aims  of  the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde,  such  as  Claude  Monet  and  Camille  Pissarro,   as  he  developed  his  Symbolic  approach.       In  his  consideration  of  the  differences  between  Impressionist  and  Symbolist   aesthetics,  Richard  Shiff  concludes  that  Van  Gogh  did  not  create  his  Symbolic  canvas   by   suppressing   or   re-­‐evaluating   Impressionist   methods.492  The   Impressionist   and   Symbolist   approaches   overlap   in   a   key   way:   artists   subjectively   create   a   painterly                                                                                                                   492  Richard  Shiff,  “Impressionism  and  Symbolism,”  Cézanne  and  the  End  of  Impressionism:  A  Study  of   the  Theory,  Technique,  and  Critical  Evaluation  of  Modern  Art  (Chicago  and  London:  The  University  of   Chicago  Press,  1984)  39-­‐52.             260   reality  based  on  an  emotion  particular  to  their  temperament  to  which  spectators   from  any  period  can  respond  sympathetically.  For  Shiff,  an  artist  can  generate  an   ideal,   or   a   universal   truth,   through   both   the   Impressionist   and   Symbolist   method   because  the  subjective  can  lead  to  the  universal.  493  The  Impressionist  and  Symbolist   canvases  differ  because  the  viewer  experiences  an  impression  through  observation   and  the  symbolic  through  intuition;  the  former  emphasized  the  effect  and  the  latter   the  ideal.  The  Impressionists  maintained  individuality  by  responding  to  the  natural   world,  and  the  Symbolists  used  the  canvas  itself  as  a  means  to  address  a  state  of   mind.494  The  Symbolists  made  a  shift  from  an  experience  with  the  material  realm  to   an  encounter  with  the  artist’s  inner  mind-­‐set.  For  Félix  Fénéon,  Neo-­‐Impressionists   maintained  a  “distance  from  the  accidental  and  the  transitory,”  and,  for  G.-­‐Albert   Aurier,   the   Symbolists   treated   the   object   “as   a   sign   of   an   idea   perceived”   by   the   artist.495     With   these   concepts,   the   critics   underscored   the   relationship   between   Neo-­‐Impressionist  and  Symbolist  aesthetics  that  Shiff  highlights.  The  artist  can  arrive   at   the   symbolic   by   asserting   his   vision   over   the   transitory.496  Although   Van   Gogh                                                                                                                   493  Shiff  41  &  43.     494  Shiff  44,  46-­‐47.     495  Félix  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme  (1887),”  Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans   and  ed.  Henri  Dorra  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1994)  162.  G.-­‐ Albert   Aurier,   ”Symbolism   in   Painting:   Paul   Gauguin   (1891)”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  200.   496  Shiff  50-­‐51.         261   aimed  to  capture  fleeting  affects,  such  as  wind  in  Patch,  the  artist  did  not  do  so  to   stage   an   atmospheric   environment.   Instead,   he   arrived   at   natural   occurrences   through   a   reduction   of   form   and   a   use   of   medium   that   signified,   rather   than   described,  the  idea.   I   find   that   the   artistic   currents   to   which   Van   Gogh   was   exposed   in   Paris   provided  him  with  the  ability  to  thoroughly  interrupt  the  transitory,  generating  an   ideal  that  the  artist  developed  through  his  subjective  lens.    The  above-­‐mentioned   paintings  are  rooted  in  an  observational  study  of  the  natural  world,  but  the  artist   privileged  his  temperament  in  the  creation  process,  mediated  the  temporal  through   his   experience,   and   generated   a   symbol.   On   the   banks   of   Asnières,   within   the   factories   of   Clichy,   or   among   the   grasses   of   Paris,   Van   Gogh   confounded   the   impression  and  the  symbol,  the  reactive  and  the  conceptual.  The  artist  drew  from  a   particular   circumstance—aspects   of   industry,   modern   life,   or   landscape—to   generate   a   universal   experience   of   labor   or   atmospheric   effects.   The   artist’s   paintings   effectively   generate   an   impression   related   to   his   concept,   not   to   the   object.     Van   Gogh’s   imagery   subsumed   the   experience   of   the   optical   within   the   symbolic.  Spatial  effects  such  as  a  confined  industrially  built  environment  in  Factory   at   Clichy   leads   to   an   experience   that   subverts   a   sense   of   depth   to   convey   the   restricted  reality  of  the  working  classes.  The  wind  in  Patch  does  not  grow  from  the         262   effect  of  light  and  shadow  on  the  surface,  but  from  the  surface  itself.  As  a  plane  of   abstract   marks,   Van   Gogh   used   the   flat   surface   to   indicate   the   motion   of   wind   through  the  form  of  the  paint  and  the  color  of  hue.  The  bright,  warm,  seemingly   straightforward  imagery  of  modern  life  in  Bridges  Across  the  Seine  and  Factories  at   Clichy,  give  way  to  a  complicated  sense  of  the  urban  landscape.  In  these  images,  the   artist  included  signs  of  the  industrial  world  that  convey  the  artist’s  understanding  of   the   environment,   not   an   observed   study,   to   emphasize   how   the   industrial   world   intervenes  in  the  natural.     In  these  ways,  Van  Gogh  created  a  distance  between  the  work  of  art  and  the   transitory,  as  Fénéon  described.  Within  this  distance,  the  artist’s  paintings  lead  from   the  artist’s  experience.  Van  Gogh  asserted  his  point-­‐of-­‐view  upon  his  engagement   with  the  material  world  and  constructed  an  ideal  the  viewer  can  realize  through  the   process   of   looking.   Van   Gogh   did   not   circumvent   the   particular   notion   of   labor,   industry,  or  the  natural  realm  to  consider  his  sense  of  seeing.  Instead,  he  used  the   specificity   of   the   city   and   its   environs   to   provide   the   framework   to   an   accessible   experience.   In   John   Berger’s   terms,   the   gap   between   what   we   see   and   what   we   know   will   never   be   reconciled,   and   that   when   we   look,   we   always   see   things   in   relation  to  ourselves.497    The  disparity  between  seeing  and  knowing  or  the  chasm   between  the  temporal  and  the  eternal   is  the  space   in  which  Van  Gogh’s   imagery                                                                                                                   497  John  Berger,  Ways  of  Seeing  (London:  British  Broadcasting  Corporation,  2003)  7-­‐9.         263   operates.  He  did  not  aim  to  settle  this  breach  in  understanding,  and  did  not  allow   the  transitory  to  acquiesce  to  the  symbolic.  Rather,  he  created  canvases  that  convey   the  essence  of  his  sense  of  perception  to  underscore  the  gap  between  seeing  and   knowing  and,  in  so  doing,  generate  the  symbolic.     Van  Gogh  came  to  Paris  to  create  a  market  niche  for  his  work  and  for  the   paintings  of  emerging  artists.  I  do  not  think  he  lived  in  Paris  long  enough  to  establish   his  work  in  the  market  in  order  to  sell  his  paintings.  Émile  Bernard  and  Théo  did  help   support  Aurier’s  critical  account  of  Vincent’s  work.    After  the  artist  left  Paris,  Théo   continued  to  support  Vincent’s  career.  Théo  rented  a  space  at  Père  Tanguy’s  home   to  store  paintings,  showed  his  brother’s  work  to  Pissarro  and  exhibition  organizers,   and  sent  completed  work  to  up-­‐coming  shows.498  Upon  Vincent’s  death,  Théo  was   frustrated   that   more   people   did   not   recognize   his   brother’s   work   while   he   was   alive.499  Although  the  painter  did  not  realize  all  of  the  accomplishments  he  set  for   himself  in  his  lifetime,  posthumously  his  paintings  foster  a  significant  component  of   the  art  market  today.  The  exposure  to  the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde  of  the  mid-­‐1880s  led   the  artist  to  create  images  that  garnered  some  of  the  highest  prices  in  the  modern   international   market.   In   1990,   Portrait   of   Dr.   Gachet   (1890)   sold   to   the   Japanese                                                                                                                   498  Théo  wrote  letter  792  to  Van  Gogh  from  Paris  on  July  16,  1889.   499  Chris  Stolwijk  and  Richard  Thomson,  Théo  van  Gogh,  1857-­‐1891:  Art  Dealer,  Collector  and  Brother   of  Vincent  (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1999)  56.         264   Kobayashi  Gallery  for  82.5  million  dollars.500  At  the  time,  Dr.  Gachet  commanded  the   highest  auction  price  ever  paid.  Dr.  Gachet  remains  the  highest  bid  in  the  secondary   market  for  Van  Gogh’s  paintings,  but  was  surpassed  by  Cézanne’s  The  Card  Players   (1894-­‐1895).501  Most   recently,   Nature   Morte,   Vase   aux   marguerites   et   coquelicots   (June   1890)   sold   in   November   2014   for   over   61   million   dollars. 502  While   the   compositional  strategies  at  work  in  these  painting  developed  from  the  methods  Van   Gogh  studied  in  the  capital,  the  enduring  legacy  of  the  artist’s  Paris-­‐period  canvases   lies   not   in   technical   strategies,   although   they   are   paramount,   but   in   the   ways   in   which  Van  Gogh  developed  a  concept  of  perception  that  conflates  fleeting  effects   and  the  eternal  ideal.                                                                                                                           500  Suzanne  Muchnic,  “Van  Gogh  Painting  Sells  a  Record  82.5  Million,”  Los  Angeles  Times,  May  16,   1990.  http://articles.latimes.com/1990-­‐05-­‐16/news/mn-­‐262_1_van-­‐gogh.   501  The  Card  Players  sold  for  more  than  250  million  in  2012  when  George  Embiricos’s  collection  went   up  for  sale.  Jane  Lee,  “Cézanne’s  Card  Players  Shatters  Highest  Price  Ever  for  a  Work  of  Art,”  Forbes,   February  6,  2012.  http://www.forbes.com/sites/janelee/2012/02/06/cezannes-­‐card-­‐players-­‐shatters-­‐ record-­‐for-­‐highest-­‐price-­‐ever-­‐for-­‐a-­‐work-­‐of-­‐art/.   Carol   Vogel,   “Embirico’s   Collection   is   Selling   Some   Works,”   The   New   York   Times,   October   4,   2012.   http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/05/arts/design/cezanne-­‐picasso-­‐and-­‐bacon-­‐works-­‐for-­‐ sale.html?_r=1.   502  Sotheby’s,  Impressionist  and  Modern  Art  Evening  Sale,  “Vincent  van  Gogh:  Nature  Morte,  Vase  aux   marguerites   et   coquelicots,”   November   4,   2014.   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    Figure  2.  Female  Standing  Nude  Seen  from  the  Side,  January-­‐February  1886.   Pencil  on  Paper,  50.4  x  39.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1699.       276       Figure  3.    The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82.           Figure  4.  Jozef  Israëls,  Peasant  Family  at  the  Table,  1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  71  x  105  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.       277       Figure  5.  Standing  Male  and  Seated  Female  Nudes,  March-­‐May  1886.  Chalk  on   paper,  31.4  x  47.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1363ar.         278       Figure  6.  Studies  of  a  Seated  Girl,  L’Ecorché  and  Venus,  March-­‐May  1886.     Chalk  on  paper,  47.5  x  62  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1366r.         279       Figure  7.  Torso  of  Venus,  June  1886.  Oil  on  cardboard,  46.4  x  38.1  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  216b.         280       Figure  8.    Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  June/July  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  27.5  x  46  cm.     Sterling  and  Francine  Clark  Institute,  Williamstown,  Massachusetts.  F  223.             281       Figure  9.    Bridges  across  the  Seine  at  Asnières,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  65  cm.     Foundation  E.G.  Bührle  Collection,  Zurich.         282       Figure  10.  Boulevard  de  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  55  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292.     283       Figure  11.  The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène  at  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  313.       284       Figure  12.  The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  cm  x  36.7  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830.         285       Figure  13.  Jean-­‐François  Millet,  The  Sower,  1850.     Oil  on  canvas,  101.6  x  82.6  cm.    Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.         286       Figure  14.  Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes,  August  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  31.5  x  42.5  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  97.       287       Figure  15.  Pietà  (after  Delacroix),  September  1889.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  cm  x  60.5  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  630.         288       Figure  16.  View  of  Het  Steen,  December  1885.     Pen  and  ink,  chalk,  pencil,  on  paper,  13.1  cm  x  21.1  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  977.       289       Figure  17.    Portrait  of  an  Old  Man,  December  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  44.4  cm  x  33.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  205.       290       Figure  18.  Head  of  a  Skeleton  with  a  Burning  Cigarette,  January-­‐February  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  32.3  x  28.4  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F  212.     291       Figure  19.  Karel  Verlat,  Ariadne  et  amor,  1880.           Figure  20.  Eugène  Siberdt,  La  juene  orpheline,  1886.  Oil  on  panel,  52  x  37  cm.       292       Figure  21.  Rembrandt,  The  Pilgrims  at  Emmaus,  1648.     Oil  on  canvas,  68  cm  x  65  cm.   Louvre,  Paris.         293       Figure  22.  Claude  Monet,  Vétheuil,  c.  1878-­‐1881.     Oil  on  canvas.  Private  Collection,  England.       294       Figure  23.  Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Lunch  at  the  Restaurant  Fournaise     (The  Boater’s  Lunch  or  Les  canotiers),  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  65.9  cm.  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Chicago.         295       Figure  24.  Edgar  Degas,  Femme  accoundée  près  d’un  pot  de  fleurs,  1865.    Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.7  x  46.2  cm.   The  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City.       296       Figure  25.  Claude  Monet,  Tempête  sur  les  côtes  de  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.       Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay.           Figure  26.  Claude  Monet,  Pyramides  de  Port-­‐Coton,  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.      Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  collection.     297       Figure  27.  Paul  Gauguin,  Baigneurs,  nd.   Private  Collection.  Mr.  &  Mrs.  B.E.  Bensiger,  Chicago.       298       Figure  28.  La  Guinguette,  October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238.         299       Figure  29.  Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps:  pont  de  Clichy,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  50  x  60  cm.  Museum  of  Art,  Dallas,  F  352.         300       Figure  30.    Bank  of  the  Seine,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  45.  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  293.     301       Figure  31.  Femme  dans  un  jardin,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  60  cm.  Private  collection.  F  368.         302       Figure  32.  George  Seurat,     Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande-­‐Jatte,  1884-­‐1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  205.7  x  305.7  cm.     The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois.             303       Figure  33.  Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,  Kurashiki,  Japan.       304       Figure  34.  Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne.       305       Figure  35.    Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.         306       Figure  36.  Claude  Monet,  Impression:  Sunrise,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  63  cm.     Musée  Marmottan,  Paris.           307       Figure  37.  Claude  Monet,  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  79.4  x  59  cm.     The  Nelson-­‐Arkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City,  Missouri.             308       Figures  38.  Edgar  Degas,  Girl  Drying  Herself,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.    Pastel  on  paper,  80.1  x  51.2  cm.    National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC.         309       Figures  39.  Edgar  Degas,  The  Baker’s  Wife,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.     Pastel  on  paper,  67  x  52.1  cm.     The  Henry  and  Rose  Perlman  Foundation.       310       Figure  40.  Georges  Seurat,  The  Harbor  at  Grandcamp,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81.2  cm.  Private  Collection.             311       Figure  41.  Paul  Signac,  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,   1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco.       312       Figure  42.  Paul  Gauguin,  Edge  of  the  Pond,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  65  cm.    Civica  Galleria  d’Arte  Moderna,  Milan.       313       Figure  43.  Camille  Pissarro,  View  from  My  Window  in  Cloudy  Weather,     1886-­‐1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  80  cm.   The  Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford.         314       Figure  44.  Paul  Gauguin,  Women  Bathing,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  46.2  cm.    The  National  Museum  of  Western  Art,  Tokyo.           315       Figure  45.  Plaster  Cast  of  a  Woman’s  Torso,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  40.5  x  27  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F  216g.       316                 Figure  46.  Reclining  Nude,  January-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  59.7  x  73.7.     The  Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  328.       317       Figure  47.  Francisco  Goya,  La  maja  desnuda,  c.  1797-­‐1800  .     Oil  on  canvas,  97  x  190  cm.   Museo  del  Prado,  Spain.               318       Figure  48.  Claude  Monet,     Les  bains  de  la  Grenouillère,  1869.    Oil  on  canvas,  74.6  x  99.7  cm.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York.               Figure  49.  Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  La  Grenouillère,  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  66.5  x  81  cm.     National  Museum,  Stockholm.       319                       Figure  50.  Comparison.         320       Figure  51.  Claude  Monet,  Train  in  the  Countryside,  circa  1870.     Oil  on  canvas,  19.68  ×  25.59  in.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.         Figure  52.  Claude  Monet,  The  Railway  Bridge  from  the  Port,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  66  x  99  cm.                     321   Chapter  3:  New  Consideration  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  Exhibitions             Figure  1.    Map  of  Montmartre,  Clichy  and  Asnières  from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐ Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37.         Montmartre) Clichy) Asnières) For4fica4ons)at)the) boundary)of)Montmartre)   322       Figure  2.  Map  detail  of  Clichy  and  Asnières  from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s     Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37.     1.#Gas#tanks#at# Clichy# # 2.#Landing#cranes# for#the#gas#factory# at#Clichy# # 4.#Émile#Bernard’s# family#home# # 5.#Paul#Signac’s# family#home# # 6.#Château#Voyer# d’Argenson# # 7.#Voyer# d’Argenson#Park# #   323       Figure  3.  Map  detail  of  Montmartre  from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s     Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37.         .       15.$Grand$Bouillon$ Restaurant$$ du$Chalet$ $ 16.$Signac’s$Studio$ $ 17.$Seurat’s$Studio$ $ 19.$Café$ Tambourin$ $ 20.$Théo$and$ Vincent’s$ apartment$ $ 28.$BouFque$of$ Père$Tanguy$ $ $   324       Figure  4.  Agostina  Segatori  au  café  du  Tambourin,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  55.4  x  46.5  cm.  Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  370.             325       Figure  5.  Basket  of  Pansies,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  244.       326       Figure  6.  Fritillaires,  couronne  impériale  dans  un  vase  de  cuivre,  April-­‐May  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75.5  x  60.5  cm.    Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  213.       327       Figure  7.  Portrait  of  Etienne-­‐Lucien  Martin,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  54.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  289.       328       Figure  8.  Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  the  Artist’s  Grandmother,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  64  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.       329       Figure  9.  Émile  Bernard,  Ragpickers  at  Clichy,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  39  x  59  cm.  Private  Collection.     (A  color  reproduction  is  available  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,     Van  Gogh  A  Paris,  page  201.)       330       Figure  10.    Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317.     331       Figure  11.    Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.  Barnes   Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318.       332       Figure  12.    Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  fall  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  92  x  75  cm.  Musée  Rodin,  Paris.  F  363.       333       Figure  13.  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  112.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  314.       334       Figure  14.  Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,  Kurashiki,  Japan.       335       Figure  15.  Lucien  Pissarro,  Van  Gogh  in  Conversation  with  Félix  Fénéon,     black  crayon,  circa  1886-­‐1888.       336       Figure  16.  Louis-­‐Emile  Anquetin,  Old  Peasant,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas.       337       Figure  17.  Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.  Oil  in  canvas,  43  x  61.     Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City.  F  375.       338       Figure  18.  Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.  Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  60.     Kuntsmuseum,  Bern,  Switzerland.  F  376.       339       Figure  19.  Basket  with  Potatoes,  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  44.5  x  60  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  100.           340       Figure  20.  Le  Cinéraire  (The  Funeral),  July-­‐August  1886.  Oil  in  canvas,  54.5  x  46.   Museum  Boymans-­‐van  Beuningen,  Rotterdam.  F  282.       341       Figure  21.  Roses  Trémières  dans  une  cruche  (Hollyhocks  in  a  Jug),     August-­‐September  1886.  Oil  in  canvas,  94  x  51.   Kunsthaus,  Zurich.  F  235.       342       Figure  22.  Fleurs  et  Tournesols  (Roses  and  Sunflowers),  fall  1886.     Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  61.   Städtische  Kunsthalle,  Mannheim.  F  250.       343       Figure  23.  Gustave  Courbet,  Hollyhocks  in  a  Copper  Bowl,  1872.     Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  49  cm.     Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.       344       Figure  24.  Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Mixed  Flowers  in  an  Earthenware  Pot,  ca.  1869.   Oil  on  canvas,  64.9  x  54.2  cm.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.       345       Figure  25.  Armand  Guillaumin,  Nature  morte  aux  chrysanthèmes,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  60  cm.     Musée  du  Petit  Palais,  Geneva.       346       Figure  26.  Claude  Monet,  Vase  of  Flowers,  ca.  1881-­‐1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  100.4  x  81.9  cm.     Courtauld  Gallery,  London.       347       Figure  27.  Paul  Signac,  Nature  morte:  oranges,  pomme  et  livre  Au  soleil,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  32.5  x  46.5  cm.     Staatliche  Museen,  Berlin.       348       Figure  28.  Grapes,  Lemons,  Pears  and  Apples,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55.2  cm.  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois.  F  382.           349       Figure  29.  Head  of  a  Peasant  Woman  with  a  Day  Cap,  March  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  43  x  33.5  cm.     Rijksmuseum,  Amsterdam.       350       Figure    30.  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.       Oil  on  canvas.  F  263.       351       Figure  31.  Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas.       352       Figure  32.  The  Parsonage  Garden  in  Snow,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas  on  panel,  59  x  78  cm.     Norton  Simon  Art  Foundation,  Pasadena.       353         Figure  33.  Émile  Bernard,  Verger  à  Pont-­‐Aven,  August  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  53  cm.     Private  Collection.       354       Figure  34.  Émile  Bernard  and  Vincent  van  Gogh  (his  back  to  the  camera)     along  the  Seine  in  Asnières.       355       Figure  35.  Paul  Signac,  Pierre  Hâlé’s  Windmill,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  92  cm.  Private  Collection.     (Sorry  for  the  web-­‐site  stamp—it  is  the  only  Internet  image)             356       Figure  36.  Paul  Signac,  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,   1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco.       357       Figure  37.  Claude  Monet,  Apple  Trees  in  Bloom  beside  the  Water,  1880.     Oil  on  canvas,  73x  60  cm.     Private  Collection.       358       Figure  38.  Paul  Signac,  La  Seine  à  Asnières:  la  berge,  November  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  100  cm.     Private  Collection,  Paris.       359       Figure  39.  Paul  Signac,  Paris.  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  La  neige,  January  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  65.5  cm.     The  Minneapolis  Institute  of  the  Arts,  Minneapolis.       360       Figure  40.  Claude  Monet,  Studio  Boat,  1874.  Oil  on  canvas.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.       361       Figure  41.  Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne.       362       Figure  42.  Paul  Signac,  Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  65  cm.     The  Baltimore  Museum  of  Art,  Maryland.       363       Figure  43.  Émile  Bernard,  Les  Chiffonniers:  Ponts  de  fer  à  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  54.2  cm.     The  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City.             364       Figure  44.  Albert  Fernique,  Plan  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.     Seine% Gas%Tanks% Usine%de%la% ville%de%Paris% Gas%Factory% Atelier%Charronnage%   365       Figure  45.  Albert  Fernique,  Atelier  Charronnage  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,     c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.         366       Figure  46.  Albert  Fernique,  Grues  de  débarquement,  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,     c  1878-­‐1880.  Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.         Figure  47.  Camille  Pissarro,  Barge  at  La  Roche-­‐Guyon,  circa  1865.     Museé  Pissarro,  Pontoise.           367       Figure  48.  Camille  Pissarro,  L’Ile  Lacroix,  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  44  x  55  cm.   Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art,  Pennsylvania.           368       Figure  49.  Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐February  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522.                               369   Chapter  4:  Agriculture  and  Industry  in  Van  Gogh’s     Montmartre  and  Clichy  Imagery             Figure  1.  Weaver  with  a  baby  in  a  high  chair,  1884.  Pencil  pen  in  brown  ink,   heightened  with  opaque  watercolor,  on  wove  paper,  32  x  40  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1118.       370       Figure  2.  Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  summer  1887.    Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  342.         Figure  3.  Boulevard  de  Clichy,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292.     371       Figure  4.  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.2  x  81.4  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  346.                   Figure  5.    Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317.     372       Figure  6.  The  View  from  Vincent’s  Room,  rue  Lepic,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  board,  46  x  38.  Private  collection.    F  341a.       373       Figure  7.  View  from  Théo’s  Apartment,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  38.1.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  341.       374       Figure  8.  Moulin  Radet  dit  de  la  Galette  à  Paris,  1923.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       375       Figure  9.  Eugène  Atget,Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Radet.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       376       Figure  10.  Eugène  Atget,Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Blute-­‐fin.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       377       Figure  11.  View  of  Paris,  from  Montmartre,    late  summer  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  61.5  cm.       Kunstmuseum,  Basel.  F  262.       378       Figure  12.  Terrace  and  Observation  Deck  at  the     Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,  Montmartre,  early  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  43.6  x  33  cm.       The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago.  F  272.       379       Figure  13.  Plan  of  Paris:  Montmartre,  the  rue  Lepic,  and  the  Moulin  de  la  Galette.   Archives  numérisées  de  Paris,  PP/11834/E.     Théo%and%% Van%Gogh’s% apartment%on% the%rue%Lepic% Moulin%% de%la%Gale9e%   380       Figure  14.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette  et  la  montée  de  la  rue   Lepic  étant  placé  au  coin  de  la  rue  d'Orchamp  (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet),  1895.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.     381       Figure  15.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Rue  Lepic  à  Montmartre:     Entrée  du  Moulin  Debray  (Bal  public)     (Le  Blute-­‐fin),  1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       382       Figure  16.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Impasse  des  2  frères  rue  Lepic,  1884.   (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet.)    Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       383       Figure  17.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Montmartre  Le  Moulin  Des  frères  Debray,   Restaurant  Guinguette,  1888.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       384       Figure  18.  Moulin  de  la  Galette  (Le  Moulin  Le  Radet,  vue  de  la  rue  Girardon),     mid-­‐October  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  46.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  227.       385       Figure  19.  Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir,  Bal  du  moulin  de  la  Galette,  1876.     Oil  on  canvas,  131  x  175  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.             386       Figure  20.  La  Guinguette  du  Moulin  Le  Radet,  mid-­‐October  1886.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  chalk,  on  paper,  38.5  x  52  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1407.         Figure  21.  La  Guinguette,  mid-­‐October  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238.       387       Figure  22.  The  Hill  of  Montmartre,  April-­‐May  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  61.1  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  266.                 388       Figure  23.  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July    1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  41  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  229.             Figure  24.  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July    1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  56.3  x  62.6  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  230.         389       Figure  25.  John  Constable,  The  Cornfield,  1826.  Oil  on  canvas.   The  National  Gallery,  London.       390       Figure  26.  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  18  x  15  inches.   Glasgow  Art  Gallery  and  Museum.         Figure  27.  Le  Blute-­‐-­‐-­‐fin:  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  38  cm.       The  Carnegie  Museum  of  Art,  Pittsburg.  F  348.                                         391   392           Figure  28.  Le  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐-­‐-­‐fin,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas.  Fundatie  museum,  Zwolle.   393           Figure  29.  Vegetable  Gardens  of  Montmartre,  summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  96  x  120  cm.   Stedelijk  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  350.   394           Figure  30.  Pierre  Vidal,  detail  from  the  illustrated  book   La  Vie  à  Montmartre  by  Georges  Montorgueil,  1899.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.   395           Figure  31.  Paul  Signac,  Rue  Caulaincourt.  Moulins  à  Montmartre,  1884.   Oil  on  canvas,  35  x  27  cm.   Musée  Carnavalet,  Paris.   396           Figure  32.  Flower  Beds  in  Holland,  c.  1883.  Oil  on  canvas,  48.9  x  66  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC.   397           Figure  33.  Camille  Pissarro,  The  Gardens  of  l’Hermitage,  Pontoise,  c.  1867.   Oil  on  canvas.  National  Gallery,  Prague.   398           Figure  34.  Wheatfield  with  Patridge,  June-­‐-­‐-­‐July  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  53.7  x  65.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  310.   399           Figure  35.  Sheaves  of  Wheat,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐August  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  40.2  x  30  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  193.   400           Figure  36.  Peasant  Woman  Binding  Sheaves,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐September  1885.   Chalk  on  paper,  56.3  cm  x  44.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1266.   401           Figure  37.  Peasant  Woman  Digging,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐September  1885.   Chalk  on  paper,  55.7  x  41  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1255.   402           Figure  38.  The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.   Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  x  36.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830.   403           Figure  39.  Jean-­‐-­‐-­‐François  Millet,  The  Gleaners,  1857.   Oil  on  canvas,  83.3  x  111.8  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.   404           Figure  40.  Camille  Pissarro,  Haymaking,  Érgany,  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  66  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.   405           Figure  41.  Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart,  summer  1887.   Pencil,  pen  and  ink  and  watercolor  on  paper,  24.1  x  31.6  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.   F  1401.   406           Figure  42.  Road  Running  Beside  the  Paris  Ramparts,  June  1887.   Pencil,  watercolor,  chalk,  brush  and  (oil?)  paint,  pen  and  ink,   on  paper,  39.7  cm  x  53.8  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1400.   407           Figure  43.  Fortifications  of  Paris  with  Houses,  1887.  Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and   gouache,  heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,  24.1  x  31.6  cm.   Whitworth  Art  Gallery,  University  of  Manchester.   F  1403.   408           Figure  44.  Fortifications  of  Paris,  1887.  Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and  gouache,   heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,  39.5  x  54  cm.   Location  unknown.  F  1402.   409           Figure  45.   Lucien  Pissarro,  Sur  les  fortifications,  1886.   Pencil  and  black  chalk,  19.6  x  29.2  cm.   Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford.   410           Figure  46.   Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.   Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318.   411           Figure  47.   Allotment  with  Sunflower,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  43.2  x  36.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  388v.   412           Figure  48.  Coke  Factory  in  the  Borinage,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐August  1879.   Pencil  and  watercolor  on  paper,  26.4  x  37.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1040.   413           Figure  49.   Gasworks,  The  Hague,  March  1882.   Pencil,  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  23.8  cm  x  33.8  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  924.   414           Figure  50.  Édouard  Manet,  A  Bar  at  the  Folies  Bergère,  1882.   Oil  on  canvas,  96  x  130  cm.   Courtauld  Gallery,  London.   415           Figure  51.  Edgar  Degas,  The  Song  of  the  Dog,  1875-­‐-­‐-­‐1877.   Oil  on  canvas,  51.8  x  42.6  cm.   Private  Collection.   416               Above:  Figure  52.  Verrerie  du  Pont  de  Clichy,   documented  by  Michel  Baltzer  c.  1900.  Published  by  Jim  Friant.   417           Figure  53.   Claude  Monet,  Men  Unloading  Coal,  1873-­‐-­‐-­‐1875.   Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  66  cm.   Museé  d’Orsay,  Paris.   418           Figure  54.   Émile  Bernard  (facing)  and  Vincent  Van  Gogh  on  the  banks  of   Asnières,  dated  1886,  probably  1887.   Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.   419           Figure  55.  Le  Pont  à  Asnières,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  73  cm.   Collection  of  Dominique  de  Menil,  Houston.  F  240.   420           Figure  56.  Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne.   421           Figure  57.   Émile  Bernard.  Vue  du  pont  d’Asnières  (View  from  the  Bridge  of   Asnières),  late  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  38  x  46  cm.  Museé  des  Beaux-­‐-­‐-­‐Arts.   422           Figure  58.   Camille  Pissarro,  Factories  near  Pontoise,  1873.  Oil  on  canvas.   Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Springfield,  Massachusetts.   423       Chapter  5:  Symb  olism  in  Paris         Figure  1.  Sower,  June  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  64.2  x  80.3  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  422.   424             Figure  2.  Fourteen  Flowers  in  a  Vase,  August  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  93  x  73  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  454.   425           Figure  3.  Terrace  of  a  Café  at  Night,  September  1888.   Oil  on  canvas,  80.7  x  65.3  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  467.   426           Figure  4.  The  Night  Café,  September  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  70  x  89  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  463.   427           Figure  5.  The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐-­‐-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82.   428           Figure  6.  Starry  Night,  1889.  Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.1  cm.   Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City.  F  612.   429           Figure  7.   Park  at  Asnières  in  Spring,  spring  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  1887.  50  x  65  cm.  F  362.   430           Figure  8.  Patch  of  Grass,  April-­‐-­‐-­‐June  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  30.8  x  39.7  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  583.   431           Figure  9.  Path  in  the  Woods,  May-­‐-­‐-­‐July  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.3  x  37.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309.   432           Figure  10.   Exterior  of  a  Restaurant  in  Asnières,  summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  18.5  x  27  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  321.   433           Figure  11.   Paul  Gauguin,  Vision  After  the  Sermon,  1888.   Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  92  cm.   Scottish  National  Gallery,  Edinburgh.   434           Figure  12.  Romans  parisiens,  fall  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  93  cm.   Private  Collection.  F  359.   435             Figure  13.  Still  Life  with  Bible,  October  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  65.7  x  78.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  117.   436           Figure  14.  Three  Novels,  January-­‐-­‐-­‐February  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  31.1  x  48.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  335.   437             Figure  15.  Gustave  Moreau,  The  Apparition,  1876.   Watercolor,  72.2  x  106  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.   438           Figure  16.  Sous-­‐-­‐-­‐Bois,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309.   439           Figure  17.  Avenue  of  Poplars  in  Autumn,  October  1884.   Oil  on  canvas,  99  x  65.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  122.   440               Figure  18.  Self-­‐-­‐-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  38.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  181.   441           Figure  19.  Self-­‐-­‐-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐-­‐-­‐Febraury  1888.   Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522.   442           Figure  20.  Camille  Pissarro,  Pond  at  Montfoucault,  1874.   Oil  on  canvas,  53.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  Collection.   443           Figure  21.   Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—   Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.  Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC.   444           Figure  22.   Café  table  with  Absinthe,  February-­‐-­‐-­‐March  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  46.3  x  33.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  339.   445           Figure  23.   Bertall,  Manet  as  Jesus  with  his  Disciples,  1870.   446           Figure  24.   Georges  Seurat,   Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande  Jatte,  1884-­‐-­‐-­‐1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  207.5  x  308.1  cm.  Art  Institute,  Chicago.   447           Figure  25.   Way  in  the  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  in  Asnières,  spring  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  59  x  81  cm.   Yale  University  Art  Gallery,  New  Haven,  Connecticut.   448           Figure  26.   Édouard  Manet,  Olympia,  1863.   Oil  on  canvas,  190  x  130  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.   449           Figure  27.   Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—   Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.  Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC.   450           Figure  28.   Berthe  Morisot,  The  Wet  Nurse  Angèle  Feeding  Julie  Manet,  1880.   Oil  on  canvas,  50.2  x  61  cm.   Private  Collection,  New  York.   451           Figure  29.   Camille  Pissarro,  The  Shepherdess,  1881.   Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  64.7  cm.   Museé  d’Orsay,  Paris.   452           Figure  30.   Camille  Pissarro,  Le  Chemin  de  fer  de  DIeppe,  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.   Private  Collection.   453             Figure  31.  Georges  Seurat,  La  Luzerne,  Saint-­‐-­‐-­‐Denis:  champ  de  coquelicots,   1885-­‐-­‐-­‐1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  64  x  81  cm.   National  Galleries  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh.   454           Figure  32.   Paul  Gauguin,  Tropical  Vegetation,  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  116  x  89  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh.   455           Figure  33.   The  Restaurant  Rispal  in  Asnières,  Summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  72  x  60  cm.   Nelson-­‐-­‐-­‐Atkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City.   Christa DiMarco's Dissertation Front Matter Christa DiMarco's Dissertation Body, Painting in Paris, Vincent van Gogh, 1886-1888 Christa DiMarco's Dissertation Bibliography Christa DiMarco's APPENDIX Images Christa DiMarco's Appendix Images Part II