Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (11 May 1827 – 12 October 1875) was a French sculptor and painter during the Second Empire under Napoleon III.The Passions of Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux - The Metropolitan ...
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Carpeaux, Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, Ugolino, passions.
Musée d'Orsay (officiel) 新增了 4 張相片。
11小時 ·
En 1863, l'architecte Charles Garnier fait appel à Carpeaux pour l'un des goupes de trois personnages devant rythmer la façade du futur nouvel opéra de Paris. Carpeaux ne respecte pas le programme puisqu'il imagine un groupe, "La Danse", avec de neuf figures au lieu des trois prévues. Mais Garnier accepte la proposition ne voulant pas priver "la France d'un morceau qui sera certes un chef-d'œuvre".
Lorsque la sculpture est dévoilée au public en 1869, elle choque les plus conservateurs. Un critique écrit : "Des femmes, excitées par le Génie de la danse, mènent une ronde entraînante […]. Voilà, dans toute son horreur, en quoi consiste l'obscénité de ce groupe". Une nuit, un inconnu lance une bouteille d'encre noire sur l'œuvre, et face au scandale l'empereur Napoléon III décide l'enlèvement du groupe. Mais la guerre de 1870 éclate et "La Danse" reste en place. Elle sera bien retirée en 1964, mais pour la protéger des attaques du temps et être remplacée par une copie exécutée par Paul Belmondo. L'original est aujourd'hui conservé au musée d'Orsay.
Exposition Carpeaux, jusqu'au 28 septembre au musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1pvaeDH)
Lorsque la sculpture est dévoilée au public en 1869, elle choque les plus conservateurs. Un critique écrit : "Des femmes, excitées par le Génie de la danse, mènent une ronde entraînante […]. Voilà, dans toute son horreur, en quoi consiste l'obscénité de ce groupe". Une nuit, un inconnu lance une bouteille d'encre noire sur l'œuvre, et face au scandale l'empereur Napoléon III décide l'enlèvement du groupe. Mais la guerre de 1870 éclate et "La Danse" reste en place. Elle sera bien retirée en 1964, mais pour la protéger des attaques du temps et être remplacée par une copie exécutée par Paul Belmondo. L'original est aujourd'hui conservé au musée d'Orsay.
Exposition Carpeaux, jusqu'au 28 septembre au musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1pvaeDH)
In 1863, the architect Charles Garnier entrusted Carpeaux with the realisation of one of three groups of three figures each destined to punctuate the façade of the new Paris Opera House. Carpeaux took liberties with the programme as he imagined a group, "Dance", with nine figures instead of three. Yet Garnier accepted the idea, unwilling to "deprive France of a piece that will certainly be a masterpiece".
When the sculpture was unveiled in 1869, it was deemed shocking by conservative spectators. An art critic wrote: "Women, excited by the Genius of Dance, are leading a rousing round (…). Here is, revealed in all its horror, what the obscenity of this group consists in." One night, an unknown hand threw a bottle of black ink on the sculpture, and facing the scandal Napoleon III decided the removal of the group. But then the 1870 war started and the "Dance" remained in place. It was finally removed from the Opera House in 1964, but with the purpose of protecting it from the attacks of the weather, and it was replaced by a copy executed by Paul Belmondo; the original is now in the Musée d'Orsay.
Carpeaux exhibition, until September 28 at the Musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1nx7If1)
When the sculpture was unveiled in 1869, it was deemed shocking by conservative spectators. An art critic wrote: "Women, excited by the Genius of Dance, are leading a rousing round (…). Here is, revealed in all its horror, what the obscenity of this group consists in." One night, an unknown hand threw a bottle of black ink on the sculpture, and facing the scandal Napoleon III decided the removal of the group. But then the 1870 war started and the "Dance" remained in place. It was finally removed from the Opera House in 1964, but with the purpose of protecting it from the attacks of the weather, and it was replaced by a copy executed by Paul Belmondo; the original is now in the Musée d'Orsay.
Carpeaux exhibition, until September 28 at the Musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1nx7If1)
Musée d'Orsay (officiel) 新增了 3 張相片。
3小時 ·
Du croquis à l'oeuvre : "Flore", décor pour la façade du musée du Louvre (1866).
Exposition Carpeaux, jusqu'au 28 septembre au musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1pvaeDH)
From the sketch to the Artwork. "Flore", sculpture for the Louvre.
Carpeaux exhibition, until September 28 at the Musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1nx7If1)
Exposition Carpeaux, jusqu'au 28 septembre au musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1pvaeDH)
From the sketch to the Artwork. "Flore", sculpture for the Louvre.
Carpeaux exhibition, until September 28 at the Musée d'Orsay (http://bit.ly/1nx7If1)
Tortured Soul, Golden Touch
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, a French Artist of Multiple Passions
Note the savvy come-hither title of “The Passions of Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux,”
the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s latest, unusually swashbuckling foray
into 19th-century French art. What better way to attract attention to a
sculptor prominent in his own time but not widely known in ours than to
promise not just one but multiple passions? And what better way to make
this artist memorable than to deliver on almost every front?
“The
Passions of Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux” is an exciting full-service
exhibition, all the more so because Carpeaux was to some degree a
virtuoso in every material or medium he touched: a sharply observant
draftsman who was also adept with oil on canvas, and whose paintings are
among the show’s surprises. Adding to his luster, he was one of the
last artists of the last royal court of France, the Second Empire of
Napoleon III, established by coup in 1851 and abandoned in 1870 amid the
debacle of the Franco-Prussian War. In between, the emperor had Baron
Haussmann redesign Paris, which generated ample job opportunities for
architects and artists alike. Among other things, Carpeaux would create
“The Dance,” a large and exuberant sculptural group for the facade of
the city’s new opera house, designed by his friend Charles Garnier. At
the same time, Carpeaux was also incipiently modern, a crucial influence
on Rodin and his generation of French sculptors.
“Carpeaux”
is the first retrospective devoted to the artist in nearly 40 years. It
has been organized by James David Draper, curator of the Met’s
department of European sculpture and decorative arts, and Edouard Papet,
chief curator of sculpture, at the Musée d’Orsay, in Paris, where it
will be seen this summer.
Over
the course of nine galleries and 150 works, their effort weaves
together art, biography and history into a rich, illuminating narrative.
It spans art as tradition and innovation, as private sketch and public
monument, revealing a versatile sensibility fueled by alternating
currents of Romanticism and Realism, not to mention a passion for
Michelangelo. It manifests history as politics, court life, defeat and
exile, as might be expected from the work of a Second Empire art star
whose most popular sculpture was an enchanting full-length portrait of
the heir to the throne, portrayed, perhaps for the first time in French
sculpture, in everyday dress. And biographically, it encompasses a
volatile mix of raw talent and rawer ambition, incessant work, grasping
parents, a tormented marriage, economic struggle, debilitating illness
and some Othello-like paranoia.
This
show makes the realities of being an artist unusually tangible. Its
range of materials and scales clarifies the stages of sculptural
production from deftly improvised terra-cotta or plaster studies to
full-size models, to bronze or marble versions. The small bravura
studies are among the most engaging (and modern) works in the show. They
include sketches for mythological and religious pieces, notably a
gripping little Entombment of Christ and others based on contemporary
life. Don’t miss the terra-cotta sketch of the young woman looking over
her shoulder to glimpse the back of her first long gown.
The
catalog can teach you much about the economic ups and downs of a
sculptor who lived exclusively from commissions and the sale of replicas
of his best-known works, like the portrait of Napoleon III’s heir, the
Prince Imperial. Its lengthy chronology is a litany of advances,
payments and loans of sums small and large; of projects that barely
broke even and desperate auctions of work; of commissions won, postponed
and canceled or finally completed.
Perhaps
most startling of all, is that Carpeaux’s prolific output was cut short
by the age of 48, when, partly blinded by marble dust, he died of
bladder cancer.
The
son of a mason and a lace maker, Carpeaux came from nowhere, but his
gifts emerged early. His father managed to enroll him at the age of 10
in the famous Petite École of Paris, where he learned the rudiments of
drawing, architecture and stonecutting. In 1844, he won entry to the
École des Beaux-Arts and spent most of the next decade repeatedly
attempting to win the Prix de Rome in sculpture.
He
finally won in 1854 with the assured if rather routinely neo-Classical
sculpture of Hector holding his infant son that greets you in the first
gallery of the exhibition. (Carpeaux was also capable of cloying
neo-Classicism as exemplified by his 1861-62 marble “Boy With a
Seashell,” nearby.)
Over
the next eight or so years, Carpeaux was back and forth between Paris
and Rome, soaking in the art of his idol Michelangelo, and tangling with
officials about the subject of his first major sculpture. It was
supposed to be a single figure, but Carpeaux insisted on doing a
five-figure scene depicting Dante’s Ugolino from the “Inferno,” a tyrant
whose eternal punishment was to be imprisoned with his four sons and
face the agony of either starvation or cannibalism.
This
immense marble dominates the exhibition’s second gallery, accompanied
by drawn and sculpted studies. Acquired by the Met in 1967, “Ugolino and
His Sons” is a study in physical and psychological anguish, from the
contorted, finger-gnawing mouth to the painfully clenched toes that owes
much to Michelangelo’s monumental “Moses” and in turn influenced
Rodin’s “Thinker.” It is quite impressive, although Ugolino looks a bit
too much like Vincent Price to be completely convincing.
Fortunately,
real people outnumber mythic characters. The next gallery includes a
portrait of Napoleon III finished days after he died in exile in
England, and two of Princess Mathilde, a cousin of the emperor known for
her literary salon. One is formal, in marble with a wonderfully
detailed gown, fur wrap, jewelry and snood, the other is intimate and
more modest in bronze-tinted plaster. Both convey a sense of realism at
once exacting and sympathetic.
In
contrast, several Carpeaux paintings of court balls attest to both his
infatuation with royal pomp and an extremely loose style. It might be
called his own private Impressionism, but also foretells the rather
slippery brushwork of society portraitists like Giovanni Boldini, and
20th-century magazine illustration.
The
next gallery is devoted to public commissions, including a wonderful
plaster study of “The Dance.” It is followed by a specially meaty
display of portrait busts, including such creative types as Garnier, the
artist Jean-Léon Gérôme, the writer Alexandre Dumas fils and the
composer Charles Gounod, seen in a bust whose full beard, expression and
tilt of head presage the imperious stance of Rodin’s “Balzac” in the
Museum of Modern Art.
There
are equally penetrating portraits of what Mr. Papet calls “the
enlightened bourgeoisie,” like the philanthropist Pierre-Alfred
Chardon-Lagache and Madame Pelouze, a political mover and shaker
unafraid to have her facial hair portrayed. In these instances, Carpeaux
records faces and implies personalities that are interesting in and of
themselves.
Remaining
highlights include Carpeaux’s study for the head of Watteau (reimagined
as a handsome, carefree youth with a mane of long hair), a sampling of
his religious works and a group of small self-portrait paintings and
drawings that convey both his vanity and his suffering. A nearly
illegible sweep of grisaille full of Henry Fuseli-like foreboding
recounts the birth of Carpeaux’s first child, and four treatments of
shipwrecks seem apt, given the rockiness of his health, finances and
marriage during his final years.
Most
tumultuous of all is a large roiling painting depicting an
assassination attempt on Czar Alexander II among the crowds on the Bois
de Boulogne during a visit to Paris. Mr. Draper of the Met suggests that
Carpeaux could have been a history painter on the order of Gericault or
Delacroix. I don’t concur, but it is a preternaturally strange picture,
and it clarifies a thought that nags throughout this remarkable show,
which is that Carpeaux had more genius than taste.
“The Passions of Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux” runs through May 26 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 212-535-7710, metmuseum.org.
A version of this review appears in print on March 28, 2014, on page C23 of the New York edition with the headline: Tortured Soul, Golden Touch.
Roberta Smith calls the work a “study in physical and psychological
anguish, from the contorted, finger-gnawing mouth to the painfully
clenched toes that owes much to Michelangelo’s monumental ‘Moses’ and in
turn influenced Rodin’s ‘Thinker.’” 
From left, portraits of Carpeaux’s mother-in-law, Vicomtesse de Montfort (1870), and his wife, Amélie de Montfort (1869).
Happy Birthday to French sculptor Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, born on this day in 1827. Carpeaux’s high relief on the façade of the Opéra Garnier in Paris, with its naturalistic nudes embodying Dance, is one of the great monuments of Second Empire style.
Featured Artwork of the Day: Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (French, 1827–1875) | Genius of the Dance | 1864 http://met.org/1KRqdXP
The story behind this intensely romantic sculpture comes from canto XXXIII of Dante's Inferno, which recounts how the Pisan traitor Count Ugolino, his sons, and his grandsons were imprisoned in 1288 and died of starvation. Carpeaux's statue shows his reverence for Michelangelo and his meticulous concern with anatomical realism.
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux | Ugolino and His Sons | French, Paris | The Met
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (1827–1875) | Ugolino and His Sons | 1865–67 |…
METMUSEUM.ORG
The story behind this intensely romantic sculpture comes from canto XXXIII of Dante's Inferno, which recounts how the Pisan traitor Count Ugolino, his sons, and his grandsons were imprisoned in 1288 and died of starvation. Carpeaux's statue shows his reverence for Michelangelo and his meticulous concern with anatomical realism.
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux | Ugolino and His Sons | French, Paris | The Met
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux (1827–1875) | Ugolino and His Sons | 1865–67 |…
METMUSEUM.ORG
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