Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Modern Color Made in France

Henri-Edmond Cross
Pines along the Shore
1896
oil on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Edgar Degas
Dancers in Rose
ca. 1900
pastel on paper
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Édouard Vuillard
Luncheon
1901
oil on cardboard
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Édouard Vuillard
Garden at Vaucresson
1920
distemper on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Édouard Vuillard
The Small Drawing Room - Mme. Hessel at her Sewing Table
1917
oil and tempera on paper, mounted on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

rotten oasis

Treachery abounds, look
inwards! Your bird jangles its small
swing. You're getting sleepy, very
sleepy. In a vulnerable tyranny.
Leave for now the marksmen to
their desolations, they ruin everyday
life. & luck can't do anything
about the undying devotion of
the undead, putting their backs
to the bus shelter while
crumbs still stick to the dishes.
I guess someone is a king of France & apart
from whom nobody is a king of France. Same
rockstar, different poem. I like icons
& the toxic halos of figureheads, I like
to beat people up & rehash among the swan.
I was born in captivity, having
fucked the right people, thick
in the France of it. The uniform you
design may still be stripped & not in
some pleasant mannerism. I guess treachery
abounds & scruple keys the addresses
out of their shining wrappers. I guess gin
relieves the need for whiskey, I guess I
can think as well as talk. Come to
think of it, I spoke to your exo-
skeleton. It had been
sacked for cribbing a back salary
from your stunt double. I watched
you chewing & the human body
is a great mystery. Sun, look out for yourself.
Embody your own adaptation.
You've got no corner on fire
& marauders upbraid those
vehicles invisible to them.
Nobody is a king of France, licked
all over like a stamp, my every garbage at
the actual border,
making it, making it over, taking up the slack.
The bottle broke in your bag & you're
getting flammable, very flammable. Luck
knows nothing, peels down
like a stocking & I
thought, why wait any longer,
& found myself caught in
the breast of the beast
as it staggered to carry
my up the stairs. His clothes are
dirty, but his hands are a sumptuous pyre.
What's so perfect about a stranger,
the greasy smoke of being
swallowed up or disappearing.
I can't carry the remainder.

– Judith Goldman, from Vocoder (Roof Books, 2001)

Paul Signac
Evening Calm, Concarneau, Opus 220 (Allegro Maestoso)
1891
oil on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Albert Besnard
Horses
1894
oil on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Maurice Denis
Springtime
ca. 1894-99
oil on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Paul Gauguin
Farm in Brittany
ca. 1894
oil on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Pierre Bonnard
The Seine at Vernon
ca. 1925
oil on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Henri Le Sidaner
Statues - the Garden at Versailles
1900
pastel on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Jules-Edmond-Charles Lachaise and Eugène-Pierre Gourdet
Garden Pavilion in Forested Landscape
before 1889
oil on canvas, mounted on blue paper
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Pierre Puvis de Chavannes
Cider
ca. 1864
oil on paper, mounted on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Pierre Puvis de Chavannes
The River
ca. 1864
oil on paper, mounted on canvas
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York