This time it is not a failed movie adaptation, but an exhibition of 200 works at the Prado. From portraits of children, like Goya's grandson Mariano, to nightmarish visions and the all too real horrors of war, an exploration of the artist's astonishing range.
The Duchess took me to parties given by her
friends. Some were regular dinners, some informal suppers after the play, the
ballet or the opera, and others musical gatherings, where both professional and
amateur performers displayed their talents. I was often pressed to sing, which,
out of shyness, I avoided as much as I could without appearing affected or
ungracious. Impromptu dances often concluded the pleasures of the evening. The
Bishop of Autun, Monsieur de Talleyrand, who has since achieved such fame as a
diplomat, once said: “Who has not known that time has not known the sweetness
of living.” It was indeed sweet, although that sweetness was not to last.
Manners in good society were very modest. It
would have been the height of insolence for a gentleman to touch, even briefly,
any part of a sofa occupied by a lady, let alone to sit next to her, or to
offer her his arm for a walk. Only husbands or brothers were allowed those
familiarities. Lovers avoided them at all costs. The English custom of shaking
hands, especially between persons of different sexes, was considered so vulgar
as to be ridiculous. Conversations, however, were freer than anything I had
heard before in company. 

And it entails the obligation of
nominating 10 blogs. If you look at my blogroll, you will realize that it was a difficult decision. But it had to be made. So here are my
choices, in alphabetical order:
On Tuesday I went to Charles-De-Gaulle Airport and noticed painted sunflowers everywhere. I reflected on how great an idea that was to cheer up an otherwise dreary place, and was reminded of Sheramy and her novel.
And the next day I visited her (beautiful) blog and read this:
I am thrilled to announce that my novel inspired by the art and life of Vincent van Gogh, The Sunflowers, will be published with Avon A—the trade-paperback imprint of Avon/HarperCollins—in Fall 2009... (more)
The setting is 1792 Spain, and the French Revolution is already well
under way north of the Pyrenees. To fight the spread of the new subversive ideas, the Spanish Inquisition, now a derelict and toothless institution, realizes that it needs to launch a public relations campaign. In order to restore its image and remind people of the good ole days, it decides to burn at the stake a number of heretics and Marranos, those Jews who, though ostensibly converted to Catholicism, continue to secretly
practice Judaism.
What does this have to do with Goya? Well, once in a while the screenplay yanks him from his easel to send him on some errand or other on behalf of the protagonists. He is the plot's jack-of-all-trades, and Stellan Skarsgård gives
such a shadowy performance (maybe the title should have been Goya's Ghost) that
the character never stands a chance. Apparently he got himself half-erased from the film's European poster (above) and disappeared completely from the US DVD cover (right.) No spoilers here, but I will reveal
this much: you get to see some of the real Goya's etchings with the credits.
Lucy had mentioned on her blog that she had purchased Mistress of the Revolution, and now she posted her review.
Here is what he writes of Boucher: "Sly, sycophantic, corrupt and giggly,
this bouncy peddler of soft porn was Madame de Pompadour’s favourite artist.
Anyone wishing to understand why the French Revolution had to happen need only
examine a handful of Bouchers. The stink of French 18th-century corruption
wafts up from his art."
Indeed this meal scene by Chardin, painted around the same time as the Boucher, reflects a totally different atmosphere. It is called the Benedicite, the blessing of the food. Here too there is an interaction between a child and an adult, but the hands of the little girl are joined in prayer . No luxury, the setting is a well-to-do bourgeois household. I agree that this scene is impressive in its unsentimental solemnity.But soon Mr. Januszczak loses me again: "There is something so unFrench about Chardin: so modest and Protestant and plain." Mr. Januszczak is obviously a man who embraces ethnic and religious stereotypes.
I believe it behooves an art critic, if he is to opine on French 18th century paintings, to acquire an understanding of the time and place. The Chardin is actually just as French as the Boucher, maybe more so.
Most French people before the Revolution would have identified far more easily with Chardin than with Boucher, whose art reflected the luxurious, libertine lifestyle of a tiny minority.
I will spend some time in London this July, and take advantage of it to visit the exhibition. The Wallace Collection also happens to house what may be Fragonard's most famous painting: Les heureux hasards de l'escarpolette (The Swing.) Another piece of French "soft porn?" It will post on it shortly.
By now you know all about the proper attire required from the ladies of the Court. But the same women, hampered by their cumbersome paniers in Versailles, dressed quite differently, and in my opinion more elegantly, in Paris.
These white muslin dresses were appropriate as a lady's informal attire. For more formal occasions in Paris, ladies would have dressed like Madame Necker, wife of the Comptroller General of Finances, in the portrait to your right, or as the young woman in the Fragonard painting featured on the cover of Mistress of the Revolution. 


Cinderella at World of Royalty posts two trailers of the film The Duchess, to be released in September. The more recent one rather shamelessly attempts to exploit the enduring popularity of Princess Diana by drawing a parallel between her and the Duchess of Devonshire, née Lady Georgiana Spencer (the two women were indeed related.)
And what do you think of Keira Knightley in the title role? Does she resemble the real Duchess, painted here by Gainsborough? 
This should be another interesting exhibition (Paris, Musée des Arts Décoratifs, until October 5, 2008.) See the slide show for a preview.
The result? Decorative arts as propaganda. A heavy, pompous neoclassical style dedicated to the celebration of the glory of the new ruler. None of of the grace and refinement that had characterized the last years of the Old Regime, as exemplified by Marie-Antoinette's taste.
We saw Gabrielle readying herself for her first visit to Versailles. Especially for a young woman who was going to be presented to the Queen, it was a momentous experience. Let us listen to Gabrielle:
The Duchess and I left early on a
fine Sunday morning for Versailles. I was attired in all of my new finery. She
wore a black Court gown and the rest of her diamonds. Aimée, much to her
chagrin, had to remain in Paris. Children, except those of the royal family,
were not seen at Court. I dried her tears and assured her that I would be back
very soon.
After the carriage
had made its way through an army of street vendors peddling cheap mementos in
front of the Palace, we passed two successive sets of gates and alighted in the
courtyard reserved for Duchesses. I was awed by the size of the palace. Its
wings seemed to extend forever on each side of the central building.
“I
never imagined anything so gigantic,” I exclaimed.
“What
you see is nothing,” replied the Duc