More on Paul Gauguin and Brittany
….in February 1888, Gauguin returned to Pont Aven. Brittany suited his temperament. At that time, he wrote to his friend Schuffenecker:’I love Brittany. I find a wildness and a primitiveness there; when my wooden shoes ring out on its granite soil, I hear the muffled, dull, powerful note that I am looking for in my painting.’ The moors, the valleys gouged by rivers, hidden pathways, hedgerows, the old slate-roofed grey dwellings huddled in the hollows, dark forests of beech, ash and oak-all these contributed to the romantic atmosphere of the legendary landscape. A dampness in the air, a special quality in the light, revealed that the sea and its rocky coast were not far away. Gauguin found a spiritual climate here that was perfectly in tune with his desire for a simpler, more intimate form of painting. The little chapels nestled among mossy trees, the stone Calvaries and the crudely carved wooden statues became fused in his mind with other primitive forms that haunted him.
The Nabis: Bonnard, Vuillard, and Their Circle, by Claire Freches-Thory and
Antoine Terrasse
Maybe it’s my current immersion in art, but this paragraph struck me as exceptionally beautiful.
Paul Gauguin en Bretagne
Recent Reading
The Cold Millions by Jess Walter.
So, after reading Ron Charles’s rave review of this title in the Washington Post, I felt I had to give it a try. (I get a kick out of Ron Charles; he becomes almost incoherent with enthusiasm sometimes, especially when he REALLY, REALLY [as my grandson would declare, for emphasis] likes a book.) So…
A jumble of riotous action set against the backdrop of labor unrest and free speech suppression, chiefly in Spokane, Washington, in the early years of the twentieth century.. Main characters are brothers Gig (Gregory) and Rye (Ryan) Dolan, struggling to survive amid the tramps and hobos out of work and out of luck in the Pacific Northwest.
I could believe in Rye and Gig, but my credulity was strained by the character of Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, a nineteen-year-old married and pregnant firebrand and uncompromising crusader for workers’ rights and freedom of speech. Yet in his acknowledgements, the author states that she’s drawn from real life.
And lo! Here she is, in full haranguing mode: 
Of course, truth can be stranger than fiction, but…well, read it and decide for yourself. In any event, the book is a wild ride, and great fun (if confusing at times).
Vesper Flights by Helen Macdonald 
What science does is what I would like more literature to do too: show us that we are living in an exquisitely complicated world that is not all about us. It does not belong to us. It never has done….
Centuries of habitat loss and slow attenuation of our lived, everyday knowledge of the natural world make it harder and harder to have faith that the way things are going can ever be reversed.
We so often think of the past as something like a nature reserve, a discrete, bounded place we can visit in our imaginations to make us feel better. I wonder how we could learn to recognize that the past is always working on us and through us, and that diversity in all its forms, human and natural, is strength. that messy stretches of species-rich vegetation with all their invertebrate life are better, just better, than the eerie, impoverished silence of modern planting schemes and fields. I wonder how we might learn to align our aesthetic and moral landscapes to fit that intuition.
One could become impatient with too many of these generalized exhortations, eloquently expressed though they may be. Fortunately, Macdonald does leaven them with specifics. Of course there is much delightful writing about birds, not surprising from this author, but here’s a less expected passage, from an chapter entitled “Nothing Like a Pig.” The set-up: her boyfriend has taken her to see an animal she had previously known only from stories and folk tales:
This creature was not what I expected, despite its slap of familiarity. It had the forward-menacing shoulders of a baboon, and the brute strength and black hide of a bear. But it was not really anything like a bear, and what surprised me most of all was that it was nothing like a pig. As the beast trotted up to us, a miracle of muscle and bristle and heft, I turned to the boy, and said, surprised, “It’s nothing like a pig!” With great satisfaction he grinned and said, “No. They’re really not.”
This essay collection has been much anticipated by readers of Macdonald’s award-winning work H Is for Hawk. A number of people have asked me if I’ve read that particular book. Truth to tell, I tried to, but I ran afoul of Macdonald’s description of the steps involved in taming the hawk. I felt an intense aversion to the whole process – it seemed to me a form of avian torture. So that it was it, for me. Vesper Flights is blessedly free of such content, and a very rewarding read.
The Revenge of Thomas Eakins, by Sidney D. Kirkpatrick 
What an interesting man: a deeply gifted painter and, except for a brief European sojourn in his youth, a life long resident of the City of Brotherly Love. Born in 1844, Thomas Eakins grew up saturated with the rich artistic culture that characterized Philadelphia in the late 1800s.
Painted in 1875, The Gross Clinic is probably Eakins’s most famous work:
Another work, one of my favorites, is Max Schmitt in a Single Scull (1871):
The artist’s wife, Susan Macdowell, 1884-89
Self-portrait, 1902
The Writing Master (Benjamin Eakins, the artist’s father), 1882
Portrait of Walt Whitman-1887. The poet and the painter were great friends.
(Eakins was a great portraitist; his skills were much sought after in this area.)
This is the house in which Eakins live: 
Designated as an historic landmark in 1965, it now houses an artists’ cooperative. In Eakins’s time, the place seemed to be bursting with life – relatives an friends would come frequently to visit an often to stay. There were numerous children (although Eakins and his wife not have any) and pets also -including, for a while, a monkey who caused untold mischief.
You could understand why, in the above portrait, Susan Macdowell looks rather long suffering. And there were other reasons, as well.
Thomas Eakins was not only a great painter, but an enthusiastic and committed teacher. He also became infatuated with photography. And that’s where the trouble began…
While some of the photographs are entirely decorous, others are…well, something else. A large selection of works by Eakins in both media can be accessed at WikiArt.
Why the title of this biography contains the word “revenge” I am not sure. Unless it refers to the frequently heard saying, “Living well is the best revenge.” Eakins’s life was turbulent, that is for sure, but most of the strife he encountered he brought on himself. He was stiff and unbending in his principles, even in situations where a little bending would have cost him little.
The subjects of a number of his nude studies, both painted and photographed, were often drawn from his young male students, many of whom seemed all too willing to doff their garments in order to please their esteemed instructor. The speculation prompted by this practice, can be easily imagined.
Whatever took place in his personal life, as a professional, he was exact and uncompromising. He was left us a legacy of realistic art for which we can only be grateful. As for this book, I found it utterly absorbing – a great about an artist and his times.
More on the Post-Impressionists
[Click here for the previous post on this subject.]
Roderic O’Conor was an Irish artists who lived and worked with the Pont Aven painters, for a time.
Yellow Landscape 1892, by Roderic O’Conor
Moonlit Lndscape, Roderic O’Conor
On the Irish Times site, there’s an excellent piece on O’Conor. Be sure to watch the video; there’s a presentation by an exceptionally eloquent curator.
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Our instructor recommended to us a mystery novel set in Brittany. Death in Brittany, translated and published here in 2014, features Commissaire Georges Dupin. Judging by the name, c’est un hommage, I assume, to Edgar Allan Poe’s famous Parisian armchair sleuth. But this Dupin spends very little time sitting around waxing intellectual. Instead, he traverses the length and breadth of his adopted home, trying to solve first one murder, then another.
Being as he’s a newcomer – only lived in Brittany for three years, specifically resident in Concarneau – he is still in the process of getting to know the place, and to understand it:
Inhale in Concarneau and you tasted salt, iodine, seaweed, mussels in every breath, like a distillation of the entire endless expanse of the Atlantic, brightness and light. In Pont Aven it was the river, moist, rich earth, hay, trees, woods, the valley and shadows, melancholy fog-the countryside.
And there’s more:
The landscape became more and more enchanting as the narrow little streets of Pont-Aven gave way to thick woodland. The trees were dripping with mistletoe and ivy, overgrown and moss-covered. some of the trees here had entwined as they grew, forming a log dark green tunnel. now and then the Aven shimmered between the trees on the left hand side as though it were electrically charged, a pale silver color. The last of the day’s light bathed everything in its glow, lending the landscape even more of a fairytale atmosphere.
As for the painters of more than a century ago – their traces are still very much present. Dupin enters a room in the main floor of a hotel that’s central to his investigation and at once beholds stunning collection:
There were twenty-five of these by his estimation, maybe thirty, by artists from the famous artists’ colony such as Paul Serusier, Laval, Emile Bernard, Armand Seguin, Jacob Meyer de Haan and of course Gauguin….
The Talisman, an 1888 work by Paul Serusier, so called because it attained an iconic status for Les Nabis. They thought of it as the jumping off point for their artistic movement.
The author of Death in Brittany writes under the pseudonym. Jean-Luc Bannalec is German but spends much of his time in Brittany. Monsieur Bannalec is the holder of a doctorate from l’Université Johann Wolfgang Goethe de Francfort-sur-le-Main. He has worked as an editor and journalist. There’s a Wikipedia entry for him in French under his real name, Jorg Bong.
The Georges Dupin novels currently number five. I look forward to reading the next one.
Breton Girls Dancing, by Paul Gauguin
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Although Van Gogh is classified as a Post-Impressionist, he did not go to Brittany to paint. He famously went to the south of France instead, hoping to found an artists’ colony there. Gauguin joined him there for two months. It did not go well.
There’s an interesting book on this failed experiment: 
Alas, poor Van Gogh; very little went well in his short, sad life. I read a biography of him recently that was excellent, very engrossing, but…”If you have tears, prepare to shed them now….
Many of us wish that Van Gogh could somehow come to know how much his art is loved and valued in the present era. There’s an episode of the long running British series Doctor Who that made that happen. I for one am very grateful to them:
Dueling Post-Impressionists
Of late, I have been taking an online course entitled Dueling Post-Impressionists. Initially I was intrigued with the title; now I’m enthralled with the art.
The term Post-Impressionism encompasses a wide variety of artists. who followed the Impressionists in their triumphant march toward modernism. Two specific schools of painters fall under this rubric: the Nabis, and the School of Pont-Aven. The dates we’re talking about are roughly the mid 1880s to the turn of the twentieth century.
Our instructor provided these background notes;
Everyone’s heard of Gauguin who started his serious painting career in Brittany in 1886 at what was later called the School of Pont Aven. He was noted for his experimental use of color and Synthetist style that were distinct from Impressionism.
At the same time, a group of Parisian Post-Impressionist painters called themselves Nabis from the Hebrew word for prophet. They were a loose-knit group of over a dozen young artists in Paris. The Nabis played a large part in the transition from impressionism and academic art to abstract art, symbolism and the other early movements of modernism….
Pierre Bonnard and Edouard Vuillard were two of the most distinguished Nabi painters.
They were inspired by many sources, including Cezanne, Gauguin, and Japanese art. The Nabis created wallpaper, folding screens, and domestic scenes of remarkable intimacy. They have come into their own with 3 major exhibitions in 2019 in Paris, NY, and Washington, DC.
It should also be noted that the main impetus for the move to Brittany was that it was cheaper to live there than in Paris.
An explication of the term ‘Synthetism’ helps the viewer understand the principles which governed the art of the Nabis painters and those of the School of Pont Aven. The chief characteristics, enumerated by our instructor, are as follows:
Abandonment of faithful representation;
Creation of a work based on the artist’s memory of the subject but reflecting his feelings while painting;
Bold application of pure color;
Absence of perspective and shading;
Application of flat forms separated by dark contours;
geometrical composition free of unnecessary detail and trimmings.
So at this point, let’s consider ourselves finished with the academic aspect of the art, and go on to the actual art. The leading light among the painters who took up residence in Brittany was Paul Gauguin. Many of us are familiar with Gauguin’s depiction of girls and young women from his years in Tahiti. These are earlier works, which I, for one, had never seen. Here are two of my favorites:
Water Mill at Pont Aven, Paul Gauguin, 1894
Le Champ Lollichon et L’Eglise de Pont Aven, Paul Gauguin
Gauguin settled in at an establishment called Pension Gloanec in Pont Aven. Not only was the rent low, but the food was excellent.
The Pension Gloanec no longer functions as a hostelry; instead, it houses a book store and event space.
Our instructor has thus far shown us many enchanting paintings. Then just cruising around on the web, aided by her list of artists, I found more on my own. (To obtain such lists on your own, go to the Wikipedia entries for Les Nabis and the Pont-Aven School.)
Little Girl in a Red Dress, by Maurice Denis
Les Delices de la Vie, by Armand Seguin
(The above work was until recently owned by David Rockefeller. Mr. Rockefeller passed away in 2017, at the age of 101. Les Delices de la Vie, which translates roughly as ‘The Delicious, or Wonderful, Things of Life,’ was among the works in his collection that went to auction. Christie’s had estimated that it would sell for between $1,000,000 and $1,500,000. In the event, the price realized was $7,737,500.)
Paysage de Martinique, by Charles Laval.
Dining Room on the Garden, Pierre Bonnard
Farmhouse at Le Pouldu, by Paul Serusier
Little Laundry Girl, by Pierre Bonnard. (The word en francais is especially lovely: ‘Blanchisseuse.’) This work shows the influence of Japonisme on Bonnard’s art.
Enfant avec Goblet, by Edouard Vuillard
This past Wednesday, we were shown a painting by Vuillard called The Garden of Vaucresson. It fairly took my breath away:
One painting that I discovered just recently that very much appealed to me is a landscape by Robert Bevan, a British painter. (Although Les Nabis and the Pont Aven artists were mainly French, there were others from farther away: England, like Robet Bevan; Ireland, like Roderic O’Conor; The Netherlands, like Meijer de Haan; and Poland, like Wladislaw Slewinski. In addition, there from time to time quite a few Americans.)
In fact, I was so enchanted by this image that I have ordered this:
More to come on this, my current favorite subject.
‘Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs.’ – Jim Thompson: The Unsolved Mystery, by William Warren
It started with a comment about the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical The King and I. This came about because of a Zoom class I was taking on the great choreographers of the American musical theater. We were focusing on Jerome Robbins. For me, Robbins’s genius is most clearly manifest in West Side Story, both the Broadway show and then the film. He was fired from this latter enterprise for being impossible to work with – but before that happened, we got this:
Okay, that was a total digression, but it’s one of my all time favorite YouTube videos, so I couldn’t resist.
Anyway, back to The King and I. Robbins did the choreography for that show as well, a fact of which I was previously unaware. The presenter of this class did us the great favor of screening one of that production’s most famous scenes, the March of the Siamese Children. Here it is:
In the course of his remarks on The King and I, the presenter mentioned the sheer gorgeousness of the costumes. The silk was supplied, he informed us, by Jim Thompson, founder of the Thai Silk Company – “You know, the guy who went missing in Malaysia.”
No I don’t know. Never heard of him. While the presenter went on to other topics, I remained fixated on the missing man. I found a book on the subject and read it, with great interest. 
Born in 1906, scion of a prominent Delaware family, Jim Thompson seemed headed for the kind if life and career that would be expected for one of his background. Having graduated from Princeton, he aspired to be an architect, but he was unable to pass the qualifying exam that was required for licensure. Nevertheless, was able to work in that field, for a time. Then World War Two broke out.
Having begun his military career in the Delaware National Guard, Thompson was eventually recruited to serve in the OSS (Office of Strategic Services), which later came to be known as the CIA. Just as he was being posted to Bangkok, the war ended. But for Jim Thompson, Bangkok was a new beginning. He took up residence there and never wanted to leave.
Not long after his arrival, Thompson discovered a corner of Thailand which housed some Muslim silk weavers. They were barely eking out a living, yet the fabric they re producing was gorgeous. He turned Thai silk weaving into a business with a future. The Thai Silk Company became a hugely successful enterprise, especially after its product was showcased in The King and I.
Meanwhile, Jim Thompson had a rich and rewarding life in Bangkok. He built a beautiful house for himself, where he entertained numerous friends and business associates. Among these were a Dr. and Mrs T.G. Ling, and a widow, Connie Mangskau. In 1967, the Lings invited Mrs Mangskau and her friend Jim Thompson to join them at Moonlight Cottage, their holiday home in the Cameron Highlands in Malaysia. The invitation was accepted.
Moonlight Cottage, Cameron Highlands, Malaysia
On their first full day at Moonlight Cottage, the party busied themselves with a picnic and other activities, returning to the house in the afternoon to rest before dinner. All had retired to their respective bedrooms, but Jim Thompson did not remain in his. Restless, an inveterate hiker, he decided to follow a trail that led downhill from the house.
He did not return and was never seen again.
The disappearance of this prominent American businessman caused a sensation. William Warren describes in great detail the search that took place, over a period of days, weeks, stretching into months. Everyone from military personnel to psychics took part or offered theories at to what had happened to Jim Thompson. Had he strayed into the jungle area adjacent to the trail and gotten lost, or fatally mauled by a tiger? (If so, where were the remains?) Or perhaps, had an accident? Was he still involved in intelligence work for the U.S. and gotten into some sort of trouble because of this connection? Had he deliberately disappeared, wanting to end his life? Had he been preyed upon by Malaysian communists? Had he been kidnapped by aborigines, who lived in the region?
Each of these possibilities was looked into and run to ground as far as was possible. Large numbers of people were interviewed. The area around the trail was searched and searched again. Nothing.
Jim Thompson was 61 years old at the time of his disappearance. He had some physical issues but was generally speaking in good health.
(A mere six months after Thompson went missing, his sister was murdered in her home in Chester County, Pennsylvania. As far as I know, this crime remains unsolved.)
As the years have passed, various theories have emerged concerning the disappearance. Claims to have solved the mystery have invariably been proved misleading or downright false – at least, until 2017. In that year, a film entitled Who Killed Jim Thompson was screened at a film festival in Eugene, Oregon. In it, producer Barry Broman claims to have uncovered evidence leading to the determination that Thompson was killed by members of the Communist Party of Malaya. Even so, Broman admits that he would like to have more evidence to verify this conclusion.
It would be great to be able to view this film, but so far, I haven’t been able to figure out how to do that.
Meanwhile, Jim Thompson’s Thai Silk Company is still very much a going concern. His house in now maintained by a foundation as a museum, where one can view his impressive collection of Asian art in the house which he himself designed.
In 1959, W. Somerset Maugham, celebrated author and restless sojourner, was Jim Thompson’s guest for dinner in this same house. It was in the way of a farewell tour for the elderly Maugham, who throughout his years of travel had come to love the Far East. In his thank-you note to his host, Maugham wrote:
You have not only beautiful things, but what is rare you have arranged them with faultless taste.
(The quotation in the title of this post is from Maugham’s novel The Moon and Sixpence.)
Books to the Ceiling 