<?page no="0"?> S C H W E I Z E R A N G L I S T I S C H E A R B E I T E N S W I S S S T U D I E S I N E N G L I S H This work analyses the relationship between visual art and contemporary art fiction by addressing the problem of the ekphrastic re-presentation and re-interpretation of an Impressionist figure painting through its composition, selected details of the painting and allusion to specific techniques used in the process of creating the masterpiece based on the examples of the following novels: Luncheon of the Boating Party by Susan Vreeland (2007), Mademoiselle Victorine by Debra Finerman (2007), With Violets by Elizabeth Robards (2008), Dancing for Degas by Kathryn Wagner (2010) and The Painted Girls by Cathy Marie Buchanan (2013). S A A 1 4 5 ISBN 978-3-7720-8700-4 Lyutsiya Staub Revisiting Renoir, Manet and Degas Revisiting Renoir, Manet and Degas Lyutsiya Staub Impressionist Figure Paintings in Contemporary Anglophone Art Fiction 38700_Umschlag.indd 1,3 04.11.2019 11: 51: 35 <?page no="1"?> Revisiting Renoir, Manet and Degas <?page no="2"?> Schweizer Anglistische Arbeiten Swiss Studies in English Begründet von Bernhard Fehr Herausgegeben von Andreas Fischer (Zürich), Martin Heusser (Zürich), Daniel Schreier (Zürich) Band 145 <?page no="3"?> Lyutsiya Staub Revisiting Renoir, Manet and Degas Impressionist Figure Paintings in Contemporary Anglophone Art Fiction <?page no="4"?> Die vorliegende Arbeit wurde von der Philosophischen Fakultät der Universität Zürich im Wintersemester 2018 auf Antrag der Promotionskommission Prof. Dr. Martin Heusser (hauptverantwortliche Betreuungsperson) und Prof. Dr. Ana Sobral als Dissertation angenommen. © 2019 · Narr Francke Attempto Verlag GmbH + Co. KG Dischingerweg 5 · D-72070 Tübingen Das Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist ohne Zustimmung des Verlages unzulässig und strafbar. Das gilt insbesondere für Vervielfältigungen, Übersetzungen, Mikroverfilmungen und die Einspeicherung und Verarbeitung in elektronischen Systemen. Internet: www.narr.de eMail: info@narr.de CPI books GmbH, Leck ISSN 0080-7214 ISBN 978-3-7720-8700-4 (Print) ISBN 978-3-7720-5700-7 (ePDF) ISBN 978-3-7720-0213-7 (ePub) Umschlagabbildung: Maria Rasskazova Umschlaggestaltung: Martin Heusser, Zürich Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http: / / dnb.dnb.de abrufbar. www.fsc.org MIX Papier aus verantwortungsvollen Quellen FSC ® C083411 ® www.fsc.org MIX Papier aus verantwortungsvollen Quellen FSC ® C083411 ® <?page no="5"?> To my grandmother, Katusha, who taught me to love books. <?page no="7"?> 9 13 21 2.1. 21 2.1.1. 27 2.1.2. 36 2.2. 44 2.3. 53 2.3.1. 53 2.3.2. 57 2.3.3. 60 65 3.1. 68 3.2. 78 95 4.1. 95 4.1.1. 99 4.2. 105 4.2.1. 106 4.2.2. 123 4.3. 148 167 5.1. 167 5.2. 178 5.3. 191 5.4. 202 Contents List of Paintings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries . . . . . . . . . . . . Evolution of the Definition of Ekphrasis . . . . . . . . . . . . The Diversity of Ekphrastic Relations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Perception, Re-presentation and the Making of Meaning . . . . Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction . . . . . . . The Communicative Category . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Re-presentational Category . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Interpretive Category . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 3. Communication . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Verbal Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Visual Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 4. Re-presentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Process of Making an Artwork: Labour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inspiration for the Painting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings . . . . . The Boating Party . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Opportunists, Dancers, Lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Selected Visual Details and Colour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 5. Interpretation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Perceived versus Intended Meaning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Paintings Viewed on Display . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections . . . . . . . . . . . . . Art Criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . <?page no="8"?> 211 223 231 233 Chapter 6. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Contents <?page no="9"?> 1 The paintings are indicated in the order they are first mentioned in the present study. List of Paintings 1 1. Manet, Édouard. Olympia, 1863, oil on canvas, 130 x 190 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 2. Manet, Édouard. Le Repos (Repose), 1869, oil on canvas, 147 x 111 cm, Mu‐ seum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, RI, USA. 3. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Le déjeuner des canotiers (Luncheon of the Boating Party), 1880-1881, oil on canvas, 1.3 m x 1.73 m, The Phillips Collection, Washington D.C., USA. 4. Degas, Edgar. Two Ballet Dancers, c. 1879, pastel and gouache on paper, 46 x 66 cm, Shelburne Museum, Shelburne, VT, USA. 5. Degas, Edgar. Danseuses bleues (Dancers in Blue), 1890, oil on canvas, 85.3 x 75.3 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 6. Manet, Édouard. Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes (Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets), 1872, 55 x 38 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 7. Degas, Edgar. La danseuse chez le photographe (Dancer at the Photograph‐ er’s Studio), 1875, oil on canvas, 65 x 50 cm, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow, Russia. 8. Degas, Edgar. Little Dancer Aged Fourteen (La Petite Danseuse de quatorze ans or Grande Danseuse habillée), 1878-1881, sculpture (pigmented beeswax, clay, metal armature, rope, paintbrushes, human hair, silk and linen ribbon, cotton faille bodice, cotton and silk tutu, linen slippers, on wooden base), overall without base: 98.9 x 34.7 x 35.2 cm, weight: 22.226 kg, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon. 9. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Bal au Moulin de la Galette (Dance at Le moulin de la Galette), 1876, oil on canvas, 1.31 m x 1.75 m, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 10. Veronese, Paolo. The Marriage Feast at Cana (Nozze di Cana), c. 1562-1563, oil on canvas, 6.77 m x 9.9 m, Louvre, Paris, France. 11. Manet, Édouard. Le balcon (The Balcony), 1868-1869, oil on canvas, 170 x 124.5 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 12. Goya, Francisco de. Majas on a Balcony (Majas en el balcón), c. 1800-1810, oil on canvas, 194.9 x 125.7 cm, The Met, New York, USA. <?page no="10"?> 13. Manet, Édouard. Vase de pivoines sur piédouche (Vase of Peonies on a Small Pedestal), 1864, oil on canvas, 70.2 x 93.2 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 14. Manet, Édouard. Young Lady, 1866, oil on canvas, 185.1 x 128.6 cm, The Met, New York, USA. 15. Degas, Edgar. L’Absinthe or Dans un café (The Absinthe Drinker or Glass of Absinthe), 1875-1876, oil on canvas, 92 x 68,5 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 16. Da Vinci, Leonardo. The Last Supper (Il Cenacolo or L’Ultima Cena), 1495-1498, fresco-secco, 4.6 x 8.8 m, Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan, Italy. 17. Degas, Edgar. A Coryphée Resting, c. 1880-1882, pastel, Philadelphia Mu‐ seum of Art, Philadelphia, PA, USA. 18. Degas, Edgar. Portrait de Mlle Eugénie Fiocre: à propos du ballet "La Source" (Portrait of Mlle Fiocre in the Ballet "La Source"), c. 1867-1868, oil on canvas, 130.8 x 145.1 cm, Brooklyn Museum, New York, USA. 19. Degas, Edgar. Dancer with a Fan, c. 1880, pastel on grey-green laid paper, 61 x 41.9 cm, The Met, New York, USA. 20. Degas, Edgar. Dancer Resting, c. 1878-1890, chalk, pastel board, dimen‐ sions unknown, private collection. 21. Manet, Édouard. Street Singer, c. 1862, oil on canvas, 171.1 x 105.8 cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA, USA. 22. Manet, Édouard. The Railway, 1873, oil on canvas, 93 x 112 cm, National Gallery of Art West Building, Washington D.C., USA. 23. Manet, Édouard. The Bunch of Violets (Bouquet de violettes), 1872, oil on canvas, 22 x 27 cm, Private Collection, Paris, France. 24. Manet, Édouard. Le déjeuner sur l’herbe (The Luncheon on the Grass), 1863, oil on canvas, 2.08 m x 2.64 m, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 25. Manet, Édouard. Mlle. Victorine in the Costume of a Matador, 1862, oil on canvas, 165.1 x 127.6 cm, The Met, New York, USA. 26. Manet, Édouard. La Prune (The Plum), 1878, oil on canvas, 74 x 50 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. 27. Degas, Edgar. Four Dancers, 1899, oil on canvas, 151.1 x 180.2 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. 28. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Madame Monet Reading “Le Figaro,” 1872, oil on canvas, 54 x 72 cm, Museu Calouste Gulbenkian, Lisbon, Portugal. 29. Cassatt, Mary. Reading ‘Le Figaro,’ 1878, oil on canvas, 104 x 84 cm, private collection. 30. Degas, Edgar. Criminal Physiognomies, 1881, pastel, dimensions un‐ known, private collection. 10 List of Paintings <?page no="11"?> 31. Degas, Edgar. The Dance Lesson, 1879, oil on canvas, 37.9 x 87.9 cm, Na‐ tional Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. 32. Manet, Édouard. The Dead Christ with Angels, 1864, oil on canvas, 179.4 x 149.9 cm, The Met, New York, USA. 33. Manet, Édouard. La Lecture (Madame Manet and Leon), 1848-1883, oil on canvas, 61 x 73.2 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 34. Degas, Edgar. Dance Examination (Examen de Danse), 1880, pastel on paper, 60.9 x 45.7 cm, Denver Art Museum, Denver, CO, USA. 35. Degas, Edgar. After the Bath, 1876-77, pastel over monotype, dimensions unknown, private collection. 36. Degas, Edgar. Cabaret, 1875, pastel over monotype, 24 x 43 cm, Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., USA. 37. Degas, Edgar. Woman Ironing, 1876, oil on canvas, 81 x 66 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., USA. 38. Degas, Edgar. Room in a Brothel, c. 1879, monotype in black ink on laid paper, 22 x 15.9 cm, Stanford University Museum of Art, Stanford, CA, USA. 39. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Alphonsine Fournaise sur l’île de Chatou (Alphon‐ sine Fournaise, Daughter of a Restaurant Owner of Chatou), 1879, oil on canvas, 93 x 73 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 40. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. La Grenouillère, 1869, oil on canvas, 66 x 81 cm, National Museum, Stockholm, Sweden. 41. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. At the Inn of Mother Anthony, Marlotte (Mother Anthony’s Tavern), 1866, oil on canvas, 194 x 131 cm, National Museum, Stockholm, Sweden. 42. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Portrait of the Actress Jeanne Samary, 1878, oil on canvas, 174 x 105 cm, Hermitage, St. Petersburg, Russia. 43. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Sleeping Girl with a Cat, 1880, oil on canvas, 120.3 x 92 cm, Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA, USA. 44. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Madame Charpentier with Her Children, 1878, oil on canvas, 153.7 x 190.2 cm, The Met, New York, USA. 45. Degas, Edgar. Women on a Café Terrace (Femmes à la terrasse d’un café le soir), 1877, pastel, 55 x 72 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 46. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. The Swing (La Balançoire), 1876, oil on canvas, 92 x 73 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 47. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Cup of Chocolate, 1877-78, oil on canvas, 100 x 81 cm, Private Collection. 48. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Lovers, c. 1875, oil on canvas, 130 x 175 cm, Na‐ tional Gallery in Prague, Prague, Czech Republic. 11 List of Paintings <?page no="12"?> 49. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Confidences, 1878, oil on canvas, 61.5 × 50.5 cm, Oskar Reinhart Collection, Winterthur, Switzerland. 50. Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Woman with a Cat, c. 1875, oil on canvas, 56 × 46.4 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. 12 List of Paintings <?page no="13"?> Chapter 1. Introduction The visual arts have always been a source of inspiration for writers, from clas‐ sical antiquity (starting from Homer, who included a description of the Shield of Achilles in Book 18 of the Iliad) to the present. However, it seems that early twenty-first century literature, more than ever before, is geared towards visu‐ ality through the use of visual images in verbal texts. The recent upsurge in the popularity of the word-image relationship is especially noticeable in the con‐ temporary novel, which not only focuses on works of art, artists’ and models’ lives and the artist-model relationships, but also, while fictionalising the story of the very process of creating an artwork, seeks to test and evaluate its historical interpretation. While a variety of definitions of this particular genre have been suggested - “fictions about painters” (Bowie), “artist novels” (Beebe), “atelier narratives” ( Joyce) and most recently “art-historical fiction” (Chapman) -, this paper will address it simply as art fiction. My concern is primarily with con‐ temporary novels that allude to two-dimensional works of art, Impressionist figure paintings by Renoir, Manet and Degas in particular. Although my work focuses on literature, I hope this research will also be of interest for art experts, as art fiction does not only re-present a painting to make the reader see it through its description but creates a story around it, and by that delves deeper into the question of possible meanings of an artwork. The purpose of this study is to analyse the relationship between visual art and contemporary art fiction by addressing the problem of the ekphrastic re-presentation and re-interpretation of an Impressionist figure painting through its composition, selected details of the painting and allusion to specific techniques used in the process of creating the masterpiece based on the examples of the following novels: Luncheon of the Boating Party (LOTBP) by Susan Vree‐ land (2007), Mademoiselle Victorine (MV) by Debra Finerman (2007), With Violets (WV) by Elizabeth Robards (2008), Dancing for Degas (DFD) by Kathryn Wagner (2010) and The Painted Girls (TPG) by Cathy Marie Buchanan (2013). The reason for choosing the corpus of five novels about Impressionists is twofold: the scope of the study is narrowed down, on the one hand, to a single period of literature and, on the other, to a specific period of art history. The overall aim of reducing of the scope of the corpus of texts is to avoid further risk of the study being too broad and unintentionally ambiguous. <?page no="14"?> 1 Impressionism originated in France in the second half of the nineteenth century and developed against the established conventions of the Académie des Beaux-Arts. The term “impressionism” was originally coined by Louis Leroy (1874) in in his review of the first independent exhibition of the Impressionists (which took place in Paris on 15 April 1874), namely in the dialogue between an attacker and a defender of a new style of painting who are discussing Monet’s painting Boulevard des Capucines: ‘There’s impression, or I don’t know what it means. Only, be so good as to tell me what those innumerable tongue lickings in the lower part of the picture represent? ’ ‘Why, those are people walking along! ’ I replied. ‘Then do I look like that when I am walking along the Boulevard des Capucines? Blood and thunder! ’ (Leroy, Louis. “L’exposition des impressionnistes.” Charivari, April 25, 1874 in Rewald 320) 2 According to Milner, the Institut “hous[ed] a highly exclusive body of expertise with the five assemblies of the French Academy and administer[ed] the affairs of the Sciences and the Arts. Since 1795 the Académie des Beaux-Arts met here [at the Institut] to oversee developments in painting, sculpture, architecture and music. There were forty mem‐ bers. Each new member was appointed by the votes of existing members and approved by the government. Membership was normally for life and appointment to the Academy comprised the highest public honour available specifically to artists. Its influence upon exhibitions, teaching and recognition was far-reaching, Insofar as its aims stressed the continuity of traditions, it is not surprising that its authority was repeatedly challenged by independent groups of artists. […] The Institut stood for the ultimate in profession‐ alism and no hint of radical changes in painting was permitted…” (9) Impressionism 1 is probably one of the most popular movements with audi‐ ences - it is light, pretty to look at and easy to understand. Barbe-Gall points out that Impressionist paintings do not require prior knowledge and thus offer cer‐ tain comfort to contemporary viewers who are usually able to “recognise some‐ thing familiar in the paintings, something they have once experienced, or simply glimpsed, an ordinary situation or a passing sensation” (4). According to Bret‐ tell, the main attraction of these “joyous works remains the sense of spontaneity they impart, the pure pleasure they suggest in the artist’s act of looking and in the ability to capture a quick visual impression, seemingly without second thought or the aid of theory” (7). In the second half of the nineteenth century, however, in comparison to the mainstream work of artists accepted by the In‐ stitut 2 and the Salon, Impressionist paintings looked rushed, incomplete and ut‐ terly incompetent, and thus caused bitter opposition and received fierce criti‐ cism from both the art critics and the audience. Impressionists step aside from traditionally approved historical or mythological subjects and find theirs in ev‐ eryday ‘real’ life. They depict what they see and illustrate their subjective point of view. The work that emerges from this personal vision becomes rather rela‐ 14 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="15"?> 3 One the one hand, it is relative to the conditions under which the same scene is ob‐ served; on the other, it is relative to each and every painter. That is why Impressionists experimented with painting the same scene together, for example, Monet and Renoir painting the panoramic views of Paris in 1868 and the series of La Grenouillère; or ex‐ ploring the same subject repeatedly in the so-called “series paintings” (for instance, Monet’s series of Waterloo Bridge; Water Lilies; Rouen Cathedral or Haystacks). tive. 3 It is both the subject itself and the effects of the natural light on this sub‐ ject that interests Impressionists and makes them rethink and adjust the manner they paint and by implication the dynamics of the painting process. According to Baxandall, Impressionism offers “canvases that [play] on a tension between an openly dabbed-on plane surface and a rendering of sense-impressions of seen objects that put emphasis on their hues” (45). The practical innovation of ready-made paint in tubes was one of the reasons why Impressionists could paint much more quickly than their predecessors and were able to take their work outdoors. They developed various techniques - visible brush strokes, impasto, alla prima, en plein air - and tried to adapt them in order to reveal the subject through soft forms, representing a shimmering texture of light, fostering an il‐ lusion of movement and depicting the instancy of a ‘real’ moment of modern life. Many talented artists are known as Impressionists and although there are certain similarities in their philosophy of painting, their works appear materi‐ ally different - the style and preferred subject matters of each painter can be clearly distinguished. Therefore, Impressionism cannot be reduced to just a few aspects and be spoken about in general terms - each painter should be studied individually. Impressionism has been so popularised through countless reproductions on posters, calendars, napkins, umbrellas, chocolate boxes and the like that people are sometimes surrounded by Impressionist art without even knowing it. Now Impressionist paintings and painters are subjected to another form of recycling - they penetrate the pages of art fiction. In the last ten years many contemporary writers (Vreeland, Finerman, Robards, Wagner, Buchanan, Cowell, Oliveira, Figes, Lasky, Scott Chessman, Gibbon - to name just a few) have turned to the subject of Impressionism, creating portrayals of famous Impressionists and their models, developing the stories of their relationships, yet also focusing on re-pre‐ sentation (by describing the process of their creation and exploring it from both the artist’s and the model’s perspectives) and interpretation of the artworks. Analysis of ekphrastic re-presentation of an Impressionist artwork is particu‐ larly interesting in view of the fact that in Impressionist painting attention is diverted from separate details to the overall effect of the image, yet it is usually the composition and the details of the painting that help to re-present the visual 15 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="16"?> source verbally. The aim of this study is therefore to examine how Impressionist figure paintings are re-presented through the composition of the painting and selected details and how such re-presentation affects the re-interpretation of an artwork alluded to in the narrative as well as the understanding of an extant work of art. Chapter Two lays out the theoretical dimensions of the research, addressing the question of the visual and the verbal and emphasising the complementary function of arts. It examines the idea that the semiotic duality of an intermedial artefact facilitates close interaction between spatiality and temporality and by doing so creates great potential for generating new meanings in a cultural product, thus leading to new interpretations. There are different ways of mani‐ festing visual arts within a literary text; however, the present analysis focuses solely on the actual subject matter captured directly in both media, bringing ek‐ phrasis and the variety of ekphrastic relationships into the primary focus in contemporary art fiction. The first section presents a brief diachronic overview of the evolution of the definition of ekphrasis (Webb, Lessing, Heffernan, Krieger, Mitchell, Cheeke, Clüver, Yacobi). The study suggests a contemporary reading of the phenomenon of ekphrasis based on the tripartite principle of the representation of an art object and its multiple re-interpretations and proposes to define ekphrasis as a verbal re-presentation and re-interpretation of a visual representation (painting). The chapter moves on to consider the diversity of ek‐ phrastic relationships by introducing several typologies of word-image relations (Hollander, Heffernan, Yacobi, Torgovnick, Robillard, Sager Eidt). I adapt and challenge the existing categories of ekphrasis by making them more specific for my study and finally elaborate a framework of intermedial interaction (commu‐ nicative, re-presentational and interpretative categories) that is further applied to the study of selected contemporary art fiction narratives. While the communi‐ cative category is concerned with paratexts of contemporary art fiction, the re-presentational category focuses on ekphrastic descriptions of details, compo‐ sition and the process of creation of an artwork, and the interpretive category considers perception and interpretation of a painting as well as meta-commen‐ tary on art movements in general provided by the story’s actants. In the chap‐ ters that follow I will examine different types of ekphrasis as well as their com‐ binations in the novels in order to analyse to what extent the visual source is used in the text, which aspects of it are highlighted, which are omitted alto‐ gether, what is added and why. The overall objective of this research is to ex‐ amine if and how art fiction influences the way the painting is perceived and to determine what effects the transmission of a painting through one or several 16 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="17"?> ekphrastic categories (communicative, re-presentational or interpretative) has on its general understanding. Chapter Three concentrates on the communicative category and analyses how the co-presence of media is established in the paratextual zone (Genette) of contemporary art fiction, with main focus being on the verbal and visual ele‐ ments of the book cover. This chapter promotes the approach of judging the book by its cover. As the first manifestation of an intermedial artefact the book cover frames the future reading of the text. It provides the reader with verbal (the name of the author, title, genre indication, press blurbs) and visual (cover illustrations) information that aims to attract attention to the product, establish a relationship with a potential reader, encouraging the reader to interpret the conveyed meaning of the literary work in question, and eventually to persuade the reader to purchase the book. In this chapter, it will be argued that in the case of art fiction based on extant works of art, the book cover becomes a manifes‐ tation of the intermedial nature of the product (referring to the content of the book, naming or illustrating the characters, or alluding to the artist, an artwork or an artistic movement in general), often giving the reader an opportunity to engage with an art object both visually and verbally and thus activating new reading skills. I will analyse the form in which the textual and iconic images appear, the location of the image and the text, their referents and their inter-re‐ lationship on the front and back covers. The main purpose of this research is therefore to study the role of the book covers of art fiction, to interpret the functions of displayed verbal and visual elements and, most importantly, to ex‐ amine the effects they produce. The fourth chapter focuses on the re-presentation of visual sources in art fiction. Contemporary writers tend to take the reader on a journey around the painting and show it gradually coming to life. That is why in this section I examine how the artwork is re-presented through the process of its making - considering the labour that goes into a creation (obtaining inspiration, finding locations and models, choosing colours, applying paints, confirming composi‐ tion, considering details, dealing with the problems of artistic creation and the like). I will argue that by narrating the process of making, the novelists - delving deeper into the images and their stories - on the one hand accentuate the dy‐ namic and experimental activity of art making and draw attention to the fact that artworks are neither really static nor unchanging, while on the other, by examining the artist’s intentions in the process of creating an artwork, suggest a new narrative interpretation of the image. As the central element of a figure painting is a human model, the process of making an artwork naturally involves posing. During the modelling process, the 17 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="18"?> reader is introduced to the model as an element of a painting. However, in art fiction models also have the ability to move within and beyond a given artwork, live and act on and off the canvas, interact directly with the creator (thus be‐ coming a mediator between the creator and the artwork), discuss the intended meaning of an artwork and even influence the resulting representation. On this basis I propose and further examine a hypothesis that the model performs a threefold function in the narrative, being 1) a human subject with a life outside the canvas, 2) an object of the painting, and thus a representation of art itself, and 3) a co-creator of the end product or an artist tout court. My analysis is divided into two sections, firstly addressing Renoir’s boating party in LOTBP (Alphonse, Alphonsine, Jeanne, Aline, Angèle, Antonio, Gustave, Ellen, Charles, Jules), and, secondly considering the opportunists, dancers and lovers who pose for Manet and Degas (Victorine (MV), Berthe (WV), Marie (TPG) and Alexandrie (DFD)). In this research I aim to study how the models contribute to the creation and interpretation of the artworks and how the modelling process described in the narrative helps to re-present the painting. The chapter moves on to consider the re-presentation of fragments (selected details, compositional components and colour) of Impressionist figure paintings and the role they play in art fictional narratives. By describing or alluding to the details of the painting, contemporary writers take control of the selective process, guide the reader’s attention and eventually affect his/ her visual per‐ ception of an artwork. I will discuss both the limitations of this guiding principle and the advantages of creating new effects en route of exploring the artwork, analysing the impact these effects exert on the reader. Further I examine which details tend to be singled out in Impressionist figure paintings, analyse them as focal points of the re-presentation, and analyse how they assist in re-presenting and contextualising the painting in its socio-historical and cultural settings as well as how they affect the visual perception and influence the interpretation of an artwork in contemporary ekphrasis. Finally, in view of one of Impressio‐ nism’s main concerns, I distinguish colour as a significant component of re-pre‐ sentation and track the meaning that is assigned to colour in art fiction. I argue that the description of colour solution allows the novelists to re-direct the read‐ er’s attention to specific details and to refer to the style and painting techniques of the artist, and thus reinforce the idea of creation, enhance the experience of ‘seeing’ and enrich the aesthetic value of the re-presentation as a whole. Finally, the fifth chapter investigates how the re-presented artworks are per‐ ceived and interpreted by various actants and how the Impressionist art move‐ ment in general is commented upon in the narratives. The use of actually ex‐ isting works of art in fiction allows novelists to explore and recycle ready-made 18 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="19"?> interpretations of the image and, by using them as a foundation, create new meanings of a re-presentation. However, regardless of the derivation (ready-made or newly created) of the meaning, it is generally conditioned by a certain framework used for viewing art pieces and is thus determined by art historical method. The discussion will include the most popular and influential art historical methods usually used in regard to Impressionist paintings, such as connoisseurial (or biographical), formalist, iconographical, Marxist, social art history and feminist methods. This part will examine which approaches the novelists apply and in which combinations, what effects they create in the nar‐ rative and, most importantly, if and how they embellish the understanding of the re-presentation. Therefore, central questions raised within the interpretive category are: who are the transmitters; what type of transmission is offered; how do interpretations given by characters differ, and what impacts do they exert? Within this section I will focus on the issue of the perceived versus intended meaning of an artwork, considering a painting to be a visual form of commu‐ nication between a sender-artist and a receiver-viewer, in which the viewer is invited to decode or translate the message the artist has intended to send. The study will show how meaning making occurs in fictional visual communication, and suggest that the perceived meaning of an artwork is relative to the artist’s intentions, standard conventions, established systems of painting, familiar socio-cultural circumstances, and the viewer’s aesthetic values and ability to interpret. Moreover, it will draw a conclusion as to how the meaning given to re-presentation supplements the way the original extant artwork is perceived and interpreted. Furthermore, this chapter focuses on the paintings viewed on display (in either museum spaces or the painter’s studio) and the resulting mul‐ tiple interpretations. The analysis intends to explain how the spatial distance dictated by museum culture (the viewer’s inability to touch the object), the tem‐ poral distance established via the separation of an object from the artist’s labour (experiencing the ready-made artwork not in the process of its creation) and the viewer’s emotional and aesthetic distance to the art object influence the under‐ standing of the art piece. In addition, I will explore the effectiveness of making characters revisit the same image and look at collections in the narratives. The discussion will centre on the re-presentation of Impressionism through the interpretation of artworks of several artists. It will argue that the novels introduce the readers to a heter‐ ogeneous group of painters, allowing readers to see the contrast between the individual styles, techniques, depicted subjects and artists’ intentions, and hence enrich the assembled collection of re-presented artworks, on the one hand, and 19 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="20"?> extend the reader’s knowledge about the Impressionist art movement in general on the other. Additionally, this section investigates the historical and socio-cul‐ tural re-presentation of Impressionism through the medium of art criticism il‐ lustrated in the novels, seeing it as an ekphrastic meta-commentary on both a specific work of art and art movement. It is interesting to see how a combination of historically accurate settings, factual knowledge of Impressionism, authentic information about the paintings and fictional stories around them complement each other and eventually manipulate the reader’s understanding of the re-pre‐ sentations. Ultimately, this study deliberates the question whether contempo‐ rary art fiction, which re-presents and interprets actually existing works of art through the lens of contemporary culture, can be considered a new guide to understanding art, acknowledged as a distant form of art history, seen as a con‐ temporary aesthetic discipline or simply regarded as an à la mode intermedial product. 20 Chapter 1. Introduction <?page no="21"?> Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries [P]ainting and writing have much to tell each other; they have much in common. The novelist after all wants to make us see. (Woolf 22) Visual art has never been as quantitatively and qualitatively available as in the twenty-first century. Due to its accessibility beyond the traditional gallery walls, art has become a desired, inseparable part of one’s everyday life. It is no longer possible to speak about an artwork being unique, nor is it necessary to go to the gallery to see the original, as “the uniqueness of the original now lies in it being the original of a reproduction” (Berger 21). Not only are the most famous mas‐ terpieces copied, photographed and reproduced, but due to the advent of online galleries, they are also visible on a round-the-clock stage. The fact that works of art are reproducible and easily accessible allows for them to be used and recycled in many possible ways. Therefore, it is not surprising that visual art penetrates the works of contemporary writers, whose texts serve as represen‐ tative examples of intermedial relations between visual works of art (paintings) and narrative texts. However, the semiotic differences between the two media have given cause for serious concern among scholars: “A great concern with the production and understanding of painting as a visual text to be decoded seems to lie at the heart of the [contemporary] novel, constituting as it does one particular form of a general epistemological questioning” (Wagner, Icons - Texts - Iconotexts 9). This concern demands that the very concept of intermediality be defined. Wolf pro‐ poses two definitions of intermediality: an ‘intracompositional’ definition that dislimits intermediality in a narrow sense while focusing on “the participation of more than one medium within a human artefact” (“Relevance of Mediality and Intermediality” 19) and, opposing it, an ‘extracompositional’ definition of intermediality, which, taken in a broad sense, “applies to any transgression of boundaries between conventionally distinct media […] and thus comprises both ‘intra-’ and ‘extra-compositional’ relations between different media” (19). In‐ <?page no="22"?> termediality in its narrow sense deals with a concrete cultural product and its functions in a literary text, such as in evocative descriptions of a work of art, formal imitation through structural analogies to an artwork, reproduction or re-presentation of a work of art, and discussions about it within a novel (32). Since the ‘intracompositional’ definition of intermediality presupposes directing all attention to the actual subject matter captured directly in both media, it is more suitable for the purposes of the present study, which brings the variety of ekphrastic relationships in contemporary art fiction into sharper focus. In the same vein, in discussing intermediality, Horst emphasises not only the idea of the “fusion of the different media” (19), but also recognition of the fact that a combination of two media gives birth to something new (19). In general, therefore, it seems that an artefact that integrates two or more medial forms may be regarded as intermedial, and can be expected to produce new meaning in a cultural product in any given medium. However, since each medium carries a dissimilar semiotic system in itself, any combination of media inevitably pro‐ vides potential for new interpretations. Wolf maintains that in the process of framing and transmitting information, media extend and intensify the message as well as become an integral part of its meaning: In fact, media inevitably channel and shape information, and in the process of com‐ munication this is as relevant for the sender as for the recipient. From the point of view of the sender, this shaping quality of media manifests itself in the fact that, with reference to similar contents, different media can function as limiting filters but can also provide powerful extension and intensification. From the point of view of the recipient, media possess tendencies that prestructure certain expectations. Thus one will not always expect illustrations within the covers of a new novel but would be surprised if a film consisted entirely of moving pictures, sounds and music without verbal text. This shows that media function not only as a material basis for transmis‐ sion purposes but also as cognitive frames for authors as well as recipients and are therefore not merely a neutral means of communication but, indeed, part of the mes‐ sage itself. (“Relevance of Mediality and Intermediality” 22) Hence, the value of the form of the medium is enormous; it constructs, develops and regulates the meaning: “Form is constitutive of content and not just a re‐ flection of it” (Eagleton 67). By merging different semiotic forms, the sender transfers the meaning from one semiotic system into another and by doing so disrupts the conventional homogeneous practice of producing meaning; this, in turn, is relevant to each of the forms independently, and bewilders the receiver by applying heterogeneous or multiple perspectives to the construction of meaning. Albers points out that 22 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="23"?> […] uniting word and image and merging them into a new type of work will at first have a confusing and even defamiliarising effect on the reader, an effect that will eventually be evened out when new meaning is created from the merged product. This new meaning is unique and impossible to construct from non-intermedial works, which points at the salient possibilities that intermediality can provide. (19) However, the combination of the verbal and visual elements has not always been treated as a mutually profitable alliance. The most eminent supporters of the idea of disruption of the unity of arts are known to be Leonardo da Vinci (c. 1482) and Lessing (1766). Both set clear limits to the verbal and the visual: da Vinci delineates an opposition of eye and ear; Lessing suggests the dichotomy of space and time, which correspond to painting and literature respectively. Their oppositions contradict Horace’s tradition of ut pictura poesis (“as a painting, so a poem”) and, as a result, deny analogies between painting and literature. Moreover, da Vinci and Lessing believe in the inferiority of one of the arts to another - da Vinci subordinates literature to painting, whereas Lessing subordinates painting to literature. The latter refers to the visual arts as funda‐ mentally spatial in that their “signs or means of imitation can be combined only in space” (Lessing 90). Furthermore, he defines the verbal arts as fundamentally temporal due to the fact that their signs “can express only objects which succeed each other … in time” (90). In other words, the natural barrier between visual arts and literary texts is manifested through the unequal nature of the method of the perception of ultimate artefacts. In effect, one is perceived simultaneously in space, the other successively in time. Although Lessing’s distinction between space and time has been challenged by a number of art critics and art historians, its validity cannot be denied - one art can never faithfully mirror another: “Writing cannot represent the visible, but it can desire and, in a manner of speaking, move towards the visible without actually achieving the unambiguous directness of an object seen before one’s eyes” (Said 101). Speaking to the pro‐ found difference between words and images, Mitchell sees their relationship as essentially paragonal, a contest for dominance between the visual and verbal arts: [D]ifferences between words and images seem fundamental. They are not merely different kinds of creatures, but antithetical kinds. They attract to their contest all the dualism that takes as one of its projects a unified theory of the arts, an “aesthetics” which aspires to a synoptic view of artistic signs, a “semiotics” which hopes to com‐ prehend all signs whatsoever. […] Words and images seem inevitably to become im‐ plicated in a “war of signs” (what Leonardo called a paragone) in which the stakes are things like nature, truth, reality, or the human spirit. (1) 23 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="24"?> Comparative work in the field of intermedial studies of literature and art aims to breach the historical boundaries between verbal and visual arts by focusing on the complementary function of different forms of art. As Mukařovský notes: “the real development of art shows that every art sometimes strives to overstep its boundaries by assimilating itself to another art” (207). Even if arts do not assimilate to one another, they do complement each other by offering new pro‐ ductive approaches and additional resources, thus enriching each other. Unity and complementary interrelation of arts is what interests Hagstrum, who uses the metaphor of kinship when referring to word and image relationship as sister arts. By the same token, Meyers points out the advantages of aesthetic analogies between literature and the visual arts: Aesthetic analogies express this inherent relationship of the arts, and add a new di‐ mension of richness and complexity to the novel by extending the potentialities of fiction to include the representational characteristics of the visual arts. The novel is essentially a linear art, which presents a temporal sequence of events, while painting fixed reality and produces simultaneity of experience. Evocative comparisons with works of art attempt to transcend the limitations of fiction and to transform successive moments into immediate images. (1) Although both painting and text may recount stories, the key difference between visual and verbal forms of representation remains. While a painting is capable of visualising subject matter and transmitting its basic content by illustrating detectable objects, a literary text commits to commenting on and interpreting their meaning by contextualising these objects in narrative through the use of ekphrastic descriptions. Even though an image suggests a narrative interpreta‐ tion through its title, such an interpretation is fairly limited. A verbal represen‐ tation of the image, on the other hand, allows it to be read narratively; that is, it provides information about the scenery, depicted details or models, their re‐ lationship, their life before, during and after the sitting, their reaction to the artwork and the artist’s intentions. As such, the text provides the image with an extended storyline that, instead of being guessed at, develops temporally. Wagner argues that to a reader a painting will “always be more attractive than a text; and yet in order to mean something, it needs mendacious and/ or dis‐ torting words: a title, an epigraph, a signature, an ekphrasis” (Icons - Texts - Iconotexts 31). Hence, ekphrastic continuation of the story of a painting allows paintings to trespass the spatial-temporal border and turns them into “new ver‐ balised intermedial products” (Albers 22). An implication of the synthesis of two such media, therefore, offers the possibility of a direct encounter between - and open interaction among - spatiality and temporality. Of course, the nature of a 24 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="25"?> given intermedial product, as well as its effect on the reader, may be qualitatively different, depending on how the visual artforms are manifested within a literary text. First and foremost is the question of whether an artwork referred to in any given text is real or fictional, in other words, whether the text can be supplied by a reproduction of a given image or not. The re-presentation of an existing piece of art might trigger the reader’s curiosity to consult the image (by flicking through the pages to find the reproduction, looking at the book cover, if it con‐ tains the image, or even viewing a reproduction of the painting online), which would naturally increase the intensity of intermedial experience. Then again, the way the painting is re-presented in contemporary art fiction - be it through direct or indirect referencing, through the selection, association or interpreta‐ tion of an artwork, or through individual, complimentary or collective relation‐ ships that the artwork develops with other art objects mentioned in the text - influences the level of intermedial sophistication. Indeed, the aesthetic experi‐ ence of an intermedial hybrid will bear little or no resemblance to the isolated experience of either just looking at a painting or reading a narrative text. New meaning emerges from the combination of two different semiotic systems. Ac‐ cording to Albers: Whereas visual art works are usually claimed to only represent on a surface level, they in fact do create something similar to what narratives achieve in the reader’s minds, and the gaps that appear through the static representation of the painting are then filled in by the beholder. (23) As a matter of fact, both a reproduction of an image and a narrative text con‐ tribute substantially to the general perception of an intermedial artefact by filling in visual as well as textual gaps that might be left open in art fiction. In the case of ekphrasis of an extant artwork, the reader has an opportunity to examine visual and verbal evidence; hence, the reader is no longer expected to rely solely on his/ her imagination. A work of art translates a story into a visual form, while pictorial descriptions of an art object allow a back-translation from verbal into visual. Therefore, pictorial elements introduced in a literary work merge intermedial boundaries. Krieger points out the advantages of incorpo‐ rating a work of art into a literary text: If an author is seeking to suspend the discourse for an extended, visually appealing descriptive interlude, is he not better off - instead of describing the moving, changing, object in nature - to describe an object that has already interrupted the flow of exis‐ tence with its spatial completeness, that has already been created as a fixed represen‐ tation? Surely so: if he would impose a brief sense of being, borrowed from the plastic 25 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="26"?> arts, in the midst of his shifting world of verbal becoming, the already frozen pictorial representation would seem to be a preferred object. His ekphrastic purpose would seem to be better served by its having as its object an artefact that itself not only is in keeping with, but is a direct reflection of, that purpose. Further, if one justification for the verbal description is to have it - for all the uncertainties of its words and our reading of them - complete with the visual object it would describe, the comparison would seem to be stabilized on one side by fixing that object so that, as an actual artefact, it can be appealed to as a constant, unlike our varying perceptual experiences of objects in the world. (“The Problem of Ekphrasis” 8) Confronted with a representation of an artwork in intermedial form, the reader is therefore exposed to a new, as it were contemporary, experience of producing intermedial meaning, the characteristic feature of which is the possibility of multiple interpretations. As noted by Eco, “every reception of a work of art is both an interpretation and a performance of it, because in every reception the work takes on a fresh perspective for itself […] like the components of a con‐ struction kit” (4). Furthermore, McLuhan points out that the moment two media are merged is “a moment of truth and revelation from which new form is born, […] a moment of freedom and release from the ordinary trance and numbness imposed by them on our senses” (55). Therefore, the binary semiotic form of an intermedial product influences the perception of a given re-presentation and leads to diverse re-interpretations. The question is bound to arise as to whether such a hybrid work challenges conventional doctrines of the disciplines in‐ volved. With regard to narrative and the visual arts in particular, this challenge might presumably face art historians by urging them to consider intermedial artefacts as possible perceptual and interpretive models of a piece of art. More‐ over, as Albers points out, a narrative text can, as a part of a verbal-visual hybrid, “shed additional light on aesthetic topics in that it employs art as taking on different forms and carrying various functions within and beyond the narrative [and can] address several of the reader’s senses through its spatio-temporal extension” (26). In other words, by making an artwork ‘speak’ a narrative text raises pertinent questions not only about the elements of art (line, shape, form, colour, value, texture and space) but also about the meta-textual aspects of painting, such as socio-historical and cultural issues, as well as the functional value of an artistic creation. Consequently, art fiction transfers historical knowl‐ edge into fictional discourse and, at the same time, offers a potential re-inter‐ pretation of the work of art, which in turn may enrich its original meaning. The ways visual arts can be incorporated into a verbal medium are myriad. The most common practices of registering the co-presence of text and image in an intermedial artefact based on an extant work of art, however, can be reduced 26 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="27"?> 1 The Greek spelling of the word ekphrasis, as given in the OED, will be used throughout this dissertation. 2 Bruhn, Siglind. Musical Ekphrasis: Composers Responding to Poetry and Painting. New York: Pendragon Press, 2000. 3 Sager Eidt, Laura M. Writing and Filming the Painting, Ekphrasis in Literature and Film. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2008. to the following three possibilities: 1) the integration of image reproductions that establish the physical co-presence of the medium; 2) ekphrastic re-presen‐ tation through direct or indirect referencing (the description of all or of selected details and association to, e.g., a particular art movement); 3) interpretation given by a story’s actants, whose perception of art not only classifies them into various types of viewer (by revealing their attitudes and opinions) but can also be seen as a meta-commentary on both a specific work of art and, e.g., art move‐ ments in general. By considering these intermedial practices, the present study suggests a framework of three categories of intermedial relations. However, before examining perception, re-presentation and interpretation of an artwork in the field of intermediality, it is necessary to make explicit what exactly is meant by ekphrasis and ekphrastic re-presentation, the central concepts in the study of the interaction between verbal and visual media. The following section provides a brief overview of the diachronic evolution of the definition of ek‐ phrasis and the diversity of the intermedial relationship it produces. 2.1.1. Evolution of the Definition of Ekphrasis There is no consensus on a single definition for the phenomenon commonly referred to as ekphrasis, 1 either on its meaning or its function. One of the key problems in providing a single, legitimate definition of ekphrasis is the diversity of word-image relationships it encompasses. Situated in the field of interme‐ diality, and loosely defined as “a particular relation […] between conventionally distinct media of expression or communication” (Wolf, The Musicalization of Fiction 37), ekphrasis allows different types of intermedial interactions, not only between verbal and visual artforms, but also across other media, such as archi‐ tecture, photography, music 2 and cinematography. 3 The present study, however, focuses only on intermedial interaction between the verbal and the visual, more precisely, on rendering physically existing paintings (the visual) in the context of contemporary ekphrastic art fiction (the verbal). As Wagner points out: if, in fact, “critics agree at all about ekphrasis, they stress the fact that it has been variously defined and variously used and that the definition ultimately depends on the particular argument to be deployed” (Icons - Texts - Iconotexts 11). This 27 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="28"?> 4 Kennedy, George A. Translation. Progymnasmata: Greek Textbooks of Prose Composition and Rhetoric. Boston: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. 5 Theon, Progymnasmata, 188, 1.7, translated by Webb, 2009: 14. chapter will provide a diachronic overview of various definitions given to ek‐ phrasis and analyse the points of agreement and controversy among scholars. The word ekphrasis is of Greek origin; according to its etymology it is com‐ posed of two Greek words: “ek (out) and phrazein (tell, declare, pronounce)” (Heffernan 191), which renders its meaning as “to speak out” or “to tell in full”. However, the meaning of ekphrasis has undergone many revisions throughout its existence: First employed as a rhetorical term in the second century A.D. to denote simply a vivid description, it was then (in the third century) made to designate the description of visual art… But it has not been confined to that meaning. In its first recorded appear‐ ance in English (1715), it was defined as “a plain declaration or interpretation of a thing” (cited OED), and in a recent handbook of rhetorical terms it is called simply “a self-contained description, often on a commonplace subject, which can be inserted at a fitting place in a discourse…”(Heffernan 191) The earliest definition of ekphrasis is found in the field of classical rhetoric, and appears in a late classical Greek collection of rhetorical handbooks, called Pro‐ gymnasmata. 4 It is given as “a speech that brings the subject matter vividly before the eyes.” 5 The effect of vividness, or enargeia, is seen as a defining quality of ekphrasis and, therefore, as central to its understanding. Enargeia is an “im‐ pact on the mind’s eye of the listener who must […] be almost made to see the subject” (Webb, “Ekphrasis Ancient and Modern” 13). In antiquity, ekphrasis was studied to be used as a rhetorical technique (28), as a means of “achieving per‐ suasion [and] altering the listener’s perception of the subject in a way that helped the orator to win their assent” (10). The subjects of ekphrasis (as pre‐ sented in Progymnasmata) range from descriptions of persons, mute animals, plants, places, events, festivals, times, seasons, states of affairs and the manner in which something is done to descriptions of paintings and statues (56). Hags‐ trum points out that “[t]he skill to create set descriptions, intended to bring visual reality before the mind’s eye by means of words […] was an admired and fully approved trick of the rhetorician’s trade and as such was a regular scho‐ lastic exercise” (29). Therefore, the ultimate goal of ekphrasis as a rhetorical device lies in rendering any given subject into words and delivering it in such a way as to transform the listener into a viewer. Consequently, the referent recedes into the background, being less important than the optimal effect of enargeia produced on the listener: 28 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="29"?> Enargeia implies the achievement in verbal discourse of a natural quality or of a pic‐ torial quality that is highly natural. Enargeia refers to the actualization of potency, the realization of capacity or capability, the achievement in art and rhetoric of the dynamic and purposive life of nature. (33) However, when ekphrasis is applied to the field of literary studies, the subject matter draws special attention from scholars, and it is subject to restrictions that are outlined in this chapter. These restrictions are registered in the Oxford Clas‐ sical Dictionary. In its first (1949) and second (1970) editions, ekphrasis is defined as “the rhetorical description of a work of art, one of the types of progymnasma (rhetorical exercise, q.v.)” (Hammond 377). In the third (1996) and the fourth (2012) editions, it is interpreted as “an extended and detailed literary description of any object, real or imaginary” (Hornblower 495). The difference between ek‐ phrasis as a rhetorical device and ekphrasis as a literary device has been studied by Goehr, who argues that: Whereas modern ekphrasis, especially from the late nineteenth century on, focuses on artworks and their mediums, ancient ekphrasis focused on speech and written acts performed within a wide range of practices necessary for the education of citizens. Modern ekphrasis focuses on works that bring other works to aesthetic presence; an‐ cient ekphrasis focused on speech acts that brought objects, scenes, or events to imag‐ inary presence. (397) In other words, the essential difference between the late classical definition and the modern understanding of ekphrasis is that ekphrasis is no longer charac‐ terised by an effect on the listener and the metamorphosis of listener into viewer, but rather by its reference to an artefact, more specifically, an artwork. One of the earliest definitions of ekphrasis as a literary device is provided by Saintsbury in 1908, who interprets it as “a set description intended to bring person, place, picture, etc., vividly before the mind’s eye” (491). By and large, Saintsbury’s interpretation resembles the understanding of ekphrasis as a rhet‐ orical device that aims to make the reader envision a given subject; not only is the subject matter not clearly defined, but the pictorial source - if that is what is meant by “picture” - is not separated from any other object that can be de‐ scribed verbally. In 1955 Spitzer makes ekphrasis more specific by giving it a more restricted definition: “the poetic description of a pictorial or sculptural work of art, whose description implies […] ‘une transposition d’art’, the repro‐ duction, through the medium of words, of sensuously perceptible objets d’art” (218). Krieger delimits the subject matter as “a pictorial or sculptural work of art”, yet at the same time he limits ekphrasis, claiming that it pertains to only one form of literature. Spitzer’s interpretation is later commented on by Krieger, 29 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="30"?> who says that “[e]kphrasis, according to this definition, clearly presupposes that one art, poetry, is defining its mission through its dependence on the mission of another art - painting, sculpture, or others” (Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign 6). Initially, Krieger (1967) interprets ekphrasis as “the imitation in literature of a work of plastic art” (“Ekphrasis and the Still Movement of Poetry” 265), thus emphasising the importance of ekphrasis as going beyond only poetry and, later on, insisting on extending “the range of possible ekphrastic objects by re-con‐ necting ekphrasis to all ‘word-painting’” (Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign 9). Krieger’s definition is later rephrased by Piltz and Åström, who claim that “ekphrasis is a descriptive discourse that clearly brings before our eyes the things, persons or actions depicted […] [it] is a word-picture” (50). However, Krieger develops his original definition, becoming more explicit about what is meant by plastic art: “I use ekphrasis (as it has commonly been used for some time), to refer to the attempted imitation in words of an object of the plastic arts, primarily painting or sculpture” (Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign 4). A further interpretation is suggested by Bender, who refers to ekphrasis as a “lit‐ erary description of real or imagined works of visual art” (51). By the same token, Kurman identifies ekphrasis as “the description in verse of an art object” (1); Weisstein correspondingly interprets it as “literary works describing specific works of art” (23), while Howatson states that ekphrasis is a “type of rhetorical exercise taking the form of a description of a work of art” (203). Description, une transposition d’art, reproduction, imitation and descriptive discourse - these are the words that are used frequently to define ekphrasis. The scholars quoted above emphasise description as the main function of ekphrasis, agreeing that an ekphrastic text contains a description of an artwork (physically existing or fictitious) that is reproduced or imitated through the medium of words. However, understanding ekphrasis as having a merely descriptive func‐ tion is rather limited and misleading as it ignores the interpretative potential of ekphrasis, which in turn suggests another way of perceiving an artwork via a literary text. The art historian David Carrier tries to draw a distinction between ekphrastic description and interpretation: An ekphrasis tells the story represented, only incidentally describing pictorial com‐ position. An interpretation gives a systematic analysis of composition. Ekphrases are not concerned with visual precedents. Interpretations explain how inherited schema [sic] are modified. An ekphrasis only selectively indicates details; an interpretation attends to seemingly small points, which may, indeed, change how we see the picture as a whole when they are analysed. An interpretation treats the picture as an image, and so tells both what is represented and how it is represented. (21) 30 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="31"?> 6 Kranz, Gisbert. Das Bildgedicht in Europa. Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 1973. Although he admits that ekphrasis incidentally refers to details of pictorial composition, he does not believe that ekphrastic description of carefully selected details can create and/ or influence the interpretation of an artwork. In other words, and similarly to many other scholars, Carrier separates ekphrastic texts from Bildgedicht texts (Kranz). 6 This distinction may sound plausible in theory; however, it fails to function in practice due to the simple fact that the act of describing involves an inherently interpretative function. Description becomes a means of representing an artwork and it is affected by many factors, including the subjective opinion of the viewer, the general understanding of the compo‐ sition of an artwork, the ability to relate to the period of its creation and interpret the encoded meanings. The attempt to represent verbally what is represented in a pictorial source, without knowing the original intention of the artist, leads to the creation of new meanings and therefore new interpretations of the art‐ work. As such, it may affect the way it is perceived by others. In Oscar Wilde’s essay “The Critic as Artist”, one of the characters, Gilbert, discusses assigning new meanings to a painting and suggests the following: And so the picture becomes more wonderful to us than it really is, and reveals to us a secret of which, in truth, it knows nothing […]. It treats the work of art simply as a starting-point for a new creation. It does not confine itself […] to discovering the real intention of the artist and accepting that as final. And in this it is right, for the meaning of any beautiful created thing is, at least, as much in the soul of him who looks at it, as it was in his soul who wrought it. Nay, it is rather the beholder who lends to the beautiful thing its myriad meanings, and makes it marvellous for us, and sets it in some new relation to the age, so that it becomes a vital portion of our lives, and a symbol of what we pray for, or perhaps of what, having prayed for, we fear that we may receive. (985) Therefore, ekphrasis is an example of both “the creative act itself - through the Greek mimesis, imitating, copying - and of the secondary critical act of com‐ mentary, description, revelation” (Cheeke 185). Similarly, Sager Eidt applies an “expanded definition of ekphrasis as an interpretive tool” (10) and demonstrates how “different genres in either modality influence the way the reader or viewer reconstructs the implications of a work of art” (10). Such an understanding of ekphrasis is crucial for the further analysis of texts in the present study, where the term ekphrasis is used to refer to texts in which a pictorial source is described and interpreted. 31 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="32"?> One of the most influential and widely cited definitions of ekphrasis has been formulated by Heffernan, who interprets it as “the verbal representation of a visual representation” (3). On the one hand, by regarding ekphrasis as “verbal representation”, Heffernan departs from seeing it as exclusively descriptive. On the other, he limits ekphrastic practice to works of representational art. Hef‐ fernan points out that his definition excludes a good deal of what some critics would have ekphrasis include - namely literature about texts. It also allows us to distinguish ekphrasis from two other ways of mingling literature and the visual arts: pictorialism and iconicity. What distin‐ guishes those two things from ekphrasis is that both of them aim chiefly to represent natural objects and artifacts rather than works of representational art. (3) In seeing ekphrasis as a “narrative response to pictorial stasis” (4), Heffernan disagrees with Krieger’s understanding of ekphrasis as a device used to “inter‐ rupt the temporality of discourse, to freeze it during its indulgence in spatial exploration” (Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign 7). He also disagrees with Krieger’s idea that “language - in spite of its arbitrary character and its tempo‐ rality - freeze[s] itself into a spatial form” (“The Problem of Ekphrasis” 5). This applies equally to Steiner, who defines ekphrasis as the “mode of representing temporal events as action stopped at its climactic moment” (Pictures of Romance 13), or a pregnant moment “in which a poem aspires to the atemporal ‘eternity’ of the stopped-action painting” (13-14). Conversely, Heffernan recognises ek‐ phrasis as “dynamic and obstetric” (5) and argues that it “typically delivers from the pregnant moment of visual arts its embryonically narrative impulse, and thus makes explicit the story that visual art tells only by implication” (5). Ac‐ cording to Heffernan, “[t]o represent a painting or sculptured figure in words is to evoke its power - the power to fix, excite, amaze, entrance, disturb, or intimidate the viewer” (7). The storytelling impulse of ekphrasis is closely allied to its interpretative nature, namely, that of creating new meanings and giving new interpretations to an artwork. The work of art is integrated into the nar‐ rative process to such an extent that it acquires life of its own and shows its meaning from a different perspective. Heffernan’s theory has attracted many followers, one of whom is Clüver, who modifies the original definition of ekphrasis by accepting the first part - “verbal representation” - but introducing major changes in the second. Clüver’s defi‐ nition of ekphrasis becomes: “the verbal representation of a real or fictitious text composed in a non-verbal sign system” (“Ekphrasis Reconsidered” 26, emphasis in original). This definition clearly expands the range of the objects for ek‐ phrastic representation; “it covers architecture, as well as […] music and 32 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="33"?> non-narrative dance” (26). One year later Clüver reformulates his definition by replacing “verbal representation” with “verbalization”: “ekphrasis is the verbal‐ ization of real or fictitious text composed in a non-verbal sign system” (“Quotation, Enargeia” 49, emphasis in original). He validates this final adjustment by dif‐ ferentiating between “verbalization” and “verbal representation”: Verbalization is a form of verbal re-presentation that consists of more than a name or a title […]. The verbalization may form part of a larger piece of writing or, as in the case of a number of Bildgedichte, may constitute the entire text. It can take forms that are not descriptive in a conventional way; but as verbalization it would retain a certain degree of enargeia. (45) Thus, verbalization has less of a connection to mimesis than verbal representa‐ tion, but at the same time is still linked to enargeia, a concept central to ekphrasis. Among Heffernan’s other followers is Blackhawk, who regards ekphrasis as “verbal description of a visual representation” (1) and Bilman, who maintains that ekphrasis is “the verbal representation of a visual work of art” (1). However, due to the variety of texts that can be grouped under the rubric of ekphrastic writing, as well as a growing number of au courant inter-art encounters in ek‐ phrastic practice, the modern approach to ekphrasis is based on an under‐ standing that there cannot be only one exclusive definition. Therefore, Yacobi extends the concept of ekphrasis by referring to it as an umbrella term that “subsumes various forms of rendering the visual object into words” (“Pictorial Models” 600). By the same token, Robillard refrains from interpreting ekphrasis at all, mentioning the possible risks of working towards a single definition: One of the risks of trying to arrive at single definition of ekphrasis, then, is that these immediately define the boundaries of both art and literature, neither of which have, in the course of their history, proven particularly stable entities. (54) Furthermore, Scholz, exploring the possible definitions and functions of ek‐ phrasis, raises the following questions: “Should ekphrasis therefore be treated as a specification of intertextuality? Or should we treat it, like ‘narration,’ very broadly as a term for a mode of writing - to be contrasted with ‘description,’ ‘argumentation’ or ‘dialogue’? ” (74). He continues his argument by saying that [c]lassifying ekphrasis as a literary genre will raise questions about the formal and contentual [sic] textual markers, and about the referential characteristics which dis‐ tinguish ekphrasis from other (descriptive) genres. Classifying it as a macrostructure will involve focusing on the possibility that ekphrasis may possess certain spe‐ cies-specific syntactic features. Classifying it as variant of intertextuality will lead to highlighting kinds and degrees of similarities and differences with the (pictorial or 33 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="34"?> sculptural) ‘pretext’ of keeping with the pragmatic thrust of Classical rhetoric, lay greater stress on the intended effect of ekphrasis on the listener/ reader, thereby shifting the focus of attention from the ekphrastic text to the ‘mental’ aspects of the communicative situation initiated by such an ekphrastic text. (74) Therefore, similarly to Yacobi, Scholz proposes that ekphrasis is “a term with a ‘family of meanings’, with each member of that family calling for a separate definition” (75). It may be assumed that because ekphrasis encompasses such a wide variety of forms of intermedial interaction, settling on one definition that would be restricted yet suitably broad enough to cover all the possible examples of ekphrastic texts is simply impossible. That is why I would argue that any definition of ekphrasis should be tailored to a specific area of study. As shown in this chapter, the definition of ekphrasis has developed since late antiquity in a twofold process of restriction and expansion. Ekphrasis as a rhet‐ orical device is based on the oral practice of enargeia and focuses mainly on the question of how to transform a listener into a viewer. However, understanding ekphrasis as a literary device shifts the focus from how to what, namely, to the subject matter itself, which is restricted to descriptions of physically existing or fictitious works of art in contemporary literature. The ekphrastic frame of ref‐ erence is later extended to include not only contemporary but also ancient texts, both of which refer to the arts. Moreover, ekphrasis, originally used in descrip‐ tions of works of art, develops an interpretative function, and in doing so sug‐ gests another way of perceiving an artwork - via a literary text. Furthermore, ekphrasis is seen as a verbal representation that is driven by a narrative impulse to make explicit to the reader the story of the visual representation of an artwork. It is this storytelling impulse that encourages a new interpretation of any given artwork. Finally, ekphrasis is referred to as an umbrella term that could be used to define various forms of rendering visual objects into words. While a variety of definitions of ekphrasis have been suggested, the present study will adopt and modify the definition first suggested by Heffernan. Ekphrasis will be ex‐ amined as a form of verbal-visual interaction in contemporary prose fiction, its primary focus one particular form of visual arts: painting. Heffernan’s definition of ekphrasis as “the verbal representation of a visual representation” (3) refers to the fact that “ekphrasis uses one medium of repre‐ sentation to represent another” (4), in which case the artwork represented in an ekphrastic text is a representation of something in particular. A painting on the wall is a story and each story is an interpretation or representation of something. Ekphrasis is thus a form of double representation. The painting is transformed by the novelist’s imagination, reproduced as a narrative of the process of cre‐ ating an artwork. According to Mitchell, all representations are founded on a 34 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="35"?> triangular relationship “of something or someone, by something or someone, to someone” (“Representation” 12, emphasis in original). Therefore, the painting may and should be regarded as the re-presentation of an artist’s representation, which itself becomes fiction. Both the representing verbal and the represented visual domains are nothing other than representations of the object (Yacobi, “The Ekphrastic Model” 22), which has been filtered and transformed by the painter’s projection of it onto canvas. Ekphrasis, as in the quotation, incorpo‐ rates a three-dimensional representation that Yacobi categorises into “first-order, strictly ‘represented’; […] second-order, which is ‘representational’ in the visual mode; […] [and] third-order, which is ‘re-presentational’ in the linguistic discourse” (22). Furthermore, the reader “encounter[s] the original object […] at a twofold remove, as a second-level reflex, mediated by the pictorial image that the language itself mediates, re-images, quotes for us” (22, emphasis in original). In other words, first-order representation applies to the original object (a visual work of art) and the details that are “strictly represented”; second-order representation involves the visual representation - a pictorial image of the object and/ or details; and third-order representation is a verbal “re-presentation” of the pictorial source. Developing further the parallel be‐ tween ekphrasis and quotation theory, Yacobi contends that the visual repre‐ sentation is reconceptualised in the linguistic discourse in accordance with the writer’s frame of communication: The visual source transforms in verbal re-imaging from a self-contained whole into a part of another whole, hence from end to means. So, like all quotation, and quotation alone, ekphrasis entails a peculiar logic of recontextualizing: the visual artifact be‐ comes in transfer an inset within a verbal frame. Thereby it comes to signify in a new way and to serve new purposes, as well as to unfold on new medial axes, all of them determined by the writer’s frame of communication. (22-3, emphasis in original) Here Yacobi draws attention to the fact that, as an inset into the verbal frame, the visual source obtains new meanings, that is to say, it is interpreted in a different way in order to serve the purpose of the writer’s intentions. Both the tripartite principle of representation of an art object and its multiple re-inter‐ pretations are the fundamental points that lead to a better understanding of ekphrasis. It is necessary to incorporate them into the definition of ekphrasis, which in this study will be understood as a verbal re-presentation and re-inter‐ pretation of a visual representation (painting). 35 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="36"?> 2.1.2. The Diversity of Ekphrastic Relations The amplitude of functions of ekphrasis has raised many questions among scholars as to how to approach and analyse ekphrastic texts. Taking into con‐ sideration all the alternative and experimental ways in which literature exploits visual arts and intertwines visual images and verbal texts, the question of how to categorise so many interactions is bound to arise. This section will review several attempts that have been made to establish systematic categories that identify, explain and help to analyse the diversity of ekphrastic interactions in literature. Varieties of ekphrastic relations are thoroughly studied by Yacobi, whose work has been mentioned previously. Yacobi examines “interart traffic” (“Pic‐ torial Models” 603) and attempts to classify the range of texts belonging to ek‐ phrastic writing, suggesting a theoretical framework of four possible ekphrastic relations exhibited in literature, as illustrated in Table 1: Visual Source (representation) Verbal Target (re-presentation) 1 one one 2 one many 3 many one 4 many many Table 1. Four possible ekphrastic relations exhibited in literature (Yacobi, “Pictorial Models” 602) The first two types, one-to-one and one-to-many relationships, are defined by a single visual source that is rendered into words by either one or many verbal targets. Additionally, the latter provides “re-presentational pluralities” (603). Yacobi points out that while these ekphrastic relationships have received due scholarly attention and been systematically studied, the other two - many-to-one and many-to-many relationships - have been broadly overlooked. Both the many-to-one and the many-to-many relationships make use of multiple visual sources for “verbal (re)modelling” (603). The many-to-one relationship “consists in a single instance of such modelling” (603), whereas the many-to-many “consists in a number of traditional or repeated performances, as when a writer, a school, or an age revisits a certain image […] common to various paintings” (603). This generalised visual image is what Yacobi calls the “ekphrastic model” (603), such as well-known scenes from the Bible, including 36 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="37"?> the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, the Madonna and child etc. According to Yacobi, allusion to a familiar pictorial model “enables an author to be brief and yet inclusive, to re-cover much in little” (“The Ekphrastic Model” 27). In other words, a pictorial source can be re-covered either partially or entirely via only a single common detail, Mona Lisa’s smile, for example, or Monet’s lilies. At the same time it produces multiple interconnections and cross-references. Yacobi points out that the ekphrastic model works to “identify and integrate the inter-media transfer within the verbal discourse” (27). While the chances are greater of a reader overlooking a verbal allusion to a single visual work in one-to-one ek‐ phrastic relationships (especially if this work is less popular or well-known), many-to-one ekphrastic relationships provide the reader with general refer‐ ences to common themes or features of artworks, thus ensuring “accessibility, familiarity, and uptake” (28). This theoretical framework of inter-art encounters in literature is invaluable for identifying and classifying ekphrastic texts in gen‐ eral, and it will be taken into account when developing categories of intermedial relations for further analysis of contemporary art fiction. As far as pictorial sources are concerned, ekphrasis can be notional (Hollander, “The Poetics of Ekphrasis” 209) or actual (Heffernan 7). Notional ekphrasis is “the description, often elaborately detailed, of purely fictional painting or sculp‐ ture that is indeed brought into being by the poetic language itself ” (Hollander, The Gazer’s Spirit 4). Hollander extends the realm of notional ekphrasis by in‐ cluding those ekphrastic passages which “may or may not describe some actual, but totally lost, work of art” (“The Poetics of Ekphrasis” 209), thus suggesting that notional ekphrasis describes what either never existed or does not exist anymore and therefore is not accessible in any visual form. The most widely-known examples of notional ekphrasis in classical literature are the Shield of Achilles in Book 18 of the Iliad and the Shield of Aeneas in Book 8 of the Aeneid. Both shields exist only in textual form, yet Krieger recreates the shields by translating their verbal descriptions into a visual form, which he calls reverse ekphrasis (Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign xiii). According to Krieger, both attempts “seek to create what is, in effect, a reverse ekphrasis in that they seek in the visual arts to produce an equivalent of the verbal text instead of the other way round” (xiii). At the same time Krieger emphasises that the pursuit of visual representation of the shields is “ingenious” yet “vain” (xiii), concluding that “to look into ekphrasis is to look into the illusionary represen‐ tation of the unrepresentable” (xv). Actual ekphrasis, on the other hand, is based on an extant work of art, that is, a work of art that can be seen in a museum or available as a reproduction. According to Heffernan, one the one hand, “the availability of a painting represented by a poem should make no difference to 37 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="38"?> 7 Lund adapts Seznec’s historical model of ekphrastic relations, which is based on the observation of similarities of styles of art and literature since “each period has its par‐ ticular flavor” (Seznec 570). our experience of the poem” (7, emphasis in original), but, on the other, “the availability of the painting allows us to see how the poem reconstructs it, how the poet’s word seeks to gain its mastery over the painter’s image” (7). Therefore, actual ekphrasis implies analysis of the way the visual source is used - recon‐ structed, represented and reinterpreted - in an intermedial product. Indeed, writers use visual art in their works differently: “sometimes, they model the features of the characters, or their attitudes, after paintings; sometimes, they see the characters themselves, as it were, through old masters’ portraits” (Seznec 573). They may also choose to base the narrative on “a real work of art, which then acquires a symbolic value” (573) or make “the painter himself […] become a hero in fiction” (573). According to Seznec, “sometimes a picture seems to provide simply a springboard for the writer’s imagination […], sometimes a poem builds explicitly upon a canvas, a woodcut, or a statue […], sometimes […] what pictures provide is a mood, an atmosphere” (572). Similarly, in discussing a highly differentiated variety of literary transformations of pictures, Lund points out the following: Firstly, transformation can apply to an exclusive work of art as well as to a popu‐ lar-mass-produced picture. The picture in question may be actually existing or ficti‐ tious. The text may describe the picture in detail or briefly allude to it. The text may focus on individual pictorial elements isolated from a unified whole, or it may try to capture the picture as a compositional whole. It may emphasize the static character of the picture or it may interpret the picture as a dynamic scene or a dynamic structure in a way that does not only emphasize the movement per se, but also involves senses other than sight. The text as a whole may be bound to the picture; however, it may also connect select pictorial elements to spheres entirely or partially outside the structure and semantic space of the picture. The text may further be an attempt at shaping a spatial quality or at transforming characteristic elements from the iconic sphere of an epoch or by one or more pictorial artists. Actually with no direct connection to any actual or fictitious picture, it may even try to convey the structuring principles of the characteristics of style from pictorial art to the verbal form. (10) Mindful of heterogeneous ekphrastic relationships, Lund suggests four types of literary transformations of pictures: ahistorical, epochally based, individual and associative. Ahistorical relations are based on the assumption that “pictorial art and literature have parallel or comparable structures, both governed by the same controlling aesthetical principles” (17); 7 epochally based relationships express 38 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="39"?> 8 Similarly, here Lund adapts Seznec’s factual model, which focuses on writers’ connec‐ tions to artists and knowledge of au courant works of art, particular attention being paid to such places as “academies, salons, studios, and cafés, which played a vital part as meeting grounds” (Seznec 571). 9 Torgovnick’s research is based on such authors as James, Woolf and Lawrence. the idea of the parallelism between arts that share the same timeframe; indi‐ vidual relationships allude to “direct and concrete connections between texts and pictures” (19); 8 associative relationships refer to a “private associative reading” (19) of the passages that include references to some artworks. The main weakness of the associative type is that it cannot be entirely separated from either epochally based or ahistorical relationships, as it “requires a conscious‐ ness about the historical situation in which certain pictures were interpreted and certain texts were written as well as a knowledge about possible analogies between the modes of expression used in literature and pictorial art” (19). The associative type of ekphrasis lacks functional transparency, as it is dependent on the reader’s knowledge and ability to recognise links to works of art; hence, the perception of the intermedial nature of the text through the associative cat‐ egory is rather subjective. On the one hand, Lund’s framework considers pos‐ sible conditions for intermediality, such as structural parallelism between the arts driven by the same aesthetical conventions, and chronological parallelism between pictorial art and literary movements; on the other, it distinguishes be‐ tween direct and indirect referencing of visual sources. The idea of structural and chronological parallelism between the arts is also explored in Torgovnick’s research into the development of an interdisciplinary model for the novel. Although not designed as a typology of ekphrasis per se, Torgovnick’s work examines the effects of art movements on fiction. It is argued that the way in which writers conceive of and use theories of artistic movement in their writing is more important than the influence of a singular artwork (11). Torgovnick traces the relationship between the arts of a given period by com‐ paring quintessential techniques of the particular art movement to the style of writing. 9 In order to classify the degrees of involvement of the arts, Torgovnick suggests using “the visual metaphor of a continuum” (13). This continuum is divided into several segments: decorative, biographical, ideological and inter‐ pretive uses of the visual arts (the latter subdivided into perceptual and herme‐ neutic) (13). The continuum starts with decorative use, which applies to passages of description that are “influenced by the visual arts and suggest a particular [artistic] movement or an actual work” (14), in other words, when the historical work of art, artist him/ herself or art movement are explicitly referred to. Inter‐ estingly, Torgovnick chooses to use the term “decorative” to refer to novels in 39 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="40"?> 10 This category coincides closely with Seznec’s factual model and Lund’s individual re‐ lations of ekphrasis discussed earlier. which characters are either painters or sculptors themselves yet “their vocation has virtually no consequence or felt influence in the novel” (17) the only proviso being that if a character’s profession as an artist “reflected elements of the nov‐ el’s themes or form […], the use of the artist figure would probably not be just decorative but would fall further on in the continuum” (17). Thus, the decorative use of visual arts defines the minimum degree of involvement with them. The second segment of the continuum is biographically motivated use, which in‐ volves “explaining the author’s psyche or […] showing how a given involvement with the visual arts shaped that psyche so as to influence aspects of the author’s fictions” (18). 10 Consequently, this category implies research into the author’s life and education. The next segment of the continuum is the ideological use of visual arts, which embodies major themes of the fiction - especially its views of politics, history, society or, more generally, of “reality” - in descriptions, objects, metaphors, artist figures, or scenes based upon the historical visual arts or in the same aspects of fiction conceived and experienced pictorially. (19) Ideological use suggests that common motives and the symbolic value of his‐ torical visual arts recur in fiction; hence, the transferral of political, historical and socio-cultural themes of the visual arts into a literary narrative produces a more intense relationship between the verbal and the visual. The final element of the continuum is interpretive use, which is divided into two sub-categories: perceptual or psychological use, which “refers to the ways in which characters experience art objects or pictorial objects and scenes in a way that provokes their conscious or unconscious minds” (22, emphasis in original); and herme‐ neutic use, which alludes to the ways in which “references to the visual arts or objects and scenes experienced pictorially stimulate the interpretative process of the reader’s mind and cause him to arrive at an understanding of the novel’s methods and meanings” (23, emphasis in original). Thus, the interpretive use emphasises perception and interpretation of an artwork by both the characters of the novel and the reader. For the present purpose Torgovnick’s continuum is of special interest as it spotlights comparative analysis of two media in prose narratives with reference to historical artists, art movements and actually existing works of art. Similar to Torgovnick’s continuum, Robillard develops two frameworks of intermedial interaction that are based on degrees of involvement of the verbal and the visual, 40 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="41"?> 11 This model is developed in accordance with a theory of intertextuality, showing the degree to which an intertext is present within a new text. Robillard adapts and modifies intertextual categories suggested by Pfister (1985). Pfister, Manfred and Broich, Ulrich. “Intertextualität: Formen, Funktionen, anglistische Fallstudien.” Tübingen: Max Nie‐ meyer, 1985. 1-30. predominantly in poetry. The first model is called the “Scalar Model”, consisting of such categories as communicativity, referentiality, structurality, selectivity, dialogicity and autoreflexivity (56). 11 The communicativity category refers to “the degree to which the artwork is marked in a text” (57), ranging “from vague allusions, to a direct reference in a title, to explicit marking in the body of the text” (57). Referentiality refers to “the extent to which a poet actually uses an artwork in the text” (58, emphasis in original). According to Robillard, a text will not reach a high degree in referentiality if the only reference to an artwork is “some form of basic communicative marking” (58). By structurality Robillard means the poet’s “attempt to produce a structure analogue to a picture” (58). The category of selectivity refers both to “the density of pictorial elements which have been selected, either from one painting/ sculpture or from several works by the same artist” (59) and to “the transposition of certain topics, myths, or norms and conventions of particular periods or styles of pictorial representa‐ tion” (59). Dialogicity addresses “the manner in which the poet creates a ‘se‐ mantic’ tension between the poem and the artwork by casting the latter in a new, opposing framework” (59). Finally, autoreflexivity is the extent to which the author “specifically reflects on and problematizes the connection between […] his own medium and that of the plastic arts” (59). Robillard herself sees the main criticism of the Scalar Model in the fact that although it provides an over‐ view of intermedial interaction, it does not explain quantitative and qualitative gradation of ekphrastic texts or “the extent to which particular texts are ek‐ phrastic” (60). Robillard thus develops the second “Differential Model”, which aims to make a distinction between degrees of ekphrasis (56). Within the Dif‐ ferential Model there are three categories - depictive, attributive and associative (61) - and each of them has further sub-categories that Robillard illustrates schematically, as shown in Table 2: 41 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="42"?> Table 2. The Differential Model (Robillard 61) This typology moves horizontally and indicates a decreasing degree of ek‐ phrastic relationships not only in the main categories but also in their sub-cat‐ egories. The first category is depictive. It encompasses texts that explicitly por‐ tray a visual source, either through analogous structuring or description. The sub-category of analogous structuring is found furthest to the left in Robillard’s typology because it presupposes “a high degree of structural similarity to the artwork” (61); description is located more to the right since an ekphrastic text “may focus on small as well as large sections of an artwork” (61). Texts that fall under the central attributive category indicate their pictorial source either by “direct naming in the title or elsewhere in the text […]; by alluding to painter, style or genre […] or through indeterminate marking” (61, emphasis in original). This category has two functions (indicated by arrows). One of the functions is ensuring that texts that aspire to be ekphrastic indicate their pictorial sources; hence, this function is linked to the depictive category. The other indicates the importance of intertextual relationships. For example, when a text refers to a painting but does not otherwise use it “in any other perceivable way” (62) or pay “attention to any of the picture’s structural aspects” (62), it possesses asso‐ ciative elements and is therefore linked to the associative category, which in‐ cludes texts that refer to “conventions or ideas associated with the plastic arts, whether they be structural, thematic, or theoretical” (62). The Differential Model helps to identify and determine the quantitative and qualitative differences be‐ tween ekphrases and is applicable not only to the analysis of ekphrastic texts that depict works of art “as vividly as if they were viewed in situ” (62), but also of those that indicate just a slight presence of a visual source. Adapting Robillard’s Differential Model to prose narratives and their screen adaptations, Sager Eidt suggests four categories of ekphrasis: attributive, depic‐ tive, interpretive and dramatic. Attributive ekphrasis refers to “the verbal allu‐ sion to pictures in description or dialog of a text […] in which artworks are […] 42 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="43"?> mentioned, but not extensively discussed or described” (46). Sager Eidt argues that passages in which the pictorial source is mentioned are both quantitatively significant since an artwork receives attention not only as a whole but also via its relation to other objects or characters (46), and also qualitatively significant, as they add to “the signification of the text […], or to the characterization of the protagonists” (46). Although this type of text contains neither a description nor a narrative of an image, it quotes an artwork, and by implication makes reference to its creator. Such references serve as indicators of an intermedial artefact to the reader, who, relying on memory or imagination, may already at this point start re-creating the artwork in question. In contrast, in depictive ekphrasis im‐ ages “are discussed, described, or reflected on more extensively in the text or scene, and several details or aspects of images are named” (47). Compared to Robillard, Sager Eidt’s descriptive category narrows down the use of ekphrasis to a descriptive function that is integrally related to the ekphrastic re-presen‐ tation of a pictorial source. Thus, the depictive category includes ekphrastic texts containing a traditional break in the narrative for descriptions of small or large sections of works of art. Interpretive ekphrasis provides interpretive “verbal reflections on the image” (50). Sager Eidt points out that just as in depictive ekphrasis, “several details of the picture can be mentioned, but […] the degree of transformation and additional meaning is higher” (50). Interpretive ekphrasis introduces not only the interpretation and verbalisation of the painting itself but also reflections that “go beyond its depicted theme” (51). As such, the in‐ tensity of meaning production and its transformation make the depictive and interpretive categories qualitatively different. Finally, in dramatic ekphrasis the images are “dramatized and theatricalized to the extent that they take on a life of their own” ( 56). Having the highest degree of enargeia, this category is the most visual of all four. According to Sager Eidt: [T]exts […] have the ability to evoke or produce the actual visual images alluded to in the minds of the readers […] while at the same time animating and changing them, thereby producing further, perhaps contrasting images. […] [T]he images can be rep‐ resented in full or significant details, but the dramatization can also take the images apart, take its characters out of the original context of the picture, and allow them to move beyond the picture’s frame. (56-7) The dramatic type therefore presupposes both the idea of an art object con‐ structing a developing action and transforming objects or figures from the painting into actants in the narrative. By letting the figures step off the canvas, writers give life to characters that “speak and act for themselves, thus reflecting on and interpreting the image they come from in the light of their new quotation 43 2.1. Visual and Verbal Overstepping of Boundaries <?page no="44"?> context” (57). In general, it seems that, in a manner similar to the three-dimen‐ sional representational principle on which quotation and ekphrasis are based, the fictionalisation of painted figures becomes a third-order re-presentation of visually represented models that the artist has chosen to depict. The characters that are also illustrated in the image proper provide yet another perspective on the artwork - the intricacies of their lives frame the context of the image and expand the meaning of the story that is depicted in the artwork itself. At the same time, the presence of models posing for the painting in an ekphrastic text implies the potential company of an artist. Dramatic ekphrasis is therefore con‐ sidered a sound foundation for art fiction, the main concern of this study. Sager Eidt’s framework, as well as other typologies examined in this chapter, empha‐ sises the fact that it is usually the case that an intermedial artefact borrows from more than just one category, and thus presents a direct and considerable chal‐ lenge to the qualitative analysis of works of art fiction. Scholars agree that when dealing with the actual ekphrastic texts it is no longer possible to see clear boundaries between the categories: the extreme diversity of intermedial rela‐ tions, the heterogeneity of ekphrases, and the writer’s use of visual arts force scholars to approach every literary work as an individual case, customizing their analyses accordingly. 2.2. Perception, Re-presentation and the Making of Meaning I believe one can only develop one’s vi‐ sionary awareness by close contact with the vision itself; that is by knowing pictures, real vision pictures, and by dwelling on them, and really dwelling in them. It is a great de‐ light to dwell in a picture. (Lawrence 65) Intermedial interaction, especially between literature and visual arts, seems to have become a trademark of contemporary literature: real paintings are placed in the very foreground of art fiction, they are culturally thematised and histor‐ ically theorised and often play a constructional role in the written story itself. According to van Alphen, the medium is important only as a means by which “the mechanisms of representation can be explored, shown, and challenged” (836). Representation in this case becomes the result of communication between “the sender and receiver […], the relations between subjects and the subject positions in the representation, the historical and spatial contexts in which rep‐ 44 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="45"?> resentations circulate, and the role these contexts have in the production of meaning” (836). By exploring the role and function of a real artwork, contem‐ porary art fiction constructs a new version of the ‘reality’ of an art object, placing it in historical context and giving it fictitious interpretations. In discussing the accessibility of the past, Hutcheon suggests that We only have access to the past today through its traces - its documents, the testimony of witnesses, and other archival materials. In other words, we only have representa‐ tions of the past from which to construct our narratives or explanations. In a very real sense, postmodernism reveals a desire to understand present culture as the product of previous representations. The representation of history becomes the history of representation. What this means is that postmodern art acknowledges and accepts the challenge of tradition: the history of representation cannot be escaped but it can be both exploited and commented in critically through irony and parody […]. (55) Extant works of art serve as a starting point for many writers of contemporary art fiction. Hepburn points out that “contemporary writers represent artworks to reinforce the concept of representation as enchantment” (3); they speculate on what a work of art is, what it means and what it does; they question historical and critical interpretations of the paintings in a fictional form. Writers them‐ selves confirm that it is always the painting that is the ultimate source of inspi‐ ration for their work, and through careful examination of pictorial elements in novels it is possible to study how “the paintings are transformed by their imag‐ ination and [we] can understand how their creative process works” (Meyers 2). The writers of the texts this study deals with turn to the subject of Impres‐ sionism; they create a portrayal of famous French Impressionists and their models while focusing on re-presenting the paintings by describing the process of their creation, and exploring this process from both the artist’s and the mod‐ el’s perspectives. This particular genre has been referred to as “fictions about painters” (Bowie), “the portrait-of-the-artist novels” and “artist novels” (Beebe), “atelier narratives” ( Joyce) and most recently “art-historical fiction” and “art fiction” (Chapman). According to Chapman, art-historical fiction “reveals a par‐ allel extra-academy, extra-museum art history” (129) by illuminating the past, which can be “conventional and comfortable [as] we know the history or the story already” (132). The term art fiction is used in the bookshop in the Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery in London to refer to a particular book section with a special selection of fiction about art (painting, architecture, music, dance), schools of painting, artists, studios, models and the artistic milieu; among other variants these are also referred to as art in fiction or art and artists in fiction. In this study the genre will be referred to as art fiction as the analysis includes 45 2.2. Perception, Re-presentation and the Making of Meaning <?page no="46"?> novels about modern art and artists. Bowie points out that art fiction has nine main characteristics: the description of a painter’s development; the description of the artistic milieu (studio, settings for his paintings, contact with other artists); encounters with other artists, models and dealers; discussions about aesthetic ideas and painting techniques; criticism of art institutions; the description of exhibitions; the existence of a contemporary literary figure; the presence of real artists’ names of the time and, finally, making real artists leading characters (5-6). Research in the genre of art fiction is mostly focused on the psychology of the artist, as exhibited in his/ her relationship to the model and the artwork - in other words, the traditional composition of the Pygmalion myth. However, since art fiction addresses an artist’s aesthetic struggle in creating an artwork, and reproduces the painting by describing the process of its creation, the spot‐ light is on the painter as much as the painting itself. The focus of the present study is on the artwork, specifically on an artwork’s re-presentation and re-in‐ terpretation by means of a verbal rendition in ekphrastic art fiction based on actually existing art objects. The work of art is a historical representation or testimonial of what a painter wants to illustrate, and what the painter believes she/ he sees while creating the piece. The writer-observer of the painting exploits a ready-made image, com‐ ments on it, places it in a historical context and eventually provides the reader with a new interpretation of it. By doing so, the writer confronts a historical representation of a painting (which has already been interpreted and com‐ mented upon by various art historians) with a subjective, fictive re-presentation of the process of creation of the painting. Does it presuppose, however, that the ekphrasis of real paintings is different to the ekphrasis of fictional works of art? The answer to this question may be found in the theory of picture perception. Most recent studies on picture perception acknowledge two simultaneous experiences that occur in the process of ‘looking into’ a picture. These experiences are directly related to the dual nature of pictures: “pictures can generate an in-depth spatial impression of the scene depicted while at the same time appearing as flat two-dimensional surfaces hanging on the wall” (Mausfeld 20). Indeed, in addition to depicting objects in spatial relationships, and repre‐ senting events, pictures remain physical objects, with a distinctive size and shape as determined by their canvases and frames, an individual location in physical space and an exclusive price value. In other words, a work of art pre‐ supposes a clear distinction between three-dimensional and two-dimensional perceptual space - the former is a pictorial space that is perceived in depth, the latter is the understanding of the painting as a physical object perceived as being flat in the real space outside the canvas. While looking at an artwork the ob‐ 46 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="47"?> server realises and accepts both these aspects. Therefore, the dual nature of picture perception must be taken into account when analysing static pictorial images and any represented pictorial space (the illusionary space that provides an idea of depth and distance on the flat canvas surface). Mausfeld discusses the challenges of the dual nature of any given picture and distinguishes between two general aspects of this notion: the problem of “cue integration” and the problem of “conjoint representation” (21). The former relates to the concept of depth or spatial representation, the three-dimensional effect of which is ana‐ lysed in visual psychophysics. The latter refers to the simultaneous experience of two different types of objects, “each of which seems to thrive in its own autonomous spatial framework” (25). On the one hand, there is “the picture surface as an object - with corresponding object properties such as orientation or depth” (25); on the other, “the depicted objects themselves with their idio‐ syncratic spatial properties and relations” (25). The observer is therefore in‐ volved in the internal complexity of a relationship between pictorial space and perceived physical space, constantly switching back and forth between them but also conscious of the painting as a physical object in and of itself. Moreover, the viewer’s interaction with an art object unlocks the cultural dimension of picture perception (19). The first interaction comprises intricate combinations of “perceptual faculty and various interpretative faculties” (19); the second is culturally bound and, as such, is able to facilitate myriad interpretations. Seen in this light, picture perception appears to be radically different to the experience of perceiving non-pictorial static objects in space. Bearing this in mind and turning to the practice of visual arts in narrative fiction, it can be assumed that intermedial artefacts incorporating the ekphrasis of real works of art suggest an altogether different experience to those based on the ekphrasis of fictional ar‐ tistic creations. In contemporary art fiction art objects are embedded into a nar‐ rative of the process of their creation and, consequently, the events surrounding it. As this information is only partially based on documentary recollection, which is accessible via painters’ letter correspondence, archival materials of art exhibitions of the time, chronicles, and art-historians’ testimonies, it becomes fictional. Thus, while creating a fictional account of the past, art narratives pursue meaning-making of the artworks through their re-presentation. The meaning of any painting can be changed according to what one sees or prefers to see in it. According to Alberti, a painting contains three divisions: circumscription, composition and reception of light (68). Circumscription stands for the way the objects represented in the painting are seen and outlined by the painter (68); composition is what the painter creates by “drawing [the planes of the observer body] in their places” (68); finally, reception of light is the result of 47 2.2. Perception, Re-presentation and the Making of Meaning <?page no="48"?> the representation of “the colours and the qualities of the planes” (68). In order to produce an image the painter goes through the toilsome process of invention, selection and elaboration: “When an artist chooses a given site for one of his landscapes he not only selects and rearranges what he finds in nature; he must reorganize the whole visible matter to fit an order discovered, invented, purified by him” (Arnheim, Visual Thinking 35). By using circumscription, composition and reception of light the painter transforms what is seen and projects his/ her personal interpretation onto the canvas, while the viewer is invited to test “those contents against his perception and his cognition of the visible world” (Bilman 9). Gombrich points out that the form of representation “cannot be divorced from its purpose and the requirements of the society in which the given visual language gains currency” (90). Just as the creation of an artwork takes time to be processed, the perceiving of this artwork is not accomplished immediately. According to Arnheim, the observer starts from somewhere, tries to orient himself as to the main skeleton of the work, looks for the accents, experiments with a tentative framework in order to see whether it fits the total content, and so on. When the elaboration is successful, the work is seen to repose comfortably in a congenial structure, which illuminates the work’s meaning to the observer. (Visual Thinking 35) In reference to perception and understanding of a painting, Goodman suggests that “what a picture is said to represent may be denoted by the picture as a whole or by a part of it” (28). A serious weakness with this argument, however, is the fact that seeing a part of a painting or analysing even just one detail in the painting may influence the interpretation of the whole: “every detail of infor‐ mation about the representational content of a picture not only adds to what we know but changes what we see” (Arnheim, New Essays 7). Therefore, the painting has to be seen as a whole, separated into segments, which are then examined and re-seen as a whole. Arnheim maintains that “[t]he intellect has a primary need to define things by distinguishing them, whereas direct sensory experience impresses us first of all by how everything hangs together” (New Essays 65). As noted by Berger, all the elements of a painting “are there to be seen simultaneously” (26); however, the viewer requires time to study its elements, and “whenever he reaches a conclusion, the simultaneity of the whole painting is there to reverse or qualify his conclusion” (26). Arnheim argues that the thinking process is the essence of visual perception. By thinking he means such cognitive operations as “active exploration, selection, grasping of essentials, simplification, abstraction, anal‐ ysis and synthesis, completion, correction, comparison, problem solving, as well 48 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="49"?> as combining, separating, putting in context” (Visual Thinking 13). These cog‐ nitive processes are activated not only while looking at a painting but also while reading a text, thus involving “the conceptualisation and interpretation of the external world, which require the viewer’s and the reader’s selective, vigilant attention, memory, and concentration” (Bilman 40). Bilman makes a direct com‐ parison between the experience of looking at a painting or reading a text and the experience of gaining knowledge about “the physical objects of the exterior world, about man’s subjective states of mind, and his existential condition” (40). Cognitive psychologists who examine the relationship between reading and looking try to prove that neither is the painting only perceived holistically, nor is the literary text solely perceived sequentially. In analysing eye movement, Kolers concludes that “in reading and looking, people use many different inspection strategies, have many different options available, to achieve approximately the same end - and interpretation or comprehension of the object being examined” (155). As Bilman notes: “The movement of the eye following the words depicts the process of moving from detail and down the page which conveys the kinetic im‐ pression of seeing” (101). Reading a painting and reading a text are quite similar insofar as the interpretation of both involves “seeing wholes, seeing parts, and reseeing wholes, even though the sequence of these acts and the amount of time elapsed between them differ in reading paintings and reading literary texts” (Tor‐ govnick 34). According to Gilman, “both experiences consist of two phases that might be called ‘reading’ and ‘seeing’ - a processional and an integrative, or re‐ flective, phase which together generate understanding” (10). Gilman explains the experience of reading a text in the following way: The witness reads a literary text from page to page over time. But his understanding is ideally not complete until he “sees” the work as a whole, as if spatialized in his mind as a simultaneous pattern of significance. […] This pattern may be thematic, formal, psychological, or a combination of these or other elements; it may take shape before he has finished the book, or perhaps not before he has read it many times; it will certainly grow richer and more clearly defined through re-reading. (10) The experience of a painting is further clarified: The witness sees the painting as a pattern but he does not understand it fully until he “reads” it […] moving from one detail to another over time […] perceiving the inter‐ relationships of light, color, form, gesture, surface, space, point of view, and so on. The order of experience in painting (seeing first, then “reading”) is superficially the reverse of the literary experience, except that the final painting which, having been seen and “read” is finally known, is no longer identical with the square of canvas we happened to notice when we first walked into the room. (11) 49 2.2. Perception, Re-presentation and the Making of Meaning <?page no="50"?> The main argument is that neither a narrative text nor a painting can be com‐ pletely understood and further interpreted unless both are seen or read as a whole, perceived through their details and/ or parts and, finally, re-seen/ re-read and re-interpreted. Gilman’s point is of great value to this study as it is based on the idea of a perception of a whole that is acquired through the study of its parts, and thus becomes a springboard for analyses of the re-interpretation of paintings in contemporary art fiction. According to Arnheim, visual perception is in fact visual thinking (Visual Thinking 14); it is not only concerned with collecting information about specific objects, their qualities and the events hap‐ pening, but also with the understanding of the general ideas expressed, which plays a significant role in concept formation: The mind, reaching far beyond the stimuli received by the eyes directly and momen‐ tarily, operates with the vast range of imagery available through memory and or‐ ganizes a total lifetime’s experience into a system of visual concepts. The thought mechanism by which the mind manipulates these concepts operate in direct percep‐ tion, but also in the interaction between direct perception and stored experience, as well as in the imagination of the artist, the scientist, and indeed any person handling problems “in his head”. (294) What is suggested here is that visual perception is conditioned by the viewer’s stored personal experience. The aesthetic experience of looking at a painting does incite an emotional response from the viewer. However, this emotional reaction is not the result of what Tolstoy defines as the activity of art: “To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced and having evoked it in oneself then by means of movements, lines, colours, sounds, or forms expressed in words, so to transmit that feeling that others experience the same feeling” (123). The works of art do not express or transmit emotions; emotions are not the “content of a work of art but only a secondary effect of the content” (Arnheim, Visual Thinking 21). The viewer is not influenced by the same feelings as the painter was while creating an artwork - the viewer’s emotional response to a work of art is based singularly on his/ her own experience, cultural education and imagination. Panofsky defines a work of art as “a man-made object de‐ manding to be experienced aesthetically” (14). He further claims that: Anyone confronted with a work of art, whether aesthetically re-creating or rationally investigating it, is affected by its three constituents: materialized form, idea (that is, in the plastic arts, subject matter) and content. […] It is the unity of those three ele‐ ments which is realized in the aesthetic experience, and all of them enter into what is called aesthetic enjoyment of art. (16) 50 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="51"?> An artwork is re-created in accordance with the painter’s supposedly original intention and the viewer’s set of aesthetic values as well as his/ her “natural sensitivity”, “visual training” and “cultural equipment” (Panofsky 16). Therefore, the perception of an artwork is never as objective as while investigating it and re-creating its meaning, which already embodies one way of seeing: the per‐ ceiver, depending on his/ her way of seeing, inevitably adds his/ her own inter‐ pretation and extends its meaning according to his/ her subjectivity. As our at‐ tention is selective, we choose which details to notice, which to pay less attention to, and which to ignore altogether. The perceiver of the painting is unlikely to embrace the visual image as a whole immediately. The totality of the meaning conveyed by the painting has to be fragmented into scenes, elements and/ or details. Barthes points out that every image is polysemic (39) and that the basis of its signifiers is a “floating chain” (39) of signifieds. In order to interpret the painting the perceiver selects and concentrates on just a few of its signifieds. The choice of pictorial elements is individual, inevitably differing from the choice made by other perceivers of the same painting. Therefore, there is no one interpretation of a painting, but rather many - each of them depends on the observer’s choice of pictorial elements and his/ her understanding of them. Ac‐ cording to Arnheim, a verbal description of a painting traces linear connections across the state of affairs and presents each of these partial relations as a one-dimensional sequence of events. More importantly, it presents these sequences in a meaningful order, starting perhaps with a particularly significant or evocative detail and making the facets of the situation to follow each other as though they were the steps of an argument. The description of the scene becomes an inter‐ pretation. The writer uses the idiosyncrasies of his medium to guide the reader through a scene, just as a film can move the viewer from detail to detail and thereby reveal a situation by a controlled sequence. (Visual Thinking 248) The effect of guiding or directing the reader through the maze of details in the painting - and their possible meanings - corresponds to a function of the text which Barthes calls anchorage (39). Anchorage occurs when “the text directs the reader through the signifieds of the image, causing him to avoid some and re‐ ceive others; by means of an often dispatching, it remote-controls him towards a meaning chosen in advance” (40, emphasis in original). According to Barthes, the text is “the creator’s […] right of inspection over the image; anchorage is a con‐ trol, bearing responsibility […] for the use of the message” (40). However, Barthes distinguishes another function of the text, which he calls relay (41). Relay text creates new meanings that are not originally present in the image itself. Text and image have a “complementary relationship” and work towards conveying the in‐ 51 2.2. Perception, Re-presentation and the Making of Meaning <?page no="52"?> tended meaning. This differentiation can be applied to the word-image relation‐ ship in ekphrastic texts. On the one hand, the writer directs the reader through the painting, focusing on pictorial elements chosen in advance, thus controlling the reader’s understanding and interpretation of the painting. On the other, the writer assigns new meanings to the painting by fictionalising the process of its crea‐ tion. Regarding the practice of ekphrasis, it is safe to assume that the writer is the perceiver who, in order to create a verbal interpretation of a painting, takes on the role of an art historian, and re-constructs the work of art through a synthesis of signifieds of selected pictorial elements of a painting, through the available knowledge of an artwork - its historical, cultural and critical analysis - and his/ her own perception, subjective evaluation and interpretation of the work of art, which in due turn, depend upon the writer-perceiver’s personal experience, cultural education, learnt assumptions about art and imagination. The most common feature of contemporary art fiction, therefore, is the fact that written works function as both anchorage and relay texts that create new meanings in‐ side and outside an artwork. Ekphrastic re-presentation is tested on the reader-perceiver, who is encouraged not only to envision the work of art based on the writer’s markers and allusions to the visual source, but also to translate the re-interpretation of it according to his/ her emotional response to the painting and the ekphrastic text itself through his/ her cognitive reactions to the fictitious story narrated around the work of art. Therefore, when analysing an intermedial arte‐ fact, the following questions are bound to arise: What knowledge of an artwork is applied, extended or denied? Can an artwork be re-represented in a mean‐ ingful way? Can aesthetic appreciation of an artwork be offered? Can the narra‐ tive reveal the painting? What happens if a reproduction of a painting is included in the text? How will the viewer’s and reader’s reaction to a work of art differ? Can the narrative be considered a valid guide to a painting? Can an intermedial artefact be regarded as a fictional art manual? In order to answer any of the above questions or to find a way to justify verbal re-presentation of visual representa‐ tion, it is necessary to analyse how something intrinsically visual is embedded into a verbal form. A writer is entirely free when it comes to choosing the type of relationship that exists between the verbal and the visual, yet the way in which an art object is translated narratively is directly connected to the message it seeks to convey in a new medium, and to the effect it has on the reader. This study offers a classification for intermedial interaction, which can be applied to the analysis of contemporary intermedial products. It focuses on how an artwork is incorporated, re-presented and re-interpreted in contemporary Anglophone art fiction. 52 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="53"?> 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction The framework of intermedial relations in contemporary art fiction that is sug‐ gested in this study distinguishes between the following categories: communi‐ cative, re-presentational and interpretive. This classification is the result of a synthesis and adaptation of the varieties of intermedial interaction and ek‐ phrastic relations outlined previously. In the process of developing this system of categories, my aim was to establish qualitatively differing categories that would allow the analysis of each in isolation as well as in combination. This classification aims to allow for a more focused and systematic analysis of how and to what extent a painting is used in art fiction, as well as to distinguish which aspects of a painting are highlighted, which are omitted, what is added and, most importantly, how a given work of art affects the interpretation of an artistic creation. Communicative, re-presentational and interpretive categories demonstrate various ways of integrating visual sources and their production of meaning. The hypothesis is that the category in which the painting is located has an effect on its re-interpretation. If different categories of ekphrasis influ‐ ence the re-interpretation of a painting, the transmission of a painting through several types of ekphrasis generates a rich variety of re-interpretations - this idea will be tested on contemporary Anglophone art fiction dealing with French Impressionists. The framework of these three categories aims to assist in per‐ forming a qualitative analysis of how à la mode intermedial products are com‐ municated to the present-day reader; how existing modern French figure paint‐ ings are re-presented and re-interpreted through the lens of contemporary culture; how visual and sensual feelings about the paintings are recreated; and how artworks are recycled in popularised art fiction. 2.3.1. The Communicative Category A literary work, whether in a printed or electronic format, is adumbrated, first and foremost, by its cover that provides general information: the author’s name, a title and often a specific illustration. These indications fulfil an important in‐ troductory function for a literary work and constitute what Genette refers to as a work’s paratext, which “enables a text to become a book and to be offered as such to its readers and, more generally, to the public” (1). Contemporary ek‐ phrastic fiction is no exception. The titles of art fiction may explicitly refer to the painter’s and/ or models’ names or even quote the title of an artwork. More‐ over, intermedial products are often fashioned with reproductions of paintings that figure in the narrative proper, which results in the co-existence, or rather, 53 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction <?page no="54"?> 12 A concept used by Jorge Luis Borges and quoted in Genette (2). co-presence of fictional narrative and actual artistic space. Hence, the commu‐ nicative category concerns itself with paratexts created in contemporary art fiction; it refers to the way the co-presence of media is established in the zone of the peritext (Genette 16), presupposing the book’s cover, its title page, as well as further appendages such as illustrations and integrated reproductions of im‐ ages. All elements of peritext contribute to the understanding of the functions of a narrative; however, since the aim of the communicative category is to ad‐ dress the issue of readers’ first encounter with art fiction, the book’s cover is of particular interest for further analysis of chosen intermedial artefacts. Peritext as part of paratext is perceived as a “vestibule,” 12 which offers “the world at large the possibility of either stepping inside or turning back” (Genette 2). The book cover is the first manifestation of a literary work; it is an essential tool for both attracting a potential audience and influencing book sales. A book cover provides various types of information (name of the author, title, genre indication, illustration, publisher, biographical note and press blurbs) that com‐ municate meaning of the literary work in question. Not only may the cover reveal information about the plot and reflect the type and style of narrative but it may also include embedded cultural assumptions about design and/ or the conventions of contemporary culture. A book’s cover is the first thing a potential reader notices. As such, it leaves a first impression by creating a link to the text that in turn triggers prospective readers’ feelings of anticipation regarding the content of the book. Taking into account the temporal progression of events, the spatial and material presence of the peritext influences readers’ visual per‐ ception and reception of a literary work by inviting them into or discouraging them from the actual experience of reading the work. Therefore, the focus of the communicative category is on pre-reading activity, which requires visual literacy skills and presupposes the idea of judging a book by its cover. Contemporary art fiction tends to instantly allude to the theme of the book by providing a clear indication of intermediality on the book cover. There are different ways in which an intermedial artefact can be communicated to the reader: through the title, which may mention a painting or a particular concept in a painting and/ or allude to a model or a painter, or via an illustration used on the cover. Titles and illustrations are key elements in the analysis of art fiction suggested in the present study. Genette proposes distinguishing between three elements that constitute the title as a complex whole: “title”, “subtitle” and “genre indication” (56). It is interesting, however, that only the first element remains remarkably constant, whereas subtitle and genre indication may or may not 54 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="55"?> accompany it, resulting in various combinations. Genette argues that “in relation to […] title and subtitle […] the genre indication is somewhat incongruous, for the first two are defined formally and the third functionally” (57-8). The title is generally interpreted as an introduction to the book and is the main area of reception and commentary, which is intended not only for the reader of the actual text but for a much wider audience, which includes the publisher, book‐ sellers, critics and any bookshop customers. According to Genette, “the title is directed at many more people than the text, people who by one route or another receive it and transmit it and thereby have a hand in circulating it” (75). The conclusion that Genette comes to is that while “the text is an object to read, the title (like, moreover, the name of the author) is an object to be circulated - or, if you prefer, a subject of conversation” (75). The title, therefore, becomes a cultural attribute and transmits the artistic principles of a particular literary epoch. Be‐ sides attracting the public’s attention, the title identifies and designates the text, supplying it with an encoded meaning that may contain information about the subject matter or hint at the cause of certain narrative events. According to Genette, “a good title would say enough about the subject matter to stimulate curiosity and not enough to sate it” (92). The subtitle, on the other hand, provides a more direct indication of the theme and reveals the content of the book in a more straightforward way. Last but not least, the genre indication, as a part of the peritext, fulfils the rather autonomous function of assigning a genre status to a literary text. As Genette points out, this status is “official in the sense that it is the one the author and publisher want to attribute to the text and in the sense that no reader can justifiably be unaware of or disregard this attribution, even if he does not feel bound to agree with it” (94). In the context of contem‐ porary art fiction the element of genre indication is particularly interesting as it resolves the ambiguity of how the text should be received and read. Another integral component of the peritext zone is the cover illustration. Contemporary social environments are dominated by visual images; hence, it is not surprising that the cover image has become an essential part of the pre-reading experience. Book cover designs are greatly influenced by such fac‐ tors as “the intentions of the author; the expectations of the reader; the strategies of the publisher; the creativity of the designer; the traditions of the culture; the trends of the market (on a local as well as global scale)” (Sonzogni 5). There is no doubt, however, that social and cultural aspects of the target audience make a considerable impact on the selection of the final illustration used for the cover; after all, the driving factor for the publishing industry is the creation of a com‐ mercially attractive product. According to Sonzogni, “the cover should engage first and foremost with the genre of the book and then with the content and, if 55 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction <?page no="56"?> relevant, with the setting (chronological and geographical)” (22, emphasis in original). Similarly, the cover illustration only accentuates subjectively selected and adapted features of the narrative; though it does not reveal the entire story, it identifies the context and emphasises the focus of the intermedial artefact, be it an artistic movement or a particular painting. Therefore, put together, the title and the illustration create a balanced communication of the intermedial artefact as well as enhancing the overall effect of the genre, content and setting of the book. Sonzogni considers the relationship between the text and the book cover de‐ sign an act of intersemiotic translation, translation from the verbal into visual language, arguing that the book cover provides the prospective reader with a visual dimension or a “visual summary of the book’s contents” (4). In other words, the cover design translates the narrative into a spatial form that consti‐ tutes a part of the object space of the cover. As a product of translation, the cover image can, therefore, be interpreted as a visual representation of the text that emphasises the spatial qualities of the book. The visual image that is placed on the cover of contemporary art fiction either relates to or is an actual reproduc‐ tion of an artwork that appears in the text proper. Should the cover illustration of an intermedial artefact not be a reproduction of an artwork, the intermedial identity of the book is established via its title. However, by incorporating a re‐ production of a visual representation, the text “can possibly achieve a spatial effect and/ or - as in ekphrasis - it may be supposed to create a feeling of a temporal retardation, if the reader is meant to slowly experience the art work though words” (Albers 26-7). As a result, the image that has already been sub‐ mitted to verbal translation via ekphrasis may reappear on the cover, fulfilling a reverse function of back translation, that is, becoming the visual representation of the verbal representation of the visual representation. Yet the image that is represented verbally and the image that is a representation of the verbal are the same. Hence, it could conceivably be hypothesised that the relationship between a work of art, its ekphrastic re-presentation and the cover reproduction is nothing but a closed circuit. This idea will be further examined in an analysis of works of contemporary art fiction. The book cover is a form of visual communication with the reader; its inten‐ tion is to advertise itself and target a diverse audience. Based on the assumption that the combination of title and illustration triggers readers’ initial interest and elicits an emotional reaction to the book by creating expectation of what it is going to be about, direct and indirect referencing to a work of art in a title reduces potential ambiguity about the subject matter. In other words, exposed to the peritextual zone, the reader of contemporary art fiction is informed about 56 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="57"?> the intermedial nature of a given literary work, and hence anticipates further intermedial cross-references. 2.3.2. The Re-presentational Category The re-presentational category presupposes ekphrastic re-presentation through direct or indirect referencing to an artwork, its description as a whole (for ex‐ ample, as seen in the artist’s studio or at a salon exhibition), through selected details, and in associations with a particular art movement. It is based on the depictive model (Robillard, Sager Eidt); however, its understanding goes beyond the originally suggested description of visual elements and their re-presentation in the narrative. Not only does this category refer to the fragmented selection of details from the painting and their transformations in the verbal text, but it also considers representation of the art movement to which the painting be‐ longs. By furnishing the canvas with pictorial elements of the visual source, the writer controls perception of the painting by revealing it sequentially, hence leading the reader to a specific interpretation of an image. The effect of guiding the reader through intentionally selected details of a visual source is what Barthes calls anchorage (39) and is referred to as anchorage selection in this study. In order to be understood, a painting has to be perceived as a whole, simplified by division into compositional parts and details, and considered as a whole again. Anchorage selection presupposes re-presentation of fragments of a painting: scenes, compositional parts and details that are chosen to be included and further described as relevant details for both the re-presentation and the story. These details provide a point of departure for an interpretation of the artwork. Just as a physically visual detail can be singled out of a painting, a verbally re-presented detail can be isolated from the narrative and studied as a separate object. Hepburn claims that a detached detail “paralyses the reader’s attention; it disturbs the entire pattern of narrative” (59) and, as he further ar‐ gues, “[t]o interpret the detail out of narrative sequence distorts meaning and exaggerates the perceived value of the object” (59). In conjunction with the con‐ tent of the narrative, the descriptive passages give the reader a more detailed view of an artwork, yet they also “initiate action and propel narrative” (10). This means that the reader of an intermedial artefact is invited to perceive the ref‐ erences to an artwork as well as to decode the structure of the text that is con‐ structed with the help of a fusion of the verbal and the visual, done by way of a detailed description of the art object. Hepburn points out that in contemporary narratives “detail provides some awareness to the complex status of the art ob‐ ject” (47) and that in “its nagging littleness, its masquerade of insignificance, the 57 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction <?page no="58"?> detail upsets the apparent order of art and therefore liberates different ap‐ proaches to the object itself ” (47). Although details - as carriers of condensed information - are decisive to the meaning of an artwork, the hidden ambiguity of any given detail generates intrinsic complexity as far as the perception of an artwork is concerned. Therefore, the zone of details is the main zone of transi‐ tions and transformations of meaning in an artwork. According to Hepburn, an artwork is inseparable from “the labour that goes into its making, as well as the specific historical and personal contexts in which it is made” (18). In other words, both the interior and the exterior of an artwork construct the meaning of an art object. Hepburn concludes that the elements that “combine in an artwork - its production, its details, its gathered energies signifying historical forces - attest to the close integration of art into social and political spheres” (18-19). Therefore, not only do details assist in re-presentation and allude to aesthetic problems that artists are faced with when creating an artwork - for example, devising a com‐ positional solution for a painting - but they also disclose an element of histor‐ icity by referring to a particular historical epoch. By selecting and organising primarily visual details and putting them into narrative sequences, contemporary writers facilitate the perception and under‐ standing of an artwork in a way that is similar to how viewers construct meaning through the details of a painting on display. The art fiction selected for the present study belongs firmly in the category of ekphrasis of actually existing works of art. The case of actual ekphrasis is especially interesting due to the fact that the art object exists in both media - it is visually present and narratively described. The result is the mutual benefit of the verbal and the visual parts of an intermedial artefact: the art object obtains a verbal dimension, which leads to a potentially new interpretation of it, whereas the text profits from having a real-life visual subject matter that the reader can rely on or consult if needed. According to Rippl, the problem of descriptions of extant works of art lies in the reception of an artwork: The original can only be compared with the reader’s mental image, which is formed in the process of reading ekphrasis. Readers may evaluate lengthy descriptions and lists of static details very differently - some as fascinating, others as boring and tire‐ some. In any case, meticulous descriptions of visual static elements present readers 58 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="59"?> 13 My translation. The original reads: “Bei Ekphrasen, die sich auf tatsächlich existierende Gemälde beziehen, handelt es sich um ein Phänomen, das nur unter Berücksichtigung der Rezeption zu untersuchen ist: Mit dem Original verglichen werden kann nur das Vorstellungsbild, das sich die jeweiligen LeserInnen beim Lesen der Ekphrase machen. Und diese LeserInnen können ausgedehnte Beschreibungen und Aufzählungen sta‐ tischer Details sehr unterschiedlich, als faszinierend oder langweilig und ermüdend, bewerten. Auf jeden Fall fordern ausführliche Beschreibungen visueller, statischer Dinge ihre LeserInnen auf andere Weise, als dies literarische Texte tun, die den Schwer‐ punkt auf den Plot und eine ungebrochene epische Narration legen.” with a different challenge than literary texts, which prioritise plot and unbroken, epic narrative. (325) 13 What is suggested here is that the reading of an intermedial product, which refers directly to an actually existing art object, requires a complex interpretive operation on the part of the reader, who is encouraged to compare the original artistic creation with its re-presentation. Naturally, the question that is bound to arise is whether ekphrastic description of an extant artwork in contemporary art fiction can be justified or simply substituted by multiple reproductions of the image, scenes or details that accompany the text and appear in the exact order they are referred to in the narrative. Indeed, the contemporary practice of ekphrasis reveals a common tendency to exhibit the act of artwork creation, in the process of which prototype details may undergo slight or even significant transformations (compositional adjustments, for example, or modifications of colour, decorations, models, location and the like). The use of such alternatives gives additional complexity to the plot and results in an enrichment of meaning generated by the artwork in question. However, a work of art is rarely seen as a stand-alone product; it is usually placed in the context of an art movement that is the result of a specific philos‐ ophy or a distinctive way of seeing and representing the world around us. As the art object disposes of qualities that are attributed to the art movement, nei‐ ther re-presentation nor perception of an artwork can be complete without in‐ formation about its style, technical qualities and the date of its creation. As such, the re-presentational category includes analyses of the re-presentation of an artwork through allusion to the art movement it is a product of, which in due turn influences the reception and interpretation of the art object in question. A proper introduction to an art movement, however, requires more than one ex‐ ample of its products. As a result, more pieces of art (either by a single artist or by artists belonging to the same art movement) may be brought to the reader’s attention. The question of the number of visual sources that are re-presented in a literary text echoes the framework of ekphrastic relations suggested by Yacobi, 59 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction <?page no="60"?> namely, one-to-one and many-to-one relations (Pictorial Models 602) between a visual source and a verbal target that are referred to here as individual or col‐ lective. Individual refers to an intermedial product that focuses on a single visual source; collective comprises ekphrases that display several works of art created by the same or different artists. In the case of collective re-presentation, artworks are likely to be submitted to the compare-and-contrast research method, usually used by art historians to analyse art objects. References to art movements and extant artworks require writers’ art historical knowledge of, or at least pains‐ taking research into, a specific area of art history. Comparing and contrasting techniques used in art fiction not only add substantially to the understanding of a given art movement as such, but also encourage the reader to dig deeper into the field of art history within the intermedial artefact. While focusing on ekphrastic descriptions of selected elements of an artwork and allusions to an art movement, the re-presentational category cross-refer‐ ences art history and thus merges two disciplines in a hybrid form that may “negotiate aesthetic practices and thus function not only as a strategy of visu‐ alisation, but also as a means to illustrate fragmented perception and as a ne‐ gotiating entity of current art discourses” (Albers 42). Hence, within the re-pre‐ sentational category as it applies to contemporary art fiction, it is particularly interesting to examine whether and how the ekphrastic re-presentation of paintings pertains to art-historical understandings and interpretations. 2.3.3. The Interpretive Category The name of the interpretive category is borrowed from Torgovnick’s con‐ tinuum and Sager Eidt’s classification of ekphrastic relations. The main foci of this category are the perception and interpretation of an artwork, and com‐ mentary on the particular art movement by the actants in different stories: the fictitious painter, the creator himself - who explains the idea of subject matter, composition or colours - or any other viewer (for example, models posing for the painting, painter’s friends, art critics, exhibitors, general public and the like). Fictional characters’ perception of art locates them in various groups of critic-viewers with different aesthetic background who most commonly reveal previously existing attitudes towards and opinions about works of art known in the art scene, cultural and literary studies. As a second-order representation of specific aesthetic debates, fictional commentary echoes ‘real’ art discourses of the time; therefore, such commentary can also be seen as a meta-commentary on both a specific work of art and an art movement in general. Having characters raise aesthetic issues, express opinions about specific works of art and discuss 60 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="61"?> art in general intensifies the meta-textual effect of ekphrasis or “doubled ver‐ balisation” (Albers 44), meaning that “on one level, the characters verbalise these issues within the story and, because they are part of the narrative’s fictional world, the writer verbalises these issues through the discourse level” (Albers 44). In other words, similar to the ekphrastic re-presentation of a pictorial source, ekphrastic meta-commentary turns the text into an intermedial hybrid on the level of the interpretation of both an artwork and the art movement from which it springs. When looking at and interpreting a work of art, the viewer aspires to discover something about the image that would help to uncover its meaning, and, finally, lead to a point of understanding and/ or appreciation of it. Viewers’ responses to a particular art object are essentially subjective - they depend on personal interests, experiences and associations - and thus variable. Although the meaning of the art object is conditioned by the way it is received and perceived by the beholder, the artist’s intention cannot be entirely neglected. One of the assumptions known to the theory of interpretation is intentionalism - a belief that the intention of the artist determines the interpretation of an artwork to the extent that the artwork is seen as a reflection of the artist’s unique individ‐ uality and life philosophy. This in turn implies that in order to comprehend the meaning of the product of the artist’s labour one has to “relate it to an artist’s personality and experience” (Hatt and Klonk 14). Seeing an artist at work and rendezvousing with him through the painting process, the reader of art fictional narrative also learns about the artist’s private life, relationships and endeavours that surround the time of painting and not only have a profound influence on the resulting work of art but also shape its perception in view of the stated artist’s intentions. Hence, some of the interpretive questions are partially answered owing to the focus on the character of the artist and his fictional biography. Although some of the artist’s intentions may be unveiled, others, less obvious, leave the viewer to put forward mere speculative hypotheses that can never be confirmed. Consequently, as the proposed explanations cannot be rejected, they manifest a plurality of acceptable interpretations (relative to different standards of interpreting) that contribute to the understanding of a work of art. By re-presenting the extant image as a whole or its parts (via a selection of the details), art fictional narratives dramatise the “moment of looking as a prac‐ tice of interpretation” (Goldhill 2, emphasis in original). Due to the fact that the moment of looking, which is experimental by nature, is accompanied with a comprehensive explanation, the ekphrastic passages feature a somewhat di‐ dactic tone, educating the reader-viewer, providing him/ her with the needed knowledge about the artwork while at the same time advocating the meaning 61 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction <?page no="62"?> 14 The methods are indicated chronologically. of the artwork. Although a work of art is determined by its historical, political, cultural and social contexts, it is the viewer’s personal interest that plays a sig‐ nificant role in the interpretive process. According to Hatt and Klonk, “the meaning you ascribe to the picture depends on the direction from which you approach it and that, in turn depends on your interests” (16). It is, therefore, important to understand that the choice of which ready-made interpretation of an image to adopt is guided first and foremost by the novelist’s interest. As the meaning of an artwork is based on the way it is perceived and interpreted his‐ torically and culturally, both the ready-made and newly created meanings given to a re-presentation appear to depend upon a certain framework for viewing art pieces, in other words, an art historical method. Among the most familiar and influential art historical methods usually used in regard to Impressionist paintings one can distinguish connoisseurial (or bi‐ ographical), formalist, iconographical, Marxist, social art historical and feminist approaches. 14 Connoisseurial interpretation rests on the empirical study of an artwork and the artist’s personal experience; it aims to verify the authorship and authenticity of the work with the help of stylistic analysis, comparing formal aspects of a painting such as the use of pictorial space, line, colour, light and shade with a range of other works, mindful that each artwork possesses features that are representative of the artist and specific to a particular period of time. Formalism, on the other hand, pays attention to the progressive development of artistic forms - the key target is to “find the style characteristic of an epoch or a culture in works of art” (Hatt and Klonk 65). In other words, it is not one artist’s individual style but style as a universal means of expression that unifies various art forms in a given time span and distinguishes them from other his‐ torical epochs that is of particular interest for formalists. The iconographical approach is primarily concerned with the themes and ideas that are manifested in works of art. Although art objects are seen as culturally and historically spe‐ cific in iconography, their interpretation can be made from another vantage point in the historical sequence (96). The main argument of this method is that “a change in style indicates a change in content” (15); that is to say, the way an artist perceives an object influences his/ her style and painting techniques - which in the case of Impressionism leads to the technical radicalism of the painting. Marxism supports the view that art as a form of cultural expression is influenced by changes in the economic organisation of society and its social and political development. Not only do social art historians study the nature and effects of the relationship between art and specific social, political and economic 62 Chapter 2. Intermediality: Narrative Texts and Visual Arts <?page no="63"?> circumstances, but they also consider the influence cultural and intellectual concerns of the time have on art (121). Finally, feminism focuses on the in‐ equality of sexes, injustices to women in the art scene, the opposition between female and male perspectives, and the socio-historical and cultural meaning of the representation of sex and gender. Despite their substantial differences the methods share some convictions: the belief that the artwork is determined by its context (whether intentional, his‐ torical, cultural, social or political); the idea that the interpretation of an art object derives from a personal perspective and depends on the personal interests of the viewer; and the understanding that an artwork can never obtain an im‐ manent meaning. That is why in order to gain the most versatile and functionally rich interpretation, art historical methods can be combined. The writers of con‐ temporary art fiction have the freedom to exploit various interpretations com‐ patible with the artwork (both its visual appearance and any related historical evidence), recycle those that best suit the narrative, offer a multitude of opinions and eventually discover new ones by dwelling deeper into the details of the work - assigning new meanings to the details, establishing new connections between them and exploring their interrelationship. Hence, it is possible to hypothesise that, intentionally or not, to some degree art fictional writers rely on and imitate art historical methods (or a combination of approaches) while staging them in a fictionalised commentary on and criticism of re-presentations in contempo‐ rary ekphrastic narratives. It is interesting to see which approaches novelists apply and in which combinations, what effect they create in the narrative and, most importantly, if and how they embellish the understanding of the re-pre‐ sentation. Therefore, central questions regarding the interpretive category are: who are the transmitters; what type of transmission is offered; how do inter‐ pretations given by characters differ, and what impacts do they exert? Verbal reflection on a painting or transmission can be understood as an analytical in‐ terpretation that is based on an established understanding of an artistic move‐ ment (art historical method) and applied art techniques or emotional interpre‐ tation, that is, through the sensual experience of a painting and the feelings it evokes in the viewer. Since every emotional response to a painting adds an additional subjective understanding of it, debates about the meaning of an art‐ work among characters in a narrative inevitably exceed the originally depicted and re-presented subject matter. It can thus be suggested that interpretations of a painting multiply in direct proportion to the opinions voiced about it. The interpretive category therefore fulfils the purpose of examining interpretations of an artwork as they are given in the text proper, and seeks to contribute to the reader’s understanding of a given painting as a whole. 63 2.3. Intermedial Interaction in Contemporary Art Fiction <?page no="65"?> 1 I have chosen covers of these particular paper English editions of the novels because they introduce a more original and rather complex design and therefore are more in‐ teresting for the purposes of the present analysis. I will, however, refer to other editions of the novels when discussing the visual elements of the covers. Chapter 3. Communication Judge the book by its cover. The book cover is the first manifestation of a literary work. It provides the reader with various items of information, such the name of the author, title, genre indication, illustration, publisher, biographical note, press blurbs - to name just a few - all of which aim to establish a relationship with the readers while at the same time encourage them to interpret the con‐ veyed meaning of the literary work in question. Consequently, creating a link to the text, the zone of peritext functions as an introduction to the text, triggering prospective readers’ feelings of anticipation of the content of the book, and frames the future reading of the text. As, in most cases, book covers integrate both textual and visual components, they turn into multimodal narratives. This is especially interesting in regard to selected art fiction due to the fact that the visual illustration chosen for the cover is not a random image that relates to the plot or reflects the type and style of narrative, but a reproduction of the image - the extant work of art that is re-presented in the text - that clearly defines the focus of the literary work. Thus, the visual illustration in the peritext and the verbal re-presentation in the text proper allow the physical co-presence of the visual and the verbal in the intermedial narratives. In this chapter, I will analyse the book covers of the five novels, focusing on the following elements of the peritext: the name of the author, title, genre indication, blurbs and illustration. I will examine the form in which the textual and iconic images appear, the lo‐ cation of the image and the text, their referents and the relationship they stand in on the cover. This study will further try to explain the role of the book cover within the book selection and interpret their mnemonic and didactic functions through the ways in which the images interact with the verbal re-presentations and frame the intermedial artefacts. The illustrations of the selected book covers of five novels that are further analysed and discussed are given in Figures 1 to 5: 1 <?page no="66"?> Figure 1: Robards, Elizabeth. With Violets. New York: HarperCollins, 2008. Figure 2: Finerman, Debra. Mademoiselle Victorine. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2007. 66 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="67"?> Figure 3: Wagner, Kathryn. Dancing for Degas. New York: Bantam Books Trade Paper‐ backs, 2010. Figure 4: Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Painted Girls. New York: Riverhead Books, 2013. 67 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="68"?> Figure 5: Vreeland, Susan. Luncheon of the Boating Party. New York: Penguin, 2008. 3.1. Verbal Elements One of the attributes that the book covers presented above share is the fact that, by including both textual and visual components, they are multimodal. Along with the central image (a reproduction of parts of a painting) each cover indi‐ cates the name of the author, displays the title and specifies the genre of the book. Let us start with one of the verbal elements of the book cover, namely, the name of the author, which in contemporary practice has become an essential component of the peritext. It is natural for the publishers to acknowledge the name of the creator of a literary work by displaying it on the front cover. Yet, the amount of space apportioned to the name of the author is carefully defined - on the one hand, it may be governed by the author’s prior achievements in the literary field, which according to Genette basically means that “the better known the author, the more space his name takes up” (39), while, on the other, it may be restricted by the book cover design, layout framework and style. Looking at the selected front covers one cannot help but notice that the names Cathy Marie Buchanan, Debra Finerman, Kathryn Wagner and Elizabeth Ro‐ bards are placed over the graphic images, as if inscribed on the reproductions, thus appearing to be part of the pictorial illustration. Whereas, in case of LOTBP, the author’s name is written on a square colour board sign, which, located on top of the image, blocks several elements of the reproduction, mainly hiding from the view the body of one of the front figures. It is also interesting that while the print of the other novelists’ names is significantly smaller compared with 68 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="69"?> 2 Vreeland, Susan. Girl in Hyacinth Blue. Headline Book Publishing: London, 2001. 3 Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Day the Falls Stood Still. Hyperion: New York, 2009. the print of the book titles, Vreeland’s name is almost double the size of the given title and it is made in black rather than white colour what enhances its visibility. This observation may support the view that the writer’s fame influences the space his/ her name takes on the front cover. Thus in order to promote the book the publisher attempts to compel readers’ attention to the name of a recognised writer (possibly for the same reason the front cover contains information about another art fictional narrative 2 written by Vreeland). Although at first sight such an explanation seems plausible, it does not seem to be appropriate for the anal‐ ysis of the cover of TPG. Buchanan is a well-known Canadian writer and the author of the New York Times Bestseller The Day the Falls Stood Still, 3 yet her name does not assume as much significance as the title of the novel. However, displayed at the very bottom of the front cover and printed in the same gold letter print like the illusionary painting frame at the top right corner of the page, it seems to become a part of the frame that encloses the pictorial illustrations. Hence, becoming part of the book cover design, the name of the author serves a framing function for the inserted images. Another verbal element of the peritext is the title, which Lodge understands as a “part of the text - the first part of it, in fact, that we encounter - and therefore has considerable power to attract and condition the reader’s attention” (193). In contrast to Lodge, Genette points out that although it is not always clear whether the title and other paratextual productions can be seen as belonging to the text, they “extend it, precisely in order to present it, in the usual sense of this verb but also in the strongest sense: to make present, to ensure the text’s presence in the world, its ‘reception’ and consumption in the form […] of a book” (1). Thus, one of the key functions of the title is to designate or identify the text it presents. According to Genette, while the text is directed to the reader, the title addresses a more general public, who “receive it and transmit it and thereby have a hand in circulating it. For if the text is an object to be read, the title (like, moreover, the name of the author) is an object to be circulated - or, if you prefer, a subject of conversation” (75). Supporting the latter, I would argue that, independent of whether the title is perceived as part of the text or not, it is the key product of reception and commentary given to the text by the public, readership and lit‐ erary criticism. Moreover, as books nowadays are more often discovered online, it is usually the title and not the book cover that offers the first piece of infor‐ mation about the book to the potential reader. In this respect, it is important to 69 3.1. Verbal Elements <?page no="70"?> distinguish between different types of titles. Lodge claims that the choice of the title is dependent on the specific literary period: The titles of the earliest English novels were invariably the names of the central char‐ acters, Moll Flanders, Tom Jones, Clarissa. […] Later novelists realized that titles could indicate a theme (Sense and Sensibility), suggest an intriguing mystery (The Woman in White), or promise a certain kind of setting and atmosphere (Wuthering Heights). [I]n the nineteenth [and twentieth] century [authors] began to hitch their stories to res‐ onant literary quotations. […] The great modernists were drawn to symbolic or met‐ aphorical titles - Heart of Darkness […] - while more recent novelists often favour whimsical, riddling, off-beat titles, like The Catcher in the Rye… (193-4) Taking into consideration contemporary titles that offer a blend of different types within one literary period, the attribution of title to the literary period suggested by Lodge seems simply inaccurate. His scheme does of course indicate a certain tendency or preference for specific types of titles within given periods, yet the concept of periods per se cannot be further applied. Nevertheless, I think it necessary to include Lodge’s classification as it offers a useful list of types of titles that we encounter in contemporary practice and selected art fiction in particular. Among the examined novels there are titles incorporating the names of the central characters (Mademoiselle Victorine), indicating a theme (Dancing for Degas), suggesting an intriguing mystery (The Painted Girls, With Violets) or promising a certain kind of setting and atmosphere (Luncheon of the Boating Party). However, if one looks further into the titles of art fiction, one would undoubtedly notice that they also explicitly refer to painters’ and/ or models’ names (for example, Victorine and Degas, who are the central characters in the novels), to the very process of painting (The Painted Girls) or even quote the title of the paintings, which are ekphrastically re-presented in the texts. Thus, three of the above-mentioned tiles quote the names of the artworks that the novels allude to: Luncheon of the Boating Party as a translated title of Renoir’s painting Le déjeuner des canotiers; Mademoiselle Victorine, a fictional title given to Manet’s Olympia; and With Violets, a detail from several of Manet’s paintings of Berthe Morisot, quoted as a fragment from the artist’s painting Berthe Morisot au bou‐ quet de violettes. These findings show that although Lodge’s scheme can be used to classify contemporary titles, it limits the titles to a certain category, thus preventing a multiple interpretation. As far as the constituent elements of the title are concerned, Genette points out that the title may consist of the following three components: title, subtitle and genre indication (56). In contemporary practice only the first component is de rigueur. Genre indication, being a supplementary attribute of the cover, is 70 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="71"?> different to the title in terms of its functionality - unlike the title that formally introduces and defines the text, genre indication refers to the function of the text classifying it in the corresponding genre that the author and publisher de‐ cide to attribute to the text. For the present study both title and genre indication are of particular interest - the former as the first introduction to the work of art fiction, the latter as an autonomous paratextual element that labels the status of the narrative as art fiction. According to Genette, another function of the title is thematic, a descriptive function informing the reader what “this book talks about” (89). The titles of the selected novels are thematic in as much they indicate the denotative value of the texts. For some readers they promise reference to the world of art; for others by alluding to the artists, models, the painting process, the artworks or certain details of the artworks these titles situate the narratives between art and fiction. Titles like these, therefore, not only manifest the in‐ tentions of the writer and/ or the publisher, namely to create reference to art, artists and art objects in particular, but they also produce unintended effects, such as indirectly invoking the cultural aspects of a certain historical period. The unintended effects the title exerts are what Genette calls the connotative value, which is always attached to the descriptive function. According to Gen‐ ette, the connotative function is “unavoidable, for every title, like every state‐ ment in general, has its own way of being or, if you prefer, its own style” (93). As for genre indication, it is “rhematic by definition because its purpose is to announce the genre status decided on for the work that follows the title” (Gen‐ ette 94). In the case of the selected literary works, genre indication is always present on the front cover and as an appendage of the title is mostly located below the title. Thus, for instance, genre indication (a novel) immediately follows the tiles of Dancing for Degas, The Painted Girls, Mademoiselle Victorine and With Violets. The genre indication of the latter, however, is further extended by an additional reference to the subject matter “A Novel of the Dawn of Impres‐ sionism” - the genre indication in this case also takes on a thematic function, informing the reader of the content as well as the epoch of the narrative. I would speculate that from the publisher’s perspective such clarification is most prob‐ ably seen as necessary since unlike the titles of other art fiction the title With Violets, which, although it quotes a detail of several of Manet’s paintings, does not explicitly link the text to the topic of art - as a result, it could be easily overseen by a poorly informed reader. The extension of the genre indication therefore helps the reader to classify the text as art fiction. It is interesting that while the title and the genre indication usually figure in the immediate vicinity of each other, an exceptional example of the genre indication preceding the title is found in the paper edition of Luncheon of the Boating Party, where a novel is 71 3.1. Verbal Elements <?page no="72"?> printed in the upper right corner of the front cover, above the heads of the figures of the image. Again I would argue that that this somewhat unconventional lo‐ cation of the genre indication is nothing but a necessity - since the title located further down quotes the title of an extant work of art, which at the same time is used as a reproduction on the front and back cover, in order to avoid confusion with an art manual, it is important to make the reader aware as soon as possible of the official status of the text. Hence, here the genre indication can no longer be interpreted as an appendage of the title but should rather be seen as an au‐ tonomous paratextual element reinforcing the message that the potential reader will deal with an art fictional novel. Finally, Genette points out the last function of the title, which is the function of “tempting, of inciting one to purchase and/ or read” (91). The temptation function is most certainly always an intended part of the title; it may have a positive or negative effect or no effect at all on the receiver. Therefore, the sender cannot control or further influence the end effect created by the already given title. According to Genette, “if the title is indeed the procurer for the book and not for itself, what one must necessarily fear and avoid is the possibility that its seductiveness will work too much in its own favor, at the expense of its text” (94). Regarding the titles of the selected novels, there is no doubt that in alluding to artists, models or artworks they are meant to attract readers who are a priori interested in reading about art. However, while tempting one group of readers to purchase the books these titles may of course dissuade another group from doing so. The tempting function of the title, therefore, participates in the selec‐ tive process of the appreciative readership of the book. And since the utmost goal of the publisher as well as the writer is to sell the book, the tempting func‐ tion (which has a major influence on the choice of the book and hence directly affects the actual sale) becomes an essential element of the book promotion. Last but not least a further verbal element of the zone of peritext that is to be considered in the present study is the blurb. Blurbs are brief texts, such as short descriptions of a book, traditionally presented on book covers (front and back). Primarily they seek to perform an informative function - that is to say to inform the reader of the content of the book. However, along with such descriptions blurbs fulfil an important promotional or persuasive purpose - they include pos‐ itive comments (for example, extracts taken from reviews in newspapers, jour‐ nals, magazines or comments given by other authors) that aim to extol the product in order to attract potential customers and entice them to select, pur‐ chase and read the work in question. Therefore, for publishers blurbs on front and back covers provide an ideal marketing opportunity for evaluating and recom‐ 72 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="73"?> mending the book, on the one hand, and for promoting the book to the target audience, on the other. It is the promotional function of the blurb that makes it similar to advertising. According to Gea Valor, in order to communicate their meaning, blurbs “make use of a wide range of linguistic and discourse conventions typical of advertising discourse: complimenting, elliptical syntactic patterns, the imperative, the ad‐ dress form ‘you’, […] rhetorical questions and excerpts from the book” (41). Doing justice to both the informative and promotional functions of blurbs, Gea Valor argues that blurbs “straddle the book review and the advertisement, but […] the persuasive nature of blurbs outweighs their surface appearance as book reviews” (45). As noted above, the key communicative aim of blurbs is to ad‐ vertise the product and persuade the prospective reader to purchase it. I find it particularly interesting to have a closer look at blurbs on the covers of art fiction to examine how much information they actually reveal about the content of the novels (my interest lies mainly in analysing to what extent the intermedial na‐ ture of the narrative is revealed to the potential reader) as well as to study the evaluative nature of the blurbs (predominantly focusing on linguistic and dis‐ course strategies that are used to perform the persuasive function). As far as the location of blurbs is concerned, not only for the obvious reason of lacking space but also in order to avoid distracting the reader’s attention from the design and hence to prevent lessening the impact the front cover intends to create, blurbs are most commonly printed on the back cover of the book, al‐ though there are also cases of front cover blurbs. Within the selected collection of art fiction there is a significant difference between the number of printed blurbs as well as their locations. It is important to point out that, in spite of the limita‐ tions of space and design, some of the blurbs find their way to the front covers, as is the case with DFD, TPG and MV. The question why these three praising quotes are selected to be placed on the front cover is bound to arise. Since the front cover is the first piece of information that readers evaluate, the purpose of any publisher is to capture and maintain readers’ attention while revealing more information about the contents of the book and its perception by others. There‐ fore, there is a psychological effect that the blurbs create on the consumer - the longer the reader spends familiarising him/ herself with the front cover, the better he/ she can estimate the value of the book and shape his/ her own judgement, which in due course influences the decision whether to purchase the product or not. In other words, printing blurbs on the front cover may lead to the potential reader spending more time actually looking at and judging the book. It is there‐ fore interesting to examine (on the basis of the above-quoted front cover blurbs) what information they include and what message they transmit in order to cap‐ 73 3.1. Verbal Elements <?page no="74"?> ture the reader’s attention and possibly to motivate the actual sale. The first blurb I would like to consider is the one for DFD: “Like Tracy Chevalier, Wagner imag‐ ines how layers of meaning pervade works of art” (Publishers Weekly). The most thought-provoking piece of information given in the blurb is the comparison made between two authors: Wagner, the author of the present novel, and Tracy Chevalier, a renowned author of art fiction. The parallel drawn by the simile, however, extends to Chevalier’s and Wagner’s novels, both covering the subject of art and artists (Vermeer and Degas) and creating layers of meaning behind the artworks. For the reader who is familiar with Chevalier’s work or at least knows about the author, the simile is intended to establish a new connection, alluding to a certain parallelism between the narratives and thus creating a new degree of understanding of a not yet explored narrative and as a result making the descrip‐ tion of the content of the present book unnecessary. While unequivocally praising the novels, the front cover blurbs for TPG and MV, on the other hand, describe the content of the books in greater detail. Thus, Susanne Vreeland in The Washington Post distinguishes TPG as a “captivating story of fate, tarnished ambition, and the ultimate triumph of sister-love” (TPG front cover); and Tasha Alexander, author of A Poisoned Season, points out that MV is “[e]ngaging and engrossing, a magnificent escape into the world of ex‐ quisite paintings, political intrigue, and grand passion” (MV front cover). In both cases the blurbs are quotes by the established authors - Vreeland is a popular art fiction novelist, while Alexander is a well-known historical mystery fiction writer. As a matter of fact, in order to convince the potential reader of the ad‐ vantages of the given book, publishers prefer to either cite opinions of renowned authors or articles published in popular and authoritative newspapers and mag‐ azines, hoping that the reader’s decision to buy the product might be influenced by the celebrity endorsement in the blurbs. Giving insight into the contents of the books, only one of the above-quoted blurbs refers to the intermedial nature of the narrative - promising an “escape into the world of exquisite paintings” depicted in MV - which undoubtedly makes the description more precise and thus more likely to attract the target readership. With regard to back cover blurbs, there is one blurb on the back cover of WV, reading as follows: “With deft brush strokes, Elizabeth Robards creates a wonderfully vivid portrait of the dawn of Impressionism” by Tracy Grant, author of Beneath a Silent Moon - a part of the blurb is further quoted on the front cover as we have seen while discussing genre indication (“A Novel of the Dawn of Impressionism”). The back cover of MV, on the other hand, introduces three blurbs: 1) “Plunges the reader into the volatile mix of art and political intrigue in 1860s Paris” (Pamela Aidan, author of An Assembly Such as This); 2) “As vivid, 74 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="75"?> bold, and seductive as a Manet painting” (Eleanor Herman, author of Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge); and 3) “Rich with drama” (Susanne Dunlap, author of Emilie’s Voice). Finally, the reader is provided with four praising pieces on the back cover of TPG: 1) “The ethereal ballerina from Degas’s famed sculpture Little Dancer Aged Fourteen comes to life in this richly imagined novel” (Entertainment Weekly); 2) “Cathy Marie Buchanan paints the girls who spring from the page as vibrantly as a dancer’s leap across a stage” (Susan Vreeland, The Washington Post); 3) “[A] deeply imagined histor‐ ical novel … the Belle Époque comes to vibrant, often aching life” (Chicago Tribune); and 4) “Deeply moving and inventive … A tribute to the beauty of sisterly love” (People). The only exception among the book covers in question is the cover of LOTBP as it does not contain blurbs on either front or back. As it can be seen in the image below two blurbs are printed in the endpaper section instead: “A vivid novel that brings to life Renoir’s masterpiece… done with a flourish worthy of Renoir himself ” (USA Today) and “A fascinating glimpse into a lively era, into the Impressionist movement, and into the creative processes of [one of] history’s most revered artists” (The Boston Globe). A possible explana‐ tion for this might be that the reproduction of the entire painting occupies both front and back covers, running over the spine, thus leaving very little space for the textual fragments, but this will be discussed in further detail later in the present chapter. Though the blurbs for LOTBP do not appear on the book cover, and hence do not belong to the actual zone of peritext, I have nevertheless de‐ cided to include them in my analysis. All the blurbs quoted above share a similar rhetorical structure, consisting mainly of two moves: description, which fulfils an informative function, and evaluation, which performs an affective function (Gea Valor 51-2). First of all, let us consider description, which, according to Gea Valor usually means “a summary of the book’s contents, […] [and] if the book involves a story (fiction, crime, thriller), the plot and the characters are usually described” (48). Thus, for example, the blurbs reveal to the reader that MV is full of drama which unfolds around art and politics in 1860s Paris; TPG portrays the ballerina who models for Degas’s famous sculpture Little Dancer Aged Fourteen and tells the story of sisterly love during the period of the Belle Époque; WV gives an account of the beginning of the Impressionist movement; and, finally, LOTBP narrates the story of the creative process behind Renoir’s masterpiece and offers an insight into Impressionism. Along with the indication of period of time in which the narra‐ tives are set (1860s, the Belle Époque, the beginning of Impressionism) the blurbs also establish reference to the artists, their work and even their models. The central character in TPG, for instance, is said to be Degas’s model, a ballerina 75 3.1. Verbal Elements <?page no="76"?> who poses for his statuette Little Dancer Aged Fourteen. What seems important is the wording of this blurb - “the ethereal ballerina from Degas’s […] sculpture […] comes to life” - which assuredly creates an allusion to the myth of Pygma‐ lion and Galatea and is thus intended to attract the attention of the well-in‐ formed reader. By the same token, LOTBP is said to revolve around Renoir, his way of working and his masterpiece, which (similarly to Degas’s statuette in TPG) is claimed to be brought to life in the novel. Self-evidently such promises of making actually existing static, mute images live and speak on the pages of the novels arouse the reader’s interest and thus their desire to purchase the books. Last but not least, an indication of the artist is found in the blurb for MV, in which the novel is in fact compared to a Manet painting, described as “vivid, bold, and seductive”. And again, I find the choice of evaluative adjectives quite amusing and by no means fortuitous. As far as I am concerned, each of the adjectives suggests a reference not to any but to a particular painting - Manet’s Olympia, which is distinguished as a vivid or realistic depiction of a contempo‐ rary seductive courtesan with a bold confrontational gaze. This reference is cer‐ tainly also reinforced by the image displayed on the book cover - a reproduction of Olympia - which will be discussed further in the present chapter. Apart from direct indications of the art movement, identification of the artists and allusions to their artworks, blurbs make extensive use of vocabulary widely used in art discourse, meaning words such as art, artist, paint, painting, sculpture, masterpiece, work of art, portrait, brush stroke and creative process. Moreover, taking references to art even further, some reviewers use art metaphors to invite the transformation of novelists into painters. Thus, Tracy Grant points out that Robards is the creator of a portrait of Impressionism made with skilful brush‐ work: “with deft brush strokes, Elizabeth Robards creates a […] vivid portrait of the dawn of Impressionism”; while Susan Vreeland identifies Buchanan as a painter of the girls: “Cathy Marie Buchanan paints the girls”. One of the reasons for applying illustrious art discourse vocabulary and writer-painter inspired met‐ aphors is the nature of art fictional narratives, which require establishing links to the world of art central to the plot. Yet it is my contention that another reason is in fact the publisher’s intention to emphasise the intermediality of the novels, making them stand out as an individual style or category of literature about art. The second move in the rhetorical structure of the blurb is evaluation - the review excerpts recommend the books by means of emphasising and praising their qualities as well as the qualities of their authors, seeking to persuade the audience that the book is worth reading and encourage the purchase. In order to represent books positively the reviewers resort not only to an ample variety of descriptive vocabulary but also to a series of linguistic conventions that are 76 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="77"?> seen as typical of advertising discourse, such as complimenting (complimenting the book or the author) and ellipsis. In complimenting the book, blurbs use pos‐ itive evaluative adjectives and intensifying adverbs in abundance, usually making an appeal to “the emotions by underlining the effects of the book on the reader, that is, what he/ she will feel when reading the book in question” (Gea Valor 52). Thus, for example, TPG is described as a “captivating story”, “deeply and richly imagined” as well as “deeply moving and inventive novel”; MV is char‐ acterised as engaging and engrossing, a “magnificent escape into the world of exquisite paintings…”, a vivid, bold and seductive novel that is “rich with drama”; and LOTBP is distinguished as a vivid novel offering a “fascinating glimpse into a lively era”. On the other hand, when complimenting the author, praise mostly focuses on the author’s achievements as a writer and/ or their style. In the blurbs for WV, TPG and DFD the novelists (Elizabeth Robards, Cathy Marie Buchanan and Kathryn Wagner respectively) are either seen as artists themselves working on a book as a painter on a blank canvas, creating “a wonderfully vivid portrait of the dawn of Impressionism” (WV) and painting “girls who spring from the page as vibrantly as a dancer’s leap across a stage” (TPG), or as art critics who interpret the meaning of the artwork, “imagin[ing] how layers of meaning per‐ vade works of art” (DFD). In order to exert a stronger impact on the reader, the majority of the blurbs make use of elliptical syntactic patterns, especially verbal ellipsis (entailing de‐ letion of the lexical verb) or ellipsis of the subject (involving omission of the subject noun). Among the blurbs verbal ellipsis, however, occurs more fre‐ quently than ellipsis of the subject - for seven instances of verbal ellipsis there is only one instance of ellipsis of the subject: Verbal ellipsis: - “A captivating story of fate, tarnished ambition, and the ultimate triumph of sister-love” (TPG) - “Deeply moving and inventive … A tribute to the beauty of sisterly love” (TPG) - “[A] deeply imagined historical novel…” (TPG) - “Engaging and engrossing, a magnificent escape into the world of exqui‐ site paintings, political intrigue, and grand passion” (MV) - “As vivid, bold, and seductive as a Manet painting” (MV) - “Rich with drama” (MV) - “A fascinating glimpse into a lively era, into the Impressionist movement, and into the creative processes of [one of] history’s most revered artists” (LOTBP) 77 3.1. Verbal Elements <?page no="78"?> Ellipsis of the subject: - “Plunges the reader into the volatile mix of art and political intrigue in 1860s Paris” (MV) By making the text more emphatic, ellipses aim to attract readers’ attention and stimulate their interest in the books - this is what makes blurbs similar to ad‐ vertising slogans and headlines, which, as Gea Valor states, “tend to be as simple and direct as possible to catch the reader’s eye” (55). Not only their simplicity and directness position blurbs closer to advertising but also their brief and con‐ cise nature. On the one hand, elliptical syntactic patterns function as cohesive devices, which contribute to the efficiency and compactness of a text. On the other, they imitate spoken discourse - reproducing the speaker’s intended avoidance of repetition of words by their exclusion - in order to establish a confidential relationship with the implied reader. According to Carter et al., ellipsis can be used deliberately to “create an illusion of closeness […]. The reader is forced to adopt the same position towards the writer that a speaker would adopt to a close friend in conversation” (176). Hence, ellipsis operates as a “binding factor because ties between writer and reader are strengthened through the work that the reader has to do to fill the gaps” (176). While in advertising the success of communication depends on the receiver’s ability to fill in the missing gaps and decode the message, in blurbs ellipses are primarily persuasive, that is, by creating a sense of informality and closeness blurbs aim to impress and compel the reader to agree with the praise of the book and eventually en‐ courage them to buy the product. 3.2. Visual Elements One of the most obvious and effortless ways to create intermediality between a literary work and art is to integrate actual illustrations (such as reproductions of paintings) into the narrative, making the verbal and the visual elements physically co-present within the product. Therefore, most commonly contem‐ porary art fiction exploits visual images in the zone of peritext. Since in the case of art fiction, the cover illustration either relates to or is an actual reproduction of an artwork re-presented in the novel, the visual mode comments on the verbal mode and vice versa. By integrating visual images, art fictional narratives not only claim their intermedial status but also identify characters (be they the models for the painting, the artist or the art object itself) as well as determine the content and the setting of the story. 78 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="79"?> 4 The interpictorial mode of insertion of pictorial images in the narrative is further dis‐ cussed in the next chapter of the present study. Using terminology suggested by Louvel, I distinguish between two modes of insertion of pictorial images in art fiction, namely, “interpictoriality” 4 (when a pictorial image is ekphrastically described) and “parapictoriality” (when a pic‐ torial image appears in the paratext) (56). As in the selected novels one of the pictorial images alluded to in the text (ekphrastic re-presentation) and the image exhibited in the paratext (visual representation) are the same, one may speak of a dual representation. Such dualism is called for by the text and is intended by the publisher, who seeks to attract readers’ attention. In discussing parapictor‐ iality, Louvel points out that the strong presence of the image around the text fulfils a mnemonic and didactic function: it draws attention to one of the components of the text, namely historiog‐ raphy, as well as to its aesthetic connection. The image re-presents the work of art evoked by the text to the reader who might not know it or who might have forgotten it, thus enabling the reader to have it in mind when needed. Moreover, when the works of art are canonical and widely acknowledged for their aesthetic value, they immedi‐ ately endow the book with a status of art object through a kind of metonymic shift. Before s/ he even feels desire to read the novel, the potential reader, intrigued by [the image], will try to find out about the model’s story [or the art object itself]. (69) The basis of Louvel’s argument is that by re-presenting artworks mentioned in the text, cover illustrations make the images consciously present in readers’ minds (either introducing readers to a new image or assisting their memory of already known artworks) before the readers re-encounter them in the narrative. Additionally, as is further noted, if the artwork quoted on the cover is widely recognised, it adds aesthetic value to the book itself, elevating its status to an art object through a metonymic shift. This is an interesting take in view of art fiction, particularly within the book selection of the present study, as the fame of French Impressionism is difficult to surpass. Impressionism is an art move‐ ment that invariably pleases viewers and consistently draws record crowds to art exhibitions; it feels comfortably familiar, even to those with a cursory knowl‐ edge of or interest in art. The result of the art movement being so popular is a surprisingly easy, if not an instant, recognition of the artworks. The more well-known pictorial sources selected as cover illustrations are, the more likely they are to excite readers’ attention. The images selected as cover illustrations for the novels analysed in the present study are good examples of such almost 79 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="80"?> 5 Manet, Édouard. Olympia, 1863, oil on canvas, 130 x 190 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 6 Manet, Édouard. Le Repos (Repose), 1869, oil on canvas, 147 x 111 cm, Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, RI, USA. 7 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Le déjeuner des canotiers (Luncheon of the Boating Party), 1880-1881, oil on canvas, 1.3 m x 1.73 m, The Phillips Collection, Washington D.C., USA. 8 Degas, Edgar. Two Ballet Dancers, c. 1879, pastel and gouache on paper, 46 x 66 cm, Shelburne Museum, Shelburne, VT, USA. 9 Degas, Edgar. Danseuses bleues (Dancers in Blue), 1890, oil on canvas, 85.3 x 75.3 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. immediately identified works of art: there are Olympia  5 (MV), Le repos  6 (WV), Le déjeuner des canotiers  7 (LOTBP), Two Ballet Dancers  8 (TPG) and Danseuses bleues  9 (DFD). By displaying reproductions of Impressionist figure paintings (or prominent details of the paintings) on covers, the novels trigger a metonymic reading: once acknowledged by the reader, the painting becomes a characteristic element of the book, which involves a shift from the image to the narrative. In other words, the quoted artwork is used to stand in for the content of the book, hence introducing the book as an artwork to the reader. It is my contention that although the above-mentioned books do not become art objects per se due to their cover illustrations, they are associated with popular Impressionist figure paintings, making the reader wonder about story behind them. It can thus be suggested that, similarly to the persuasive function of blurbs, parapictoriality exerts a seductive effect on potential readers, arousing their interest in the image and the book it introduces, motivating them to reflect on the artwork, the models, even the artist and encouraging the possible purchase. Let us now turn to the cover illustrations of the selected novels and analyse the way the images are visually represented and integrated with the textual components of the peritext. In the HarperCollins edition of WV, we see a cropped image of Le repos. The reproduction is cropped in such a way that the model’s face is not fully exposed to the viewer - it shows only one of Berthe’s eyes, a thin line of her nose and just a corner of her lips. Such an arrangement creates an impression of the model hiding or disguising something. In Western culture a face is believed to mirror a person’s character, personality and even emotion‐ ality. Hiding the face is therefore usually associated with being shy, having low self-esteem, lacking confidence or concealing something, especially if ashamed of something. Another deeply symbolic meaning is attributed to people’s eyes, which are often seen as a gateway into the soul, and are associated with such notions as light, diligence, intelligence, moral conscience and honesty. Hence, covering or hiding the eyes could imply concealing the truth, indicate an act of deceit or signal the person’s feelings of guilt. Having read the novel, one knows 80 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="81"?> of Berthe’s split identity issues (the constant struggle between her Propriety and Olympia - the former appealing to social norms, the latter invoking the for‐ bidden) and the resulting patterns of behaviour. It is not coincidental that Ber‐ the’s white dress occupies almost the entire front cover, while neither her hands nor feet are visible to the reader. In the novel, once the painting is put on display, it becomes the subject of speculation about the nature of the relationship the artist and the model share. The reason for it is that art critics detect a certain resemblance between two of Manet’s figure paintings, Le Repos and Olympia through some parallels between seemingly different poses of the female figures, both “sprawled, seductively and inviting” (WV 261, emphasis in original). Special attention is devoted to the models’ feet - the critics identify a parallelism be‐ tween the contrast created, on the one hand, between Victorine’s feet (barefoot versus wearing a slipper), on the other, between the Catholic symbolism of Ber‐ the’s white dress and the frivolous disclosure of her black shoe. Further attention is paid to the models’ hand gestures, between which art critics draw appropriate analogies: both Victorine’s hand pulling away the coverlet, thus revealing her nakedness, and her other hand vulgarly resting on the mons pubis invite com‐ parison to the way Berthe is holding a closed fan (removing it from and hence revealing her face to the viewer) and the way her hand is settled on the divan as if inviting the viewer to join her. It could therefore be assumed that, by drawing the viewers’ attention to model’s white gown yet hiding her hands and feet and shielding half of her face, the cover illustration intentionally cloaks the main character in mystery. While the image clearly alludes to one aspect of Berthe’s personality (her conventional Propriety), it nevertheless hints at her second nature (her sensual, rebellious and adventurous Olympia) that is care‐ fully concealed from the viewer in the cover illustration. Another interesting detail of WV’s front cover is the flowery imagery at‐ tached to the main illustration. Added on top of the reproduction on the front cover and appearing on both the back cover and the spine, the cartoon images of violets are not used simply as fictional embroidery warning the reader that the book is in fact a work of fiction. In the upper right corner the violets veil the model’s hand in which she holds the red fan. As discussed above, this could be intended by the cover design, which intentionally conceals those details of the figure painting that later in the novel are perceived as references to Manet’s Olympia and thus reveal the second aspect of Berthe’s split identity. Therefore, the image of the violets serves a formative function on the front cover. Moreover, the flowery ornaments establish an essential link to the title of the book: in addition to being an important and recurrent detail of several of the re-presented paintings in the narrative (Manet’s portraits of Berthe and a still life), the bou‐ 81 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="82"?> 10 Manet, Édouard. Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes (Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets), 1872, 55 x 38 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. quet of violets also plays a significant role in the storyline proper. It is the bou‐ quet of blue violets - which Édouard sends to Berthe both as an apology for his indifferent behaviour and as a confirmation of his true feelings - that convinces the heroine to visit the artist’s studio again and eventually sit for another por‐ trait. Consequently, this bouquet of violets also gives the artist an opportunity to create a new painting, Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes, 10 which also features the same flowers. Furthermore, the novel exploits the symbolic meaning of flowers - violets connote the idea of love: “Édouard is as bold as the blue violets he sends early the next morning. An unsigned note accompanies the flowers. It simply says: I care. […] Blue violets. I try not to think about the symbolic meaning - love. I know it is not coincidence” (WV 255). Taking the symbolic meaning of love into account, it may therefore be suggested that the title of the novel implies a similar understanding - with love. The front cover of WV is a good example of how the visual and verbal elements collaborate in order to express various nuances of meaning of the book, relating to the character and the storyline sufficiently only to intrigue the reader yet not enough to reveal the any of the essentials. The first paper edition of WV (2005) published by Five Star (see below), on the other hand, features different images to the HarperCollins edition. The main illustration is in fact a reproduction of Manet’s Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes, the painting to which, as discussed earlier, the novel probably owes its title. This painting is re-presented at the very end of the novel (it is the last portrait of Berthe that Manet paints) and unlike Le repos it does not cause any controversy in its interpretation. In fact, this portrait determines the transition of Bethe’s character, declaring the resolution of Morisot’s identity crisis and culminating in her intimate relationships with Manet. That is probably why, although cropped at the top and omitting the hat the model is wearing, this image is selected by the publisher to introduce the reader to the main character - exposing the model’s face in order to show Berthe as a fully developed per‐ sonality, the strong and independent character she becomes towards the end of the novel. 82 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="83"?> 11 “About Peter Pettergrew.” Pettergrew.com, 20 October 2017 http: / / pettegrew.com/ about/ . Figure 6: Robards, Elizabeth. With Violets. Waterville, Maine: Five Star, 2005. As far as the other illustrations embellishing the front and the back covers of the Five Star edition of WV are concerned, both are landscapes by the contem‐ porary Impressionist artist Peter Pettergrew, 11 who was commissioned by Ro‐ bards to create paintings for the cover. Turning to MV published by Three Rivers Press, it must be noted that both the front and back covers feature elements of Olympia. While the front cover only zooms in on the central figure of the painting, exposing the model’s face and torso, the back displays almost the entire reproduction of the painting, in‐ cluding both of the female figures (who, in accordance with the novel, are Vic‐ 83 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="84"?> 12 In both representations of the female nude the same detail is missing, namely, Olympia’s reddish-brown hair falling on her left shoulder. A possible reason for that could be the unsatisfactory quality of the reproduction, in which it is difficult to recognise the fig‐ ure’s hair against the bark burnished colour of the background. 13 The title of re-presented painting - known as Olympia - will be discussed in more detail in chapter three of the present study. torine and Toinette). 12 Moreover, from the back cover the image stretches over to the spine of the book, singling out and hence emphasising another important detail of the original painting, namely the image of the black cat, whose symbolic meaning and consequent impact on the reader’s perception of the book will be discussed further. One interesting element is the choice of illustrations and their location on the front cover. The central image is of Victorine, the main character of the novel. The reader sees only the upper part of the model’s body, which is enough to make a necessary link to Manet’s notorious masterpiece and, on the one hand, arouse the reader’s curiosity, and, on the other, accentuate the importance of the character proper and clearly define the role that the painting she is repre‐ sented in plays in the novel. Victorine’s naked body serves as a canvas onto which the title of the novel is painted: the words Mademoselle Victorine appear in the model’s chest area, with letters ‘l’ and ‘t’ conveniently covering the nip‐ ples, hence serving a censoring function and making the book look more ap‐ propriate for the market. The fact that the title is located in the chest area of the model could also be explained by the publisher’s intention to reveal the depicted person’s identity, making Victorine wear a nametag as if to declare to the reader: ‘I am Mademoiselle Victorine.’ Not only does the title refer to the name of the main character, but it also quotes the title of the represented painting as claimed in the novel. 13 The selected element of Olympia on the front cover is free from the original dark background of the painting, most commonly interpreted as Olympia’s bed‐ room or a parlour where she receives her clients. Instead, the background of the front cover is occupied with an emblematic (and therefore instantly recognis‐ able) image of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. Both images are linked together by a partially visible golden frame. What is interesting is that while the monument seems to be entirely framed, Victorine’s shoulder slips over the border of the frame - possibly signalling to the reader that in the novel the model will also ‘live’ beyond the canvas of the painting. It is difficult not to think about the symbolic meaning that such a background assigns to the depicted figure. The monument was commissioned by Emperor Napoleon in 1806 to commemorate numerous victories of the French army and to honour those who fought for 84 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="85"?> France during the Napoleonic Wars. The Arc de Triomphe became a symbol of power and unity of the nation as well as a revered patriotic site. Moreover, due to its geographical location - the arch is situated almost in the middle of a series of major historic monuments starting from the Louvre and reaching the out‐ skirts of Paris - the Arc de Triomphe is recognised as the linchpin of the historic axis. It may therefore be assumed that using an image of the Arc de Triomphe as the background to Manet’s legendary depiction of a modern courtesan creates certain implications for the cover as a whole. First of all, the illustration of the Arc de Triomphe clearly indicates the location or rather the setting of the entire novel - Paris, France. Secondly, included in the frame of the reproduction and replacing Olympia’s parlour with a view of one of the most illustrious monu‐ ments of the city, the front cover may allude to the fact that Victorine is a public woman, a prostitute serving the members of Parisian society. Furthermore, not only the image of the Arc de Triomphe but also the very name Victorine - derived from the Latin victoria (victory) - contain explicit references to such concepts as power, control and dominance, or in other words, point to the idea of both Mademoiselle Victorine as a character and a homonymous painting conquering Paris and its society. Finally, it is my contention that the change of the background of the painting is intended to transmit a simple message, namely, that just like the Arc de Triomphe Manet’s painting is a monument of art that has also become an iconic symbol of Paris and France. The front cover of the translated Hungarian edition of MV published by Geopen (Figure 7) duplicates the front cover design of Three Rivers Press edition in that it also displays the central figure - zooming on the model’s face and torso, only slightly cutting off her right elbow - with her shoulder slipping over the painting border created by a similar golden frame. In this edition, however, no changes are made to the original background of the painting, which is probably the reason why the detail of Olympia’s hair is also not lost in this reproduction. Finally, the background of the reproduction allows for the title of the novel to be located above the depicted figure, liberating the image of a naked female figure of somewhat superfluous censure. 85 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="86"?> Figure 7: Finerman, Debra. Mademoiselle Victorine. Budapest: Geopen, 2008. The back cover of MV (Three Rivers Press edition) provides the reader with a reproduction of the same painting, yet this time it displays almost the entire composition - only slightly cutting off the left-hand side and bottom of the original painting in order to place the focus onto two main figures: Victorine, presented fully figured, and Toinette, a black maid, who is offering her mistress a gift of flowers, presumably sent by one of her lovers. Once again the repro‐ duction of the painting is devoid of the original background, which this time is substituted by a simple blue colour that functions as a text field for both the book description and blurbs. The green curtain, a detail of the original painting, is also quoted on the back cover, yet, moved to the upper left corner of the cover, it seems to be oddly detached from the figures. In terms of the possible reasons for cutting out and rearranging the details, it may be suggested that the collage technique helps the publisher to shape the spatial layout of the cover, on the one hand providing the space needed to display the verbal elements, while on the other designing a framed scene which echoes the composition of the original painting. The latter is of special interest as the illustration as a whole creates an illusion of theatre - the curtain is open, unveiling the scene portrayed by the characters performing on stage. The reader is therefore to understand that both female figures are featured in the novel. Moreover, the theatrical effect enhances the idea that the depicted figures will be telling a story, possibly acting out the story of the painting and its creator or recounting a story of the models featured in this painting. 86 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="87"?> The final element to be considered is the image of a black feline, which is singled out on the spine of the book. Not only does a black cat traditionally symbolize prostitution in visual art, but also the very word ‘cat’ in French slang (la chatte and its diminutive le minou) is used to refer to female genitalia. It is obvious that in the painting this detail is used to portray Olympia, implicitly referring to her sexuality, indicating her professional field and hence reinforcing the intended meaning of the artwork. Therefore, selected as an illustration for the cover yet located on the spine, the black cat may be perceived as yet another visual representation of Victorine, introducing the main character of the novel on three ‘facades’ of the book, namely, its front and back covers as well as the spine. Similar to the book cover of MV (Three Rivers Press edition), the cover of the softcover Penguin edition of LOTBP (Figure 5) makes use of all of its physical space, adopting the reproduction of Renoir’s Le déjeuner des canotiers as the only illustration and exposing it in its unity across the front and the back covers and the spine of the book - thus achieving the totality of the representation of the artwork. There is no artificial framing of the illustration, which, as in the case of MV, would indicate that the illustration is in fact a reproduction of a painting, and there are no margins or other traces of the actual cover. The physical borders of the cover become the actual borders of the quoted image, only slightly cutting off the periphery of the painting though not depriving it of any of the depicted detail. All the textual elements (with the exception of genre indication) appear on sign boards on the canvas, hiding some of the details from the viewer, yet not disturbing the feeling of unity and continuity of the image. The borderless cover illustration seems to swallow the book, physically becoming an essential part of its content and hence leaving potential readers with the impression of a novel that tells a story, a real story about the depicted group of people spending time together at the river Seine. The publisher’s choice to wrap the book cover with a single image is probably governed by the fact that the title of the novel is actually the title of the artwork itself. Indeed, not only does the narrative revolve around this one painting but it is also structured by the very process of its making - the novel starts with Renoir deciding to create the painting and finishes with its completion after eight Sunday luncheons spent in a company of the artist’s friends at the Maison Fournaise. None of the details (either the depicted figures or objects) is singled out on the book cover - just like in the painting all of them assume equal im‐ portance on the cover. While the story of creating Le déjeuner des canotiers occupies the novel from the very beginning to the end, all the depicted figures (including the artist himself) become the protagonists, stories of whose lives 87 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="88"?> and endeavours embellish the narrative and allow reader’s much deeper and broader understanding of the re-presented artwork. In contrast, in the hardcover Thorndike Press edition of LOTBP (Figure 8) only the front cover features an illustration of Renoir’s artwork, which is again rep‐ resented as a whole. Yet, this time it is framed as an oval that is cropped on both the right and left edges. The oval form reminds us of a camera lens that zooms in on the depicted figures. It can thus be suggested that the created camera lens effect enhances the idea of the novel telling a story about the painting and its models, inviting readers to experience the painting in a way that is similar to the process of watching a film, gradually discovering the unfolding of its story. Elaborating further on the concept of lenses and examining the meaning of the idiom ‘through the lens’, it may be concluded that while the front cover pre-de‐ fines the focus of the lens, it also makes it clear that the reader’s acquaintance with the artwork is conditioned by the novelist’s subjective cultural and expe‐ riential lens. In other words, the reader’s perception and interpretation of the re-presented artwork is guided by the author’s individual perception and inter‐ pretation thereof. Figure 8: Vreeland, Susan. Luncheon of the Boating Party. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press, 2007. With regard to the covers of the novels about Degas, the front covers of both DFD (Bantam Books Trade Paperbacks edition) and TPG (Riverhead Books edi‐ tion) show reproductions of Degas’s paintings of ballerinas; however, neither of them is directly alluded to or re-presented in the novels and hence neither de‐ picts the actual characters. While both cover illustrations unequivocally set the 88 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="89"?> 14 Degas, Edgar. La danseuse chez le photographe (Dancer at the Photographer’s Studio), 1875, oil on canvas, 65 x 50 cm, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow, Russia. novels in the context of ballet they also provide readers with an explicit reference to the artist and his paintings. Moreover, for a more knowledgeable reader these images convey an implicit message about the way Degas perceives and repre‐ sents dancers in his art in general - Degas’s distinctive perception and rather peculiar representation of ballet dancers become the focal points for the inter‐ pretation of the re-presented artworks in both narratives. The cover illustration of DFD is the reproduction of a fragment of Danseuses bleues - a ballerina is shown getting ready for a performance, adjusting her costume and her hair (the same model is depicted four times in four different positions). As has been mentioned above, there is no indication in the narrative that Alexandrie is the one who poses for the painting and thus the image is not intended to relate to the character of the model. Instead, it establishes a clear reference to the artist and his work ethics - with the help of the image, and later also the narrative, the reader is made aware of the artist’s inclination to use the same model for many of his sketches, pastels and paintings. It is likely that Degas’s painting of a ballerina caught off-stage, getting ready for her entrance, is chosen for the cover for the purpose of giving readers an additional insight into the story, namely, revealing that in order to create such a painting the artist is most probably allowed to observe backstage activity at the Paris Opera. In view of this, the location of the title of the novel within the quoted image is of special interest: it is placed across the dancer’s tutu skirt and is emphasised by the same golden wavy lines that establish a sort of a frame for the title, making it stand out more against the background of the cover. Such an arrangement unveils one of the possible meanings of the title, namely, that for Degas dancing does not only consist of the actual performance on stage but includes the nec‐ essary preparatory stages as well. A qualitatively different effect is produced with the front cover of a translated Romanian edition of DFD (Figure 9), which features a mirrored reproduction of La danseuse chez le photographe. 14 89 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="90"?> 15 Degas, Edgar. Little Dancer Aged Fourteen (La Petite Danseuse de quatorze ans or Grande Danseuse habillée), 1878-1881, sculpture (pigmented beeswax, clay, metal armature, rope, paintbrushes, human hair, silk and linen ribbon, cotton faille bodice, cotton and silk tutu, linen slippers, on wooden base), overall without base: 98.9 x 34.7 x 35.2 cm, weight: 22.226 kg, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon. Figure 9: Wagner, Kathryn. Dansatoarea lui Degas. Bucharest: Humanitas Fiction, 2013. Similar to the Bantam Books Trade Paperbacks edition this cover illustration is not one of the paintings re-presented or alluded to in the novel, hence it also does not depict the main character, Alexandrie. The image shows a ballerina at a studio with a view opening on Paris. Although removed from her natural environment of the Opera, she is wearing a stage costume and seems to be performing a dance move. The performance, however, is meant for a single viewer, the artist himself. Thus, cooperating with the visual element, the title here implies that the act of dancing for Degas is in fact posing for the artist rather than performing ballet on stage. The front cover of TPG is embellished with two illustrations that merge into each other: at the top there is a picture of the back of woman’s head, neck and shoulders, which serve as background to the image at the bottom - a reproduc‐ tion of Two Ballet Dancers. While neither of the images refers to the actual char‐ acter of Degas’s model Marie van Goethem (who is the model for Degas’s sculp‐ ture Little Dancer Aged Fourteen), 15 both play a significant role in understanding the portrayed character of the artist and, most importantly, his art. In applying a biographical approach to the persona of the artist, Buchanan describes Degas’s penchant for portraying dancers off stage, free from the kempt appearances they 90 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="91"?> maintain while performing, and his interest in studying ballerinas’ unrehearsed spontaneous movements. The artist is eager to depict dancers as ‘real’ people in their ‘real’ lives, showing them simply as young girls, unmasking their tiredness and weakness. And this is exactly the message that the title, so organically linked with the double image of the painted girls on the front cover, intends to transmit. While the link to both the world of ballet and the strenuous effort it requires of the dancers is established with Degas’s Two Ballet Dancers, which depicts two ballerinas sitting on a bank stretching, resting after or during the rehearsal, the picture of a woman’s buttocks, on which the title of the novel seems to be en‐ graved, contains an explicit reference to the ‘realness’ of the dancers. In the upper right corner of the front cover there is an illusion of a golden frame. In a thin line stretching down just enough to include the illustration of a woman’s behind, this frame reinforces the idea of the ‘realness’ of the ballet dancers as if assuring the reader that it is a ‘real’ girl who is framed in the painting. In contrast to Riverhead Books, the Harper Perennial edition of TPG (Figure 10) opts for a more straightforward message - while using a picture of the torso of Degas’s sculpture Little Dancer Aged Fourteen as a cover illustration, it ex‐ plicitly alludes to the main character of the novel, who inspires the artist and models for the statuette. Although the chosen image indicates the artwork that is later re-presented in the text and introduces the reader to the model, it does not engage in any dialogue with the title of the novel. In fact, there is not only a substantial imbalance between the word painted, which presupposes some‐ thing reproduced or represented in paint (two-dimensional art), and the picture of a sculpture, which is the result of carving or modelling (three-dimensional art), but also an apparent discrepancy between the plurality of the word girls and singularity of the depicted statuette. Such logical inconsistency between the verbal and the visual elements, in my opinion, leads to impoverishing if not marring altogether the overall effect and impact of the front cover. 91 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="92"?> Figure 10: Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Painted Girls. New York: Harper Perennial, 2014. Cover illustration is a universal and essential component of a contemporary book cover. However, just like with the book binding design in general, authors rarely have an influence on the choice of the integrated images. The established paratextual references to the content of the book, characters or style of the nar‐ rative are the prerogative of the publisher, whose decision is commonly gov‐ erned by pragmatism of the cover illustration helping to attract a potential au‐ dience, and generate and boost book sales. Drew and Sternberger point out that “when a text is published and the book is designed and printed, it becomes a physical manifestation not just of the ideas of the author, but of the cultural ideals and aesthetics of a distinct historical moment” (8). That means that the book cover should be seen as a product of the society and a reflection of the aesthetic and cultural assumptions of a particular point of history. Contempo‐ rary visual culture is distinguished by easy if not unlimited public access to pictorial sources, leading to an endless recycling of images in various sources, literature being no exception. The situation with book covers of art fiction about French Impressionists is especially interesting as the narrative seems not just to narrow down the possible options of the images the publishers select from (that is, being committed to using reproductions of artworks by the artist who is represented as a character in the novel, as is the case with TPG and DFD) but also to impose the use of a particular image (one that is verbally re-presented and is the thematic centre of the narrative, as is the case with LOTBP, MV and WV). Moreover, taking into account the immense popularity and immediate recognition of the French Impressionists’ works of art and, most importantly, the continuing interest they generate among viewers, it is not surprising that 92 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="93"?> 16 Since the selected novels belong to the category of actual ekphrasis, the visual dimen‐ sion is always accessible to the reader. However, not every reader would immediately interrupt the reading process in order to find and confirm the corresponding to the text image. With the front cover exhibiting the re-presented artwork the reader is inevitably confronted with the image prior to reading about it, and, thus, forced into experiencing the novel as an intermedial product. the publishers are eager to use reproductions of the well-known paintings as cover illustrations. Such cover illustrations allow the publishers to refer to the artist and his choice of subject (Degas and ballet dancers in TPG and DFD), while at the same time achieving a citational effect between the cover and the artwork evoked in the text (LOTBP, MV and WV) and, thus, tempting the interested reader to purchase the product. It seems important to point out that along with being a representation of the content of the book itself - naming and/ or depicting the characters, implying an artistic movement, indicating the location of the story or even locating the novel in a certain period of time - the front cover of contemporary art fiction functions as a representation of the actual experience of reading the book. In other words, the cover illustration aims to recreate a sense, feeling or an im‐ pression of the content by spatially representing what the reader will experience temporally while reading the book. In this sense, making the cover illustration interact with the viewer, the publisher provides a prospective reader with a preview of the future experience he/ she will acquire through reading. Further‐ more, by furnishing an art fictional narrative with a visual dimension, the front cover seeks to support the reading process, educating the readers by introducing them to or refreshing their memory of a particular image, which is either ver‐ bally re-presented in the text or indicative of a particular artist. According to Albers, the parallel existence of word (verbal re-presentation) and image (visual illustration) “creates a sense of immediacy and pulls readers even more into the story” (31). Her further argument is that to a certain extent, the reader’s “own contribution to the text is hindered as the predetermined information they are confronted with leaves little room for individual cognition and interpretation” (31). I agree with Albers and acknowledge the fact that by giving readers a con‐ crete visual dimension in such immediate physical vicinity of the text the front cover may prevent them from imagining the re-presented artworks, possibly deflecting their attention from the detailed descriptions given, and diminish their active role in the process of understanding of the nuances of the artworks alluded to in the text. 16 However, it is my contention that the interplay between visual illustration and verbal re-presentation activates other skills such as ver‐ ifying the artwork and reflecting on the use of created word and image combi‐ 93 3.2. Visual Elements <?page no="94"?> nations. It is the reader’s ability to experience the same object dually - seeing it visually and ‘seeing’ it verbally - that produces a new dramatic effect of binary perception of the image, which is of absolutely central importance in contem‐ porary intermedial practice. 94 Chapter 3. Communication <?page no="95"?> Chapter 4. Re-presentation 4.1. The Process of Making an Artwork: Labour Contemporary art fiction reveals a common tendency to exhibit the labour that goes into the making an artwork: obtaining inspiration, finding locations and models, choosing colours, applying paints, confirming composition, considering details, dealing with the problems of artistic creation and the like - in other words examining the artist’s intentions in the process of creating an artwork. The artist therefore merges into the narrative as a character, whose aesthetic struggle is mirrored in the process of the creation of an art piece, which gradually comes to life. According to Baxandall, The maker of a picture or other historical artefact is a man addressing a problem of which his product is a finished and concrete solution. To understand it we try to reconstruct both the specific problem it was designed to solve and the specific cir‐ cumstances out of which he was addressing it. This reconstruction is not identical with what he internally experienced: it will be simplified and limited to the concep‐ tualizeable, though it will also be operating in reciprocal relation with the picture itself, which contributes, among other things, modes of perceiving and feeling. (14-15) Combining the cultural and art historical knowledge of the epoch to reconstruct the circumstances of creation with a fictional account of the re-presentation, as well as the character of the artist and his milieu, art fictional narratives exploit the perception of the artwork from a contemporary perspective, going beyond the limits of traditional perception and understanding of a work of art. Moreover, by documenting the actual creating of an artwork, in sometimes more and sometimes less detail, contemporary writers provide the reader with art prov‐ enance in a narrative form on the one hand, while, on the other, they reinforce the very idea of re-presentation through experimental practice. Although the instances of actual ekphrasis of Impressionist figure paintings do not require tracing provenance in order to confirm fictional authenticity, showing the process of creating the paintings allows novelists to contextualise the art object in historical, philosophical and psychological settings (which the re-presented extant images automatically dictate), thus drawing attention to the period of its creation and the nexus of events surrounding it, the idea behind its creation and the personality, ethics, attitudes and ideals of the artist, all of which <?page no="96"?> inevitably influence his/ her art. The provenance of an ekphrastic re-presenta‐ tion also pertains to painting techniques and the style in which the painting is made, thus providing an art historical account of the painting and offering an insight into the art movement in general and Impressionist concepts of repre‐ sentation in particular. At the same time, representing the process of making an actually existing artwork has a rather specific function on the narrative level. It allows a recycling not only of the image but also of the story that occurred in the image, thus going far beyond ekphrastic description. The process of tailoring the painting would generally include anything from compositional adjustments or alterations, modifications of colour or decorations, a change of models or location, the addition or transformation of details as well as their relationships to any accidental decisions the painter makes. This is the type of information that is concealed unless a detailed report of the painting process is given by the artist himself, or the painting has undergone a technical examination that is able to reveal changes that were made directly on the canvas. However, even if found, such evidence is not directly available to the casual observer of an art object on display. Thus, in reading a picture narratively, the observer is limited to the information that is given in the visual properties of the image and can only imagine potential answers to questions there might be about the depicted char‐ acters, their identities, attitudes, thoughts, feelings, reasons for posing, private lives, their relationships with other models or the painter, and the positioning of other details, as well as questions about what preceded or followed the de‐ picted moment in a story and if and how it influenced the image. According to Ryan, Not only do images lack a temporal dimension, they are also unable to represent language and thought, causal relations, counterfactuality, and multiple possibilities. Other limitations include the inability to make comments, provide explanations, and create suspense and surprise, two effects which depend on a time-bound disclosure of information. (273) The limitations of an image therefore create a great number of gaps that impede if not make impossible any complete understanding of an image. However, it is the incompleteness of a pictorial narrative that arouses curiosity and awakens a desire to know more. Writers of contemporary art fiction confirm that the painting is always the ultimate source of inspiration for their work. For example, in discussing what inspired her to write Luncheon of the Boating Party, Susan Vreeland says the following: I yearned to write a novel about Luncheon of the Boating Party the first time I saw it, in 2002 at its permanent home, the Phillips Collection in Washington, DC. I stood for 96 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="97"?> 1 Taken from “Interview for Prentice Hall e-Zine, with editor, Philip Fried, June 15, 2006.” Svreeland.com, 23 July 2015 www.svreeland.com/ lbp-interview.html; . 2 Taken from “Interview for Prentice Hall e-Zine, with editor, Philip Fried, June 15, 2006.” Svreeland.com, 23 July 2015 www.svreeland.com/ lbp-interview.html; . an hour marveling at its beauty and life and sparkle. The interaction of the fourteen figures flushed with pleasure and enjoying a summer day on a terrace overlooking the Seine River captivated me. However, Renoir took pains not to suggest a specific narrative. That begs a novelist to invent one. It began to emerge two years later as I researched Renoir’s life, his artistic crisis at this time, 1880, and the lives of the models, his very real friends. 1 The painting Le déjeuner des canotiers becomes a starting point for creative re‐ flection as well as a concrete visual representation of a joyous moment of la vie moderne in the summer of 1880, in the aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War and the Paris Commune. The novel is positioned as a dramatization - in great detail - of the process of creation of Renoir’s masterpiece. Renoir himself is depicted nearing the age of forty as he conceives, plans and paints Luncheon of the Boating Party. Vreeland introduces the characters involved in the re-presen‐ tation of a boating party, depicts the interaction between models, provides in‐ sights into their lives and shows how they are positioned on the canvas. The models from the painting come alive on the pages of the novel in Vreeland’s masterly portrayals, which introduce their personality, endeavours and atti‐ tudes, and the diversity of their private and social lives. In discussing the char‐ acters depicted in the original painting, Vreeland says the following: When I look at them, I sense them thinking and hear them laughing and singing and crying. I hear Angèle’s earthy slang, feel Alphonsine’s fear that she would never be loved again, Paul’s reckless lust for life, Gustave Caillebotte’s anguish at the conten‐ tion between groups of painters. I empathize with Ellen, the mime of the Folies-Ber‐ gère, in her longing “to say beautiful words, brave words, unforgettable words.” I feel Renoir’s struggle in meeting the challenges of this ambitious painting, and can taste his yearning as if it were my own. 2 Similarly, Kathryn Wagner points out that she examines paintings “less for the technical brushstrokes and more for the story of what inspired the artist […,] the artist’s relationship with a model or how he or she spent time in the land‐ scapes that he or she chose to paint” (“A Conversation” 374). Marie Buchanan also claims to have been influenced by a BBC documentary The Private Life of a Masterpiece: Little Dancer Aged Fourteen, which raises the question of Degas’s wish to exhibit Little Dancer together with his portraits of convicted criminals. 97 4.1. The Process of Making an Artwork: Labour <?page no="98"?> Influenced by the idea that the artist incorporates into his work the idea that physical appearance reflects person’s criminal personality, Buchanan was en‐ couraged to investigate what Degas predicts to be the future of his Little Dancer (“Author’s Note” 392). By taking the reader on a journey around the painting as shown in the process of its making, writers of contemporary art fiction delve deeper into the image and the history within it, proving that artworks are neither static nor un‐ changing. For instance, Vreeland maintains that LOTBP is the way of “living in the painting, learning its lessons of the art of living, and ultimately disseminating its spirit and its sensibilities” (“A Conversation” 5). Art fictional narratives about the process of art making fill in the gaps with plausible information about how the painting came into being, what obstacles the painter had to overcome, how the original idea was born and altered and why; they separate painting into segments, pay attention to details, explain their purposeful and/ or accidental relationship and explore the process from both the artist’s (internal) and the model’s (external) perspectives. As noted by Hepburn, “having survived against the odds of destruction, objects bear the traces of lived history, a history that happens outside museums, a history consequently aggrandized by incident” (5). On the one hand, therefore, the description of the process of creating a painting captures and interprets the temporal unfolding of the story of the painting, which is otherwise seen and perceived only statically by the viewer. The reader-viewer then has an opportunity to consult both media and profit from both the temporal and spatial perspectives, enhancing his/ her aesthetic experi‐ ence by travelling back and forth between the text and the image. The perception of representation through re-presentation becomes a rather dynamic process. By negotiating the details in the painting and commenting on the events sur‐ rounding them, the narrative fills in gaps. This gap-filling information then en‐ riches the meaning that is generated by the artwork. As such, the representation of the process of making the painting suggests a new narrative interpretation of the image. Moreover, it gives additional complexity to the plot since all the decisions that the artist has to make while working on a painting relate one way or the other to the representation of details from the painting, which automat‐ ically become details of the narrative. Not only do these details accentuate the dynamic and experimental activity of the making of art, but they also stimulate the development of the storyline and help to propel the narrative. 98 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="99"?> 3 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Bal au Moulin de la Galette (Dance at Le moulin de la Galette), 1876, oil on canvas, 1.31 m x 1.75 m, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 4.1.1. Inspiration for the Painting The artist’s creative process does not start with the actual making of an artwork - it begins with his/ her searching for or finding the inspiration for it and then coming up with a certain structure or a compositional idea. There are various stimuli that may inspire artists: the artist’s own ideas or an idea acquired from a different painting or a friend; an accident may also inform the creative process; it may also be a combination of such impulses. In LOTBP, for example, it is Alphonsine, the daughter of the owners of the Maison, who offers Renoir an opportunity to paint from the upper terrace of the restaurant Maison Fournaise. The idea is not foreign to him: Paint from here. He was more than amused. He had been telling himself the same thing ever since Fournaise extended the balcony into a wider terrace three years ago, but he’d always postponed the idea. The perspective would be too tricky. He hadn’t known how to convey the sense that the terrace was a part of a building and wasn’t floating in the sky. (8) Unsure about the composition and knowing that it would be a painting merely for his own amusement and therefore unlikely to provide him with remunera‐ tion, Renoir is still reluctant to launch the project. His opinion changes when he reads Zola’s unflattering review of the 1880 Impressionist Exhibition, in which Renoir’s works were not even present. Zola’s critical attack on the style - the unfinished canvases that lack careful preparation or thoughtful composi‐ tion - cuts Renoir to the bone, and he remembers his work Bal au Moulin de la Galette  3 in particular: “Six months’ work and two preliminary oil studies. You can’t lay down thirty heads on a canvas and make it look like a spontaneous moment without long and thoughtful preparation” 11, emphasis in original). It is this review, however, that truly motivates Renoir to give Zola what he wants to see, “la vie moderne at Chatou, as Moulin had been la vie moderne at Montmartre. An encore to Moulin, but this had to surpass Moulin” (12). Renoir is ready to support the Impressionist group by responding to the criticism with a painting “designed to astonish” (12), a work of long and careful consideration that depicts figures, landscape and still life, more than a dozen figures - la vie moderne at Chatou painted with a combination of styles: “It would be an experiment. The faces modelled with more classical techniques, one hue blending seamlessly into another to create shape, but the landscape and still life in looser, distinct strokes. Every figure, every feature a small painting in and of itself ” (13). Renoir comes 99 4.1. The Process of Making an Artwork: Labour <?page no="100"?> 4 Veronese, Paolo. The Marriage Feast at Cana (Nozze di Cana), c. 1562-1563, oil on canvas, 6.77 m x 9.9 m, Louvre, Paris, France. up with the compositional idea for his painting on his next visit to the Louvre when he is marvelling at Veronese’s technical achievement in The Marriage Feast at Cana: 4 There it was, The Marriage Feast at Cana, ten meters wide and nearly seven meters tall. He studied the angles of the U-shaped table positioned broadside in an outdoor pavilion with richly dressed figures balanced right and left according to the Renais‐ sance ideal, gesturing, talking, leaning toward one another. And surrounding them - musicians, jesters, servants, even dogs. The end of the meal, the table opulent with goblets, grapes, sugared fruit. The wine having run out, Christ performs his first miracle, turning the water into wine, and it pours out ruby red from the urns. The festiveness, the wealth of ornament, the splendor of the silks in aquamarine, emerald, carmine, yellow ocher were always astonishing to him. His would use just one angle of tables. He would emulate the close overlapping of figures, several conversations going at once, and the foreshortening, the most difficult perspective to achieve. (23-4) It is indeed likely that Auguste Renoir studied Veronese’s Nozze di Cana in the Louvre and used it as a model for Le déjeuner des canotiers; however, his main interest lay not in the central groupings of people but in “the anonymous guests, the as yet ignorant witnesses to a miracle” (Barbe-Gall 99). Opting for a more complex painting, Renoir anticipates the problems he is to face while meeting the technical challenge of his masterpiece: how to achieve perspective, position the figures, anchor the terrace and convey the river below (LOTBP 13), who the models would be and how often they could pose, what their number should be and how he could manage to keep them all still and “capture the fleeting instant with so many figures” (107) - all of these dilemmas will continue to follow the painter until his work on the painting is finally finished. The artist himself often alludes to the very idea of the painting as an evolving work by describing the subject of the painting as a “meeting place of city and country” (9), envisioning “his friends gathered around the tables after a delicious lunch, flushed with pleasure, enjoying a beautiful day, showing what happens every Sunday. Lei‐ sure. La vie moderne” (9), or while declaring his intentions to Père Fournaise, the owner of the Maison Fournaise: “What would you think if I painted right here? […] I mean a large painting. Lots of people. After one of Louise’s savory luncheons. People enjoying themselves full tilt” (15). He points out that this masterpiece is a portrait of “Parisians at leisure on the river” (15), a painting of 100 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="101"?> “happiness in his time” (22), a “joyful moment in a beautiful day” (34), not “a group portrait […] [but] a scene, a moment in modern life” (34) and “a painting of canotiers on a riverside terrace” (52). While Renoir is trying to convince his friend, Gustave Caillebotte, to pose for him together with other models, he again spells out the main idea of the painting: “A painting of the pleasure of a Sunday afternoon on the Seine. A boating party. See? You belong there” (63); once more in his letter to Jeanne, inviting her to come to pose on Sundays: “I have a painting in mind that begs for your charms, a souvenir for future ages of life as it was lived in the summer of 1880” (23); and, finally, in his letter to Monsieur Bérard revealing the idea and asking him to commission the painting: I have taken upon myself the task to answer Zola’s criticism of the latest Impressionist show, particularly the charge that no masterpiece of complexity and thoughtful prep‐ aration has been painted in the Impressionist vein. I am going to paint boaters on the terrace of La Maison Fournaise in Chatou, which I’ve been itching to do for years. I am getting on, and I don’t want to postpone this little celebration of la vie moderne […] (39) Another implication of the idea behind the painting is made clear when Renoir explains to Madame Tanguy, from whom he buys paints and other painting equipment, that the work on the painting has to start immediately because of the light: “The light. It’s a painting of canotiers on a riverside terrace. In two months the good light on the Seine will be gone by four o’clock” (52). The rep‐ etition of such phrases as “modern life” or “la vie moderne” as well as such words as “lunch” or “luncheon”, “canotiers” and “moment” can easily be detected in the passages quoted above. These repetitions seem to be a constant reminder to the reader of the central idea of the painting; it might therefore be assumed that they serve a constructive function in the narrative. By offering the same focal‐ isation, that is, by emphasising only limited, basic information, they aim not only to familiarise the reader with the painting but also make him/ her feel com‐ fortable with its basic idea. Although such repetitions do not carry the reader any further along in the narrative, they provide additional confirmation of the initial interpretation of the painting, a foundation on which new paradigms of meaning are created at a later stage in the novel. Indeed, Le déjeuner des canotiers, produced at the pinnacle of Auguste Renoir’s career, is intended as a simple restaurant scene, depicting a gathering of the artist’s close friends and acquaintances on a terrace of the Maison Fournaise along the Seine in Chatou. According to Rewald, it is “another effort [along with Le bal au Moulin de la Galette] to seize the animated outdoor mingling of people in an atmosphere glistering with sunshine and joy of living” (456). Rewald points 101 4.1. The Process of Making an Artwork: Labour <?page no="102"?> 5 Manet, Édouard. Le balcon (The Balcony), 1868-1869, oil on canvas, 170 x 124.5 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 6 Goya, Francisco de. Majas on a Balcony (Majas en el balcón), c. 1800-1810, oil on canvas, 194.9 x 125.7 cm, The Met, New York, USA. out that for Auguste Renoir “life was enjoyable, painting was an inseparable part of it and, to create a work of art, a happy mood seemed to him more im‐ portant than any profound remark about the past, present, or future” (203). In Le déjeuner des canotiers Auguste Renoir visualises a social scene, depicting the gaiety of the crowd and class mingling, making the masterpiece seem an opti‐ mistic cultural comment on la vie modern: “It’s a beautiful day, everybody is happy. In the light-hearted good cheer of the end of lunch, nobody is having any deep thoughts about life” (Barbe-Gall 95). In general, therefore, it seems that Vreeland recycles the art critics’ reading of Le déjeuner des canotiers in her art fiction. The allusions that are made to the idea of the painting in the novel not only capture the essence of the painting by revealing widely accepted assump‐ tions of it, but also provide a general commentary on Impressionism as an art movement. In With Violets, Manet finds himself obliged to describe and justify the idea of the project for Le balcon  5 in order to convince Mrs Morisot to allow her daughter Berthe to model: In Bologne, one morning I was out for a stroll and happened upon the most interesting sight. It was a vision. A woman sitting high upon a balcony fanning herself. It re‐ minded me of Goya’s balcony painting. Breathtaking. I saw it in Spain in sixty-five. Are you familiar with the work? […] It is a masterpiece. […] I would be most humbled and most appreciative of you would allow [your daughter] to join Mademoiselle Claus and Monsieur Guillemet in my own re-creation of Goya’s balcony composition. (49) The painting Manet is referring to is Majas on a Balcony.  6 Although the artist claims to have found his inspiration in this very painting, he neither interprets the original, nor makes comments on his own design for Le balcon. The only detail that the reader is alerted to is the figure of a woman with a fan, who might be situated on the balcony. According to Rubin, the reference to Goya’s mas‐ terpiece is “both art-historical - Manet’s perennial dialogue with the art of the past - and ironic - for Manet’s friends were nothing if not outwardly respect‐ able, compared to the courtesans and their companions” (78). The contrast that is created between the two paintings takes the viewer in a new direction; the artist still challenges the past by recreating the scene in a modern light, but there is no provocative irony that Madame Morisot might be so afraid of - this, of course, taking into account the faith of Manet’s infamous Olympia as well as 102 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="103"?> 7 Manet, Édouard. Vase de pivoines sur piédouche (Vase of Peonies on a Small Pedestal), 1864, oil on canvas, 70.2 x 93.2 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. his relationship with the model. Although in the quoted passage the artist does not reinforce the intended idea of ‘respectability’ that he has for the painting, he confirms that by asking Berthe to model for him he means to cause no harm to her reputation: “Mademoiselle, you would come into my studio first as a colleague, second as a model. […] I use that term with all due respect, Madame” (WV 50) and as a result obtains acceptance of his offer. Similar to LOTBP, Robards is reluctant to reveal much about composition - the painting is revisited during the sittings while the work on the details is shown in progress. Such inarticu‐ lateness creates suspense and intensifies the reader’s desire to know more. In another Manet, the character in Mademoiselle Victorine pays a visit to Vic‐ torine (who has already posed for several of his paintings) in her new apartment, which has been paid for by a wealthy protector, Baron de Rothschild. Manet gives her a bouquet of white gardenias in a rectangular, wrapped package, and a housewarming present, a still life of peonies (Vase de pivoines sur piédouche). 7 As Victorine is trying to find a perfect spot for the painting, he experiences a sudden burst of inspiration. Without any hesitation, the artist experiments with his vision and instructs the model to lie down on the divan; he then adjusts her position by placing “her arm behind her head, and cross[ing] her legs at the an‐ kles” (53). The moment is interrupted by the appearance of Toinette, an Afro-Caribbean maid who brings the tea but accidentally offers a further com‐ positional idea for the painting. Manet “grasped Toinette by her shoulders and steered her behind the couch, then pulled a bouquet of flowers [his own present] from a vase and placed them in her arms” (54). Only after having seen the models in their positions is he ready to share his vision: I’ve been thinking about the next Salon, searching for inspiration, and found myself considering Titian’s Venus of Urbino. What if I portrayed a Venus of today? Not an allegory or a mythical deity. A nude portrait of a modern woman. It’s never been done! […] I envision you, lying supine on a couch. No, better yet your bed. Your beautiful African servant stands behind, holding a bouquet of flowers a lover has sent. You gaze boldly at the viewer. Naked. […] a modern woman, not an allegory. Proud of her sexuality, her nakedness. The look in your eyes will say to hypocrites: ‘Go ahead and condemn me all the while you are desiring me.’ (54) Just like Renoir in LOTBP, Manet owes his inspiration to an old master. And again a first interpretation of the painting has already been offered. The painter is determined to provoke the audience with a portrait of a naked woman, whose 103 4.1. The Process of Making an Artwork: Labour <?page no="104"?> 8 Manet, Édouard. Young Lady, 1866, oil on canvas, 185.1 x 128.6 cm, The Met, New York, USA. identity as a prostitute would leave no doubt. He means to translate the tradi‐ tional myth into contemporary life by portraying “a Venus of today” (MV 54), thus breaking with academic tradition. Indeed, it is known that Édouard Manet copied Titian’s masterpiece twice during his trip to Florence and that while quoting iconographic references, instead of “disguising the courtesan as a god‐ dess, making her warmly submissive and reminiscent of classical statuary as Titian had, Manet made her cold and domineering, a career woman on glaring display” (Rubin 65). Although in the novel the main composition is born by accident, the message that the painting is meant to convey has been thoroughly thought through. Already, Manet is highly specific about Victorine’s gaze, her famous arrogant and calculating look that would challenge the viewer. This gaze becomes Victorine’s characteristic signature, and in asking her to pose for Young Lady,  8 Manet refers to it as he reveals the idea for the work: I envision an elegant woman in a peignoir; you’ll be very demure. Except for that gaze, the famous look. […] Courbet intrigued me with a brilliant picture he exhibited at the Salon recently. He painted a parrot hovering lasciviously over a supine nude woman. In Renaissance art, the parrot symbolizes Truth and Beauty. In my vision, a parrot perches on a tall stand to your left, watching you, just as demure as you. (WV 168-169) Here as well, the painter is inspired by a masterpiece, which he opts to quote only partially. The information given about the figures and their relationships is all that the reader is given in the novel. This is the first and the last time Young Lady is mentioned - neither is the painting process of this work shown, nor is it referred to again at a later stage. Although Finerman provides a minimal and rather conventional interpretation, it is sufficient to be able to understand the main idea of an artwork. The artist’s creative process starts with an impulse that triggers its inspira‐ tion. Renoir and Manet acknowledged to have been influenced by other artists who have stood the test of time: Veronese, Goya, Titian. In all of these cases, the painters dialogise with the art of the past by taking essentially classic compo‐ sitions and placing them in contemporary settings. Such modernisation of orig‐ inal ideas leads to a new meaning-making. Renoir takes a number of ideas from the biblical Nozze di Cana and includes them in his interpretation of la vie mod‐ erne: showing the end of a luncheon that more than a dozen people have shared, using just one angle of tables so that the figures overlap even more closely, and recreating several simultaneous conversations of various dynamics within the 104 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="105"?> painting. Manet, on the other hand, works with contrasts and challenges estab‐ lished ideas of a ready market value. He is drawing on a traditional Venus myth, yet by stripping away the mythology he transforms it into a provocative nude portrait of a Venus of today, a modern woman who leaves no doubt as to her identity as a prostitute. The artist does the opposite with The Balcony; that is, instead of depicting frivolous courtesans and their companions, he illustrates respectable upper-class people looking out from a balcony onto the streets of Paris, and thus captures a moment of modern urban life. Sometimes it is just a detail from another painting that holds the artist’s attention and which is then quoted in his work - Coubert’s parrot, for example. The re-presentation of a painting through intermedial references to other well-known masterpieces or scenes from them that have been re-worked by the painter fulfils a number of functions. It provides an insight into the art-historical analysis, enhances the verisimilitude of the novels and enriches the narrative fiction. What makes ref‐ erences to the artist’s inspiration similar is the type of information that is pro‐ vided - it is exclusively the commonly accepted knowledge of an artwork that is adopted and exploited at the preparatory stage of the painting. In other words, the first encounter with the painting reveals it from a basic and rather traditional art-historical perspective, one which the reader might feel more comfortable with or even already be already familiar with. The use of simple and well-es‐ tablished interpretation, therefore, lays the groundwork for further re-presen‐ tation of an artwork and attunes the readers to the process of its making. 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings Contemporary art fiction revolves around the story of the painter, his model and the mediator of their relationship, the artwork itself, the creating of which is only possible if both ‘components’ succeed in working together. In addition to the character of the creator, the novels stress the identity of a model as a ‘real’ person that acts in and within the discourse of an artwork. On the one hand, with every reference to modelling in the process of creating an artwork, the reader is exposed to the model’s self within the discourse of a painting. The recreated communication that takes place between the model and the artist during the sittings is an important element in the experience of art that is oth‐ erwise unavailable to the viewer of the resulting art piece. Writers also show models’ existence outside the work of art: models ‘walk off ’ the canvas as soon as the sitting is finished and live out the stories of their lives on the pages of the novels. Each story adds to an understanding of both the model as a fictional 105 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="106"?> character and - most importantly - the model as an object coming from the painting, thus creating and intensifying a new meaning of the artwork. It goes without saying that the key element in figure painting is an actual human figure. In representational art - and in Impressionism in particular - the depiction of a figurative element is the result of painting the model. According to Steiner, “[b]eing both an art object and a human subject, a model inhabits two worlds and muddles the distinction between them” (The Real Real Thing 2). In other words, the model is what the painting represents and, as an element in the representation, can therefore be also interpreted as an object of the painting - what it is, what it shows and what it means. Thus, the model represents art itself. However, Steiner points out that a popular belief is that the model acts as a “mother” of the artwork as well as lover or wife of the artist who is the “father” creator (15). Taking the parental relationship between model and art piece into account, it may be concluded that in addition to functioning as an artwork himor herself, the model has the power to shape the artwork. Steiner points out that already by virtue of her appearance a model may influence the work: A life model typically constructs herself as an image, however much the artist may feel he is the one posing her and determining what aspects of her will be represented. Many models invent their own poses, dress themselves for the studio session, choose their makeup and hairdo - in short, fashion themselves as the image to be rendered. (22) Regarding art fiction, then, it is possible to hypothesise that the model will per‐ form the same threefold function in the narrative, namely, 1) a human subject with a life outside the canvas, 2) an object of the painting, and thus a represen‐ tation of art itself, and 3) a co-creator of the end product or an artist tout court. 4.2.1. The Boating Party The upper terrace of the restaurant Maison Fournaise, “the boaters’ quinquette - the riverside restaurant, hotel, and boat rental frequented by painters and writers” (LOTBP 3-4), becomes the epicentre of the novel, where with no little difficulty Renoir eventually gathers and poses the party of thirteen people from his artistic and bohemian circle for a series of Sunday sittings and luncheons over a period of nearly two months. LOTBP is narrated from the third-person omniscient perspective, alternating between multiple focalisers in different chapters. There are eight viewpoint characters in total: the artist and seven of the models (Alphonsine, Jeanne, Aline, Angèle, Ellen, Paul and Gustav), allowing a multi-voiced narrative not only of the events during and in between painting 106 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="107"?> sessions, but also outside the painting settings. This narrative technique allows the author to reveal the stories of their lives and contextualise the traumas of the preceding Franco-Prussian War and the Paris Commune as well as introduce other characters: painters, models, writers, art dealers, patrons, Salon members and the like. The chapters where Renoir is a focal character change the setting to Paris, showing his studio and the Montmartre district, the Café Nou‐ velle-Athènes, a meeting place for artists and writers, Place Pigalle, the Tuileries gardens and the Louvre, whereas the chapters with the models as viewpoint characters invite the reader to such places as dance gardens, the Comédie-Fran‐ çaise, the Folies-Bergère and Île de la Cité. Although not all the chapters revolve around the process of the making the artwork, events that happen outside the painting have a substantial impact on it - it is la vie moderne in its brightest colours, made up of models’ interrelated stories, love triangles, conflicts and the politics of the art world. Structurally, the novel is divided into forty chapters; however, functionally it may be broken down into eight narrative segments with the painting sessions taking place during the luncheons: “Nearly two months, eight luncheons, counting today’s, a couple dozen tubes of paint, five women, nine men, a mère and a père” (417). While sitting, the models interact with each other, tell stories, flirt, laugh and sing, thus creating a narrative inside the painting. Le déjeuner des canotiers is a subject painting which celebrates “the sensory delights of daily life and [the] validation of the pleasures of food, land‐ scape, physical beauty and health” (Thomson, Impressionism 13). It depicts a gathering of people of different social backgrounds and occupations, whose identities are not necessarily relevant to the message the painting conveys. Nevertheless, many art critics showed tremendous interest in identifying the individuals who posed for this mise en scène. Rathbone, for example, points out that The more we know about the specific individuals depicted in the painting, the more the work appears to be a true reflection of an event that could have taken place in the relaxed ambience of the Restaurant Fournaise. Moreover, knowledge of the specific circumstances of their lives allows us to see their true and actual identities reflected in Renoirs painting. It is the very specific of these details that makes Renoir’s work so convincing. (40) In other words, Rathbone maintains that a better knowledge of historical figures allows a more profound understanding of an artwork. This is exactly what mo‐ tivates Vreeland and other contemporary novelists to write about the models, their lives, look at their relationships to the painter and the masterpiece. In LOTBP, while considering people who might be willing to pose for him, Renoir 107 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="108"?> 9 As a matter of fact, Renoir did have several accidents while riding the steam-cycle he owned; he also had to wear a cast over his right arm, yet not exactly at the time he intended to work on Le déjeuner des canotiers. sets his sights on a few friends and models who have already worked with him: the artist Paul Lhôte; an official at the Ministry of the Interior, Pierre Lestringuèz; the painter and art patron Gustave Caillebotte, who is to be given a prominent spot in the composition as recognition for everything that Gustave “had done for the group over the years, renting their exhibit space, paying for advertising, hanging the exhibitions, covering Monet’s and Pissarro’s rent so many times, buying their paintings when they didn’t have a sou for a bowl of soup” (14-15), thus telling “France how important Caillebotte was to the movement” (15); the actress Jeanne Samary; an art collector and a part-owner of the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Charles Ephrussi, who is described as always “dignified, the true flâneur strolling the boulevards, observing, then retreating to his plush study to write esoteric articles about his observations while snacking on caviar on toasted rye” (150); Ellen Andrée, “the star mime at the Folies-Bergère, a pretty brunette who had posed for him in an elegant café. […] Not the cachet of Jeanne Samary, a celebrated actress, but still an experienced model” (27); children of the owners of the Maison Fournaise, Alphonsine Fournaise and her brother Alphonse Four‐ naise; the poet and critic Jules Laforgue; a former cavalry officer, Baron Raoul Barbier; the actress Angèle Legault; an Italian journalist, Antonio Maggiolo, who is described as Angèle’s “roving correspondent” (78); and, last but not least, Aline Charigot, a seamstress and the artist’s future wife, who joins the group only at a later stage. The identities of the models are authentic - they are most probably based on factual information available in biographies, art-historical manuals and corre‐ spondence. Each character is well defined in the novel. First the reader encoun‐ ters Alphonse Fournaise, “the barrel-chested son of the owner” (4). Alphonse has just finished sailing and, on reaching the bank of the river, sees Renoir and mentions the name of the artist for the first time: “Auguste Renoir, you old fool […] You’ve either been in a boxing ring or you fell off your cycle again” (4). 9 Soon Alphonsine joins them. She washes Renoir’s wounds, which, as is later explained in the novel, “a woman couldn’t do […] for a man without feeling an intimacy” (46). Having lost her husband in the Franco-Prussian War, Alphonsine longs for the feeling of being needed again; seeing Renoir’s vulnerability, she feels “the possibility of being close to him” (46). While she is caring for Renoir, the painter, oblivious to her thoughts, carefully observes her: “Her skin shone rosy from the sun. Exactly what he loved to paint. Like Jeanne’s cheeks, which gave back the light. Jeanne Samary, the darling of the Comédie-Française. She 108 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="109"?> made everyone in Paris laugh. Him too, at one time” (4). The comparison be‐ tween Alphonsine and Jeanne emphasises the fact the painter is always on the lookout for details and resemblances; on the other hand, it suggests that Renoir is looking for Jeanne in other women, and therefore hints at their former amo‐ rous relationship, which is again alluded to when he thinks about Jeanne, wanting her to pose for the new painting: Who else? Jeanne. With her last portrait, he’d felt he was approaching what he was capable of doing. It was love that did it. He needed to be in love with someone who loved him back, so he would see everything through the atmosphere of happiness. Love always brought about his best work, and this was too big a risk not to be his best. If Jeanne wasn’t performing on Sundays, if she was over her pique about his last painting of her, if he could make her see this new one as a valuable means of promotion for her, she might consent, but she’s charge him through the nose - the bigger the image, the more per sitting. (15) The artist writes a letter to Jeanne almost begging her to come to Maison Four‐ naise on Sunday: I have a painting in mind that begs for your charms, a souvenir for future ages of life as it was lived in the summer of 1880. It is of crucial importance to me, but I can’t begin it without you. The time of the year forces me to start immediately. […] We will be outdoors. If you have any feeling left for me, if only the fond remembrance of times past, come. (22-3) Another female model on Renoir’s mind is Angèle Legault. As he explains to Paul, he needs her joie de vivre, she is “entertaining [and will] loosen up the group so they’ll enjoy each other right away. They need a reason to keep coming back every Sunday. Nobody else can do that like she can” (65). Paul and Renoir start looking for Angèle in locations where she might be found, such as the Café Nouvelle-Athènes, in which “the anise fragrance of absinthe permeated the room” (64); the oldest café in Montmartre, Le Rat Mort, perfumed with “the odor of grease and whores” (66); the shabby café La Roche in Boulevard Rochechouart, where cheap rooms could be rented by the hour; in hôtels de passe; and the dance hall under the windmills of Moulin de la Galette, where Angèle was, “resting her bosoms on the table next to a man leaning toward her, his intentness almost palpable” (74). On the one hand, the description of the venues illustrates the contemporary Parisian culture of cafés, bars, cabarets, caboulots, guinguettes, estaminets and assommoirs; on the other, it serves as an introduction to the character, “a raconteuse she was, captivating the man with a story” (74). Not only does Angèle become the amuseuse of the group, captivating them with her own 109 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="110"?> stories, but she also tries to develop a modern version of the Decameronian story-telling tradition during their next sitting: Since this is to be a painting of la vie moderne, I propose that after a week of flânerie on the boulevards or in Montmartre, or in the Bois or the cafés, we, the flâneurs and flâneuses of the Maison Fournaise, each come back with a report of the most outra‐ geously modern thing we saw. (155) As a matter of fact, these stories become the essence of the third Sunday sitting. Together with the artist, the reader is taken on a journey around the painting not only to examine the poses of the figures and their meaning to the painting, but also to actually ‘hear’ their conversations during the modelling process. The first one to report is Charles Ephrussi, who reads out loud a notice from Le Temps about an old man who, after sixteen years, admits having lied to the so-called Le Balafré and asks for forgiveness so that he can die in peace. It is not the newspaper’s notice itself that is interesting, but the person who introduces the story. Charles is a wealthy gentleman, who rides “on the upper level of an omnibus, just to feel a breeze” (LOTBP 179) and to observe people as well. The difference between upper and lower social classes is clearly emphasised here by the contrasting physicality of vertical space of the omnibus as up and down. This contrast is amplified by references to the top hat Charles is wearing during the sittings, which serves as a clear indication that the group depicted in the painting is a mix of various social classes. Furthermore, earlier in the novel Charles is described as a true flâneur who is characterised by emotional detach‐ ment, in other words, by being “the observer who disdains emotional involve‐ ment in reporting the shallowness and anonymity of city life” (189). Indeed, Charles does not narrate the story himself; he reads aloud from the newspaper, thus freeing the text from personal opinion. However, as it turns out, Angèle knows the addressee, and she tells the group that Le Balafré is “blind now, and just sits under the acacia trees in place du Tertre on the Butte telling stories for a sou” (179). She is determined to bring this information to his knowledge, thinking that it might mean a lot for both of the men involved. Neither Angèle’s social position nor her acquaintance with the unfortunate man allows her to keep an artificial distance. Therefore, unlike Ephrussi, she is affected emotion‐ ally and feels personally involved with these two people from the street. A different social commentary is provided by Alphonse, who alludes to the falseness of appearances and gives an example of the office clerks in fancy outfits who come to the promenade on the weekends and pretend to look and act like oarsmen while genuinely “afraid of getting their white trousers dirty […]. They don’t really care about the river. They care about putting on a show” (181). Jules 110 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="111"?> 10 “All the world’s a stage and the men and women merely players” is the beginning of a monologue by Jaques addressed to Duke Senio, Act II Scene VII of As You Like It by William Shakespeare. 11 In the novel Charles Ephrussi suggests that this woman is likely to be Hubertine Au‐ cler, a historical figure known for her radical feminist views and campaign for women’s suffrage. 12 Offen, Karen. European Feminisms, 1700-1950: A Political History. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000. reinforces the idea by pointing out that people “pose in order to make spectacles of themselves. Thanks to Haussmann’s public places, we’ve become a nation of stage players, and the play we’re performing is class” (181). The reference to Baron Haussmann’s modernisation of the city is very interesting in this context, since what is implied here is that the changes made to the architectural design of Paris - its streets, monuments, parks, boulevards, squares and cafés - not only transform the structure of the city, but also influence the people living in them. As a matter of fact, in order to provide Paris with a modern, imperial splendour, Haussmann attempted to displace all industrial activity from the city centre to the suburbs and, by association, the working class. In this way he exploited class divisions while assuming control over the functions of public spaces, primarily developing them into a stage for bourgeoisie, who turned lei‐ sure activities into an act, as do the office clerks mentioned in the novel. In summarising the effects of Haussmannisation, Jules rephrases Shakespeare: “all the island’s a stage and all the men and women merely posers” (181). 10 The practice of posing, however, has its origins in the painting. In fact, the purpose of the gathering at Maison Fournaise is to pose for a painting that seeks to represent the modern life as it is. However, Charles Ephrussi is placed in an unnatural context - for him - on the canvas. While talking to Alphonsine, Renoir points out that in the painting Charles is like “a fish out of water” (150); by making him pose with working class people and “two sweaty men in singlets, undergarments to him” (150) the painter not only forces his friend out of his comfort zone but also assigns him a modelling or acting role. In other words, just like public places in Paris, the space of the painting becomes a stage for the models-actors who are asked to perform the act of modern life. In addition, Gustave Caillebotte touches on the subject of women’s rights; he mentions having witnessed a crowd of people listening to a Parisian Amazon, 11 who was calling for the equality of the sexes and demanding universal suffrage and education for women. It might be assumed that Vreeland is referring to the First International Congress of Women’s Rights, held in Paris in 1878, two years prior to the events in the novel. 12 Even though the issues of morality and mar‐ riage were raised at the Congress, the question of women’s right to vote was 111 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="112"?> successfully avoided. Therefore, the pressing necessity of achieving women’s suffrage remained an issue, and the issue is dealt with in the novel. It occasions a discussion between Renoir, Ellen and Angèle. While the former expresses his preference for illiterate women - “I like women best when they don’t know how to read, and when they wipe their babies’ bottoms themselves” (180) - Ellen and Angèle support feminist ideas and are surprised to discover that a man who as‐ pires to portray la vie moderne does not in fact keep up with the times. Further exploring the topic of women, Antonio offers a foreign perspective on the ‘class’ division among Parisian prostitutes. Starting from the bottom of the hierarchy and moving upwards, he say there are: the ladies of the pavement, “hatless Montmartroises posing as milliners’ delivery girls with the most piercing, des‐ perate eyes that chide you for not buying what they are selling” (183); the dancers in Montmartre dance halls, who are not “professional performers, just women who come to be picked from the promenoirs” (183); the young trottins, “flowers of the rues hiking up their skirts while sizing up their potential cus‐ tomers” (183); the older and more experienced demi-mondaines “dressed in fi‐ nery that would admit her to a higher-class café, or a theater loge” (184); and finally the courtesans, “the most exquisitely dressed […], the most jeweled, the most intelligent, the most […] expensive…” (184). The conclusion drawn based on the diversity of types is that despite the Haussmannisation of the public areas, Montmartre remains a true place of democracy where “the poor are of‐ fered the same treats as the rich, only the dressing is different” (184). The sexual objectification of women is further reinforced in the conversation about the final cancan dance at the Folies-Bergère, which ends with dancers ‘falling in’ the splits like a row of dominoes. Charles levels criticism at la vie moderne, which encourages “splintering women’s bodies for entertainment” (183). The distortion of the female body resonates with the idea of abuse and violence towards women, which the feminist movement draws attention to. An even stronger point of criticism is the culture of entertainment in general and its intense de‐ sire of ‘bodily’ experience in particular. The audience’s craving for novelty and flesh is also referred to in the counter -story told by Ellen, the star mime at the Folies-Bergère. Ellen describes “The Flying Family”, one of the performances staged at the Folies: in order to enliven their act, a family of acrobats involve a lifelike rubber baby. One day, unable to find the rubber baby in time for the show, they have to substitute it with their own two-year-old flesh-and-blood to the utter excitement of the audience, who would eagerly pay “two francs for the chance to see catastrophe. An extraordinary pleasure. That’s la vie moderne for you” (LOTBP 189). The story provides names and puts faces to the experiences of the marginalised social group. As a part of it, 112 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="113"?> Ellen cannot remain emotionally uninvolved - she exposes the absolute ab‐ surdity of the public’s greed. This story affects the rest of the models and puts an end not only to the storytelling, but also to the painting process itself, as the ar‐ tist “couldn’t paint a lifeless scene” (189). The most obvious finding to emerge from the analysis is that in his desire to depict a moment of modern life, Renoir imag‐ ines a happy scene, which he represents as free from all the upsetting observa‐ tions of the actual socio-cultural problems of everyday life. When the artist is accused of escaping reality by depicting la vie en rose instead of la vie moderne, he argues that contemporary society in fact does the same: “the whole working class of Paris escaping to every river town from Ansnières to Bougival every Sunday” (147), essentially escaping from what normally surrounds them. Al‐ though the painting does not reflect on or depict the stories told, it certainly frames them by making them an integral part of the painting and posing process. Taken together, these stories give an account of what is happening outside the canvas in the models’ ‘unstaged’ lives and, most importantly, what makes them the figures they are in the painting. Thus, for instance, it may be speculated that while engaged in a conversation only with Jules, Charles - depicted in the far right corner of the painting, turning away from the group - seems not only sep‐ arated from the rest of the boating party, but also ignorant of what is happening on the terrace. Even more isolated is Alphonse - he is looking past the group in the direction of the river, which is of great importance to him as a true oarsman. Antonio is leaning towards Angèle, who possibly fits into the female chain of hierarchy addressed earlier in his story. On the one hand, she is sexually objecti‐ fied in the light of his obvious desire; on the other, while ignoring his attention and addressing hers to Gustave, or possibly his words about women’s rights, An‐ gèle is likely to be either playing with the emotions of the former or in fact thinking about her position in society as a woman. What is interesting here is that the models become the transmitters of modern life through the verbal me‐ dium of the stories they narrate, while the artist interprets and communicates modern life through the visual medium of his painting. Although both models and the artist use other people as instruments to enable their verbal and visual repre‐ sentations, only the models fulfil a twofold function in the painting proper: they play the role of transmitters as well as instruments of representation of la vie moderne. The observed correlation between the stories and the figures in the painting is interesting because, first of all, it shows the reader-viewer that the painting is inseparable from its socio-cultural and historical settings; secondly, by introducing information that is not necessarily available to a viewer of the art‐ work on display, the stories enrich the ekphrastic re-presentation. This provides a possible re-interpretation of the depicted figures and urges the reader-viewer 113 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="114"?> 13 Alluding to Dans un café or L’Absinthe, Degas’s painting of her as an “absinthe-sotted waif ” (LOTBP 34). Degas, Edgar. L’Absinthe or Dans un café (The Absinthe Drinker or Glass of Absinthe), 1875-1876, oil on canvas, 92 x 68,5 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. to look deeper into the visual art source and past the artist’s intent to neutralise the misery of contemporary life. The foreseeable difficulties with the compositional structure spread throughout the eight group sittings, as the painter makes choices about how the figures should stand or sit in relation to each other, what their gazes should be fixed on and what other significant gestures might help the composition. Inter‐ estingly, during the first luncheon it is the models who unintentionally arrange themselves into a composition: “the models themselves made an asymmetrical U around an array of bottles, glasses, a heel of bread, the fruit compote, Angèle’s heaped-up napkin. A still life worthy of Cézanne” (LOTBP 92-93). Renoir uses this spontaneous arrangement as a starting point for the painting, while also giving further instructions to the models, for example, asking Alphonse to put his hands on the railing, lean up against it and look at Ellen (92). He also requests Angèle, who is “leaning toward Gustave, as if she were flirting, which she was, always was, with everybody, young or old, rich or poor, just for the pleasure of it” (93), to drape her arm over the back of the empty chair (93) and then he “stepped into the picture [himself] and tipped Angèle’s head more to the side and adjusted her white velvet toque” (93), while asking Antonio to slide his hand down the side of the chair to create an effect of almost touching hands (93). Neglecting Ellen’s dissatisfaction with having to pose again as a drunkard with a glass in her hand, 13 Renoir insists on explaining that having a glass tipped to her lips is “a coquettish gesture, ignoring a man gazing at [her]” (93). Another argument that the painter brings to Ellen’s attention is that one can still see her face though the glass, sparkling with colours, which presents a big painting challenge: “he wasn’t sure if any painter had attempted it since Vermeer” (94). Other models help the painter to persuade Ellen to hold the pose: Gustave claims that in comparison to Degas’s painting, she does not look lonely there as she is being adored by Émile (93); Angèle finds yet another good reason to condemn Ellen: “Stop complaining, dollface […] Think of the rest of us, sitting here parched and dry all afternoon, dying while wine is untouchable right in front of us, and you can sneak little sips” (94). Renoir asks Gustave to turn his chair around and straddle it, leaning backwards while holding onto the back of the chair to support the tricky pose, though only Gustave knows that this pose “would convey […] an instant of movement in time, an Impressionist ideal” (94). He then approaches Alphonsine, who has been standing still, carefully following all the instructions, to stroke her forearm in order to establish the connection 114 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="115"?> between them: “The pads of his fingers tingled as they passed over the downy hair. The minute movement of her mouth told him she enjoyed it” (94). When Jeanne finally comes, Renoir has to move Pierre and Paul to the right to face her. He then instructs Jeanne to put her hands back to her ears, repeating the gesture she herself has just made. All the adjustments made during the first sitting are faithful representations of the poses encountered in Le déjeuner des canotiers. Assessing the composition, Renoir observes the models and defines the primary roles for each of them: Mentally he walked around the table to remind himself of what he wanted out of each person. […] Alphonse, the lordly observer. Alphonsine, enchanting, alert, her eyes roving, not missing a thing as she lounged on the rail. Raoul facing Alphonsine, mur‐ muring to her, calling her lady, the English way. In the right foreground, Gustave in his flat-topped boater looking younger than he really was. Angèle provocative, with her arm familiarly behind Gustave. Antonio Maggiolo looking down at Angèle. A good model. Antonio adoring Angèle who was adoring Gustave - the three of them could be substance enough for a painting all their own. Ellen, elusive behind her glass, pi‐ quant and charming. Maybe it was a bit unkind to hide her face, but the painting needed someone in the act of drinking. Èmile facing her, captivated. Paul and Pierre talking to Jeanne. (103-104) This passage provides an essentially complete description of the figure settings and a comprehensive interpretation of each character’s purpose in the painting. Moreover, it shows the way the creative mind is imagined to be working - the artists perceive the theoretical space of the painting, locating the figures and mentally interpreting their purpose. Hence, the narrative isolates and groups the models, determining the most significant scenes, which provide an outline of both the painting and the novel. The solitary figure of Alphonse; a keen observer of the crowd, Alphonsine, who is also engaged in silent interaction with Raoul; Èmile and Ellen at the background table; the flirting triangle with Angèle, Gustave and Antonio; Jeanne, Pierre and Paul talking in the background. These particular compositional units become subject to further adjustments and transformations in the novel. During the remaining sessions, Renoir, struggling with inconsisten‐ cies and inaccuracy in the compositional structure, is forced to introduce signifi‐ cant changes to figures’ poses, scraping some of them off the canvas and re‐ painting others, turning them to look in other directions and moving them closer to or further from other figures. Vreeland registers the process of critical inspec‐ tion and evaluation of the painting by the painter himself, who enjoys making the adjustments while stepping in and outside of the metonymic space of the canvas and establishing a connection with each of the models. 115 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="116"?> 14 In 1995 The Phillips Collection conducted the first technical study of the painting, using X-radiography and infrared reflectography (Steele 221). This examination revealed the alternations made to the composition; for instance, it proved that the awning was added at a later stage than the landscape and the sky occupied the top edge of the painting (222), and that the railway bridge was painted as a whole (223). It also revealed signif‐ icant changes in the poses of the sitters; for example, the figure of the woman with a dog was “turned in her chair and was looking out at the viewer […]. The sleeve of her dress was initially three-quarter length, and her proper right arm was folded along her torso with her hand up to her shoulder” (224). Similarly, the position of the woman in a white hat was transformed: “her head was in a different position, perhaps looking at the man who rests his hand across the back of her chair rather than gazing across at the man seated next to her” (225); and the gaze of the woman who leans on the railing was also adjusted: her chin and nose were “initially positioned slightly to the left” (225) - it is likely that the model was looking in the direction of the artist, yet “her face was later turned to the right, perhaps to engage the seated man whose back is turned toward the viewer” (225). Last but not least, in the arrangement of the figures of two gentlemen standing at the rear of the balcony in the background, “the two were initially placed higher in the scene and that the top-hatted figure faced toward the viewer” (226). It is likely that lowering their position was necessary due to the later changes in the upper part of the painting, namely, after having integrated the awning into the composition (226). Steele suggests that “Renoir altered the positions of his sitters to intensify their interaction with one another” (226). In the end product fourteen figures are carefully placed in the picture to comprise smaller compositional groupings, which create a feeling of intimacy and of the informality of their meeting. The idea of movement is recreated through models’ gestures, poses and postures - the group seems to be con‐ stantly moving, which makes it difficult for the viewer to fix his/ her gaze on just one of the objects. The documentation of making an artwork makes references to the develop‐ ment of the compositional structure of the painting, its adjustments, alternations and transformations, which are featured as anchorage in the novel. There is no evidence of any preparatory studies specific to the original painting - it is be‐ lieved that the composition had not been determined when Renoir began his work. As a result, all the adjustments and additions were to be made directly on the canvas as the work evolved. 14 LOTBP narrates the story of making an artwork and illuminates all the stages of its creation - from the early stage of choosing the location to the final stage of exhibiting the finished product. One of the most problematic issues that Renoir is faced with is the spatial property of the painting that results from the arrangement of the details in relation to each other and to the whole. The composition of the painting is what puzzles the artist throughout the entire process. Standing on the terrace of Maison Fournaise and enjoying the opening view onto the river - rowing skiffs, sailboats, boaters, a few houses and the carriage factory - and anticipating his own composition solution, Renoir considers how his colleagues might depict the same scene: 116 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="117"?> Claude Monet would position a sail in front of it [the carriage factory]. Gustave [Cail‐ lebotte] would ignore the bank and paint from the odd perspective of the needle nose of a racing scull with rowers pulling at their oars. Pissarro, that old Communard, he’d make the smokestack central to the painting, symbol of proletariat. (9) Renoir’s predictions incorporate his knowledge of his fellow artists’ composi‐ tional preferences and their vision of the world in general: Monet depicting marine scenes and capturing the motion of the sailboat with the effects of light and its reflections on the water surface; Caillebotte incorporating photographic effects such as an unconventional use of perspective, which crops the image differently; and the social anarchist Pissarro, who values rural life and agrarian communities, disclosing the unpleasant aspects of the factory as a symbol of capitalism. Although Renoir focuses mainly on the representation of figures, his friends “gathered around the tables after a delicious lunch, flushed with pleasure, enjoying a beautiful day, showing what happens here every Sunday. Leisure. La vie moderne” (LOTBP 9), he also includes a landscape, depicting the river with a few sailboats, the railroad bridge and “a couple of inns with red-tiled roofs” (333). However, in order to circumvent the problem of an illusion that “the people and the tables are floating out over the landscape without being attached to a building” (231), the artist reworks the already developed landscape by partially covering it with the awning: [H]e didn’t have enough space for all the awning. Just a suggestion. Right over the sky he’d already painted, he laid in long sweeps of coral for the flat part of the awning, contrasting stripes of yellow where the sun beat directly on it, dulled to warm mauve gray in parts. And where the scallops hung down, the contrasting stripes flirted with various pastel tints depending on how the breeze moved them and made them catch the light in pale lavender-gray, blue-gray, and pale yellow washes. To catch them as they fluttered, that was the thing, and to make each one a different curve to show them moving, to show that there was a breeze making those sailboats skim across the water. Some of the scallops would cut off the continuous line of the railroad bridge. He would have to sacrifice that. Covering over the riverscape he’d painted was a shame, but this was the only way he knew to resolve the problem. (403) Showing the artist recreating the perfect solution for the heretofore disruptive and somewhat deficient composition, once again Vreeland focuses the reader’s attention on the very process of making, which unfolds in time. Moreover, the novelist substantiates the plot with additional adjustments made to the re-pre‐ sentation (the changes made by the fictitious artist echo the genuine changes 117 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="118"?> 15 The x-radiographic examination of the painting reveals the fact that the sky and the landscape used to dominate the upper part of the composition: “[B]lue paint is visible below the awning at the top center, and this presumably relates to a passage of open sky. Examination also indicates that the upper right corner was reworked in dark green. Under high magnification a lighter passage of blue, green, and white is visible, which was likely a continuation of the adjacent trees and sky to the immediate left. […] [B]rushwork in the lower paint layers that corresponds to the distant river banks and open sky is apparent along the top edge. (Steele, Achieving the Composition 222-3). Moreover, the investigation indicates that the railroad bridge now covered by the awning was initially depicted in its entirety, that is to say, without interruptions created by the awning poles, which seem to have been sketched before “the fabric was painted, although they lie on top of a somewhat developed landscape” (223). introduced to the original artwork). 15 The artist’s work in progress is therefore based on the available factual information about the painting, the x-radiographic examination of the painting that helps the novelist to re-create the painter’s intentions and provide some structure to the painting process. Just like the real painter, the fictional Renoir has no time to waste on preparatory studies; he creates Luncheon of the Boating Party on a blank canvas, working on Sundays with the entire group but also working with a few models involved in a particular scene on weekdays. By showing how solutions are found to problems and how the composition is changed, the novelist achieves an altogether different dy‐ namic within the narrative: the previously established focal points are in a state of transformation; the effect is therefore one of repetition, of returning to the same spot in the painting and looking closer at the compositional details: the angle of a figure’s poses, the size of the figures, gazes, expressions and the like. There is an effect of zooming in the painting, which is recreated in the extra sittings while posing smaller groups and concentrating only on the relation of a few models’ figures to one another and harmonising the edges of these figures with the rest of the models later with regard to the entire group. One such example of zooming-in is the triangle scene between Angèle, Antonio and Gus‐ tave, which becomes a reoccurring scene in the narrative. As predicted, Angèle enjoys being the centre of attention: she entertains the group and arouses in‐ terest in male models by generously sharing intimate stories about her life. The artist enjoys such informal interaction and is eager to depict it; he asks Antonio to bend further forward to see Gustave’s hat resting on the edge of his cravat (LOTBP 129) and instructs Angèle to hold her natural position: He loved the way Angèle kept Antonio engaged and admiring her. All the impulses of her being were aware of it even though he stood behind her and she was looking at Gustave. He wouldn’t be surprised of Antonio and Angèle asked to use his room right after this session. She was like an insect sensing heat, buzzling in anticipation, 118 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="119"?> in complete complicity with Antonio while engaged with Gustave, aware of Alphonse looking at her too. Flirtatious command, that attitude, just that instant. (129) While concentrating on one scene at a time, however, the artist has to rely on his recollections of the other absent figures, since they influence the dimension of the figures present as well as their colour solution: What was to the left and above Angèle’s hat? He needed to know because the color of her hat would be affected. He couldn’t remember and his marks on the canvas didn’t tell him. Frustration seized him. Even if he knew whatever shoulder or face or sleeve was above her hat, he would need what was beyond that, and beyond that too. (130) Indeed, separating one scene and painting it outside the context of the whole presents a serious challenge for any painter but especially for an Impressionist artist, who sees and depicts the reflections of light and colour, catching them as they change, working on all the parts of the painting at the same time. However, in addition to the colour solution, Renoir faces the problem of positioning the figures, which includes their dimensions and gazes. He thus notices how un‐ balanced Angèle’s position is: because of the angle of her head she is not “looking directly at Gustave but somewhere between him and Antonio” (LOTBP 231), and at the same time her hat is placed “too far on the left side of her head too. If she actually wore it in that position and straightened her head, it would fall off ” (231). As a result of this observation, Renoir scrapes away some parts of the body as well as the figures’ accessories. The adjustment that is needed for the re-pre‐ sentation in fact makes reference to the original painting, in which the position of a seated woman in a white hat was similarly altered. According to Steele, the technical study of the painting reveals changes in the texture of the paint film and indicates that she wore her hat more to the left side of her head in the first rendering. […] [H]er head was in a different po‐ sition, perhaps looking up at the man who rests his hand across the back of her chair rather than gazing across at the man seated next to her. (225) The novelist makes use of yet another initially distinct compositional solution for the original, namely the figure of the woman holding a dog in the left fore‐ ground of the painting. The results of the study show that the woman initially held a different position, facing the viewer rather than being depicted in profile looking at her dog. In LOTBP there is not one but two models who pose for Renoir. One of them is a bourgeoise, Cécile-Louise Valtesse de la Bigne, posing in a blue and white striped dress. The model refuses to follow Renoir’s instruc‐ tions to change her position by moving her elbow closer to her body and turning her head to look at Gustave - she does not want to pose in profile and constantly 119 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="120"?> 16 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. “Lettres à un ami (à Paul Bérard)”, La Revue de Paris, December 1968, 54-59: “Je suis obligé de travailler encore à ce maudit tableau à cause d’une cocote de la haute, qui a eu l’imprudence de venir à Chatou et de vouloir poser, ça m’a coûté quinze jours de retard et bref, aujourd’hui je l’ai effacée […]”. (54) adjusts her position so that she can look directly at the painter: “I insist on looking directly out” (219). Cécile-Louise’s reluctance to cooperate forces Renoir to dismiss her as a model and scrape her off the canvas. Although Cécile-Louise is a purely fictitious model, Renoir’s letter to Paul Bérards provides unequivocal evidence of the fact that one of the models was removed from the original painting: “I’m obliged to go on working on this wretched painting because of a high class cocotte who had the imprudence to come to Chatou wanting to pose; that put me a fortnight behind the schedule and, in a word, today I’ve wiped her out…” (Rathbone 38). 16 The letter, however, provides neither the cocotte’s name nor an indication of her exact position in the painting. Nevertheless, Vreeland manipulates publicly accessible data to enrich her narrative with two models posing in the same corner of the painting, illustrating its major compositional alternation. Thus, similarly to the inverted art-historical analysis of Le déjeuner des canotiers, Vreeland strips away the layers of paint of the re-presented image in her novel by producing a chronological order of the changes made to its composition. Besides saving the foreground of the painting by agreeing to model, Aline Charigot contributes yet another vitally important detail to the composition, namely Jacques Valentin Aristide d’Essoyes sur l’Ource, her new terrier puppy. In order to keep the dog quiet, during her first sitting Aline stands it on the table, holding it on its hind legs, in what Renoir quite unexpectedly sees “an endearing pose” (LOTBP 292), which is why he asks her to maintain the position: “He liked the way the tips of her fingers were buried under his fur to hold his wiggling body, like fingers thrust into a man’s hair. And her interaction with the dog gave Gustave something to adore” (292). The simile of dog’s fur and man’s hair purposely hints at the symbolic meaning of the image of a canine incorporated into depictions of females. Since “the dog has clear connotations of sensuality and availability” (Rathbone 51) - or, as Thomson points out, the subject of the dog is often depicted as “the intimate, even the playtime, of its coquettish mistress” (“‘Les Quat’ Pattes’” 328-9) - the re-presentation of the puppy indicates the sensual pleasure of intimacy between the mistress of the dog and a male figure; in the novel it is the painter himself, who could “lose himself in her. A peach among peaches. […] She had a kittenish face that made him want to tickle her under her chin” (LOTBP 252). Yet, on the other hand, according to Rathbone, “a common attribute in eighteenth-century portraits, a dog traditionally symbolized fidelity” (51). Therefore, as Rathbone points out, 120 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="121"?> in Le déjeuner des canotiers “Renoir depicts the object of his own affections with a deliberate implication of the faithful mistress” (51). Mindful of such interpre‐ tations of a dog in a painting, Vreeland introduces Aline as the painter’s yearned-for mistress, only later hinting at her loyalty as his wife. Similar to other compositional elements, the scene with Aline and the dog is alluded to again in the novel, when the painter asks Aline to bring the dog closer to her face, thus reinforcing the idea of intimacy: The dog’s little nose was visible now against the white of Alphonse’s shirt. When the time came for the highlights, a white speck in his eye would link them. […] The dog rested a paw in that sweet hollow below her velvet neck band. Desire to kiss that tender, vulnerable spot moistened Auguste’s mouth, pulsed in his throat, tingled his hand. With his wet brush he touched her there on the canvas, and left a tuft of fur. (LOTBP 350) Aline is absorbed in the interaction with the terrier, the hint of a kiss to be given to the dog emphasises the affection and sensual pleasures that are embodied by the scene. It seems that Vreeland does not intend to deviate from an already provided art-historical interpretation of the painting; instead, she decides to reinforce traditionally established perception by translating compositional structure and models’ interactions into a fictional form. In one way or another, all the models contribute to the painting, yet only Alphonsine does so consciously. Vis-à-vis the artwork, she develops the concept of ‘nous’, referring to everyone in the painting constituting an inseparable part of it. In other words, the painting is interpreted as a result of the collaboration of every person directly or indirectly involved with the entire process: “We’re doing something together. Nous” (195). Alphonsine savours the idea of being part of the whole - “My little salmon pink smear on the canvas means I am one of Us” (123) - and enjoys being able to contribute. Thus, while the artist is oc‐ cupied with finding and gathering the right models, Alphonsine starts preparing the location for the first session. Having been the one who offered Renoir the terrace to paint from, she clearly sees herself not only as the hostess of the restaurant but also as a “hostess to the birth of a painting. A midwife” (43). She starts creating the perfect scene that the painter will be able to appreciate; she thinks about the many details such as fruit that might decorate the table - “If she picked pears today, by Sunday they would be golden streaked with bronze, with a pleasant tang. Auguste might want to paint them” (43) - and she picks the pears “according to beauty as well as ripeness, filling her basket” (47). Along with the self-assigned role of an artist tout court, Alphonsine also becomes a model. For the second sitting, Alphonsine is conscious of both of her roles, she 121 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="122"?> 17 Da Vinci, Leonardo. The Last Supper (Il Cenacolo or L’Ultima Cena), 1495-1498, fresco-secco, 4.6 x 8.8 m, Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan, Italy. A thorny issue with such a cross-reference is the fact that in The Last Supper Jesus Christ and the twelve apostles are sitting around the table. One of them is Judas Iscariot, who betrays the Jesus and is therefore considered a bad omen, which also leads to a popular superstition. In the novel it is Pierre who voices the problem: “The thirteenth is Judas. The number brings ill to one of them [the models]. He’ll die within the year” (108). While talking to Alphonsine, Renoir explains that positioning thirteen people in a painting is problematic from a religious perspective; he says that “the painting’s cursed until [he] find[s] a fourteenth [model]” (114), essential if the painting is to “stand a chance with the Catholics on the Salon jury” (139). observes her features as a model and arranges her hair in a nicer chignon, but she also takes care of the table settings. She is conscious of the fact that changing the linen involves changing the position of the bottles of wine as well as the used napkins that Renoir might have already started painting: “She studied the arrangement, then set the bottles one by one in the same relationship on another table and scooped up Gustave’s napkin as though it were something precious and alive. She lifted Angèle’s napkin, changed the cloth, put everything back…” (147). Furthermore, after the luncheon Alphonsine makes sure that that every‐ thing is in the exact same position as it was the week before. In taking care of the details of the setting, Alphonsine reveals a two-fold function: on the one hand, as a hostess of a restaurant, she cooks, serves food and helps to clean the tables; on the other, as midwife of the painting, she makes sure that the artist is provided with the same working conditions every Sunday. Thus, in order to change the linen and still permit the same table settings, she firstly re-creates the painted version of them on the neighbouring table, which takes time and requires good observation skills. What is interesting is the contrast of her as a model represented in the painting at leisure and as an artist tout court shown at work. She is, however, not assigned to this task, and this type of ‘work’ is not expected of her at all. Observing what she is doing, the artist wonders if she really thinks “people aren’t going to move those bottles? ” (146), suggesting that her meticulous preparation is in fact wasted labour. However, Alphonsine re‐ mains active: she visits the Louvre, intending to inspect the Veronese master‐ piece which inspired the artist: “The end of a sumptuous meal, with grapes, goblets, even a little dog on the table. Did August know that? […] Nineteen centuries ago, this feast. She felt part of something timeless” (298). Better knowl‐ edge of The Marriage Feast at Cana helps the model find an alternative solution to the problem of thirteen figures, namely, by including a self-portrait and thus avoiding making a reference to Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper. 17 Renoir agrees to include his self-portrait with the condition that he depicts himself as 122 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="123"?> a younger man. The midwife cannot hide her contentment: “It’s what I’ve wanted all along. […] It’s a kind of signature. You’ll be in good company” (404). Not only does Alphonsine influence the artist’s decision this time, but she also provides him with a mirror, an instrument that helps to achieve the totality of composition. By drawing his self-portrait, the artist becomes a model, and is considered an inevitable part of his own masterpiece. In the original painting the fourteenth figure has not been identified with any degree of certainty. Any identification of the quatorzième as Renoir is essentially dependent on Vree‐ land’s interpretation of the painting as well as her intention as a writer to exploit both the painting and the potential of the story. Renoir’s self-portrait fulfils two purposes; on the one hand, it allows yet another cross-reference to Nozze di Cana; on the other, it transforms him into a detail of his own work and thus includes him as yet another transmitter of views on modern life. As far as Al‐ phonsine’s collaboration is concerned, it is the reason why the artist rejects the midwife of the painting as a possible partner in life: “Such a woman might want to be too involved, might even interfere with his work” (327). It is only direct and obvious involvement that the painter considers interference. Any indirect influence on the painting, on the other hand, is encouraged, such as when Renoir is glad to use a spontaneous sitting of the models after the luncheon, letting the moment guide the painting process, while only slightly adjusting the details to reinforce the composition. 4.2.2. Opportunists, Dancers, Lovers Victorine, Berthe, Marie and Alexandrie are the art fictional models from re-pre‐ sentations of the most notorious and therefore easily recognizable figure paint‐ ings by Manet and Degas. Their static visual images come to life on the pages of the novels as contemporary writers portray them, introducing their person‐ ality, endeavours, attitudes, and their private and social lives. Steiner points out that each model is “a figure of ontological paradox, real and at the same time artificial” (The Real Real Thing 5). Hence, figure paintings inevitably raise the issue of the overlap between a visual representation of the model and the model as a ‘real’ person: “a real woman and a frozen form, the model is a double of art - related to reality and yet distinct from it. If art about models often forces us to consider the reality behind representation, it can also focus on intersections between reality and aesthetic form” (22). The information given about the models in contemporary art fiction is both factual and fictional: although the identities of the models as characters as well as events in their lives are partially based on factual information available in biographies, art historical manuals and 123 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="124"?> 18 Victorine Laurent is a character based on two famous historical figures: Countess Vir‐ ginia de Castiglione and Victorine Meurent. 19 According to Rubin, prostitution in France was “an old and widespread if not respectable profession” (66). He points out that Paris “in particular was famous and appreciated by many male habitués for its wide choice of available young women, who were known by as many different names - filles, cocottes, grisettes, lorettes - as there were different steps on the social scale from streetwalker to courtesan” (66). painters’ correspondence, the information is significantly modified, adapted and fictionalised for the purposes of the narrative. As characters, they develop into mediators between the artist, the artwork and the viewer of the end product. Along with enabling indirect referencing to the paintings, models help explain the artists’ ideas and contextualise the artworks in socio-historical settings. This section reviews the modelling process from the cultural perspective of late-nine‐ teenth-century France as it is illustrated in the novels. Victorine Mademoiselle Victorine recounts the life of Victorine Laurent, 18 who, as one of the lorettes, is “not quite as debased as streetwalkers, not quite as exalted as courtesans” (MV 5). 19 From the very beginning of the novel, Victorine is por‐ trayed as determined to obtain financial security and leave the Opera: The junior ballerinas were amateurs chosen for their beauty, not their dancing skills, to perform in the short ballet entr’acte. They supplemented their meagre salaries by becoming the coddled mistresses of rich married bankers, real estate speculators, and industrialists. […] Gossip in the dressing room usually centered on ballerinas who had been passed around by wealthy protectors for years, only to resort to common street prostitution. But Victorine had no intention of following that downward spiral. (8) In the course of the novel she models for several of Edouard Manet’s master‐ pieces. However, during their first encounter the model almost disrespects the artist, whose name says little to her and who she therefore supposes could not be useful: “I have never heard of you, Monsieur Manet. Have you exhibited in the Salon? ” (4). This is the first time the Salon is mentioned in the novel, and the reader is given a rather detailed explanation of what the annual Salon com‐ petition is: “sponsored by the prestigious Académie Française […]. It was os‐ tensibly open to all artists, but everyone knew that the conservative jury was notable for rejecting work deemed too iconoclastic” (4). The model refers to the Salon since it is considered the most prestigious exhibition which, on the one hand, could give the artist an opportunity to have his talent acknowledged, make his name known and as a result be commissioned for further works; on the other, 124 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="125"?> it could help a model like her to interest possible suitors. Considering the likely consequences of being associated with Manet and his unconventional art style, Victorine envisages two outcomes: it could either stain her reputation or assist in attracting a wider spectrum of wealthy protectors and as a result make her “rise faster up the ladder of success” (10). The second argument motivates her enough to agree. Modelling, therefore, is linked to an idea of improving social status. Indeed, the result of her modelling exceeds all the expectations, as Vic‐ torine becomes the most prominent Parisian courtesan and the mistress to sev‐ eral prosperous benefactors. Already during the first sitting, where she intends to see how the painter will depict her and to make sure that she can use his art to her advantage, Victorine insists on posing naked. Thus, it is the model who initiates and determines the direction the artwork takes. It is worth pointing out that a detailed description of the sketching process produces an initial reference to Olympia: Her nudity was accentuated by a black satin ribbon encircling her neck […]. He drew the oval outline of her face, her gray eyes, and then her luxurious chestnut hair ca‐ ressing her neck and tumbling around her shoulders. His gaze swept over her breasts, pointed upward slightly, nipples the pink of rose petals. He moved down her torso to her hand draped over her pubic area. She noticed his smile of irony at her coy gesture. He continued to draw her plump thighs and long, elegant legs, which ended in beau‐ tifully shaped, absurdly small feet. (17) The original painting is indirectly alluded to via several details such as the mod‐ el’s physical characteristics - her face, eyes, hair, disproportioned feet -, the accessory of a black satin ribbon that offers a stark contrast to the white nudity of her body, and most importantly the gesture of the left hand, the interpretation of which is especially interesting since the novel yields to an established per‐ ception of the gesture that is most commonly understood as strained and self-conscious. Although in the novel Victorine’s hand gesture is described as demure, the artist’s ironic smile affirms the fact that it is rather pretentious, given the nature of the model’s occupation and the scope of her ambitions. While starting on the painting, Manet warns the model that the portrait will not only make her name known in art history but also force a new identity on her by association. Victorine, however, denies having any identity but the one given her by the artist: “I had no identity until you gave me one. […] I’ve become the woman you portray” (63). In other words, in not being able to disassociate herself from the artwork, she thinks she has become a representation of the artist’s vision, and so turns into a living detail object of the painting. This transmission is also emphasised in the alternation made to the title of the painting: “I’m not 125 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="126"?> going to call it Venus. I’m calling it Mademoiselle Victorine” (61). On the one hand, the title manifests Manet’s rejection of an allegory and suggests an unequivocal interpretation of the image as a nude portrait of a modern woman. On the other, it recycles Victorine’s identity and authorises it as a work of art. While discus‐ sing the hierarchies between the model and the artist in relationship to the art‐ work, Steiner points out that although the painter comes first in the process of creation, since he selects a model and poses her like “a designer builds a proto‐ type” (The Real Real Thing 15), he “does not create her outright” (16). The point that is raised in the novel is the extent to which the model is involved in the creative process of representation. The painter determines the artwork by using an already existing identity of the model, adjusting it into a new representation and reshaping it in accordance with his design. At the same time as being in‐ volved in the act of self-representation, the model deliberately or unintention‐ ally creates a new identity while posing. For this reason, while the key element of an artwork, the model in a sense also determines and focalises its interpre‐ tation. The painting process as such is not depicted in the novel, as the narrative jumps forward two months to the moment the painting has just been exhibited, when the work is described ekphrastically: Two months later, the exhibition of Manet’s scandalous nude portrait caused a social earthquake that rattled all layers of Parisian society […]. In addition to depicting the sexuality of a contemporary woman, he had achieved maximum shock value by painting Victorine reclining at eye level to the viewer, staring boldly back at him. Amusing sexual jokes played hide-and-seek in the painting: a small black cat curled on the corner of the bed punned the rude slang term for a woman’s sexuality; bedsheets rumpled in such a way as to mimic the female vaginal opening. Victorine’s hand demurely covered her private parts while blatant references to her sexuality con‐ fronted the viewer. (MV 63-4) The compositional details of the painting are accompanied by their interpreta‐ tion, which provides an explanation for the hostile criticism of Mademoiselle Victorine at that time: a nude portrait of a modern woman confronting the viewers by looking directly at them while shamelessly exhibiting her nakedness. According to Bryson, Olympia addresses two extreme forms of sexual repre‐ sentation, namely, “woman as Odalisque, object de culte, woman presented for consumption as spectacle, woman as image; and woman as Prostitute, available physically and not only visually, woman as sexuality in its abuse, as sexuality exploited” (145). Indeed, many an art critic pays attention to the position of Olympia’s left hand and points out that the hand tightened by contraction serves a counter purpose of the assumed intention of the gesture; that is, instead of 126 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="127"?> hiding the model’s private parts from the viewers, it deliberately directs their attention to them. The reading of the artwork in the light of exposed female sexuality is accentuated in MV by referring to the symbolic meaning of a black cat as well as to the resemblance of the folds in the bed linen to the female sexual organs. The novelist does not seem to intend to create a new meaning of an artwork here; on the contrary, Finerman quotes the most common under‐ standing of the composition and details of Olympia and projects it onto its fic‐ tional re-presentation in order to explain and reinforce Victorine’s recently formed identity, which is anchored in the narrative. First of all, as a detail of an actual artwork, the model attracts the attention of a powerful and most prosperous suitor, the Duke de Lyon; and, secondly, while already stepping off the canvas, she becomes the Duke’s favourite and reaps the maximum benefits from their relationship. Therefore, the merged identity that is actively shaped by the model and represented by the painter can be understood as a form of interpretive activity that defines both the verbal and the visual embodiment of the central female figure. The Caribbean maid depicted in the painting offering her mistress a bouquet of flowers brought by one of the admirers is Toinette, who, as previously discussed, is an accidental inspiration for the composition of the ekphrastic re-presentation of the image. She is also the one who, seeing Victorine fully dressed for a masked ball held at the Duke de Lyon’s palace, calls her a goddess. The contrast between the painting’s re-presentation and the character’s description is obvious; whereas the model’s nakedness reveals her as a modern woman challenging social norms and dis‐ mantling the mythology of Venus, the affluence of Victorine’s garments not only conceals her naked flesh but also upgrades the mistress in the eyes of her maid to the status of a goddess. It is also interesting to note that Toinette’s comment is addressed to Victorine while she is handing her “a pair of elbow-length white evening gloves and a handmade blue silk moiré mask trimmed with white os‐ trich plumes” (MV 74). As a matter of fact, both the gloves and the mask are the necessary accessories for the masked ball, yet at the same time they carry a symbolic meaning. For one thing, the gloves that cover Victorine’s hands dis‐ guise the pretentious gesture depicted in the painting, which is to say they su‐ press the attention brought to her sexuality in the painting. By the same token, the mask hides the model’s face and conceals the provocative gaze, fulfilling its main function, which is to veil her true identity and provide her with an assumed identity instead. With this in mind, it is important to examine the description of the mask, namely the material it is made of. In textiles, moiré is a pattern printed on silk (as well as other fabrics) that gives the fabric a wavy, water-like appearance. The blue colour of the material undoubtedly gives prominence to 127 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="128"?> the water-like pattern, creating the impression that Victorine is soon to rise above the waves on the surface. On the one hand, the mask can be interpreted as a metaphor that foreshadows the changes in the model’s life, as the masked ball indeed gives her the opportunity to attain the financial security Victorine has always wanted. On the other, it may be seen as a reference to the painting Mademoiselle Victorine. The originally intended title of the painting is Venus, and is thought to be a variation of the mythological representation of Venus, the goddess of love and beauty. In academic art history Venus’s nudity is justified by the moment of her birth - according to the myth, the goddess is born of sea-foam and is said to have been laid in a shell after having been transported to the shore. It can therefore be assumed that a blue silk moiré mask is an explicit reference to Venus, emphasising Toinette’s vision and haunting the model with an allegory that the painter intentionally avoids. Yet another decorative element of the mask conveys the same message. The mask is trimmed with white ostrich plumes, which in ancient Egypt were the attributes of Ma’at, the goddess of truth, order and justice. In ancient Egyptian art, Ma’at is represented in the form of an ostrich feather or a female figure with a white feather in her hair. Schroeder discusses the role of Ma’at as a goddess: Ma’at is most often recognized in Ancient Egyptian Books of the Dead, which are scenes that include instructions on how to transition into the afterlife, or Beyond. […] The books describe a “last judgment” before the god of embalming, Anubis, and the god of the underworld, Osiris. The books often depict the heart of the deceased being weighed against an ostrich feather, representative of Ma’at. […] If the weighing rules in the deceased’s favor, he or she is permitted into the afterlife. If the outcome is nega‐ tive, however, a creature eats the heart and the deceased endures another death. (6) In Egyptian tradition the feather becomes a symbol of truth and purity as well as hope for resurrection and immortality. Consequently, besides making yet an‐ other reference to Victorine as a goddess, the white ostrich plumes on the mask, similar to the white gloves she is wearing, allow the courtesan to create the impression of being truthful and pure, while at the same time indicating her hope for a new life and a claim of immortality for her image. It is indeed peculiar that when meeting Phillipe de Lyon at the ball, Victorine removes the mask as if unveiling the likeness to the goddess, and in doing so reveals her own nature. Initially the duke addresses Victorine as Mademoiselle Victorine, quoting the title of the painting instead of calling her Mademoiselle Laurent, which would have been more natural, yet when Phillipe expresses his wish to have her as his mistress, he uses a Venus allegory: “There is a beautiful Venus on display at the Salon that I intend to possess. […] I want the Venus, not 128 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="129"?> the painting” (MV 84). The fact that the duke addresses his potential property as Venus may be the result of the intention to express adoration for the beauty of the desired object, or a false interpretation of Manet’s demythologising of the female nude, accentuating his preference for an immortal goddess over the real woman. It can thus be suggested that de Lyon sees Victorine first and foremost as a detail from the painting, an object that can be made property, just like any other piece of art. After the act of physical intimacy, Phillipe exclaims: “Victorine is in my bed! Victorine, Victorine, Victorine! ” (129). While experiencing the model as a ‘real’ person, the duke disposes of an allegory, which not only brings him closer to an understanding of the intended meaning of the image, but also actually places him in the role of a suitor, an indispensible yet invisible part of the artwork. What is worth pointing out is that the goddess-like attributes ac‐ company the model only when she is fully dressed: they vanish as soon as her mask or clothes are removed. These opposing identities make the model an obiectum controversum and trap her in a state between myth, artwork and real life. Berthe Indirectly, Victorine is present in another novel about Manet called With Vio‐ lets, in which Robards examines the relationship between the painter and Berthe Morisot (the first person narrator of the story), who is invited to become a model for Le Balcon. Manet’s well-established reputation as a painter of provocative nudes and a seducer of his models, and a married man at that, makes his offer inappropriate and unacceptable: “You insult my daughter and offend me with your crass insinuation. […] Do you think Berthe a common model? Like your Olympia? ” (WV 30). This is the first mention of the painting; though reference is made through the title, it undoubtedly spotlights the model, whereby the meaning and reception of the painting is transferred onto the model who posed for it and became a scandal all Paris knew about: “Olympia, scandal’s own mis‐ tress. It is rumoured that Victorine Meurent, the beautiful woman who posed for Olympia, was Édouard’s mistress. But she left him. For years now, he has had no regular model” (46). The artist tries to persuade Madame Morisot of the respectability of his intentions in order to solicit her approval for Berthe’s mod‐ elling: “Madame, s’il vous plaît, Madmoiselle Berthe is very beautiful. I simply wish to paint her portrait” (30). While the perspective of her daughter following Victorine’s steps only affirms to Madame Morisot the correctness of her deci‐ sion, Berthe’s sister Edma does not see any harm in Édouard’s and Berthe’s professional relationship: “So he wants to paint you […] Is she [mother] afraid you will turn into Olympia right before her very eyes? ” (46). This question turns 129 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="130"?> out to be fatal as, on the one hand, it foreshadows the continuation of the story‐ line, while on the other, it marks the beginning of Berthe’s identity conflicts. The idea of posing for Manet intrigues Berthe and encourages her to imagine herself as Olympia: Still, I can’t help but picture myself as Olympia, wanton and mocking, sprawled in serene imprudence, with a thin black ribbon around my neck and a small slipper on one foot. The other foot, brazenly bare, tucked beneath the sole of my shoe, toes teasing, hinting at hidden promises yet to be discovered. (46) This interior monologue provides a quick ekphrastic scanning of the original painting, which, besides accentuating the details of the skimpy garments of the female nude, offers an interpretation of the essential characteristics of the model - described as wanton, mocking and imprudent - the representation of whom is the reason for which the painting caused a scandal. Most importantly, how‐ ever, by seeing herself as Olympia, Berthe does more than literally step into another woman’s shoes. By experimenting with her pose, tying the black ribbon around her neck and putting on one of the slippers, she ‘tries on’ a new identity and becomes wanton and imprudent herself. While experimenting with the idea of becoming Olympia, Madmoiselle Morisot devotes her attention to her bare foot and as a matter of course reads meaning into it. What is quite interesting is the fact that this interpretation is not given to the representation of the original model but to an imaginary representation of Berthe in Olympia, in which her toes are teasing and “hinting at hidden promises yet to be discovered” (46). Morisot seems to have merged with the infamous representation and even ac‐ cepted this new vision of herself, which could be the reason why she feels it necessary to keep her revelation secret: “If Maman knew, she would lock me away for the rest on my life” (46). When Manet fails to change Madame Morisot’s opinion about her daughter modelling, Berthe is given the opportunity to make her own decision. However, she is caught between two identities and the con‐ flicting opinions that they give rise to: Inside me two Berthes war: one is the picture of Propriety. The obedient daughter. The proper lady, quiet and contemplative; the other is an impulsive woman I scarcely recognize - an ugly creature prone to being swept away, she is not so compliant, discreet, or pensive - an Olympia of sorts. Lost in impulse’s shadow, Propriety cannot find her voice. This delights Olympia. So does the thought of my being Édouard’s model. Yes, the prospect delights and arouses her. (50) 130 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="131"?> Berthe’s interior monologue reveals the dual nature of her desire: the good in her only urges her to conform to conventional standards of behaviour - being “the obedient daughter” her mother expects her to be - and of morality - re‐ jecting Manet’s inappropriate offer to model; the bad encourages her to follow her own will and eventually makes Berthe consent to modelling. In psychoanalysis the co-existence of conflicting feelings towards a particular object or situation is referred to as ambivalence (Freud 118-119). The conflict between the good and the bad is interpreted in the novel as the opposition be‐ tween an animate, allegorical personification of Propriety, who wants to be mo‐ rally correct and socially accepted, and an animate allegory of Olympia, who “looks the world in its naked eye without a blink of shame” (47). Both Propriety and Olympia are discernible to the reader; however, while Propriety - formed by years of appropriate social and moral behaviour - remains invisible and thus possibly less cogent, Olympia is manifested visually through the re-presentation of an image already known to the reader. As already mentioned, Berthe’s Olympia identity is the result of Madame Morisot’s prejudice against modelling, of Edma’s comment on the impossible transformation of her sister into Olympia, and of Berthe’s illusive self-image in Manet’s painting. However, it is the inter‐ pretation of the female figure, seen as extravagant, imprudent, impulsive and bold, that characterises the model’s new identity, the identity that is originally created by the painter and therefore born straight out of the canvas. It may therefore be the case that despite the impropriety of the situation, the Olympia identity manifests a hope for reconciliation with her creator. This may also be why it becomes the voice that eventually convinces Berthe to give in to for‐ bidden, passionate love. For instance, when Manet and Morisot meet in the Louvre after their first kiss, an abrupt ending to which was caused by his wife Suzanne’s unexpected visit to Édouard’s studio, Berthe’s splintered identity takes over: I am at war with myself: You are so foolish for longing for him as he stands right in front of you, says Propriety. Even after you spent the past hours fretting, feeling dirty and used, over nearly being found out. Yes, but underneath it all, says Olympia, despite ev‐ erything that has happened, you hoped he would come today. And he did. (99, emphasis in original) Remembering the feeling of humiliation and attempting to supress Olympia’s voice, Berthe promises Édouard that the incident will not be repeated, which only causes further debate between her Olympia and Propriety: “Sure, taunts Olympia. You will not let him walk away. You desire him too much. But Propriety scolds, you have sorely neglected your own work. If you are to be a painter, you 131 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="132"?> must paint” (100, emphasis in original). Only after an enduring, intense yet un‐ easy relationship, which is doomed to deteriorate with time, does Berthe come to a realisation that in acting according to her inner Olympia, she has actually become “Victorine’s successor in fulfilling [Édouard’s] needs” (280) while at the same time disregarding her own career as a painter. The opposition between Propriety and Olympia permanently haunt Berthe until the very end of the novel. It is only after having terminated the relationship with the creator of Olympia that Berthe encounters comfort in her own painting, and experiences the oneness of her identity: “As I leave his studio, the two halves of myself - Propriety and Olympia - finally melt into one whole person. For the first time, they both agree I can no more back away from participating in this show than I can cease breathing” (282). The show that Morisot is to participate in is nothing but an independent Impressionist Exhibition, in which Manet is not included. In addition to ending the amorous connection with Manet, Berthe ceases being his model. By re-establishing her own power as an artist she elim‐ inates her ambivalence and achieves a blissful unity of Propriety and Olympia. Turning now to the professional relationship between the characters with particular attention paid to the artist, the model and the work of their mutual creation, it has to be mentioned that not only does the identity fragmentation that initially influences Berthe’s decision to model play a crucial role in the further development of the artists’ intimate relationship, but it also affects the perception and interpretation of the paintings created along the way, particu‐ larly the re-presentations of Le Balcon and Le Repos. The former marks the be‐ ginning of the artist-model relationship and is ekphrastically described in the process of its creation. Having solicited three models to pose as a respectable group of Parisians looking out from a balcony, Manet invites the models to his studio, where he intends to paint them using a fake, makeshift balcony setting created with the help of a piece of wrought iron located near the windows. When the models are introduced to each other, Berthe is disappointed when she realises that both she and Fanny Claus, a violinist and a friend of Édouard’s wife, have chosen white dresses for the occasion: “They are of vastly different styles, still I worry that the monochromatic sameness will not work for Édouard’s painting and he will require one of us to change. But he will be the one to make that decision […]” (55). Similar to Alphonsine in LOTBP, the model starts considering the colour and compositional implications of the painting, yet does not intervene in the process. In contrast to Berthe, Manet does not see an obstacle in the colour likeness, and asks the models to wear the same dresses for the duration of the modelling process. Berthe’s description of other models is not as detailed. Mon‐ 132 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="133"?> sieur Guillemet is characterised as tall and distinguished (WV 55); the short and plump Fanny Claus, on the other hand, is rather rigorously examined: I would not go so far as to call her fat, but she is an unredeemingly plain girl. She has no neck to speak of and a long, pallid face with close-set black eyes that gave the appearance of two raisins pushed into rising bread dough. The simple white frock does absolutely nothing for her complexion. (55-6) Although the description of Mademoiselle Claus is of course based on the factual representation of the original painting, it is highlighted by narrator’s subjective opinion, which is for some reason tainted. Fanny’s eyes are compared to raisins and called “morbid raisin eyes” (57); her facial expression is further ridiculed by being referred to as a “boring black gaze” (57). This unpleasant description can be explained in part by the fact that Morisot analyses the model’s appearance from the perspective of a painter, most probably trying to understand why Fanny Claus is asked to model in spite of her unattractive appearance. In preparing the setting, the artist adds a chair, which - as indicated - is occupied by Morisot, whose position is further adjusted by the painter, who places her left arm on the railing of the balcony, instructing her to tuck the skirt underneath her to make the legs of the chair visible (62), then asks Mademoiselle Claus to help and “fix her train so it flows nicely over the back” (62) and requests Berthe to change the angle of her body. The other two models take standing positions: Fanny is next to Berthe, holding an umbrella and bending her arms, acting as if she is “putting on gloves” (64), while Monsieur Guillemet is between and slightly behind the women. Besides these, Édouard adds several other details, namely a necklace consisting of a “heart-shaped medallion strung on a piece of ribbon” (63), which he adjusts around Berthe’s neck himself, and a fan for Berthe to hold: “Hold the fan in your left hand and bring it up so it rests on your right arm” (64). In like fashion, he adds a hat to Fanny’s outfit, “the homeliest hat I have ever seen - a close-fitting cap with a big, ugly dried pompon of a flower pinned to it” (64). It is interesting that while withholding any commentary on the details added to one model’s appearance, the narrator accentuates the ludicrousness of Fanny’s new accessory: “I smile to myself, as I can only imagine how ridiculous her long, expressionless face must look in that unfashionable hat” (64). Morisot’s rather hostile attitude towards the model may be explained by the fact that as a close friend of Édouard’s wife - they “often play duets at the Thursday night parties at his mother’s house” (55) - she might have been asked to act as chaperon, spy on the couple and alarm Suzanne should any inappropriate interaction take place. That is also probably why Berthe is satisfied with being positioned looking in a different direction: “I am glad he has me angled away from Fanny Claus. 133 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="134"?> That way I do not have to look at her, or what might be worse, I do not have to make an effort to not look at her” (66). Unlike in LOTBP, no interaction between the models of Le Balcon takes place during the sittings; the simulated stillness and intended passiveness not only accentuate their resemblance to inanimate objects, which, managed only by the artist, do not participate in the process of co-creation of the artwork, but also reinforce the impression of isolation, dis‐ tance and frigidness that the painting intends. The creator has absolute power over the painting process, and it is he who establishes communication with Berthe, occasionally engaging her in conversation about her own work and the possibility of entering the Salon. Morisot is clearly distinct from the other two models during the sittings, a fact that is also reflected in the re-presentation proper. When, after more than a month of modelling, Fanny Claus examines the work still in progress, she notices the difference in the representation of the figures: “It is plain to see you have eyes for only one subject in this painting. You will do fine without me” (WV 89). The subject that Fanny is referring to is no one but Berthe, who, while looking at the painting later, confirms the obser‐ vation: “when I take a good look at the painting, Fanny Claus’s words ring true. The exquisite detail in which he has painted my image makes the vague sketches of the others look even plainer, as if they are merely making space on the canvas” (89). The detailed depiction of Morisot dominates the painting and diminishes the presence of other figures, reflecting on and capturing visually the same experience that occurs in the modelling process. It seems, therefore, that this selectiveness of interaction provides an insight into the creative process of making an artwork, as well as influencing the perception of the end product. In the process of modelling in Manet’s studio with a group of other people, and in the presence of her mother as chaperone, Berthe behaves with the utmost propriety, muting Olympia’s voice to the best of her ability. Yet as soon as she is left alone with Édouard, she cannot resist the intimacy and lets Olympia take over. It is possible to hypothesise that given the fact that Morisot’s identity fragmentation accompanies the process of making an artwork, it also penetrates the medium of the painting. The most compelling evidence of this is the fact that when Le Balcon is exhibited at the Salon, the public refer to Berthe as a femme fatale, an alluring woman - an epithet that does not necessarily suit the representation in question: “I am more strange-looking than… alluring” (WV 134). However, bearing in mind Majas on a balcony (the source of inspiration for Le Balcon), the ironic contrast between the respectable Parisian elite and the courtesans with their companions, as well as Berthe’s ambivalence, which forces her to participate in the struggle between Propriety and Olympia, it is indeed likely that Berthe’s representation in Le Balcon incorporates both of these iden‐ 134 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="135"?> tities. While Propriety is visualised in the painting, becoming an image of a modest, ethical Parisian woman, Olympia is indirectly implied by the association with Goya’s courtesans. Even more Olympia identity is manifested in Le Repos - the composition of the portrait is formed by the model when she visits Manet’s studio: “I remove my hat and coat and sit upon the big red divan, my dress puffed around me like a giant white cloud. I twist my body toward him so that we might finish our conversation” (112). Envisioning the painting, Manet begs her to hold the position in order for him to be able to transpose the vision onto the paper: “You look so … so beautiful… in your white dress and black ribbon, sitting there with your cheeks pink and flushed” (113). Adjusting a few details, Manet ar‐ ranges the hem of the skirt so that the black slipper remains clearly visible and gives Berthe a red fan to hold, the same one she is holding in Le Balcon. Neither the revealing black slipper nor the fan is coincidental: both elements turn out to be particularly significant details that foster the parallel to the painting Olympia and bring Berthe’s Olympia identity to an altogether different level. Once put on display, the painting becomes the subject of various speculations, raising questions of the possible intimacy shared between the artists, in this case the painter and his model, and resulting in further suspicion that Morisot may in fact be Manet’s Olympia: Speculation on the exact nature of the relationship between Mademoiselle Berthe Morisot and Monsieur Édouard Manet is the talk of Paris. Given his Salon entry, Repose, his sensual portrait of her sprawled, seductively and inviting, on the red divan, one cannot help but wonder. The black shoe is a sharp contrast peeking out from beneath the virginal white froth of dress. Alas, it is the way she holds her red fan in her right hand, while her elegant left hand is placed so boldly on the seat next to her. That coupled with that come-hither expression, she seems to beckon the viewer to sit next to her for an intimate tête-à-tête. Given Monsieur Manet’s well-known propensity to paint what he sees, one cannot help but speculate that Mademoiselle Morisot’s smoldering glance is meant for him and him alone. I wonder what his wife has to say about that. (261-2, emphasis in original) The parallels of description and interpretation between these two paintings seem immediately apparent. First and foremost, there is the uncanny parallel between the poses of the female figures. Several details of the models’ body postures are repeated; for example, in both Olympia and Le Repos the attention is directed to the models’ feet. The bare toes of Olympia’s right foot, which peek out from behind the sole of her shoe, thus in stark contrast to her left foot, which is covered by a slipper and creates an impression of “teasing, hinting at hidden promises yet to be discovered” (46), is reflected in the representation of Berthe’s 135 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="136"?> right foot poking out from the voluminous gown, causing an imbalance between the Catholic symbolism of the white dress and the frivolous disclosure of the black shoe. Even more so, the attention of the critics in the passage quoted above is devoted to the model’s hands. In her right hand Berthe is holding a closed fan, and in the same nonchalant and counterproductive way, Victorine is pulling away the coverlet to reveal her nakedness. Berthe closes the fan and removes it far from her face, provoking the viewer with a smouldering “come-hither ex‐ pression” that at least in this description seems similar to Victorine’s famous challenging, calculating look. Moreover, her left hand is described as resting boldly on the divan as if insisting on the viewer joining her, which undoubtedly corresponds to the interpretation of Victorine’s hand gesture, vulgar and in‐ viting. Furthermore, the poses of the models, though different at first glance, are seen in the novel as very much alike: Victorine is “wanton and mocking, sprawled in serene imprudence” (46) and Berthe is “sprawled, seductively and inviting” (261). Therefore, the gaze of the model, her hand gestures, even her pose in Le Repos suggest an obvious analogy with Victorine’s in Olympia and thus hint at a similar interpretation of the represented female figures as lasciv‐ ious, enticing and heedless of social norms. In both cases, however, it is an ex‐ ternal viewer (neither the painter nor the model involved in the process of making an artwork) who interprets the paintings. Olympia is partially described and interpreted by Berthe, who, though reading into it a subjective meaning, seems to rely on the art critics’ perception of the painting, reviews of which were excessive and therefore hardly possible to ignore at the time it was ex‐ hibited. Le Repos, on the other hand, is reviewed in the novel by both Ansel Racine, an art critic, who suggests the resemblance between the models, hence leading the viewers to an analogous interpretation of the paintings in his article published in Le Figaro, and the model herself, who explains the reasons why she wanted to prevent Manet from putting it on the public display in the Salon: “Not until he was ready to reveal our relationship. […] it’s an extremely intimate portrait, so telling. He certainly captured everything I was feeling that day, as Racine pointed out” (262). Not only does the model confirm Racine’s observa‐ tions, but she also approves of the interpretation that compares and in fact up‐ grades her to the status of Manet’s new Olympia, thus completing the transfor‐ mation. Although the references to Olympia are plentiful - it is the painting that creates the artist’s unsavoury reputation, causes Madame Morisot’s protest to her daughter’s possible modelling, makes Berthe develop ambivalence and even influences interpretation of the artworks that follow - they do not intend to provide an ekphrastic description of the original, focusing on the interpretation 136 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="137"?> of the depicted female figure, but rather give a comprehensive account of the key elements of the representation as well as their intended meanings. As discussed earlier, the relationship between the artist and the model in regard to the work of art is based on a hierarchy of power. The painter comes first in the process of creation, and while the models, despite their intended or accidental interference with the work, are made into rather passive sitters, the artist determines and controls the direction and the outcome of the piece. It is unquestionably so in case of Impressionist figure paintings, which are in fact painted commentaries on contemporary culture, modern urban and suburban life. However, power differentials move in an opposite direction in portraiture, in which it is not the representation of the subject of contemporary life, but the actual model as a real person who is the focal point. Portraiture is different from figurative art in that the portrait seeks to render a likeness of a particular indi‐ vidual - figure painting aims for a depiction of a human figure with reference to a certain place or action. In Impressionist paintings the difference is clearly delineated in the titles. Thus, for example, Le Balcon and Le Repos allude to a place and an activity respectively, whereas the title of another painting intro‐ duced in WV, namely, Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes, quotes the name of the model and thereby announces itself as a portrait. Though the title of the painting is not actually mentioned in the novel, the precise record of the details of the gown Morisot is wearing - a “low-cut black dress […] - the pretty one with the lace around the neckline and the black ribbon that ties at the waist” (WV 255) -, the description of Berthe clothing herself and arranging her hair - “I pull my black dress over my head. Not bothering with my corset, I tie the black ribbon at the waist, then pin my hair away from my face, leaving the back fall free about my shoulders” (261) -, the adjustments that the artist makes to the outfit before starting to paint - Manet ties a black velvet ribbon around Berthe’s neck, “forming a little bow, then picks up the bouquet of violets and tucks it in the bodice of [her] dress” (261) - all these details unambiguously point to the fact that the artwork described in the novel is the re-presentation of Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes. The painting is finished in two sessions; both times it is Berthe who examines the painting, notices the alternations made to the image, and comments on them: first she sees someone remotely similar to her in a state of despair, “It is me, or at least a woman who looks like me. I look dumbfounded at the black-clad image with heartbroken eyes starting [sic] back at me” (275), then changes are made and her counterpart is given an altogether different quality, hence is also differently perceived by the model: It’s the same black hat and dress. Only now the sad green eyes have been transformed into great sensuous brown pools. […] I notice he also added a nice touch - he has 137 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="138"?> painted in a small bouquet of blue violets into the bodice of my dress. I look stronger. Somehow more sure of myself. He has transformed the despondent, green-eyed girl from the earlier version, into a confident - one might almost say sultry - brown-eyed woman. With violets. (278) The variance of these re-presentations can be explained in part by Berthe’s am‐ bivalence, which corresponds to the alternation of her gaze. Her mourning, suf‐ fering Propriety is transformed into a sensuous and confident Olympia. Another possible explanation for this is that through the medium of an artwork the artist, very similarly to Manet in MV, determines and bestows upon his model a certain identity. However, taking into account that the artist depicts what he observes, it may also be assumed that the transformation captured in the painting has already taken place in the model as a matter of course. It is therefore likely that Berthe is oblivious to the transition of her character until she actually sees it visualised by someone else and accepts it as her own: “What is art if not a rev‐ elation of what lives inside us? ” (WV 278). This portrait marks the resolution of Morisot’s identity crisis and culminates her intimate relationships with Édouard Manet. It may be concluded that the model’s identity struggle is determined by the artist but most importantly governed by his art, which acts as a catalyst, giving impulses at all the stages of character development - from the outset of the conflicting feelings till its climax and inevitable end - and thus completing the full life-circle of Berthe’s ambivalence. Marie and Alexandrie Turning now to another Impressionist and his experimental ways of painting ballet dancers, the study focuses on two novels about Degas and his ballerina models, Marie (TPG) and Alexandrie (DFD). Both characters are ambitious and hard-working petit rats at the Paris Opéra, a place where ballets were performed but also a place known to be a meeting point for members of upper class, Parisian society: Almost every man of any degree of sophistication and urbanity held a subscription, an abonnement, to one of the thriceweekly performances of the Opera; and the sub‐ scribers, the abonnés, were given free run of the theater, not only the stalls and boxes from which the performance was viewed, but also the wings of the stage, its maze of corridors, the dancers’ dressing rooms, and the foyer de la danse, the green room where the abonnés congregated with the dancers before, during, and after the performance. (Shackelford 14) A celebrated painter of ballet, Edgar Degas is such an abonné; not only does he regularly frequent the performances but he is also admitted to the rehearsals, 138 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="139"?> 20 Degas, Edgar. A Coryphée Resting, c. 1880-1882, pastel, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA, USA. during which he tries to explore ballerina rehearsals and capture movement as a fleeting moment. He carefully observes the dancers’ constitution and move‐ ments and studies their weaknesses, turning his attention to the state of ex‐ haustion that the dancers reveal during their breaks. Here is the description of such a ballet dancer from A Coryphée Resting  20 in TPG: There is no more to the picture than a few lines of charcoal, a few dashes of pastel, but the exhaustion of the girl is there, in the ribs heaving with each breath, the late night and bellowing father of the evening before, also the long hours at the barre, striving to balance a second longer or land a little softer, the aching thighs rolling open even at rest. (71) According to Shackelford, ballet was a unique contemporary leisure subject that enabled the subtle blending of “the natural, unguarded gestures of dancers at rest and the highly artificial movements of the classical ballet” (17). In other words, ballet allowed the artist to depict the duality of a staged act, revealing the ambiguousness of the ballet performance through a combination of the dan‐ cers’ naturalness as human beings and the artificiality of their performance. It is interesting that in a sense a ballet performance resembles a painter’s artistic efforts, in that a painter, as does a ballet choreographer, works with the real models who are choreographed on the canvas to eventually become represen‐ tations of the artist’s vision. In this respect, as Shackelford points out, ballerinas were “the ideal models for an artist torn between an almost obsessive interest in the idiosyncratic and individual and an equally fine-tuned appreciation for the exquisitely beautiful” (17). Indeed, both of Degas’s fictional characters in‐ clude the reputation of a painter who, instead of romanticising the dancer’s life and idealising their performances, depicts the ugliness and awkwardness of ballerinas’ movements: “ballet girls fixing their stockings or scratching their backs” (TPG 21), portraying them as dancing monkeys with “a vulgar monkey-face with a common expression and soiled feet” (DFD 115). As a matter of fact, both models hold a different opinion of the way the ballerinas should be represented: Marie wants to look “pretty instead of worn out […], dancing in‐ stead of resting […] [her] aching bones […], on the stage, like a real ballet girl, instead of the practice room” (TPG 89); and Alexandrie fears that a painting of her “in an exhausted state would only produce a less than desirable picture” (DFD 219). However, despite the fact that the artist’s representation of the ballet dancers is far from flattering, Marie and Alexandrie agree to model, seeing 139 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="140"?> 21 Eugénie Fiocre (1845-1908) was a prima ballerina at the Paris Opera, and was married to Stanislas Le Compasseur de Créqui-Montfort Marquis de Courtivron. 22 Degas, Edgar. Portrait de Mlle Eugénie Fiocre: à propos du ballet "La Source" (Portrait of Mlle Fiocre in the Ballet "La Source"), c. 1867-1868, oil on canvas, 130.8 x 145.1 cm, Brooklyn Museum, New York, USA. modelling primarily as an opportunity to earn extra money, yet also hoping that being depicted in a painting may bring about a career move, make them famous and possibly even promote them to the status of an étoile, thus attaining the highest rank as ballerinas. In other words, as does Victorine (MV), Marie and Alexandrie perceive the modelling process as well as the resulting work of art as practicable means of achieving fame and fortune. Considering painting as a set of possibilities used to be rather common among working-class women such as actresses, dancers and females involved in pros‐ titution: it supported them with extra earnings from modelling sessions, and, if it became successful, the artwork could make a positive change in their lives. As a matter of fact, in nineteenth-century Paris a number of models prospered and became renowned in art history. One example is the story of Eugénie Fiocre, 21 which is referred to in TPG. The fact that Degas is a painter who painted Eugénie’s portrait 22 arouses Marie’s interest in his work: “An étoile […]. She married a marquis […]. It was a story all Paris knew, one that kept the char‐ women and sewing maids and wool carders sending their daughters to the dance school” (21). Therefore, when later in the novel Marie finds out that the charcoal drawings of her are intended as study material for a statuette shown at the exhibition of independent artists, she is thrilled at the prospect of further pro‐ fessional success: “‘I’m as happy as a finch.’ I was more than a figure in a painting of a dozen girls. I was a ballet girl singled out, singled out for chiseling from marble, for casting in bronze” (137). Obviously, Marie’s excitement results from both the idea of being singled out for a statuette and the fact that she is chosen by the artist, whose art has already proven to be useful for one ballerina. In like manner, the concept of the usefulness of art is exploited in DFD - Alexandrie realises the possibilities that the art offers: “If I am seen in paintings around the city it will increase my popularity at the ballet […]. Everyone will want to meet the girl in the painting” (123). The recognition from the portraits fulfils the model’s expectations, ballet patrons start noticing her and so does the Ballet Master: “some patrons have even told the Ballet Master that they attended the show after seeing Edgar’s paintings” (219). At the next modelling session the artist wishes to depict the dancer in real life, capturing her exhaustion after the performance, as a nude lying on her bed. At first Alexandrie is reluctant to undress for the painting, but knowing that Degas’s intention revolves solely 140 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="141"?> around making an artwork and realising that “a nude is the most celebrated subject to paint and the most respected by critics” (221), she eventually yields: To know that Edgar is planning on a classical nude is quite enticing to me for two reasons - he has bestowed quite an honour upon me and it will no doubt be accepted into an exhibit where viewers will learn I am the model, increasing my fame expo‐ nentially. It will put me in the right position to become the étoile one day. (221-2) The paintings do attract attention to the model, but rather to her as a woman, to a girl on stage who represents beauty, not to her talent; she instantly becomes a sexual object put on display, a lorette available to the highest bidder. However, it is not until Alexandrie is confronted with a patron who demands heavy sac‐ rifices - such as abandoning the dream of ever becoming an étoile, ceasing com‐ munication with Degas and modelling, obediently following all orders (be it the choice of the clothes she is to wear while going out or acting upon sexual fan‐ tasies), even agreeing to sterilization surgery - that the ballerina rebels against the Paris Opéra system, preferring independence to a life of luxury as a lorette. Although neither her dream of becoming an étoile nor her dream of being with Edgar come true, Alexandrie finds comfort in marrying Charles Taylor, an American art buyer and commissioner of Degas’s portraits of Alexandrie. In terms of the modelling process itself, the point worth making is that the painter expects his models to act spontaneously, to pretend that they are not observed, to recreate real life situations and repeat natural somewhat awkward gestures, not choreographed ballet moves. However, anticipating natural move‐ ments, Degas gives precise instructions as to the situation in which the model finds herself acting, for example, explaining the idea to Alexandrie: “today I want you to act as if you are getting ready for a performance […] I need to capture the innocence of dressing” (DFD 138). What is interesting is the model’s comment on acting: “The only other time I ever change into a costume is when I am about to walk onstage. I suppose this is a bit like being onstage […]. Except that I’m the only performer and he is the only one in the audience” (138). In other words, what is otherwise natural for a ballerina, that is, arranging herself before going onstage, becomes an artificial act targeted at the audience in the persona of the artist. From that moment on, the model assumes almost absolute control over the painting process - it is her ability to emulate real life that is carefully examined, her decisions and her choice of movements that are being depicted. Yet it is also her personality and character that inspire the artist to do his best work - Alexandrie’s influence on Degas’s art and her dominance over the painting is recognised by Charles Taylor. While speaking with the model, Monsieur Taylor justifies his deep interest in the Degas pastels that feature 141 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="142"?> Alexandrie, yet also clarifies his own perception of the works: “Monsieur Degas is very talented, but I feel that it is you who brings those portraits to life. The same exact picture could be made using another girl, but it would never be a masterpiece. Your intelligence, kindness, and your elegance cannot be produced” (359). What is emphasised here is the fact that the model has ultimate respon‐ sibility for the representation. The creator, on the other hand, is forced some‐ what into the background, taking the role of an active observer who interferes in the process only when asking a model to adjust her pose or repeat an action: “he becomes particularly interested in my pose as I move to bring the strap of my satin ballerina’s bodice up to my shoulder. I repeat this action over and over at his request” (139). Future modelling sessions increase in their emotional in‐ tensity (since there are no clear references to concrete paintings, the reader can only guess which series of pastels and paintings of ballerinas and bathers are suggested) - first the focus is shifted to the time after the performance and how the ballerina spends a night off-stage without makeup or her costume, resting on a bed and exposing her naked body to the viewer; then the ballerina poses for a series of pastels and paintings of bathers. Such arrangements distance the dancer from her profession and at the same time draw attention to the reality of her as a woman. The representation of the mundanities of a ballerina’s ev‐ eryday life may thus be considered a reflection on the fact that behind the art of ballet stands a real person, the performer admired by the audience. Despite the fact that while modelling for the bathers series Alexandrie does control and in a way direct the painting process, providing the artist with the requested staged acts of bathing, it is not her feelings but her pose and form that Degas is interested in. As a matter of fact, while absorbed in his own sketching the artist does not seem to notice the emotional state of the model: As I wash myself slowly, I hide my head from him so he will not see the tears that are fighting to escape from my eyes. I hold on to the side of the tub, head turned away, and pray that this will be over soon. I feel so exposed and can feel his eyes scrutinizing me while I hear the scratching of his pencils. My arm begins to quiver from main‐ taining the pose and I squat down into the tub, steadying myself with my left hand as I hold my hair up with my right. I concentrate on my feet as I hide myself from the malice that is emanating from him. […] My emotional discomfort becomes physical with my legs cramping and I stand, leaning on the edge of the tub with one hand, the other behind my neck, turning my head away from him. I cannot do this, I think to myself as I bite my lip to keep tears from falling. […] When my body is shaking from the tears as much as from the cold water, he tells me to remove myself and pick up the towel. I dry myself off, still keeping my back turned toward him. I cannot bring myself to look at him. (DFD 298-9) 142 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="143"?> 23 Degas, Edgar. Dancer with a Fan, c. 1880, pastel on grey-green laid paper, 61 x 41.9 cm, The Met, New York, USA. Trying to withhold her tears and hide her despair at being deceived in love towards Degas, and finally hiding her embarrassment at being treated as an object - a female figure needed for his work - Alexandrie adjusts her own po‐ sition and turns her back to the artist. Thus, her back becomes a shield that protects her from even greater exposure. Degas’s perception of this physical armour is reduced to the appreciable effect it produces on the representation: “I like that you turned away from me. It enhances the feeling of observation that I am trying to capture” (299). With this the artist confirms that he is unable to understand the feelings of the model, he sees only what he chooses to see. In fact, many an art historian has contemplated Degas’s decision not to paint faces. So, in discussing the reasons why Degas seldom paints faces, Dunning argues that Degas’s approach to figure painting may be interpreted as “another step in substituting space, in place of man, as the centre of interest in painting. As form became his content, he began to use models, like still lifes, as nothing but a subject to be exploited in his search for new form and structure” (127). What is implied here is that the artist changes the focus of the figurative painting, shifting it from the representation of the actual person or personal events to the mere study of form. Wagner, however, exploiting the idea of the representation of form in DFD, offers an alternative interpretation of Degas’s series of faceless bathers, emphasising the model’s impact on the painting through her person‐ ality, the mental state during the modelling process, and consequently her choice of position. Hence, by combining two viewpoints - referring to the creator’s intention and revealing the model’s emotions - the novelist expands the meaning of the series of bathers - on the one hand making it more sentimental and intimate, while on the other contrasting the genuineness of Alexandrie’s pose with Degas’s mistaken perception of it as an act. In the case of TPG, the modelling process is shown in retrospective (Marie is looking back on one year of modelling) - it is disclosed in a series of flashbacks that customarily accompany the model’s viewing of a particular painting on display either at the artist’s studio or in an art gallery. Thus, for example, seeing Degas studying Dancer with a Fan, 23 a pastel of her holding a fan, Marie remem‐ bers the effort it took her to pose: For that drawing he had wanted me posed in fourth position, my right foot ahead of my left and the toes of both feet pointed out to the sides. That part was nothing, easy, with my hips naturally loose and getting more so with all the exercises for training the legs to roll outward in the hip sockets. The hard part was the was the way he had 143 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="144"?> 24 Degas, Edgar. Dancer Resting, c. 1878-1890, chalk, pastel board, dimensions unknown, private collection. one of my hands holding up a fan and the other reached around the back of my head like I was massaging my neck. It was the kind of picture he liked to make - a ballet girl hot and tired in the practice room and taking a second to fan herself while awaiting her turn. At first I had to work up a look of exhaustion, but with Monsieur Degas caught up in his sketching and being extra misery with the breaks, I held the pose for most of three hours and soon my neck genuinely ached and my shoulders truthfully slumped. The more tired I became, the merrier he grew. (85-6) While looking back on the modelling session and evaluating which movements caused her more distress, not only does Marie describe the painting, dwelling on the details of her pose - explaining the fourth position of feet as well as the required ballet training, clarifying the position of her hands and even inter‐ preting the gesture of her hand reaching behind her head in an attempt to mas‐ sage her stiff neck muscles - but she also comments upon the artist’s preference for capturing the moments off-stage when the dancers appear most human by revealing their physical weariness: “It was the kind of picture he liked to make - a ballet girl hot and tired in the practice room and taking a second to fan herself while awaiting her turn” (86). Moreover, the model refers to the way Degas works, more specifically that he is inconsiderate of the need for breaks for the model and that the more uncomfortable the position looks, the more excited he is to depict it. Marie’s comment on the fact that at first she has to pretend, to “work up a look of exhaustion” (86) proves the point that Degas’s ballerina models in fact perform the off-stage reality for the artist. However, a long mod‐ elling session makes the exhaustion real: “I held the pose for most of three hours and soon my neck genuinely ached and my shoulders truthfully slumped” (86). It is important to realise that while posing ceases to be an act, the ballerina model becomes a real person, a girl exhausted by physical pain - precisely what the artist wants her to be. Another modelling flashback occurs when Marie comes to an art gallery to see the picture of her, the pastel Dancer Resting: 24 And there I was, on the far wall, in pastel and black chalk […] reading the newspaper beside the stove in Monsieur Degas’s workshop. I wore my practice skirt and the blue sash I bought with my bakery money and you could make out the braid running atop my head that it had taken me a good half hour to get right. There were bracelets upon my forearms, which was strange when I did not own a single one. (TPG 140) 144 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="145"?> As in the reminiscence about the session for Dancer with a Fan, Marie firstly gives a rather apt description of the painting, enumerating its most essential elements, such as the activity the model is occupied with, the costume and the accessories she is wearing. Probably one of the most curious details of this painting is the dancer’s pastime - even if a ballerina were literate, reading would not necessarily be her favourite way to relax. Nevertheless, Marie turns to the newspaper during the breaks or while waiting for the artist to get ready: Reading the newspaper was how I passed the time while waiting for Monsieur Degas to mix his pigments with oil or find a pastel of a particular shade of blue. Not a week ago I was doing just that and letting the warmth of his stove seep into my tired bones, when he called out, “Don’t move, Mademoiselle van Goethem. Don’t move the breadth of a hair.” […] “Eyes down, reading the newspaper again.” (140) A point worth making here is that there is no false pretence in the action: the dancer is taking a break from her modelling and chooses to read - the contrast this activity provides to ballet attracts the artist’s attention. It may be suggested that by acting naturally in this case Marie does what the painter would otherwise instruct her to do: doing what she would normally do before or after the per‐ formance or imagining being off-stage and stretching her legs, scratching her back or massaging her neck. As demonstrated in TPG the pastel captures the moment of the model resting from the actual modelling, yet Degas’s artwork implies only a literal interpretation of the image, one that is spelled out in its title, Dancer Resting, a representation of a dancer at rest reading a newspaper. Even so, the novelist imbues the act of reading with new meaning, and by sug‐ gesting Marie’s influence on the outcome of the artwork considers the model an unconscious co-creator of the image. Conclusion Alphonse, Alphonsine, Jeanne, Aline, Angèle, Antonio, Gustave, Ellen, Charles, Jules (LOTBP), Victorine (MV), Berthe (WV), Marie (TPG) and Alexandrie (DFD) are the models featured in the masterpieces by renowned Impressionist painters. According to Steiner, the model is “‘that which art represents,’ a reality with an independent existence outside the work” (The Real Real Thing 3). However, at the same time as being a detail of the painting, the model becomes an integral part of it. It can therefore be assumed that models function as the key elements in the works of art; that is to say, they become the representation of the art itself. As art fictional characters, models live and act on and off the canvas. The ability to move within and beyond a given artwork not only allows the charac‐ ters to interact freely with the creator and transpose the intended meaning of 145 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="146"?> the image, but also to communicate an emotional meaning of an artwork, con‐ veying the fictional subjective meaning that is based on the actual experience of the modelling process rather than the art-historical interpretation of the painting. Therefore, by individualising the models as representatives of the second half of the nineteenth century and its social mores - that is to say, cre‐ ating a detailed portrait of each of them, presenting their interaction with the artist or other models involved, explaining what is happening in their lives and providing insight into the modelling process - contemporary art fiction writers contribute to the understanding of the works of art. They give the paintings socio-cultural and historical dimensions and consequently expand the interpre‐ tation of a painting while taking the reader-viewer on a tour around the mas‐ terpiece. Furthermore, characters seen as details in the painting serve the pur‐ poses of ekphrasis in that they participate in the twofold process of the re-presentation of the image as well as its re-interpretation. In showing the artists at work, explaining their struggles (anything from choosing and persuading the models, finding the compositional solution of the painting, to solving financial problems), talking about their achievements and self-doubts, the novelists do not refute the painter’s superiority in the hierarchy established between the creator, the model and the artwork; they do, however, suggest a certain influence exerted on the artwork by the models. A close analysis of the modelling process shows that the role of a model consists in more than being a passive sitter. Models participate in the creative process, some unconsciously by bringing in a distinct personality, revealing individual interests, making unex‐ pected gestures and facial expressions, redirecting their gazes, accidentally taking noteworthy poses - all of these may, to a certain extent, influence originally in‐ tended representation; others consciously, making it their job to contribute to the painting. In a sense, in both cases models become either passive or active co-crea‐ tors of an artwork, occupying a prominent place in artistic production. Another interesting finding is that the participation of model in a painting may also have a great influence on character. The artwork can be seen as the root cause of a character’s contentment, satisfaction, desire, anger, hate, jealousy or anxiety; it may change the way the model thinks, perceives the world and interprets art, it may favourably influence the model’s social standing, yet it can also shape an entirely new identity for the sitter or haunt the character to the extent that she suffers from ambivalence. Bearing in mind the potential power of an artwork over a model, it is also important to realise that the model and the artwork are not only interdependent but also mutually integral. In other words, the artwork represents the model while the model represents the artwork - the painting cannot be born without the model, the model, on the other hand, en‐ 146 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="147"?> tering the pictorial space, remains there as an inherent, indissoluble detail. As a result, models fulfil several functions in the ekphrastic narrative; they perform as focalising characters moving outside the canvas, they become details of the painting and they operate as artists tout court, who become submissive to the power of the artwork that may alter their lives, manipulate their feelings, guide their thoughts, regulate their actions and even determine their identities. In discussing the narrative limitations of the pictorial medium, Wolf points out the fact that “what is depicted is not an actual change of a situation […] but only the suggestion of a change which the viewer is required to infer” (“Pictorial Nar‐ rativity” 432, emphasis in original). What is suggested here is that the image ne‐ cessitates an active ‘reader’ who develops and interprets its narrative. Not only do contemporary art fiction narratives fulfil the function of a close reading of the image, they also interpret the preceding and the subsequent stages of an art‐ work; that is to say, they report on how the image comes into being as well as investigate how this image is perceived by the fictional audience. The detailed descriptions of the modelling sessions structure the narrative and move the plot forward, making the artwork a sort of a bridge that not only connects the events but also signals their progression. Moreover, they significantly enrich contempo‐ rary narratives since by imitating “the creative and communicative interactions involved in the experience of art” (Steiner, The Real Real Thing 3) they expose the reader to the very process of making an artwork, which in this case is a fictional re-representation of an existing painting. As a matter of fact, during the model‐ ling process various features and details of an artwork are outlined. Parts of the painting or at times the entire painting are ekphrastically described while the artist is working on the re-presentation and interacting with the model. Hence, the painting-modelling sessions provide an artwork with certain dynamics with which the reader is invited to experience the actual process of making. This dynamic quality of experiencing the making of art is similar to what one finds in the practice of performance art, a genre in which the art piece is created during a performance presented to an audience. According to the art historian Goldberg, “[h]istorically, performance art has been a medium that challenges and violates borders between disciplines and genders, between private and public, and between everyday life and art, and that follows no rules” (20). The main focus of performance art is on the artist’s (and if applicable other collab‐ orators’) bodily experience, which takes place in the artistic production. It calls attention to the artist’s live action, treating it as evidence of the creator’s exis‐ tence and emphasising the fact that the creative act is of equal importance to the resulting work of art. By the same token, art fiction encourages the idea that the existence of an artwork is conditioned by the required painting-modelling 147 4.2. Models and Modelling in Art-fictional Figure Paintings <?page no="148"?> process. The novels distinguish the artist as the creator and the model as the collaborator whose bodily experiences are narrated in a continuous form through the painting-modelling sessions. These sessions refocus the reader’s attention onto the artist’s action instead of onto the work of art itself, making the spatial artwork exist temporally, thus challenging Lessing’s dichotomy of the verbal and the visual as temporal versus spatial arts respectively. 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour According to Hepburn, “details are not valuable in themselves, but function as the repository of value, placing emphasis here or there, while always keeping something secretly in reserve” (86). The details of the visual source are the car‐ riers of condensed information that is decisive for the meaning of an artwork. Yet it is due to the ambiguity of the meaning of the details that the perception of the work of art becomes intrinsically complex and its interpretation multi‐ faceted. When the visual details penetrate the verbal dimension - which is used in the actual ekphrastic descriptions or appears in the course of the story - they evolve into expository details of the narrative, in which case their understanding is completely subjective. While details become relevant to the development of the story, they also serve as references to the artworks and communicate their potential meaning. The selected details from one painting enter into a reciprocal relationship with the narrative and influence, even alter, the interpretation of the art piece. The transit zone of visual-verbal details in art fiction is therefore primarily seen in this study as the zone of transmission of meaning and re-in‐ terpretation of an artwork. Selected visual details can be shown in isolation, but they are then put in the context of the re-presentation. It is by no means imperative that the details in the foreground of the painting are those that become progressively prominent in the narrative. On the contrary, any, even seemingly meaningless details or compositional elements may receive close attention in the verbal medium, which naturally attaches aesthetic significance to the detail in question and impacts the understanding of the re-presentation. Hepburn points out that a detail “con‐ stitutes a point that can be noticed, in the sense that it detaches from narrative temporality and becomes an object in itself. Up close, the detail paralyses the reader’s attention; it disturbs the entire pattern of narrative” (59). The main argument here is the fact that the detail interrupts the narrative sequence, con‐ ditions its separation from the temporal unfolding of the narrative and makes the detail an object in itself, an object that can become evident to the reader. Of 148 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="149"?> 25 James, Henry. “Parisian Festivity”, New York Tribune, May 12, 1876 in John Rewald, The History of Impressionism, 4 th edition, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1973: 371. 26 Brandes, Georg. “Japanesik og impressionistic Kunst”, October 30, 1882 in John Rewald, The History of Impressionism, 4 th edition, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1973: 497. course, not all details possess the same level of significance to the reader - some stand out on the first reading, others go unnoticed. It is important to realise, however, that in art fiction the reader is confronted with details that appear in both dimensions (the verbal and the visual). Such details are already objectified in the visual source; they are visually present along with their verbal description. Since ekphrastic descriptions of small elements of the painting interrupt the temporal flow of the narrative and since the selected visual details form part of the re-presentation, which they seek to expand by signifying a new meaning, it is highly unlikely that they can be ignored or overlooked in the text. It is especially interesting to analyse the ekphrastic re-presentation of an art‐ work through re-presentation of selected compositional parts and details in the context of Impressionism since Impressionist painters are renowned for using asymmetric, unbalanced composition and for changing their painting techni‐ ques in order to pursue and capture the act of seeing, the immediate sensation and optical experience of a moment, making the “image in the painting […] subordinated to the image of the painting as a cohesive entity” (Dunning 131, emphasis in original). Because the main objective of Impressionism to represent the artist’s perception of a passing moment by translating it onto canvas and making the viewer see a perceptual impression of this instant, emphasis is placed on the overall effect of the painting rather than on the details that could tell a story. Henry James, witness to the birth and development of Impressionism, claims that Impressionists “send detail to the dogs and concentrate themselves on general expression.” 25 By the same token, in summarising the essence of Im‐ pressionism, Brandes points out that Impressionism aims at rendering the fleeting impact which our surroundings make upon us. The pictures reproduce objects as they appear when viewed from a distance, not as they would appear under closer scrutiny […] This method leaves out a number of details and above all tries to capture a whole, a mood, declaring a painting ‘finished’ as soon as this aim apparently has been achieved, regardless of how incomplete it may seem according to ordinary conceptions […]. (1882) 26 Impressionists are generally seen to transform only the immediate sensation of a visual impression with the help of colours, splashing paint directly onto a canvas without prior planning or a second thought. Although the details and 149 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="150"?> 27 The invention of photography in late 1830s revolutionized the understanding of an image and forced a reconsideration of the value of a painting, changing the way it was perceived. There are two main aspects of the photograph that painters in the nineteenth century might have been influenced by. On the one hand, early photographs were de‐ pictions of predominately front-lighted figures; thus, in comparison with three-dimen‐ sional renditions found in classical paintings, they conveyed an impression of flatness. According to Dunning, the influence of such photographs might be responsible for “the impressionists’ tendency to paint their figures flatter, less volumetrically” (132). A flatter representation is achieved by accentuating the physical presence of paint, as well as heavily structured and obvious brushwork. This makes the spectator conscious of the physicality of canvas. As Dunning points out, Impressionist paintings “were no longer illusions in which the viewer could ‘look through’ the surface to ‘see’ objects. Instead, the viewer was forced to an awareness of the canvas as a single physical entity” (141). In other words, Impressionism redefines painting by rediscovering it as a two-di‐ mensional body. On the other hand, photography is seen as the most accurate rendition of reality; hence, it forces painting to either compete with it or be different. Impres‐ sionists accept the challenge - inspired by photography, they strive to show a moment of “real” life in continual flux while focusing on the mood and emotions that are a part of this moment. Brettell argues that Impressionist paintings become “a translation of those sensations, which were themselves fleeting or ephemeral rather than permanent and enduring records of actual form” (16). In other words, if a photograph is a document that depicts reality with historical evidence, Impressionist painting is the documented, personal sense-impression of the fleeting, ever-changing instant. It seems only logical that the Impressionist movement deteriorates with the development of cameras and becomes obsolete with the invention of the motion picture camera. their informative functions seem to be lost in the blurry shapes created by un‐ blended, contrasting colour patches and tones in impressionist artworks, the simultaneous appearance of various parts of the painting that go towards con‐ structing the final image prove the equal importance of every detail and dab of colour. Therefore, the colour itself plays a significant role on the canvas and should be distinguished as a meaningful detail that - similar to details - helps to determine the composition. As far as theme is concerned, Renoir, Manet and Degas focus on contemporary culture; they choose subjects from modern urban and suburban life: theatres, cafés, bars, restaurants, Paris gardens, boulevards and streets, popular country‐ side resorts, riverbanks, seaside and, most importantly, ordinary people - middle-class or well-to-do people, friends and family members who are pictured casually at leisure social activities or in private settings. One may agree with Gombrich, who claims that Impressionist figure paintings are “of less docu‐ mentary value to the social historian that are the paintings of conventional re‐ alists” (216). However, the sum and substance of modern art is that a painting no longer has to be the carrier of information that documents an epoch with exact precision. 27 Nevertheless, by and large it seems that in the painted com‐ 150 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="151"?> 28 Manet, Édouard. Street Singer, c. 1862, oil on canvas, 171.1 x 105.8 cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA, USA. mentaries on la vie moderne, the artists do, in fact, pay close attention to com‐ position, and deliberately select the objects to be contextualised. In the event that the primary subjects of a figure painting are the human figure (either clothed or nude) and the activity the figure is engaged in, it is not surprising that the re-presentations of figure paintings in art fiction rely heavily on a selection of the elements of clothing, accessories the models are wearing, and the décor of the space they are in. The materiality of such artefacts, on the one hand, facilitates the choice of which visual details are to be included in the ekphrastic re-presentation of an artwork; on the other, it enables a simple sep‐ aration from and an apparent reference to an artwork. Moreover, as attributes of modern life, these material artefacts convey inherent socio-historical and cultural messages, which, once revealed in the narrative, add to the interpreta‐ tion of the re-presentation. Therefore, descriptions of clothes - either that the models themselves choose to wear or are requested by the artist to wear for the duration of modelling - are rather frequent in the chosen novels. Indeed, one of the main functions that items of clothing fulfil in paintings is to indicate the activity that the depicted human figure is occupied with. Such is the case with Degas’s paintings of ballet dancers - Marie and Alex‐ andrie pose in their ballet costumes, clearly signalling their professional training - and Manet’s Street Singer, 28 in which Victorine poses as a guitar singer “clutching a guitar and a fold of her charcoal-gray cotton dress in one hand, the skirt slightly raised to ensure a hint of white lace petticoat peeking out” (MV 31). In the novel, Victorine’s dress exists as a detail from the painting, yet it takes on a life of its own by becoming a new fashion trend: “a dress designer, inspired by the subtle yet cunning gesture of Victorine holding up her skirt in the painting, had created the Street Singer tunic - a skirt that was looped up with a pannier puff to show a glimpse of lace petticoat” (42). As far as the clothes for the modelling sessions in LOTBP are concerned, in attempting to depict a boating party, Renoir gives careful instructions to his models, asking Jeanne to wear “a dark blue dress for boating, and a pretty hat” (23), Gustave to be dressed as a canotier (63), Alphonsine to put on her “straw canotier and a boating dress” (84), and Aline to wear “a dark blue dress and a canotier for the sun” (252). Other models’ gowns are portrayed when the models appear at the Maison Fournaise for the their first sittings: Paul in “a red-and-white-striped boating jersey” (85), Gustave in a sleeveless singlet (86), Antonio in a pin-striped jacked (87), Angèle “with a white velvet toque perched 151 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="152"?> on her auburn curls and a red carnation tucked between her breasts” (87), Ellen wearing “a canotier with a flower pinned to the side” (87), Jules in “country tweed and mariner’s cap” (87-8), Pierre in a bowler (89) and Jeanne wearing “the felt [hat] with feathers and gold braid” (23). What is interesting is that although the costumes are not meticulously described, the given information is rather specific and reinforces the idea of a general dress code for the painting, hinting at the main colour palette and even allowing the reader to locate some of the models, though their identities are more clearly indicated in the compositional adjust‐ ments made to the painting. Indeed, the descriptions of clothes are not intended to say much about the characters’ psychology or reveal their personality in art fiction. It is, however, necessary to introduce the characters as models in the artworks (Le déjeuner des canotiers, Le balcon in particular), since their costumes become an inseparable part of the description of the artwork and are therefore relevant to the plot, especially when the description of a particular fashion accessory is spread throughout one or several scenes, as it is the case with Aline Charigot’s boating dress and a hat (LOTBP), or Jeanne’s black gloves and Berthe Morisot’s white dress and a fan (WV). Aline is the last model to join the group - her position in profile as well as the colour of her dress are determined by a model who has already left the painting: “a dark blue flannel boating dress so as to cover the shadows left from the other model” (LOTBP 253). Being a simple seamstress, Aline does not possess a boating dress, so she decides to sew it herself from nautical blue cotton flannel cloth, envisioning it as a narrow skirt with a demi-polonaise in back, knowing that “a polonaise was what separated the bourgeoisie from the working girl” (259). Since the items of clothing exist within a specific culture and a period of time, they possess the material qualities of the epoch and convey social meaning in that they are symbolic of the social identity of the person wearing them. A working girl in a boating dress raises the question of social class. Having agreed to pose for Renoir, Aline begins her search for a boating dress in a Montmartre clothes rental shop, whose owner guesses Aline’s country origins. She is taken for a prostitute who wants to parade about in an expensive dress in order to attract wealthy patrons. Madame Charigot arrives at the same conclusion when she discovers that her daughter is secretly sewing a boating dress with a polonaise for herself: “so you want a rowing dress like a proper bourgeoise to go promenading along the river. It’s either with a man or to attack a man” (266). Both reactions are based on the fact that a dress with a polonaise is more appropriate for a bourgeoise than for a simple working-class girl. The model is aware of the gaucherie but does as Renoir requests just the same. She does it for the painting as much as for the artist, who aims to show 152 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="153"?> the mélange of social classes, the meeting of the bourgeoisie and the proletariat at Chatou - in the novel the link between social class and isolated details of attire is further suggested by the use of headwear, namely, of Charles’s top hat, which stands for the élite: “Ephrussi’s top hat right there would show the group to be a mix of classes” (101) - casting Aline in the role of the bourgeoise. Her entire look is developed over several sittings to become what it is in the painting. As the story continues, the girl invests the money she receives for the first modelling session in purchasing the coral-red earrings and further deco‐ ration for her dress: a “wide red velvet band around her square neckline and a double band of red down the front of her dress” (346). This is not only to look appropriate in the painting, but also to impress the artist, who surely notices how her face becomes rosy, reflecting the red accents, and how the band ele‐ gantly defines “the lines of her dress and set[s] off her figure” (347). The making of the dress and her further styling with more elements undoubtedly elevates the model to the status of a co-creator of her own image. The fact that Aline does not pick a ready-made object but is involved in its making is of great sig‐ nificance for the novel and is crucial in understanding the original painting. As a matter of fact, the model’s manual labour that goes into the making of the dress benefits the artist’s work. At this stage the ekphrastic description of the figure in the foreground of the painting is almost complete: only one accessory is missing, namely, the hat that completes Aline’s look. The canotier the model is wearing is decorated with “a clump of red-orange poppies in front, tulle around the brim, and white rosebuds in the back” (321). It is Alphonsine who, wanting to be of further assistance to the painting process, offers the hat to Aline as a gift. Indeed, Alphonsine sees the canotier as “something of her own creation in the painting” (324), something that she contributes to the masterpiece. More‐ over, the hat acquires a symbolic meaning as it makes more immediate the love triangle between Renoir, Alphonsine and Aline - the hat is a metaphor for the artist’s heart. Although what Alphonsine wants is to show how good and gen‐ erous the hostess of the painting can be to one of her rivals, the moment the hostess presents the other woman with the canotier (to wear in the painting and to keep afterwards), she gives her her unspoken permission to pursue Renoir’s love: That instant with both women, flushed and glowing, Aline’s pretty mouth a perfect O, Alphonsine about to burst, with the hat between them, all four hands on it, what a picture. What a moment. He felt responsible for it, which made him both happy and sad. Not exactly sad. Concerned. There was only one of him. (321) 153 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="154"?> Sacrificing her own hopes for a relationship with the artist, Alphonsine is de‐ termined to contribute to the painting. Meeting a widowed Renoir years later, Alphonsine confesses what a difficult decision this actually was: “saving the life of an enemy was easier than decorating a hat and giving it to a rival” (428). There is yet another love relationship that is concealed with the help of the accessory element in the re-presentation of Le déjeuner des canotiers, namely Jeanne’s black gloves. When Jeanne comes to the first sitting accompanied by Joseph-Paul Lagarde, she is wearing black gloves, a detail that is enough for Paul to speculate on the rumour about their secret engagement: “Are you wearing a ring beneath those perk black gloves? […] A ring from this gentleman, perhaps? ” (LOTBP 101). As a matter of fact, despite the disapproval of her fiancé’s parents’, Jeanne Samary is secretly engaged to Joseph-Paul, and she also marries him secretly. According to the art historian Rathbone, the pose of the model covering her ears may contain a specific reference to her refusing the attention of the two men around her: “She claps her hands over her ears as if to block out their flirtatious remarks or enquiries over the status of her engagement” (47). A very similar explanation is offered in LOTBP when Jeanne covers her ears in order to avoid listening to Paul’s further teasing comments on Monsieur Joseph-Paul Lagarde: “So this is the lucky Monsieur Joseph-Paul Lagarde whom Le Temps reports as frequenting the Samary house on avenue Frochot. Un habitué? Let me tell you what people are saying” (101). And while other models are impatient to know if the rumours are true, Renoir urges Jeanne to leave the gloves on: “I want your white sleeve next to the black. […]. [P]ut your hands to your ears like you just did” (102). The artist deliberately avoids finding out the shattering truth of Jeanne’s engagement and uses the model’s spontaneous gesture as a composi‐ tional solution for the painting. Renoir’s feelings for Jeanne are again referred to in a description of her gloves. While the artist is painting the model alone in his studio, he devotes special attention to her right hand: […] those gloves revealing that little opening of naked skin, the calculated allure of what is partly hidden. And those buttons announcing that they can be undone to get at her, that she could be undone. He painted the pearl rounds, the silver of wrist below them, painted the memory of the smoothness of her skin, and of his love for her. (171) Therefore, not only are gloves positioned as a detail that offers a stark colour contrast to the composition of the painting, but they are also the carriers of additional information - they hint at the secret engagement and reveal the former love affair - significant for the story and, as a result, for the interpretation of the painting. 154 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="155"?> By the same token, the white dress that Berthe Morisot is wearing for the first modelling session for Le Balcon develops from a simple detail in the painting into a significant detail in the narrative. Because it takes several sessions to finish the painting, in order to protect Berthe and Fanny’s dresses from getting dirty, Édouard asks both models to leave the white gowns in the studio and change into them when they come to model. It is interesting that Berthe’s comment is what makes the artist put forward this suggestion: “Mademoiselle Morisot is right, if they wear them back and forth every day, I am afraid they will get soiled” (WV 63). The obvious consequence of such a measure is that the models have to undress in the artist’s studio and help each other with buttoning up the dresses. However, because Fanny Claus is offended by the unfinished state of her image, she leaves the painting - in the next session Berthe finds herself alone with the artist in his studio. Disregarding the sensible voice of Propriety, which urges her to leave, Morisot decides to stay and change into her modelling costume: “I did not come all this way to simply turn around and go home” (91). Behind the dressing screen there is tension, excitement and desire, all of which increase at the thought of Édouard’s proximity: Button by tiny button, I work myself free, hitching up the fabric to conquer the hard-to-reach places, until the dress falls to the floor. […] Oh, how scandalously free I feel standing here like this. Terrified and liberated, undressed and alone with this man. […] I lift the white dress off the rail. Édouard seems to stop moving. The room is suspended in a reverent silence as I bury my face in the silky white. It has picked up the scent of Édouard’s studio. I breathe in the aphrodisiac for a moment before slipping it over my head. The organdie flounces fall over my body like a lover’s hands urging me out from behind the screen. (92-3) Since Berthe follows Olympia’s preference to stay and model, it is Olympia who stands naked behind the screen. The very choice of words that the novelist uses to describe the sensation that the model feels while naked in the presence of a man does not seem to be accidental. Berthe feels “scandalously free” and “liber‐ ated” - just like Olympia, exposing a deliberate, free and provocative female nudity. Another reference to Olympia is made in the aphrodisiac smell of the studio, which is present in the dress Berthe is to wear. The word ‘aphrodisiac’ is of Greek origin and pertains to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, also known as Venus in Roman mythology. It can thus be suggested that by breathing in the aphrodisiac Berthe identifies herself even more with Manet’s modern represen‐ tation of Venus. The smell of the dress increases her libido to the extent that, similar to the hat that Alphonsine gives to Aline in LOTBP, the white dress assumes the symbolic meaning of a lover, the artist himself being implied. In 155 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="156"?> general, therefore, it seems that the physical contact of the cotton fabric with the naked skin of the model quoted above foreshadows the inevitability of the future artist-model relationship. Unable to fix the dress alone, Berthe asks Édouard to help fasten the buttons - which is subconsciously intended and un‐ doubtedly seen as an invitation. Absorbed in the passionate kiss that follows, Berthe does not object to Édouard’s undressing her, and she lets the dress fall to the floor. An interesting detail is the colour of the dress. Most commonly, white symbolises purity, innocence, virginity and virtue - the qualities that Berthe’s Propriety possesses. However, it is Berthe’s Olympia who is actually modelling for the artist and who, by wearing the white dress, creates an illusion of virtuousness. The colour of the dress is what compels the model to suggest leaving it in the studio in the first place so that the dress remains neat and clean, in other words, in order to sustain the illusion. However, as mentioned above, the moment the model changes into the dress, she assumes a new identity, first feeling the freedom of standing naked, then inhaling the aphrodisiac and imag‐ ining the transformation of dress into lover. At this stage the dress is carelessly thrown on the floor - and with it Olympia’s mask of virtue. The lovers are interrupted by an unexpected visit paid by Susan Manet, who, by virtue of the fact that she must wait at the studio door, allows just enough time for Morisot to escape the crime scene and hide behind the dressing screen, but not enough for her to put the evidence out of sight: The dress I wore here is hanging over the screen. If I attempt to pull it down, she would surely see it. […] The hem of my white dress is sticking out beyond the confines of the acceptably patrician. Do I dare to pull it back and attempt to dress, or do I stand here in my underwear banking on the possibility that Édouard will be able to get her out and away from the building so that I might make my escape. […] All I can do is wait and hope that intuition does not alert her to question the blue gown thrown haphazardly over the screen or hang up the white dress that has fallen on the floor. (WV 97) Ironically, the model is not only cornered by the presence of Manet’s wife but is also trapped between the two dresses: the white gown lying on the floor and the blue gown hanging on the dressing screen. While biblically the white dress alludes to the idea of lost virtue, the blue dress, in Christian terms, may be associated with such symbols as trust, wisdom and spiritual life. This distinction is also emphasised in the novel by the appearance of the dresses in a physical space of strictly vertical nature: in order to see the white dress, the model has to look down towards the floor; to see the blue one, she must raise her gaze to the screen. Taking this idea one step further and accentuating the idea of split 156 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="157"?> 29 Manet, Édouard. The Railway, 1873, oil on canvas, 93 x 112 cm, National Gallery of Art West Building, Washington D.C., USA. 30 Manet, Édouard. The Bunch of Violets (Bouquet de violettes), 1872, oil on canvas, 22 x 27 cm, Private Collection, Paris, France. identity, reaching for the blue could mean ascending to Propriety, while getting the white descending to Olympia. Berthe, however, does not have a chance to choose her identity; she remains passive and immobile in her indecision, as reaching for either of the dresses could expose her. Finally, when an opportunity to flee offers itself, Berthe puts on the blue dress and escapes the studio unno‐ ticed. Moreover, arriving home, she apologises to her mother for having agreed to model in the first place and promises that the “days of sitting for Édouard Manet were over” (99). In spite of having come so close to being discovered, and despite Berthe’s effort to commit to Propriety, her Olympia regains the upper hand as the novel progresses. Another recurrent detail which Manet uses as a prop for several of his paint‐ ings re-presented in WV, namely, Le Balcon, Le Repos, The Railway  29 and The Bunch of Violets, 30 is a red fan. Whereas in Le Balcon the fan functions as a rather ordinary detail, an accessory that completes the model’s look, in Le Repos it is given a rather concrete interpretation - as discussed previously, the way Berthe holds the fan establishes a parallel to the way Victorine pulls away the coverlet in Olympia - which, among other factors, accelerates Morisot’s publically ex‐ posed transformation into Olympia. It is not surprising, therefore, that upon seeing a new painting of Victorine Meurent in Manet’s studio, Berthe is appalled at the idea of Édouard painting the ‘original’ Olympia again: “Victorine? Vic‐ torine Meur - I gasp. Mon Dieu. My heart squeezes with terror. Olympia” (WV 264). Berthe continues to perceive Victorine not as a model with a real name but as a representation, identifying her with the image and instantly referring to her by the title of the painting. Victorine is depicted in so different a way in The Railway that Berthe does not even recognise the model at first: “Her face is familiar, yet out of context. I cannot place her, although I’m certain I know this woman, with her penetrating stare and long red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders” (264). For Morisot, Victorine forever remains the prototype of her Olympia identity, an identity which is no longer necessary in the presence of the original. On inspecting the painting further, Berthe spots the red fan on Victorine’s knees: “I notice the red fan nestled in her lap behind the puppy. The fan I have held in so many of the portraits Édouard has painted of me. My fan” (264). The strong feeling of ownership of the prop is possibly triggered by the fact that while Berthe’s Olympia identity loses its value, the red fan develops into the 157 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="158"?> detail that determines Morisot’s identity as Manet’s model. Yet even this is en‐ trusted to Olympia. Consequently, the artist’s act of painting Victorine with the red fan is perceived as deception on two levels: on the one hand, there is bitter jealousy towards the other woman, who is known to have been involved with the artist in the past, and who is back in Édouard’s life and on his canvas; on the other, there is a feeling of having lost both that part of the split identity which initially facilitated the affair as well as the very status of model. The realisation of the importance of the fan comes after the breakdown of the rela‐ tionship, and is represented in Manet’s painting, The Bunch of Violets, as a present to Morisot that manifests the indisputable end of their relationship. It is a still life that illustrates “three simple objects, memories of the portraits he’s painted of [Berthe]: a bouquet of blue violets, the red fan, and a note inscribed to Mlle. Berthe from E. Manet” (278-9). This painting confirms that both details (the bouquet of blue violets, an accessory added to the bodice of the dress in Berthe Morisot au bouquet de violettes, which, as discussed within the commu‐ nicative category, has a symbolic meaning of love and the red fan) belong to the model and thus, in a way, restore her sense of identity and help to resolve the on-going split identity conflict. A component feature of every detail, decisive in the re-presentation of the entire painting, is colour. According to Hepburn, “colouring and execution in their own right inspire appreciative pleasure as virtuosic elements in represen‐ tation” (100). As one of the key elements of an artwork, colours are essential not only to continue to engage the viewer with the painting but also to reinforce its compositional structure, creating the focal points of colour that guide the viewer around the painting. Moreover, as far as Impressionism is concerned, it is the effects of light, as well as colour patches and tones of the objects, that are of particular interest; it is also what makes them rethink and adjust the manner they paint in as well as the dynamics of the painting process. According to Baxandall, Impressionism offers “canvases that [play] on a tension between an openly dabbed-on plane surface and a rendering of sense-impressions of seen objects that put emphasis on their hues” (45). The practical innovation of ready-made paint in tubes was one of the reasons why Impressionists could paint much more quickly than their predecessors and were able to take their work outdoors. They developed various techniques - visible brush strokes, impasto, alla prima, en plein air - and actively used them in order to reveal the subject through soft forms, to create a shimmering texture of light, to foster an illusion of movement and depict the immediacy of a “real” moment of life. Dun‐ ning claims that the techniques used by Impressionists created “a dense, all-over image that treated both surface and event as items of equal importance” (134). 158 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="159"?> Therefore, colour re-presentation in art fiction may impart additional meaning to the details (as for example it is the case with Berthe’s white dress in WV), help to achieve a compositional solution to the painting, and refer to the character‐ istic painting techniques with which the colour is applied, thus at the same time alluding to the art movement. In LOTBP, Vreeland makes an extensive use of the description of nuances of colour, the process of choosing and mixing colours and applying paint onto the canvas. The main colour palette of the masterpiece is suggested when the artist selects the colours for the painting: “flake white […], chrome yellow, vermilion, rose madder, Veronese green, emerald, cobalt, ultramarine blue […], Prussian blue” (54). The dark blue pigment called Prussian blue allows the novelist to refer to the socio-political aspect of bitter hatred towards anything Prussian in France after the Franco-Prussian war and thus to place the painting in a histor‐ ical context. In spite of stocking this particular shade of blue, the owner of the shop refuses to sell it to the French artist. The name of the pigment is associated with “blood, flesh, bone-black, soot” (54), in other words, with the experience of war. Not wanting any such experience to contaminate the painting, the shop‐ keeper urges Renoir to use a French ultramarine pigment instead: “I won’t have those disgusting things on your French painting! Use French ultramarine” (54). Not being a victim of such prejudice, however, Renoir insists on using both colours - “that inky quality of Prussian blue” (54) is needed to portray canotières dressed in dark blue. Seeing the artist at work juggling the paints, the reader is obliged not only to pay attention to the nuances of colour, but also to follow the order in which the colours and the compositional elements are mentioned, and is thus compelled to delve deeper into the very process of making an artwork. The following ex‐ tract is a description of the outset of the work on the painting Luncheon of the Boating Party: He took a clean brush for the lightest area, the front table edge. […] He set the lightest values, the sunlight on Alphonse’s back, Raoul’s shirt collar, Gustave’s singlet at his shoulder. […] He worked in a mite of chrome yellow for a creamier white across Alphonsine’s back. […] The same tint on Maggiolo’s jacket, Angèle’s hat. Positioning the straw hats with pure chrome yellow but still transparent. Pure joy to touch down here and there. He picked up vermilion and a pinch of ultramarine to tone it down, mixing them on the canvas for the chairs and Alphonse’s beard, adding a tinge of Veronese green for Jules’s jacket, just flecks to build color harmonies. The browns, a trace of rose madder for Pierre’s curly reddish beard, like a poodle’s coat, Raoul’s jacket and bowler, so juicy it ran. […] 159 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="160"?> Back to his cool tone brush with ultramarine for Cécile’s torso, Alphonsine’s skirt, Angèle’s bodice and sleeve, Ellen’s left shoulder, the grapes, the wine. Mere gesture strokes. No more than gauzy suggestions for a later time when he’d mix opaque blues on the canvas to create the shapes. Darker, but still transparent, that triangle of Gus‐ tave’s pant leg, Pierre’s bowler, Antonio’s cravat. […] He wiped his light brush clean for the skin tones. […] No shapes, just dabs with the edge of his brush. The lightest first, Cécile’s like ivory. Adding pale soft yellow for the brightest area of Angèle’s throat. Adding rose madder for Èmile, more for Ellen and Pierre. Gustave, Angèle, and Paul still wore the sun on their cheeks from a morning on the river. Alphone’s cheek and temple too. More tawny for the Italian. Eventually an infinitude of hues depending on what surrounded the face or arm or hand. No two places alike. (LOTBP 97-98) In the quoted passage the description of colours is engaged in an intimate rela‐ tionship with the details that are re-presented; while applying paint to a blank canvas, the painter deliberately shades the initial composition, outlining the figures. Thus, following the artist’s movements and tracking the process of choosing, mixing and applying the paints - in essence, practically participating in the making - the reader witnesses the temporal progression of an artwork. Such dynamic re-presentation of a static visual image is further enhanced by the sensation of the temporal flow of the narrative. Just as the painter is creating the artwork, the reader-observer needs time to shift attention from one part of the painting to the other. Compared to the viewer, however, the direction of the reader’s attention is strictly shepherded. The main objective of this control as applied to the colour solution here is not really to determine the painting com‐ position or emphasise any of the details but to provide a detailed account of how the artist works and make distinctive his painting techniques. In other words, while clarifying how the colours and predominant tones are assembled in the re-presentation, the novelist creates what can be called an art-fictional technical painting manual. The key aspects pointed out in the descriptive passage are: simultaneous work on several or all parts of the painting, colour mixing and the practice of colour subtraction - all of which are emblematic of the Impressionist style. The artist, trying to envision the image as a whole, sets positions and values over the canvas with the help of dabs of colour, using several brushes (some for the lighter, others for the darker areas of the painting) and trying to work systematically and si‐ multaneously to achieve a range of light and dark contrasts: “His normal method of working on all parts of a painting simultaneously would try their patience, but he needed to set the positions and values over the whole canvas in this 160 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="161"?> session” (LOTBP 98). By placing marks of colour on the canvas, the artist alludes to the Impressionist technique of catching an instant in time: I need to be an octopus with eight brushes going at once to paint all these people and bottles and glasses, the table cloth and fruit, the foliage, the river, the boats, the op‐ posite bank. Separate perceptible touches of the brush to give the impression that all million of them were laid on in one instant. (107-8) Renoir applies one colour at a time to multiple details: for example, light yellow is used for Alphonse’s back, Raoul’s shirt collar and Gustave’s singlet; chrome yellow for Alphonsine’s back, Maggiolo’s jacket, Angèle’s hat and other straw hats; and ultramarine for Cécile’s torso, Alphonsine’s skirt, Angèle’s bodice and sleeve, Ellen’s left shoulder, the grapes and the wine. By the same token, in the finishing stages of the painting Renoir’s “brush flew, hunting for places to touch down. These very important movements to see it all together. Everything pop‐ ping out now. […] The rhythm building now in the repeats of colors” (352). This method of painting presupposes the idea that each and every part of the artwork is of equal importance and that there is no particular preference as to which detail should be painted first - they are chosen randomly, colour being the de‐ termining factor. In this there is a reference to the impact of photography on Impressionists, and to their focus on accidental composition and the immediate impression of a scene seen as a whole. Moreover, the sequences of colours as well as the repeated accents of tones help the artist build colour harmonies, orchestrate the entire composition and settle the painting into a pounding rhythm. Although the details dictate the colour solution, once on the canvas, colours substitute for the models themselves. Earlier in the novel Renoir confesses that while painting he thinks about colours and their interaction with light: “I see how slight changes in color create the shape of your [Aline’s] cheek. And I see how the edge of your hat brim fits neatly between the lines of Alphonse’s body” (LOTBP 323). The artist does not intend to see into and then depict a person’s soul in his work - in his own words: “I leave that for lovers and priests. I just show that your [Alphonsine’s] face is an egg shape, your chin slightly narrower than your forehead. […] I paint women as I’d paint carrots” (194). In other words, the artist reduces the role of the model to producing colour and creating form. Taking this objectifying remark as an insult, Alphonsine uses it to assault the artist, accusing him of not being able to see past his brush: “You don’t see me, do you? You with the vision to see hundreds of colors, you see only a carrot. Maybe Guy and Edgar are right about you and your pretty rose-colored world” (208). 161 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="162"?> As far as the mixing of colours is concerned, the artist tends to do this directly on the canvas instead of on a palette: taking “vermilion and a pinch of ultra‐ marine to tone it down, mixing them on the canvas […], adding a tinge of Ver‐ onese green” (98); mixing “opaque blues on the canvas to create the shapes” (98); “squeez[ing] colors out of the tubes, lapp[ing] them up with his brush, some‐ times more than one color at a time, one edge of the bristles filled from one smear on his palette, the other edge from another smear” (155-6). By the same token, when Renoir starts painting the skirt of Aline’s boating dress, he delib‐ erately mixes the dark and light pigments on his brush and spreads the colour onto the canvas, shaping the lines of the skirt, knowing that it involves con‐ frontation with the Académie and its standards: With his brush loaded and juicy, he pushed the wet tip gently into the hidden folds of her skirt, deep blue-violet folds such as had never seen the light of the day, and stroked again and again, pushing farther, gently, wet into the wet already there, a rhythm faint at first, then intensifying, an expectation, a tightening, a rush. He knew he was loading his darks as well as his lights, and that was going against the Académie training that all the Salon jurists upheld like the catechism. He was tempting fate, but he was pow‐ erless to resist stroking over and over the dark furrows of her skirt, caressing her hidden secrets with the thick, oily paint a lubricant, violet and dark and moist, building up and up as he went down and down into the folds. This would have consequences. It could mean a Salon rejection, and what dealer would take a painting stamped with the Salon’s big red R on the back? Refusée. Refused, as refuse. Trash. (351-2) The analogy of the act of painting with the actual physical act of lovemaking is blatantly obvious. Earlier in the novel, Renoir claims that he only wants to paint women he “loves, or imagine [he] could love” (65), explaining that unless he experiences some sort of attraction to a woman, her image “comes out stiff and lifeless” (65). This helps the novelist to create a more accurate representation of the artist, who was said to make love to women with his brush while painting (Renoir 180). In LOTBP Renoir is captivated by the beauty of the young model, which is a perfect combination of everything he needs both in a model and a woman, a femme idéale. Despite realising that this technique might be seen as inadmissible, the artist cannot resist the pleasure of imagining touching Aline with every brush stroke he uses to design the folds of the skirt. Therefore, the narrative depiction of the way colour is applied involves reference to the brush‐ work techniques typical of Impressionism, among which are wide, short and long brush strokes, dry-brush technique, and dabs or patches of colour that assume different shapes of their own and which are made with the edge of the brush. 162 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="163"?> Furthermore, much attention in LOTBP is devoted to colour subtraction - the idea that the colour of an object changes depending on the colour of the objects surrounding and on the light that shines upon it. The fact that the colour does not reside in an object itself significantly influences the way Impressionists perceive and paint the objects they see, creating a multitude of tones in one painting. In LOTBP, explaining the mutual influence of colours in practice, Vreeland alludes to the clear contrast between the principle of colour subtraction used by the Impressionists and to that which adhered to traditionally accepted academic standards. For instance, while talking to Alphonsine, Renoir mentions how by painting en plein air together with Claude Monet he learnt to see the different colours of water ripples produced by the reflection of light: “They have color. Right now it’s yellow ocher even though the water’s dominant color is blue, but there’s lavender and green too. We knew we were discovering some‐ thing revolutionary” (115). By the same token, placing the initial accents of colour on the portrayed figures, Renoir assembles “an infinitude of hues de‐ pending on what surrounded the face or arm or hand. No two places alike” (98). The artist composes a wide range of whites emanating from the details sur‐ rounding the figures, a sequence of white highlights that causes the viewer’s gaze to wander from the table cloth to the bottles and glasses from the first table, to the second, to the figures in singlets, to other’s white collars and sleeves and to the sailboats in the background: Aline’s brilliant white ruffle, white sweeps around her saucer. Scrubbing off a narrow trail of her blue sleeve behind her goblet to make the edge a more luminous white. […] Globs of white in the base of glasses to create protrusions to catch light and send it back. […] The white of the silver ring and bracelets. And the white of Angèle’s pearl earring. […] And tinted whites. Lavenderand green-white on the tablecloth rendered in distinct Impressionism strokes revealing reflected hues in the shadows, not just in gray as the traditional painted shadows. […] Onward with more tinted whites, blue-white on An‐ gèle’s frilled chiffon collar, frothy, as though her neck and head were emerging from some whipped dessert. Brilliant white for the front of Gustave’s shoulder, lav‐ ender-white for the back of his shoulder in the shadow of his hat. And the white of Raoul’s collar, of Antonio’s, and of Jeanne’s cuffs, bright enough to take the viewer’s eye deeper into the picture. And a white highlight in the dog’s eye. (352-53) The dabs of pure as well as tinted whites create an illusion of light penetrating the canvas and reaching into the various parts of the scene, unifying the com‐ position and illuminating the entire painting. The way changing light is depicted 163 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="164"?> 31 By involving the audience in the very act of creation, Impressionism paves the way for an evolution of fine arts in the twentieth century, which trigger intense interaction between viewer and artwork. in Impressionist paintings is what makes the viewer imagine seeing a fleeting moment captured on the canvas in spatial and temporal dimensions. However, Impressionism demands more of the viewer than merely following colour pig‐ ments, in a way it expects the viewer to be able to read between them, to visualise forms, to conjure up images and see their transformations influenced by the dominant light factors. Gombrich points out that, in looking at the painting, the viewer has to “mobilize his memory of the visible world and project it into the mosaic of strokes and dabs on the canvas before him” (202). In essence, Impres‐ sionism applies the principle of guided projection to the extent that the viewer is made to activate his/ her knowledge of the visible world in order to project an image onto the thick, broad patches of paint. 31 It is singularly interesting that ekphrastic descriptions of the process of adding colour in LOTBP not only in‐ troduce the reader to colour theory, but also navigate him/ her around the colour patches, limiting and directing his/ her visual perception of the artwork, en‐ hancing the experience of seeing (the actual colour and the detail itself) and at the same time intensifying an understanding of the art movement as well as a particular work of art and its details. Conclusion It is the composition and the details of the painting that, on the one hand, effect the narratability of a story that a painting transmits, and, on the other, help to re-present the visual source in ekphrastic texts. However, in Impressionist painting the emphasis is placed on the overall effect of the first impression and the essence of the subject matter, perceived as a whole, that is, without devoting much attention to its separate details. The details, which in the painting proper may not carry more significance than mere attributes of la vie moderne, function in the narrative text not only as tactical accents that orient the reader by pro‐ viding the focal points en route of exploring the artwork, but also help to develop the plot, and to re-present and contextualise the painting in its socio-historical and cultural settings. Art fiction transforms purely visual details from the painting into their verbal “re-image” (Yacobi, Ekphrastic Model 22), establishing and signalling a reference to an artwork. By describing or alluding to the details in their aesthetic function, contemporary writers capture the reader’s attention and affect his/ her visual perception of an artwork. Since the details are pre-selected, the main operations of perception such as exploration, selection, simplification, completion, com‐ 164 Chapter 4. Re-presentation <?page no="165"?> parison and most importantly putting in context (Arnheim, Visual Thinking 13) are already taken care of for the reader. Therefore, through the medium of ek‐ phrastic “re-imaging” (Yacobi, “The Ekphrastic Model” 28) the reader is con‐ verted into a viewer, whose choice (which detail to pay special attention to and when) is manipulated and controlled. Despite the limitations such a guiding principle clearly imposes on the experience of ‘seeing’, the effect that art fic‐ tional narratives achieve is that of zooming in and zooming out, increasing the importance of particular aspects and elements of the painting. Consequently, visual details, which could possibly go unnoticed by the viewer, acquire an ad‐ ditional dimension in ekphrasis and manifest the magnitude of their meaning. For instance, the items of clothing and accessories that models wear are recog‐ nised in art fiction as substantial contributions to the artwork. Clothing items - be they a dress, a head accessory or a fan - acquire a life of their own, assisting in building up the relationship between the characters and even revealing char‐ acters’ feelings. Thus, when zoomed in on, they contribute to the composition of the re-presented painting as well as to the structure of the narrative. The interpretations given to the details in the novels accumulate in the text and, when taken together, provide an artwork with a new meaning, adding to what one knows about the artwork and changing the way one sees and interprets it. Furthermore, colour - as an integral element of any object and an indispen‐ sable component of a painting - becomes a special subject of interest in art fiction. Reference to the colour solution of specific details (for example, Berthe’s white dress) or several fragments of the painting is not incidental; it assigns additional symbolic meaning to the painting, thereby increasing the qualitative value of the re-presentation. Moreover, a precise description of how the colours are applied by the artist, for instance in LOTBP, allows the novelist not only to de novo attract the reader’s attention to specific details by re-presenting them in the process of being depicted on canvas, but also to give priority to the artist’s work in progress, focusing on the methods and techniques he/ she uses and thus reinforcing the idea of the process of creation. Although the descriptive passages dedicated to the details and their colour solution disturb the flow of the narra‐ tive, they complete art fiction by substantially enhancing the experience of seeing, intensifying the meaning of the purposely chosen fragments and en‐ riching the aesthetic value and understanding of the re-presentation as a whole. 165 4.3. Selected Visual Details and Colour <?page no="167"?> Chapter 5. Interpretation 5.1. Perceived versus Intended Meaning Painting is a visual form of communication between a sender-artist and a re‐ ceiver-viewer. Like in linguistic communication the viewer is invited to decode or translate the message the artist has intended to send, yet the outcome of visual art communication depends on the receiver’s ability to not only recognise but also imagine and re-produce the meaning. Bryson argues that “the act of rec‐ ognition that painting galvanises is a production, rather than a perception, of meaning. Viewing is an activity of transforming the material of the painting into meanings, and that transformation is perpetual: nothing can arrest it” (xiii). On this basis it may be inferred that, as a result of transformation and re-production rather than decoding of meaning, the viewer’s interpretation of an image may not always correspond to the intentions of the artist. In which case, the perceived meaning ascribed to an artwork would enrich the originally intended one. As Bryson perceptively states, “the viewer is an interpreter, and the point is that since interpretation changes as the world changes, art history cannot lay claim to final or absolute knowledge of its object” (xiii). In other words, despite the communicative intentions of the artist, the meaning neither belongs to the painting, nor does it remain invariable - it changes not only in space with the viewer’s individual ability to re-produce it but also in time with each new gen‐ eration’s perspective. Meaning-making in fictional visual art communication occurs, therefore, through the artist’s creation and the viewer’s individual in‐ terpretation of the represented object, perceived relative to the artist’s inten‐ tions, standard conventions, established systems of painting, familiar socio-cul‐ tural circumstances and the viewer’s aesthetic values. One of the fundamental characteristics that art fictional narratives share is the biographical approach to the persona of the artist. The abundance of infor‐ mation about the creator, his personality, ethics, attitudes and ideals, on the one hand, and the strong connection between the artist, his work and the nexus of events surrounding it, on the other, promotes the connoisseurial art historical method. While the novels suggest that the meaning of a re-presentation is shaped by the artist’s life experience, they also exploit the idea of actual inten‐ tionalism. In fact, the artists in the novels communicate the intended meaning of an artwork - as a fictional character, the artist has an opportunity to comment <?page no="168"?> not only on a particular work of art and its meaning, but also on the painting style, often explaining and justifying Impressionism as art movement. For in‐ stance, when talking about the general intentions of his art, Manet says that he aspires to “educate the viewer. Open his eyes, albeit one eye at a time” (MV 32). Similarly, Degas, confronted by Alexandrie and accused of negative represen‐ tation of the ballet dancers, justifies his work by pointing out the dual nature of things and his exploration and realistic representation of them: “I observe so‐ ciety through critical eyes […]. This is how I paint, as a scientist of sorts, dis‐ secting those around me to reach into what they actually are instead of what they appear to be. No one likes to see their true selves, even though it is much more appealing” (DFD 140). To validate his point Degas addresses the model’s illusion about ballet: “All dancers try to hold on to this image of otherworldliness, as if you are mythical beasts. […] The girls in the painting […] are terrible pigs who overindulge in men, money, and vanity” (140-1). The artist confirms that the intended meaning of his work is an actual deconstruction of the otherwise idealised perception of ballet dancers. Additionally, Degas refers to the new direction in art developed by the Impressionists: “We’re going in a completely different direction than every artist before us,” […]. We’re not painting rigid portraits or religious murals. Observing life is what we are striving to do” (139). By the same token, Manet claims that the purpose of modern painters is to represent the world as they see it: “We must be of our time and paint what we see” (WV 26). The radicalism of the representation of controversial modern female nudity that provokes the contemporary viewer is the effect Manet seeks to achieve with his portraits of Victorine. Outlining the main idea of Olympia, Manet makes the intended meaning of his work transparent to both the model and his friends. The painting suggests a contemporary version of Titian’s Venus, a representa‐ tion of a modern woman, “not an allegory. Proud of her sexuality, her nakedness. The look in your eyes will say to hypocrites: ‘Go ahead and condemn me all the while you’re desiring me’” (MV 54). What is interesting is that the character uses first-person direct discourse to provide a verbatim rendition of what he intends the model to express. Manet acts as a puppeteer, who speaks in the role of the depicted figure and voices the mute image, embodying direct speech in the re-presentation. Thus, in translating the decoded message conveyed in the fe‐ male’s gaze, the artist articulates the communicative intent and a desired impact on the viewer. Similarly, the artist explains his intention for another re-presen‐ 168 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="169"?> 1 Manet, Édouard. Le déjeuner sur l’herbe (The Luncheon on the Grass), 1863, oil on canvas, 2.08 m x 2.64 m, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. tation, Le déjeuner sur l’herbe, 1 which again quotes Titian: “a new painting, a luncheon on the grass. It will echo an earlier painting of mine, inspired by a Titian I saw in Venice. But this one will feature André as a fully clothed modern gentleman and you, Victorine, a nude allegory of the past” (213). Not only does the artist explain the meaning the painting is to convey, but he also predicts the scandal it will inevitably cause: “It’s going to shock those conservatives to see a man in modern-day dress seated beside a nude. This hearkens back to classical painting, yet the setting is familiar to all” (213). Manet is portrayed as a successful communicator, who, by taking his audience into consideration, is able to identify the potential of misinterpretation and indicate the exact features of the painting that appear controversial. The novelist exploits two possible interpretations, creating an opposition between the intended and perceived meanings: although the role of the figures as representations of the present and the past (the dressed men and the nude accordingly) are clearly determined, the familiar contempo‐ rary setting (namely, a habitual encounter of men with prostitutes along the banks of the River Seine) induces the viewer to interpret it differently. Analysing the extant work of art, Rubin notes that when looking at Le déjeuner sur l’herbe one is “immediately confronted by the fixed gaze (opposite the flâneur’s discreet glance) of a woman whom most assumed to be a prostitute lounging with youths dressed as students or artistic bohemians” (62). The art critic points to the fact that traditionally the nude in Le déjeuner sur l’herbe is read as a representation of a contemporary woman, a prostitute (very similar to the representation of the same model in Olympia). In the novel, however, on the one hand, Finerman validates the presence of a nude in a company of fully clothed men by an in‐ tended symbolic framework - reading a classical narrative into the re-presen‐ tation, and, on the other, adopts the popular interpretation of the artwork, making the reader conscious of both the intended and perceived meanings. The conflict between the intended meaning and the meaning that is read into the image introduces the conflict between Victorine and her lover Philippe, the former advocating the artist’s intentions, the latter endorsing the mass critical reaction to it. I’m not portrayed as a nude. I’m depicted as an allegory. Didn’t you gather the refer‐ ence to Titian? […] Edouard juxtaposes the classical against the modern. I’m an alle‐ gory in the purest sense. The painting says, ‘Look at how the past and present are like us, rubbing shoulders with each other in our modern city, and yet so isolated from each other.’ (215) 169 5.1. Perceived versus Intended Meaning <?page no="170"?> 2 Manet, Édouard. Mlle. Victorine in the Costume of a Matador, 1862, oil on canvas, 165.1 x 127.6 cm, The Met, New York, USA. Victorine assumes the role of a defender of the message the painting conveys, aligning with the artist’s viewpoint and intentions. In a similar fashion, the intended meaning in Mlle. Victorine in the Costume of a Matador  2 is explained by Manet’s and Victorine’s mutual friend, André - who, having seen the painting and having spoken to Manet about it, describes it to relay the artist’s message: “The matador was you and that noble bull was him. The bullfighter teased with his red cape, distracted with his red cape, then plunged in the sword to sever the spinal cord” (MV 104). Furthermore, André confirms that Victorine’s supposition about the red cape being a metaphor for sex is in fact Edouard’s intent. Due to the bull’s colour-blindness, the colour of the cape is irrelevant in bullfighting, yet traditionally it remains red. On the one hand, Victorine’s interpretation of the cape may develop from the symbolic as‐ sociation of the red colour with sexuality, passion, desire and lust. On the other, it may evolve from the understanding of their artist-model relationship. At the very beginning of their acquaintance André warns Victorine that once Manet sleeps with his model he loses any interest in her: “Each time Manet discovers a woman who inspires him, he falls in love with the woman in the flesh and the one in the painting. As he makes love to her in his bed, so, too, on the canvas. […] As the paint dries on the canvas, the girl fades into the past tense” (15). In order to maintain her position as Edouard’s prominent model, Victorine pre‐ vents any intimacy between them. Therefore, the narrative supports the meaning of the red cape, making the detail of the painting mirror the actual relationship the characters have: just like the matador uses the cape to attract the bull and encourage it to participate in a series of controlled attacks, Victorine uses Manet’s unfulfilled sexual desire to encourage the artist to create more of her portraits. Another example of both intended and perceived meanings is offered with regard to Victorine’s portrait with a parrot. Talking to Victorine, Manet clarifies the meaning of the pictorial space: “I’ve painted you and the background with no horizon line, so the viewer feels he can’t relate to the pictorial space. I want him to feel uncomfortable, self-conscious, strangely disembodied, as we all feel in this modern age” (MV 174). Examining the painting, the model, who under the direct influence of the artist gradually learns to appreciate and understand his work, reads further meaning into the image: “It exposes the chasm between our empty public persona and the meaningful private one” (175). One detail from the painting that serves the purpose of interpreting the artist’s intention while 170 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="171"?> confronting it with the way it is perceived by the model is the monocle. While according to Manet the monocle “symbolizes a single focus. You’re a modern, freethinking woman with foresight into the future” (175); Victorine suggests another interpretation: “Someone told me lesbians wear a monocle to convey coded messages to each other” (175). In spite of the fact that, being aware of the intended meaning the model does not have to decode the message, she intends to re-decode it by applying the socio-cultural knowledge that makes the detail hint at the sexual orientation of the depicted figure. Unfortunately, this inter‐ pretation is not developed further in the novel - possibly only serving the pur‐ pose of showing that a detail may have an entirely different implication for the viewer of the painting and that the viewer is free to interpret what he/ she sees as he/ she wants based on previous knowledge, experience and the ability to imagine. In LOTBP Vreeland examines the general idea that the Impressionists aim to depict contemporary subject matter by creating a sensuous impression of a mo‐ ment of modern life rather than telling a story, focusing on the intended versus perceived meaning of the group portrait. Just like the real artist Pierre-August Renoir, who claims “[n]ot to have to be preoccupied with a story […]. That’s what is important: to escape from the subject matter, to avoid being ‘literary’ and so to choose something that everyone knows - still better, no story at all” (Renoir 59), and who sees Impressionism as liberation from superfluous narra‐ tive: “[W]hat seems most significant to me about our movement is that we have freed painting from the importance of the subject. I am at liberty to paint flowers, and call them simply flowers, without their needing to tell a story” (174) - the fictional character of Renoir first argues that in his painting “there is no story […] only a moment” (LOTBP 420), then emphasises the importance of the subject matter and the manner of painting, denying its storytelling potential: I don’t intend any story. […] If I had wanted to tell a story, I would have used a pen. Choose a history painting if you want a story. The important thing here is not what’s going on, but how it conveys what’s going on. […] Painting, the act of it, that’s what’s important. Let them see paint - thick, thin, smooth, rugged, one color brushed wet into another, or lying alongside another, distinct. That’s what modernity is to me. (185, emphasis in original) While the intention of an artist is not to communicate a message but to display the act of painting, the impact that the work makes on the viewer as well as the perception of the message may be different from the original intent. It is Al‐ phonsine who openly contradicts the artist, referring to the viewer’s ability to observe, imagine and interpret the stories that develop as the sitters interact: 171 5.1. Perceived versus Intended Meaning <?page no="172"?> But you can’t deny people’s interpretations just because you say there’s no story. When my brother gave his contribution, didn’t you see how he was looking at Charles? He was almost laughing at him wearing that top hat. And what about Antonio leaning over Angèle as though he’s going to lick her ear any second? You don’t think there’s a story there? Émile adores Ellen, but she won’t let him near her, and now he hasn’t come back. Something’s going on between them. Something’s going on everywhere in the painting too. There will be mysteries to people looking at your painting, but they will bring their own feelings to it, and will imagine they know something. Like Jules said, how things are connected, one thing and then another and another. (198) First and foremost, Alphonsine’s argument is based on essential assumptions about the ways of seeing, perceiving and appreciating an art object. According to Berger, although “every image embodies a way of seeing, our perception or appreciation of an image depends also upon our own way of seeing” (10). In other words, the evidence of the painting is only accepted in accordance with the viewer’s ability to observe nonverbal communication, such as body posture, gestures, touch, the use of space, facial expressions, gaze and other types of physical behaviour. Even not knowing the purpose of the gathering at Maison Fournaise, the relationship between the models or the content of their discourse, one will be tempted to invent a story, contemplating the models’ individual traits and habits as well as the details that surround them as they are depicted in the painting. This is why Alphonsine argues that the painting holds mysteries which the viewer will attempt to solve intuitively in connection with his/ her own emotions and experiences, only imagining a possible meaning, and as a result providing an artwork with a highly subjective interpretation. Two other models reach the same conclusion: Charles, claiming that “some flâneur of the future will look at our faces, hats, and clothes and will deduce our relationships, our occupations, our domestic lives” (LOTBP 418), and Jules, confirming that those viewers will “have a great deal of guessing to do” (418). Consequently, another interesting and very important point raised here is the individual perception of painting and the variety and plurality of its interpretations. The model also points out the syntactic (Wolf, “Pictorial Narrativity” 432) nature of the painting - when the painting illustrates more than one figure - and the interaction be‐ tween the figures that implies a certain narrative. Alphonsine offers her own analysis of three ‘interactive clusters’ that create isolated narratives within a single re-presentation: Alphonse and Charles, Antonio and Angèle, and Émile and Ellen. Similarly, Durant-Ruel devotes his attention to the female figures (Angèle, Aline, Ellen and Jeanne), reading meaning into their postures: 172 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="173"?> The sly, soft eyes of this one tipping her head coquettishly, the archness of her smile. And the pert little nose of that one, her petulance, absorbed in her dog but knowing that Gustave is adoring her. The feline charm of this one looking through the glass. And the black gloves to this one’s ears, forcing us to speculate what she doesn’t want to hear. (LOTBP 419) Durant-Ruel sees both the boating party and the artwork for the first time. Al‐ though he is not aware of the interaction occurring during the painting process, some of the given interpretations are reminiscent of what the reader already knows about the models, such as his unequivocal vision of Angèle as playful and flirtatious and his speculation about the words that Jeanne is eager to avoid hearing by cupping her ears. The art dealer also mentions Ellen; by spotting her feline charm he discredits the model’s initial fear of being represented dispar‐ agingly while drinking. His perception of Aline as conscious of male attention, on the other hand, is different to her actual unassuming behaviour in the mod‐ elling sessions. Observing the poses of the figures in the painting, Charles, on the other hand, distinguishes the brilliancy of the composition: Look at the woman holding the dog, how her shoulder and upper arm connect with the boatman’s hand so the line of both their arms enclose the group on the left, and the standing man’s arm and Gustave’s back enclose it on the right. […] And Gustave’s hand lines up with Angèle’s, the woman looking at him […]. And the two hands on the chair on the right, the titillation of that. (420) Other models understand the painting as a meditation on social and political circumstances. For instance, when Alphonsine rejects Aline’s somewhat naïve comment about the painting being a representation of “a wonderful meal those people must have just eaten” (417), she acknowledges the historical importance of the meaning it conveys: “It’s more important than a pleasant lunch. […] It’s the evidence of the healing of France, and Maison Fournaise has played a part. […] It sends out a blessedness because we’re in a state of grace on that piece of cloth” (417). Alphonsine’s interpretation finds a positive response from Jules, who reads social meaning into the image: “The light of history is glancing off our shoulders […]. These aren’t safely married couples re-peopling France with children. They’re not at church on Sunday. They are, we are the fringe element that makes the bourgeoisie nervous. We’re enjoying ourselves too much” (418). Jules accentuates the difference between the social classes: opposing the bour‐ geoisie to the industrial proletariat, he implies criticism of the economic mate‐ rialism and moral hypocrisy of the bourgeoisie and celebrates the potential of the working-class people. In other words, the character interprets the painting in view of Marxist art history. Furthermore, Jules, who sees modernity as a 173 5.1. Perceived versus Intended Meaning <?page no="174"?> combination of new forms of various arts, comments on the developments in literature and mentions Stéphane Mallarmé and Symbolism. The character points out that their metaphorical and suggestive manner of writing allows the Symbolists to express their ideas indirectly, yet the main aim is to transmit a certain mood rather than a clear meaning: It has to do with a concrete thing suggesting an abstract idea to the writer personally. Think of x equals y and y equals z. Mallarmé only writes x and leaves us to discover the z. He said that to name something outright takes away much of the enjoyment of the poem, which comes from guessing the mystery. […] That’s what makes Symboliste poets so difficult to follow in their personal associations, but the words and images you use to describe […] convey the feeling. (187) The idea that naming the feelings directly “takes away much of the enjoyment of the poem, which comes from guessing the mystery” (187) resonates with Renoir’s vision, his rejection of a precise meaning assigned to his work as “to his mind, the moment any painter becomes conscious of a message, the work loses its seductive power to unveil any more discoveries” (418). A concrete ex‐ ample of the artist’s vision and his philosophy of the message the painting con‐ veys is given with the explanation of the painter’s self-portrait (painted with the help of a mirror and added in order to solve the problem of thirteen people sitting at the table). When Ellen inquires who the mystery man in the centre looking at her is, Renoir replies that it is not any person in particular but ev‐ eryman: “A painting requires a little mystery, some vagueness, some fantasy. When you make your meaning perfectly plain you end up boring people” (417). Since the fourteenth figure in the original painting has not been identified with any degree of certainty, identification of the quatorzième as Renoir is the result of the novelist’s subjective interpretation. Exploiting the painting and the story potential Vreeland makes the artist’s self-portrait fulfil two purposes: on the one hand, it allows yet another cross-reference to Les Noces de Cana through Vero‐ nese’s self-portrait included in it; on the other, it transforms Renoir into a detail from his own creation and thus makes him an inseparable part of his own work. Turning back to the above-quoted argument about the multiple interpretations different viewers would inevitably provide Luncheon of the Boating Party with, it is important to understand that by referring to Jules - “Like Jules said, how things are connected, one thing and then another and another” (198) - Alphon‐ sine in fact appeals to the key principle of Symbolism. By associating Impres‐ sionism with Symbolism and Mallarmé’s poetry in particular, the model fur‐ nishes the painting with a social art historical interpretation. 174 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="175"?> Other models compare the result of Renoir’s achievements in Luncheon of the Boating Party with other artists, both older and contemporary works. Thus, for example, Gustave spots Titian’s influence in the “Venus quality in Angèle” (354), while Charles compares the abundance of colour and light to the Venetian mas‐ ters: “There hasn’t been such shimmering opulence in a painting since the Venetians” (416); this idea is also reinforced in Jules’ comment on the colour solution in the artwork: “The whole thing is a symphony of coloured vibrations. Thousands of tones and touches give form by the subtlest of gradations.” (416). Furthermore, Durant-Ruel recognises further references to Vermeer, Fragonard and Ingres: “The face through a glass is far lovelier than Vermeer’s attempt. The young woman loving her little dog - you’re quoting Fragonard there. And the languor of the one leaning on the railing is pure Ingres. You’ve given the masters rebirth in Impressionist style and subject” (420). As a matter of fact, Renoir’s intention to quote old masters is not new to the reader, as while contemplating the composition of the future work, the artist sets a clear objective of paying tribute to them: He would honor Veronese, and he would vie with him - and Watteau and Ingres and Rubens and Fragonard and Vermeer to boot! And he would do it all in two months. He felt hot with the pressure to get started, and to make it the greatest figure painting of the whole Impressionist movement. (24) Moreover, the artist implies a clear reference to Vermeer in Angèle’s accessory, the pearl earring, which Renoir makes stand out more than others by applying white colours. The artist considers the earring “a nod of gratitude to Vermeer. Angèle, his own girl with a pearl earring, with her face and throat as smooth in its bleeding of hues as any Vermeer” (352). Despite its small size the detail man‐ ifests the idea that Renoir learns and intentionally borrows from the acknowl‐ edged master’s oeuvre. The intentions of the artist, though made know to the reader via the interior monologues, are not available to the public. It may there‐ fore be assumed that Durant-Ruel’s interpretation of the female figures and his recognition of the quoted sources in particular not only serve to acknowledge the favourable outcome of the representation, but also in a way prove the fact that at least some of the artist’s intentions can be traced and identified. Comparative analysis of other artists includes Renoir’s contemporary milieu. One of the key referential elements is Ellen’s posing with a glass of wine, which, in addition to quoting Vermeer, also alludes to Degas and Manet, in whose 175 5.1. Perceived versus Intended Meaning <?page no="176"?> 3 Manet, Édouard. La Prune (The Plum), 1878, oil on canvas, 74 x 50 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. paintings (Degas’s L’Absinthe and Manet’s La Prune  3 ) the same model is depicted as a lonely drunkard. First of all, in order to persuade Ellen that his painting will flatter her beauty Renoir explains the difference in his approach to representa‐ tion and juxtaposes Degas’s views on the depiction of modernity with his own: “In that painting, Degas was presenting modern life as he saw it, being alone in a city of strangers […] I have a different view, conviviality, so you don’t need to worry” (LOTBP 93). Then, seeing the finished work and approving of her por‐ trait, Ellen compares it with Manet’s canvases: “It is different than Manet’s scenes […] He only shows separate people in cafés. This looks like I was talking and just took a sip” (354). On the one hand, the model restates Renoir’s percep‐ tion of Degas’s vision by now applying it to Manet; on the other, she acknowl‐ edges the communicative exchange that takes place in a social context of the scene in Renoir’s painting. Finally, the same idea is reiterated by Gustave, who concludes the discussion by pointing out to the fact that Renoir “leaves the disintegration of society to Manet and Degas and Rafaëlli” (354) and celebrates the congeniality, friendliness and sociability of his boating party. The difference between the themes manifested in their works is conditioned by the way the artists perceive surrounding them ‘reality’. The contrast between Renoir’s and Degas’s ways of seeing reality is further reinforced by the characters of the artists, who mutually criticise each other’s work. Thus, for example, Renoir ac‐ cuses Degas of taking an arrogant approach to the representation of nature: “Edgar paints from his imagination in his stuffy studio and calls it a landscape. It’s supreme arrogance to think that what comes out of his brain is more valuable than what we see around us” (7). Whereas Degas accuses Renoir of idealising his models: “You embellish your models because you can’t stand ugliness, and it’s a deception, an offense against reality. If a woman has a horsey jaw, give it to us that way” (40). In his defence Renoir argues that “there are too many unpleasant things in life as it is without creating still more of them. I hate le misérabilisme. I’m in the shining business, not the darkening business” (41). Wagner also examines the difference in styles within the Impressionist group of artists. In DFD Degas differentiates himself from his colleagues: I prefer to lean on the lessons of the great masters and not have colors throwing up all over the canvas. […] Many of my colleagues will spend an entire day ruining a landscape with too many colors running into one another until the entire picture becomes a complete blur. […] I have no use for the outside. […] I get along very well without ever going out of my own house. With a bowl of soup and three old brushes, 176 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="177"?> I can make the finest landscape ever painted. When I want a cloud, I take my hand‐ kerchief and crumple it up and turn it round till I get the right light, and there’s my cloud! (141-2) By introducing the juxtaposition of Renoir’s buoyant and somewhat utopian perception of modernity and Degas’s and Manet’s representation of depravity of the working classes as well as emphasising the difference between the painting methods, the novelists draw attention to the difference in content that is found in Impressionist paintings, thus applying both connoisseurial and iconographical approaches to interpretation. Furthermore, in attributing distinct personalities to the models, Durant-Ruel and Jules (one of the models) draw attention to the artist’s individual style. Du‐ rant-Ruel emphasises the uniqueness of the Renoirian representation of women: “These women could not have been painted by anyone else. They have that roguish charm that only you can give to women” (LOTBP 419). Elevating the idea of the Renoirian style, Jules points out that all the details become reflections of the artist’s identity: “But what doesn’t take any guessing is Auguste’s own identity in all of us. That’s where genius lies, in the flashes of revelation that go from painter through the subject to the viewer” (418). Here again the novelist adopts the connoisseurial interpretation - while distinguishing the hand of the artist and accentuating the singularity of his style, Vreeland draws the reader’s attention to the visual appearance of the details, not their meaning. It may be concluded that by alluding to notoriously known artists and their paintings, using details or figures’ poses as points of unequivocal reference, Vreeland re‐ sorts to comparative analyses, using a combination of art historical research methods, which establish an additional artistic value of the re-presentation. The final interpretation of the painting introduced in the novel is offered by the artist. Giving an answer to Durant-Ruel’s question about the message the painting conveys, Renoir insists on his intention of achieving a general impres‐ sion of “The goodness of life” (LOTBP 421) and not telling a story. Alluding to a joyous moment of modern life this comment sums up the essence of the artwork in the most general way. Yet, to Renoir personally, the painting acquires a dif‐ ferent meaning - having assembled the perfect models, found the perfect com‐ position, mastered the perfect brushwork, with this painting he reaches the pinnacle of his career as an Impressionist: Could he ever be as good again as he was this moment? […] If he wanted to say yes, and mean it, he would have to change. With this painting, he had carried Impres‐ sionism as far as he could. At least with figures. The recognition descended as his eyes filled. He created a revolution that left him out. (417) 177 5.1. Perceived versus Intended Meaning <?page no="178"?> According to the artist, the completion of this painting calls for an inevitable change in his painting style and thus introduces new challenges for his profes‐ sional future. As has been shown, interpretations given by the characters (both the actual participants and simple observers) may be based on an emotional reaction to the image, on the ability to observe the composition, depicted details, applied colours and other formal aspects of the painting, on the ability to imagine communication between the figures, on knowledge of other works of art and on the ability to apply it to conduct a comparative analysis of an artwork. Hence, their interpretations develop in two directions: towards the past or the present. Renoir also compares the artwork with his own previous achievements as well as masterpieces by his predecessors and contemporaries. However, the artist’s private perception of the painting is also oriented towards the future. As a prac‐ titioner of Impressionism, Renoir is aware of its advantages and limitations and, having used all the potential of the style and reflecting on further development, he inevitably starts searching for new ways of representation. Thus, by finishing the painting, the artist parts not only with his boating party but also with the Impressionist style. 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display Art fiction is very much like art criticism in the way both approach and exploit works of art. Similar to art criticism, the re-presentation of an artwork in fic‐ tional narratives involves two stages: description, which outlines the artwork as a whole and/ or focuses on its specific features, calling the reader’s attention to the selected details (some of which the reader could have perceived autono‐ mously, others which may be overlooked), and interpretation, which serves to decipher the meaning of the artwork. While the description of a painting can spotlight multifarious elements, by its very nature it remains rather uniform. Interpretation, on the other hand, leads to distinction and variance of the meaning and thus substantially contributes to the understanding and appreci‐ ation of the art object. However, in attempting to describe a previously seen artwork the viewer conceptualises what is depicted and translates the effect the work exerts on him/ her. According to Baxandall, when we explain pictures “in terms of their historical causes, what we actually explain seems likely to be not the unmediated picture but the picture as considered under a partially inter‐ pretative description. This description is an untidy and lively affair” (11). It is the precision with which the viewer is able to recount a work of art that makes each description different, whereas the details that the viewer singles out to 178 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="179"?> 4 Degas, Edgar. Four Dancers, 1899, oil on canvas, 151.1 x 180.2 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. define the art piece, and the relationship in which the viewer sets these details, manifest his/ her personal interest in and reception of the work. Therefore, in art fiction it is usually the case that a description given to an artwork is already embellished with the character’s emotional reaction to it, under which circum‐ stances the description becomes interpretative. In contrast to LOTBP, where the reader follows the entire process of making of an artwork and sees how the meaning develops, in the novels about Degas and Manet, many of the paintings are only re-presented as ready-made products on display in the artist’s studio (private space) or on display at either the Salon or the independent Impressionist Exhibition (public space). When the artwork is seen in a private space, it is not isolated from the persona of the artist or the value of his labour. Moreover, by assuming absolute control over the audience who is invited to the studio, the artist manages both the quantity and the quality of interpretation while at the same time remains in charge of guiding the viewer and explaining the intended meaning of the work, which in due turn provides for physical proximity, emotional intimacy and aesthetic solidarity between the artist, the artwork and the viewer. On the other hand, a museum or gallery setting, where the artwork is exposed to a large number of visitors, becomes a convenient place for encounters not only between characters and artworks but also between characters in their roles as observers who exchange their opinions and interpretations of the displayed works. It is obvious that in such a public space, however, the meaning of an art object cannot always be guided or remain protected by the creator. An exception would be the kind of situation when the artist indeed accompanies the viewer through the gallery and engages himself in a conversation about the meaning of his painting, as does the fictional char‐ acter of Degas in DFD, who shows Alexandrie Four Dancers, 4 the painting she posed for. The ballerina model suggests a plausible interpretation of the depicted landscape, inquiring if it is intended to contrast “what the other artists of your group are painting with what you choose to depict” (292). The very idea of the landscape as a characteristic individual feature of Degas’s representation voiced in the novel is most probably inspired by the iconographic art historical com‐ pare-and-contrast method. Although the artist acknowledges it as an interesting suggestion, he disagrees with this perception and justifies his intention instead: That is an interesting take on it […] But no. I have captured the love that you cannot hide in your face when I am with you and the complete happiness you have during 179 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display <?page no="180"?> our time together. I know it’s fleeting because I’ll leave you. For a moment you are as serene as the meadow in the painting, but it is only an illusion. (292) Alexandrie’s observation may be seen as an attempt to demonstrate her com‐ prehension of the Impressionist movement, her acquired knowledge of the style in general and the ability to analyse and compare Degas’s vision with the rest of the group. Though plausible, the model’s interpretation is not given further support in the narrative, as when the creator reveals the intended meaning he claims authority over the work, intending to persuade the viewer as well as the reader of the singularity of interpretation. According to Hepburn, to display is “to pause an action at a given moment or to freeze an object in a given position. The museum creates a break in tem‐ poral sequence in order to emphasize the existence of the object qua object” (24). Moreover, as is further pointed out, museum or gallery display “reinforces and perpetuates value. Inside the museum, objects, enhanced by the conditions of display, are looked at with aesthetic intention. Value resides not in the object itself, but in its staging within a gallery for the sake of being scrutinized” (28). The distance between viewers and works of art that the museum environment presumes develops on several levels: firstly, the spatial distance dictated by mu‐ seum culture (the viewer’s inability to touch the object); secondly, the temporal distance established via the separation of an object from the artist’s labour by pausing the process of creation and exhibiting it at a certain time in a given form; and, finally, an emotional and aesthetic distance, as, not always supported by the creator’s explanation or justification of the intended meaning, the viewers are entitled to judge the artwork in accordance with their individual emotional reaction and understanding of its aesthetic value. In order to give interpretation to the artworks on display, art fictional narratives most commonly use the char‐ acter of the model to reflect on the depiction of her or other works by the same or other artists that she encounters in the gallery. However, the models’ inter‐ pretation may also be supported with views and opinions given by other char‐ acters (uninvolved in the painting process) that happen to view the masterpiece at the same time and are willing to share their perception of the work of art - this is when a painting on display becomes an object of discussion that inevitably leads to the quantitative and qualitative expansion of its meaning. When models who posed for the figure painting act as observers of a displayed product, they describe what they see and at the same time interpret the images, proving the reader with a selective subjective interpretative description. Due to the complex nature of a model’s relation to an artwork, as a viewer of her own image she may also associate the experience of modelling as well as the emotions involved in the process with the finished product. Thus, seeing Degas’s Four Dancers for 180 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="181"?> the first time and recognising herself, Alexandrie reminisces about her model‐ ling: My vision is flooded with four nearly life-size images of myself bringing the strap of my costume to my shoulder. My mind wanders back to our early session and how he made me repeat this movement over and over. I had been so nervous not to say any‐ thing to set him off, as Paulette had warned. As I look at the finished product I think that he has indeed captured a fleeting moment, and I’m amazed at his acute perception. The image of me in the back of the painting shows my face reaching up in a look of utter happiness. The entire painting speaks of a grace and peace that I rarely feel I have. (DFD 292) The information provided by the model in the first-person narrative gives an inside perspective on the process of posing dressed as a dancer in variety of poses (“he made me repeat this movement over and over”), her emotional state (“so nervous not to say anything to set him off ”), the interpretation of the effect the painting produces (“I’m amazed at his acute perception”) and meaning of the depicted happiness for the model herself, who has become an inspiration for the image. Alexandrie’s observation of the artwork is, therefore, inseparable from her experience as a model. Her interpretation incorporates not only private knowledge about the process of creation but also her emotions that may have influenced the way she is represented. In the same fashion, Manet’s Street Singer is described in MV. In addition to giving a rather detailed description of the painting the omniscient narrator assumes the perspective of the model, pro‐ viding evidence of Victorine’s modelling sessions with the artist’s instructions and transmitting Victorine’s understanding of the work: The subject was a modern woman of the lower classes, a guitar singer, exiting a shabby cabaret. Victorine remembered how precisely Edouard had posed her clutching a guitar and a fold of her charcoal-gray cotton dress in one hand, the skirt slightly raised to ensure a hint of white lace petticoat peeking out. In her other hand, Edouard had instructed her to hold a small bunch of cherries to her mouth. The lace petticoat was intended as a subtle hint of her loose sexuality, and the cherries were a cold message of the sexual delight to be tasted by those lucky enough to make her acquaintance. He had painted a man leering at her from the shadows of the cabaret. Edouard intended to raise desires of men by certain message they read in her eyes. She had understood the part she had played, but now she saw that a part was played by the artist and the viewer as well, that of voyeur. (31-2) This passage contains information about the subject of the painting (depiction of “a modern woman of the lower classes, a guitar singer”), the setting (the model 181 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display <?page no="182"?> is seen in front of “a shabby cabaret”), and it also mentions a few central details such as the musical instrument the woman is carrying, the elements of the dress she is wearing as well as the cherries she is holding. The ekphrastic description of the details is immediately followed by their interpretation. Thus, for instance, the way the model holds up her dress revealing the white lace petticoat under‐ neath is interpreted as an intended and “subtle hint of her loose sexuality”, while the cherries are considered “a cold message of the sexual delight to be tasted by those lucky enough to make her acquaintance.” The sexual context of the painting is further defined by a male figure, a longing observer hidden in the background, whose presence emphasises the idea of the sexual objectification of the female figure within the actual canvas. Yet this interpretation also crosses the borders of the pictorial space and involves the observer in the interaction with the model. According to the novel, the artist’s intention is to “raise desires of men by certain message they read in her eyes,” thus presupposing that the viewer would unequivocally interpret the meaning of the singer’s posture and gaze. The same conclusion is admittedly made by the model who, though always conscious of her own role in the painting, on finally seeing the work on display realises the apparent effect it exerts on the viewer, namely that both the artist and the viewer are summoned to the sexual context of the painting, established in their roles as voyeurs. An interpretive description is also given to Le Balcon in WV when Berthe is looking at the painting exhibited at the Salon: He has painted me in splendorous detail. Fanny looks dowdy. Monsieur Guillemet looks stiff, and… Édouard has added a new figure, barely visible amidst the blackness of the open terrace doorway. A boy with a serving tray. Merely a ghost of an image, scarcely perceptible in the background. (133) Having seen the work in progress in the artist’s studio, the model is already familiar with the main concept of the painting, which is probably the reason why her interpretation of three central figures is definite and rather uncon‐ cerned. This contrasts with Berthe’s description and interpretation of the fourth figure (a boy with a serving tray) newly painted in the background. As a model for the boy Manet uses Suzanne’s son Léon, whose provenience is the cause of widespread rumours. Therefore, the choice of words does not seem to be acci‐ dental - “barely visible”, “scarcely perceptible” and “ghost” image - the depicted figure suggests mystery not only in the painting but also in real life. In order to speculate further about the scarce presence of Léon in both dimensions, Robards introduces another viewer of the painting. Degas, one of Manet’s closest friends, 182 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="183"?> hence a seemingly reliable informant, intentionally initiates a conversation about the boy: [Degas] ‘You are quite lovely. Léon, now he looks strange.’ […] [Berthe] ‘Is that Léon in the background of the painting? ’” […] “‘It is interesting how Monsieur Manet painted him. He is barely there.’ ‘Barely there.’ Degas smirks. ‘That is a very good way to put it I suppose that is how the Manet household would like him to be. If not absent altogether.’ His words make me uncomfortable, and I recall Edma’s revelation that Léon is Édouard’s son. […] [Berthe] ‘Monsieur Manet does not care for his own godson? ’ [Degas] ‘Godson? Ha! Who told you that? ’ [Berthe] ‘Madam Manet.’ He snorts. ‘Yes, I am sure that is what she would have you believe. […] Léon is no more Manet’s godson than Edma is your goddaughter.’ […][Berthe] ‘I am well aware that Léon is Manet’s son, Monsieur. But the boy is what - about fourteen years of age? Why did Manet wait so long after Suzanne gave birth to marry her? ’ Degas’ mouth twists into a perverse little smile. ‘That, Mademoiselle, is what everyone wonders. Especially since he did not give the child the Manet name. […] Of course there is the question of which Manet is the father. To keep things simple the family prefers to refer to Léon as Édouard’s godson. It cuts down on the nasty gossip, you see? […] Although I still do not understand what com‐ pelled him to marry his father’s mistress. He could have acted as the boy’s godfather without going to the extreme of tying himself to a woman he does not love.’ (134-6) By identifying the mysterious figure as Léon, Degas decontextualizes the detail from the painting and examines it from the fictional ‘real’ life perspective. Hence, the artist assumes that the identity of the model and his position within the family not only influence the interpretation but also actually assign certain meaning to the work. In order to present his argument, Degas uses Berthe’s initial reaction to the representation of the waiter, which allows a perfect tran‐ sition from a spontaneous interpretation of the image to the advocated inten‐ tions of the artist. In other words, by honouring the accurateness of the model’s understanding of the depicted figure, Degas offers compelling evidence that supports it. By alluding to Manet’s life, his relationship with Suzanne and spec‐ ulating about Léon’s true origin, the artist encourages a connoisseurial inter‐ pretation of the image. It is not surprising, therefore, that the reader encounters further references to this detail or rather the model himself in the course of the novel with Berthe confronting Édouard about Léon until the mystery of his 183 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display <?page no="184"?> father’s identity is finally resolved. In fact, it is only after Édouard’s confession that Léon is his stepbrother - which also partially explains his relationship with and his feelings for Suzanne - that Manet and Morisot’s relationship becomes physically intimate. The conclusion to which I come is thus that while the detail from the painting generates the narrative, creating a plot twist, speculations about the figure represented in Le Balcon give a new interpretation to the painting. Another representative example of an interpretation of the image based on the model’s memories of the painting process, attention to specific details from the painting as well as further discussion about a painting on display is illus‐ trated in TPG. Accompanied by her friend Blanche, also a ballerina at the Paris Opéra, Marie goes to the Durant-Ruel gallery to view Degas’s pastel Dancer Resting. The model introduces the picture to the reader, directing their attention to those details, which she as an observer considers meaningful for the percep‐ tion of the whole: And there I was, on the far wall, in pastel and black chalk - two legs, two feet, two arms - reading the newspaper beside the stove in Monsieur Degas’s workshop. I wore my practice skirt and the blue sash I bought with my bakery money and you could make out the braid running atop my head that it had taken me a good half hour to get right. There were bracelets upon my forearms, which was strange when I did not own a single one. […] Reading the newspaper was how I passed the time while waiting for Monsieur Degas to mix his pigments with oil or find a pastel of a particular shade of blue. Not a week ago I was doing just that and letting the warmth of his stove seep into my tired bones, when he called out, “Don’t move, Mademoiselle van Goethem. Don’t move the breadth if a hair. […] Eyes down, reading the newspaper again.” (140) This ekphrastic description given in the first-person narrative form provides the reader with what at first may seem rather superficial information about details such as the costume and the accessories. However, what Marie also translates into these obvious details is the intimate knowledge she possesses about each of them. Thus, for instance, the model refers to the cost of the blue sash she is wearing and emphasises the effort devoted to making her hair - in both cases the model unconsciously claims her own participation in establishing the image. While localising the setting (standing in the artist’s studio beside the stove) Marie also refers to the activity she is involved in, explaining that reading is quite a common pastime in-between her modelling sessions. However, what seems nothing but an ordinary routine to the model draws the attention of an‐ other gallery visitor, who eagerly shares his own interpretation with Marie: 184 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="185"?> The new painters, like Monsieur Degas, are not so concerned with finish […]. Their aim is only to re-create exactly the sensation of what is seen, to capture life. […] Degas’s pictures, every one, tell the story of a heart and a body. […] It’s easy to see you’re a dancer. There’s the erectness of your back, the outward rotation of your legs, the practice costume. Your hair is put up. You’re skinny; a hard worker, one who doesn’t always get enough to eat. […] Your skirt is neat, new. I see ambition in that. And you can read. In a moment of quiet, you turn to the newspaper. It says a lot, the way a girl chooses to rest. (141-2) The viewer carries out a rather comprehensive analysis of the painting, putting it in the context of the new painting style and the artists’ ambition to capture the sensation of a fleeting moment in their artworks as well as focusing on the individual qualities of Degas’s work, namely, the fact that his paintings narrate a story “of a heart and a body”, which in this particular case is a story about a ballerina. The perception of the image as a portrait of an ambitious hard-working dancer is conditioned by the representation of the physical features of the danc‐ er’s body (the erectness of the back, the outwards rotation of the legs, the skin‐ niness) as well as the more evident elements of clothing which not only signal the profession (practice costumes) but also define the character of the model wearing them. When the gentleman asks Marie to verify if the artist succeeded in telling her story, Marie indicates the artificiality of the drawn bracelets: “He drew bracelets upon my arms. There isn’t money for that” (142) and by that challenges the authenticity of the story told. Marie’s understanding of the pastel is literal and therefore quite limited. It takes another person to point out that bracelets are a common attribute of a dancer as “dancers are always collecting trinkets from their admirers” (142) for Marie to see past the fact that they are not genuine and to read meaning into their presence: “I felt a creeping bit of pleasure that maybe Monsieur Degas and this gentleman believed that one day someone would think enough of my dancing to put bracelets upon my arms” (142). Along with such a favourable interpretation given by the stranger, the very act of seeing an image on display affects the model. The physical distance between Marie and her image exerts a psychological effect on the model. Seeing Dancer Resting on display Marie communicates the following emotions: “I felt my shoulders straighten, seeing myself there upon the gallery wall in the pret‐ tiest of frames and looking more like a real ballet girl than a starving waif from the rue de Douai” (141). The changed posture and the very gesture of straight‐ ening her shoulders translate the model’s self-awareness as well as a newly acquired feeling of confidence. In Dancer Resting neither the title of the newspaper nor the text of the article the ballerina is reading is visible or legible to the viewer; however, the image of 185 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display <?page no="186"?> 5 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Madame Monet Reading “Le Figaro,” 1872, oil on canvas, 54 x 72 cm, Museu Calouste Gulbenkian, Lisbon, Portugal. 6 Cassatt, Mary. Reading ‘Le Figaro,’ 1878, oil on canvas, 104 x 84 cm, private collection. 7 Degas, Edgar. Criminal Physiognomies, 1881, pastel, dimensions unknown, private collec‐ tion. the newspaper is central to the understanding of the pastel since it depicts the dancer’s particular way of resting. While the viewer is left to guess, the reader is actually provided with a possible answer to what the newspaper is and what the news that attracted the dancer’s attention might have been. The newspaper Marie is holding in her hands is said to be Le Figaro, a conservative ultra-Parisian daily newspaper that had the highest circulation in nineteenth-century France. As a matter of fact, its popularity attracted such painters as Renoir and Cassatt, both focusing on the representation of the act of reading in Madame Monet Reading ‘Le Figaro’ 5 and Reading ‘Le Figaro’. 6 Therefore, it is not surprising that the novelist entitles the newspaper in Dancer Resting as Le Figaro. Concentrating on the news article and exploring the invisible story in the painting, Buchanan achieves a close and direct dialogue between the painting and the newspaper article, between the image and the text within it, as well as between the characters involved (Marie, who is reading the article, and the characters involved in the printed news re‐ port) and subsequently between two of Degas’s works, which depict disparate subjects and transmit radically different emotions to the viewer. The article Mar‐ ie’s gaze is fixated upon during the modelling session is about “the murdered tavern owner, how her watch was stolen, how any Parisian coming upon the watch was to contact the inspector in charge of the case” (TPG 140). Although the story of the murder does not directly affect the interpretation of the painting, it does play a significant role in the novel by creating a second storyline and linking the characters of the novel as well as several of Degas’s works together. As the reader later finds out, Michel Knobloch and Émile Abadie - the latter is Marie’s sister’s lover - are accused of the murder. Both convicts are depicted in Criminal Physiognomies, 7 the pastel that is later exhibited together with Degas’s statuette at the sixth Impressionist Exhibition. Not only does Marie know one of the con‐ victs, but she is also involved in the investigation. In order to keep Antoinette and Émile apart, Marie eliminates the only evidence of Émile’s innocence. Falsifying Antoinette’s diary records and intentionally influencing the verdict of the court (Émile is found guilty and is sentenced to death), Marie commits a serious crime herself. Knowing about the fraud, Antoinette accuses Marie of having the blood of an innocent on her hands (332) and later, when talking to the Superioress, confesses that Marie “was awaiting the moment she showed herself to be a beast” (340). It is interesting that the same word is used by Marie to describe the men 186 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="187"?> depicted in the pastel Criminal Physiognomies: “Émile Abadie alongside Michel Knobloch, each caught in profile in the prisoners’ box at the court. The boys in the picture, by their looks, anyone would say they are beasts. No one would guess a mistake was made. But I know” (351). Marie’s interpretation of the portrait of the convicts is objective in as much as the men’s appearances leave no doubt to their culpability, yet it is also subjective since she possesses the full knowledge of the case and the reason why the verdict has been changed, which actually also proves her own feelings of guilt. The established connection between the stories of two criminals and the bal‐ lerina as well as the idea that neither of them is truly virtuous nor faultless allow the novelist to speculate on the reasons why Degas chose and displayed these two works together at the sixth Impressionist Exhibition. The invisible story in Dancer Resting develops into a subplot in the novel, leading to a re-presentation of Crim‐ inal Physiognomies. It is worth mentioning that updates on the case are given in the form of integral Le Figaro articles (creating an illusion of authenticity and veracity) that are introduced in the text of the novel in between the chapters that alternate the voice of the first-person narrative, giving it to Marie or Antoinette accordingly. Therefore, not only do these articles develop the invisible story within the painting and in Marie’s life, but they also function as a structural prin‐ ciple in the novel. On the one hand, as has been demonstrated, an inclusion of an invisible text and with it an imaginary story in the painting context interrupts the descriptive narrative by zooming in on the detail, invisible yet still present in the discourse of the artwork, hence creating the effect of a storyline hidden within the artwork. On the other, the dialogue established between the painting and the newspaper article broadens the fictional knowledge of the painting offered to the reader and consequently intensifies its re-interpretation. Turning now to the question of the physical distance that display imposes between the art object and the viewer, it is worth pointing out that despite dis‐ tancing the viewer from the artefact, the museum experience encourages a more intensive interaction with the fundamental attributes of the two-dimensional image, such as size, scale, shape, lines, brushwork and colours. The size is prob‐ ably the most striking and straightforward attribute of an artwork; ultimately it is what the viewer primarily notices about the object on display. Also in the context of museum display, the size of an artwork is a crucial factor that deter‐ mines its location, the amount of museum space it occupies and consequently the attention it commands. Thus, for instance, in MV Finerman explores the effect the size of Manet’s The Street Singer produces on the viewers who see the finished product for the first time at the artist’s studio: “Most shocking was its size; it was of epic proportions, with a dimension traditionally reserved for his‐ 187 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display <?page no="188"?> tory paintings commissioned by the state” (31-2). The information that the reader receives here does not only concern the dimensional proportions of the painting in question, it also comments on the fact that in the nineteenth century canvas sizes were fixed and differentiated strictly by their subjects. Moreover, it alludes to the fact that Manet intentionally disregards the French standard sizes for oil paintings by choosing the size of a canvas suitable for a history painting for a portrait of a modern woman, a cabaret singer. In order words, by disobeying the academic rules of art, the artist dictates a new vision of the subject matter, that is, showing contemporary reality as authentic history of now. Therefore, the ekphrastic narrative also contains a meta-commentary on mu‐ seum culture in general and the way the modern style of Impressionism chal‐ lenges the established painting norms in particular. The most important and prestigious annual (often also biannual) art event and a major social event in nineteenth-century Paris was the Salon, the official art exhibition sponsored and organised by the Académie des Beaux-Arts. In submitting their paintings for the Salon, painters hoped that their work would be acknowledged by the academic jury and given a place in the exhibition and, thus, presented to the public. Seen as a social event, the Salon attracted a sizable and diversified audience - people of different social and cultural background came to the exhibition to see art as well as, often primarily, to make new ac‐ quaintances and hear the latest gossip. The latter type is criticised by Manet in MV: “To them […] the art is just a background for society on display here. It’s just another diversion, along with the theatre, racing, endless balls, and adul‐ terous love affairs, that helps them escape from their vast inner emptiness” (39). By the same token, a description of the opening day of the Salon reveals the pretence of its public: [I]t was a major social event with reserved tickets costing a premium. Wealthy Pari‐ sians considered it the ideal opportunity to engage in the spectacle of theatricality they adored, the men preening in their finest frock coats and top hats while the women showed off their newest creations straight from the dressmaker’s. (38) Due to the visitors, seeing the art exhibition simply as an entertaining leisure activity rather than an art scene, the exhibited art is forced into the background - the public display intended first and foremost for the works of art instead becomes a parading stage for the opulently ‘framed’ visitors. However, there is also another type of audience that the exhibition attracts - people who are gen‐ uinely interested in the exhibited pieces, usually people whose profession is linked to the art field - among whom are painters themselves, art buyers, jour‐ nalists and art critics. The representation of the opinion of the latter in art fic‐ 188 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="189"?> 8 The Salon exhibition space packed with paintings is represented in Pietro Antonio Martini’s print View of the Salon of 1785 (1785). tional narratives will be analysed in the next part of the present study. In it I will focus on the notion of art criticism at a given period of time and the pub‐ lished commentary on the works of the Impressionist group in particular. Since the Salon bestowed an indisputable degree of respectability on the works exhibited, it established the artists’ professional reputation and - being a renowned and prestigious market place - influenced their career by contri‐ buting to their financial well-being. Hence, it is not surprising that numerous paintings were sent to the Salon jury each year and despite the strict criteria for the evaluation and selection process, the exhibition space was overcrowded with paintings, displayed from below eye-level to the distant ceiling, making use of every inch of space. 8 The jury of the Salon, who basically dictated the public taste in appreciation of art, however, resisted any deviation from traditional academic painting styles. As a result, the Impressionist paintings were most commonly rejected as inadequate or inferiorly placed if accepted. In DFD, the Salon with its exhibition space, the jury’s attitudes, status, influence and effects on artistic life become part of a critical cultural meta-discourse of art fictional narratives. Degas, for instance, walks though the exhibition with Alexandrie and criticises the dominion of the Salon: ‘The Salon is known for insignificant paintings, but artists obsess about being accepted into it.’ ‘So it’s not an honor to have your work exhibited here? ’ I ask. ‘Hardly! ” he laughs. “It does give artists some recognition.’ […] ‘If the Salon has such a bad reputation, then why do more people not exhibit in smaller circles as you do? ’ ‘Not everyone has the advantages that I do,’ he explains. ‘Most artists are not able to bring collectors to their homes and studios.’ […] ‘Exhibitions can make or break you,’ he mumbles, more to himself than to me. ‘They can ruin a career or make you a fortune. There’s quite a lot of risk involved.’ (188-9) Renoir uses the same argument, namely, the opportunity to increase sales, to jus‐ tify his willingness to submit his work to the Salon: “It’s just that only a handful of people buy works by painters not in the Salon, but eighty thousand beat down the doors every spring to snatch up works […] hung in the Salon” (LOTBP 10). Finerman also alludes to the fact that the Salon was “ostensibly open to all ar‐ tists, but everyone knew that the conservative jury was notable for rejecting work deemed too iconoclastic” (MV 4) and that Manet “had been rejected so many 189 5.2. Paintings Viewed on Display <?page no="190"?> times, he had not exhibited at the Salon for years” until his Street Singer was fi‐ nally accepted. To the artist’s dismay, however, it is unfavourably placed “at the very top, right below the crown molding” (41). Nevertheless, due to the epic size of the canvas it is unlikely to be unnoticed by the viewers. In contrast, in WV Morisot’s small landscape painting that is admitted to the Salon is simply over‐ looked by the public - talking to Édouard, Berthe points out that the experience was indeed useless: “I have endured my last Salon rebuff. […] A wonderful little piece [Morisot’s landscape painting] that all but went unnoticed. It garnered me nothing” (280). As a matter of fact, the placement of pictures in the Salon im‐ pedes the viewers’ proper observation of the artworks simply because most of the exhibited painting can hardly be seen. Pointing out one such painting, Degas de‐ nounces the whole system of hanging works of art above the viewer’s eye-level: “That one is so high in the corner that we can’t even see it. No doubt whoever made that painting thought this would be the proudest day of his life, yet no one can even see his work” (DFD 189). The dimension of an artwork is therefore not only its attribute but also a determining factor in its recognition. It plays a signif‐ icant role in the decision-making about the location of a canvas on a gallery wall, yet, most importantly, it regulates the viewer’s perception. It is evident that a larger-sized painting has the obvious advantage of being visible from different distances, angles and perspectives. Nevertheless, the effect it produces on the viewer depends greatly on its position on the gallery wall. When viewed from a standing position, the most favourable display of the painting is at an average eye level - that is, when the centre of an artwork is put at the viewer’s eye level - allowing the viewer to comfortably observe the exhibited piece, also meaning that the viewer can spend a sufficient amount of time scrutinising the work. Location above or below eye level causes physical discomfort and inevitably shortens the time the viewer is eager to dedicate to looking at an artwork. Given the abundance of choice the paintings accepted for the Salon exhibition, the prominent spot at eye-level is considered a sign of recognition and appreciation of the artwork. Thus, knowing the general resist‐ ance of the Academy towards Impressionism, it is even more surprising for Berthe Morisot - who takes the reader on a journey around the Salon, leading to room M and locating Manet’s Le Balcon - to discover that the painting is honourably displayed: “I stare at the work in amazement. It looks larger than life hanging on the wall, in a prime location” (WV 133). Such a location also allows the viewer to approach the painting for closer examination. Self-regu‐ lating the distance to the two-dimensional object therefore allows the viewer to determine how rigorous the examination of the visible attributes of an artwork should be in order for them to reach a final aesthetic judgement of it. In WV 190 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="191"?> Madame Morisot, who accompanies Berthe to the Salon, uses the opportunity to alter her distance to Le Balcon and scrutinise the painting: “Maman stands much too close viewing the painting through the narrow lenses of her quizzing glass. ‘Well, it looks much the same as the last time I saw it. One would think he would have gone back to finish it’” (133). The effect exerted by Madame Morisot’s circumventing the spatial distance between the art object and the viewer imposed by museum culture is to make the public space of a museum irrelevant as such since it makes no difference to the private space of the artist’s studio. Hence, there is a direct juxtaposition of the same art object seen at dif‐ ferent times, first in a private, then in a public space. According to Madame Morisot, despite the temporal distance of then and now the art object remains the same - though not accurate (as has already been discussed, significant changes are made to the painting) this observation is valid as an individual’s perception of the work: “I am entitled to an opinion, and mine is that I do not think it looks finished” (133). This interpretation is not novel; understanding neither the style nor artist’s intentions, the fictional character quotes a popular opinion of contemporary art critics who claim that the Impressionist paintings have an incomplete, unfinished, sketchy appearance. The same opinion is quoted in TPG by Marie’s dancer-friend Blanche, who accompanies Marie to the fifth exhibition of the independent artists to see Degas’s Dancer Resting: “‘Doesn’t look done,’ Blanche said. I could see what she meant, especially after gazing into the Adolphe Goupil gallery and seeing the paintings there, so pol‐ ished, almost like tinted photographs” (141). However, the accusation finds its counterargument, or rather is there is an explanation of the painting style of‐ fered by another viewer: “‘The new painters, like Monsieur Degas, are not so concerned with finish […]. Their aim is only to re-create exactly the sensation of what is seen, to capture life’” (141). In order to justify the Impressionist painting style the observer applies an iconographical interpretation and points to the fact that the change in style is driven by change in the content of art and modern ideas that artists intend to manifest in their work. 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections The artworks may be seen and commented on by the characters during the modelling sessions to show work in progress, or in artists’ studios or art exhi‐ bitions to examine the finished images, or both to create the effect of revisiting the image - as is the case with Luncheon of the Boating Party in LOTBP, Le Balcon in WV and The Street Singer in MV, when the models and/ or their chaperones 191 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections <?page no="192"?> 9 Degas, Edgar. The Dance Lesson, 1879, oil on canvas, 37.9 x 87.9 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. see the painting in both private and public spaces, thus repeating the experience within a temporal distance. A prime example of revisiting the painting after many years is given in DFD, when Alexandrie, already a mature woman, goes to the Louvre to see Degas’s collection exhibited there, seeing her images on museum display for the first time: I feel a wave of nostalgia as I see myself and the rest of the dancers in motion, moving to the orchestra. I realize how young and insecure I was as I scrutinize myself in the bathing series. I had felt old beyond my years, but the paintings show that I was just a girl, afraid to make the wrong move for fear of disappointing him. (364-5) The distance in time establishes an emotional distance that urges the model to re-evaluate the feelings she had at the time of modelling, putting them in the perspective of how a mature Alexandrie perceives herself as a young girl. An‐ other interesting example of revisiting an image is found in TPG: the novel spotlights Degas’s The Dance Lesson  9 on several occasions with Marie seeing it as an already finished painting. Although Marie is not featured in the painting, due to her specialist knowledge of the ballet practice hours, acquaintance with the dancers, experience as a model and her awareness of Degas’s individual style, Marie’s description and interpretation of the painting acquire a rather private and in-depth character. The first time Marie notices the painting is during one of her own modelling sessions at the artist’s studio: I shift my mind to one of the paintings turned around from facing the wall. There is a mass of ballet girls in the back corner, adjusting skirts and stockings and staring down at their feet. At the front are more ballet girls, three, one fiddling with the bow of her sash; two sitting down, with their skirts arranged behind them so as not to crush the tarlatan. I know a ballet girl modelled for each of the figures in the painting, because once Monsieur Degas explained how the drawing of me with the fan was a study for a larger work. The girl reaching around to her sash, with the tipped up nose, might be Lucille, which I am sorry to say would mean Monsieur Degas is not too particular about the girls he picks for modelling. Every day she is scolded for her lazy, shuffling feet. […] In the painting, the girl sitting on a bench draws the eye. Her shawl is blaring red, and you can see misery welling up. She is off by herself for one thing, and she is hunched over, maybe even wiping away a tear. Maybe she cannot keep up with the class. Maybe her sister came in late the night before, when already the grey light of morning was slipping through the shutter slats. Maybe she heard her laughing in the stairwell, 192 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="193"?> saying to a boy that, yes, on Sunday afternoon, those few free hours allowed the working girls of Paris, she would go to the Rat-Mort when that woeful girl wanted her sister to spend the time with her. Maybe she woke up to the noise of her mother vomiting up absinthe. Her feet are cut off, which is a habit of Monsieur Degas, some‐ thing a little planning could fix. And he always leaves swaths of blank floor instead of filling a picture up. Like as not, it is the reason his pictures do not get exhibited with the finest of the artwork at the Salon. It does not help, either, that he makes us ballet girls look common, with our yawning mouths and knobby knees and skinny arms, even though it is what we mostly are. (88-9) Not only does Marie describe the painting, but she is also particularly keen to interpret one of the depicted figures, a dancer in a red shawl sitting on a bench in the left corner of the painting. In a series of assumptions the model tries to ex‐ plain the girl’s general state of misery. She starts by interpreting the position of the figure (sitting in solitude, separate from the rest of the class) and the gesture of the hand held up to the side of the ballerina’s face as an indicator of the girl’s crying, and continues searching for plausible reasons for her crying. Every sug‐ gested reason, however, is based on Marie’s current personal experiences (having difficulties in her ballet class, dealing with Antoinette’s inappropriate behaviour, wanting to spend more time with her sister and worrying about her alcoholic mother). Therefore, Marie’s unconscious choice of the figure of the painting seems to be governed by the fact that she relates to the dancer and translates her own emotions to interpret the image. In other words, by subjectifying the inner state of the ballerina, Marie identifies with the image. This identification is further em‐ phasised when Marie shares her interpretation with Degas, offering yet another personal reason for the dancer’s grief: “‘That girl in the front, the one in the red shawl, she looks beaten down, like she isn’t at all ready to face the class about to start. […] Maybe her papa died’” (90). Similarly to the previous speculations, Marie assumes that the girl in the painting may share her own experience of loss, hence projecting her own life story onto the depicted figure. Looking at the painting again at the exhibition of independent artists, Marie recalls seeing it in Degas’s studio: “I glanced from the picture of me to the one of the girl in the blaring red shawl, and I remembered, back in Monsieur Degas’s workshop, how the picture made me dream up her life and try to guess what had put the weariness on her face” (TPG 143). The model’s reaction to the painting is qualitatively different to the one in the artist’s studio. The temporal distance be‐ tween the first and the present encounters with the painting and the physical distance to the displayed artwork seem to affect its perception as both create a psychological distance between Marie and the depicted figure. Speaking about “dream[ing] up her life” (143, my emphasis) and “guess[ing] what had put the 193 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections <?page no="194"?> 10 Manet, Édouard. The Dead Christ with Angels, 1864, oil on canvas, 179.4 x 149.9 cm, The Met, New York, USA. weariness on her face” (143, my emphasis), Marie no longer seems to associate her own life with that of the girl in the red shawl. However, on later being dismissed from practicing the dancing routine, Marie finds herself thinking about The Dance Lesson, distinguishing the possible similarity with the girl she has grown so at‐ tached to: “I move to the bench and huddle there like the brokenhearted girl in the blaring red shawl. With one arm wrapping my waist and the other propped upon my thigh, I wonder if it was being told to sit down that had that other girl wiping her eye upon the bench” (143-4). It is interesting that while again trying to project her own inner state onto the figure in the painting, Marie actually takes the very same position as the depicted girl. In other words, in revisiting the image, Marie comes closer to finally reaching both emotional and physical unity with the de‐ picted figure, merging with it into one dissolved identity. In applying a biographical approach to the persona of the artist, art fiction inevitably focuses on the artist’s career, stylistic development and new perspec‐ tives, which are directly reflected in his/ her work. Consequently, along with the re-presentation and re-interpretation of the artworks that are pivotal for the nar‐ rative, art fiction tends to mention other paintings by the same artist, revealing them sporadically throughout the novel or clustering them in one space (private or public) - in both cases the narratives assemble a collection of the re-presented works of art. Thus, for instance, in MV along with the portraits of Victorine such as Street Singer, Olympia, Mlle. Victorine in the Costume of a Matador, Young Lady and Luncheon on the Grass (which have already been mentioned in the previous chapters) the reader is also introduced to Manet’s still-life Vase of Peonies on a Pedestal and a religious scene The Dead Christ with Angels. 10 The still-life is men‐ tioned twice in the novel, firstly when it is accepted to the Salon together with Street Singer, and secondly when Edouard gives it to Victorine as a present after the exhibition. While the re-presentation changes its location from the artist’s studio to the Salon display and then to Victorine’s home, it also goes through a transformation process - the novelist alters the re-presented extant artwork by adding a fictional detail to the painting when it becomes Victorine’s possession. Attached to the bouquet there is a calling card reading: “To Mademoiselle Vic‐ torine: In her gaze, a fire ablaze, In her eyes, the Paris skies. - Edouard Manet” (55). It is on this visit that Manet comes up with an idea of depicting Victorine as a nude, contemporary Parisian Venus. Therefore, the added note is not accidental, since by undoubtedly referring to the infamous gaze and predicting Victorine’s fame, it makes a clear allusion to Manet’s Olympia and as a result raises the read‐ 194 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="195"?> 11 Manet, Édouard. La Lecture (Madame Manet and Leon), 1848-1883, oil on canvas, 61 x 73.2 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. er’s expectation of its re-presentation in the text of the novel. As far as The Dead Christ with Angels is concerned, the artist is said to be working on it after his bitter argument with Victorine, who is now in a new relationship with a wealthy protector whom she actually loves. We do not see the artist at work or hear him speaking about the painting; instead, it is his friends Baudelaire and André who comment on the new work: ‘It was a most curious subject, the unrisen Christ and angels ministering to him. It had all the elements of his signature style: the flat lighting, the handling of black paint, the unconventional use of pictorial space…’ ‘But a traditional crucifixion? ’ Baudelaire said. ‘I asked the same question. He told me it was something he’s always wanted to paint. He said, ‘Christ as a symbol! Heroism or Love as a subject for a picture is nothing compared with Sorrow. Sorrow is at the root of all humanity and poetry.’ […] But here’s the most intriguing part. The face of the Christ was Manet.’ (139) The description of the painting is followed by a connoisseurial interpretation, pointing to the characteristic features of Manet’s individual style. Moreover, having spoken to the artist himself, André acts as a messenger of the intended meaning of work - Christ being a symbol of sorrow. In the context of the novel, however, the feeling of sorrow is personalised in that the figure of Christ is identified as Manet. Hence, the novel guides the reader to a biographical un‐ derstanding of the painting, interpreting the artwork as the result of the artist’s personal experience, a reflection of his emotional state, his grief and regret over losing Victorine. In like manner, there are several of Manet’s paintings that are featured in WV. Among the portraits of Bethe Morisot that function as milestones in nar‐ rative (Olympia, Le Balcon, Le Repos, Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets) there are further paintings that support the storyline: a family portrait Madame Manet and Leon, 11 another painting of Victorine The Railway and a still-life The Bunch of Violets. Berthe discovers both Madame Manet and Leon and The Railway as finished paintings in Édouard’s studio. It seems that the paintings are inten‐ tionally located in the artist’s private space not only in order to increase the feeling of intimacy between the artist and his work but also to advocate the idea that Berthe can only have a subordinate role in Édouard’s life. The paintings become the physical evidence of the fact that Morisot is obliged to share the artist with both his legitimate wife and his Olympia - the muse whose daring 195 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections <?page no="196"?> 12 Degas, Edgar. Dance Examination (Examen de Danse), 1880, pastel on paper, 60.9 x 45.7 cm, Denver Art Museum, Denver, CO, USA. 13 Degas, Edgar. After the Bath, 1876-77, pastel over monotype, dimensions unknown, private collection. identity Berthe borrows for the entire time of her relationship with Édouard. She can substitute neither Suzanne - the description Morisot gives to the image, “Suzanne’s triumphant visage” (175), gives away the idea of the wife’s victory over the lover - nor Victorine. Finally, Berthe sees herself as an unnecessary element in an already formed love triangle: “Édouard married Suzanne after Victorine left. I do not have to be a scholar to understand what his Olympia meant to him. Now she is back, and he is painting her” (265). Therefore, both paintings induce Berthe to end her relationship with Édouard. The last painting to appear in the novel is a still-life The Bunch of Violets - Manet’s parting gift to Morisot - that contains “just three simple objects, mementos of the portraits he’s painted of me: a bouquet of blue violets, the red fan, and a note inscribed to Mlle. Berthe from E. Manet” (279). The text of the note that is also visible in the existing artwork conveys a hidden meaning for the heroine, as the note reminds her of a previously held conversation with Édouard, who asked her to consider becoming his brother Eugène’s wife: “If you marry Eugène you will be able to sign your name Madame E. Manet” (279). Robards uses this painting not only to symbolically unite all the portraits of Berthe re-presented and inter‐ preted earlier in the novel and to terminate the artist’s adulterous affair, but also to offer a logical reason for Berthe’s decision to become Madame E. Manet. Furthermore, along with Degas’s previously analysed pastels Portrait de Mlle Eugénie Fiocre, Dancer Resting, Criminal Physiognomies and The Dance Lesson, in TPG there is a rich collection of other works put on public display at the fifth and sixth exhibitions of independent artists. Marie visits both exhibitions in the hope of seeing her statuette. At the fifth exhibition Marie draws the reader’s attention to the three pastels Two Ballet Dancers, Dance Examination  12 and After the Bath: 13 Two dancers sit collapsed upon a bench, their bent knees parted, their tired legs turned out from the hips, even as they catch their breaths [Two Ballet Girls]. In the next picture, a dancer bends forward at the hips to straighten her stockings, with a shock of red hair and a face turned to the floor, looks like she is stretching out her toes, but it is impossible to know because a good half of her foot is chopped off, and this time, the top of her head, too. Behind the dancers, fluffing the tarlatan of her daughter’s skirt is the mother, with the puffy face of an old concierge, and her friend, rough with her raw nose and plume of feathers bristling from her hat. [Dance Examination] 196 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="197"?> 14 Degas, Edgar. Cabaret, 1875, pastel over monotype, 24 x 43 cm, Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., USA. 15 Degas, Edgar. Woman Ironing, 1876, oil on canvas, 81 x 66 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., USA. 16 Degas, Edgar. Room in a Brothel, c. 1879, monotype in black ink on laid paper, 22 x 15.9 cm, Stanford University Museum of Art, Stanford, CA, USA. […] And at last, a washbasin and a pitcher and a woman in black stockings and nothing more, pulling a dress over her head. Her backside is plump, soft, spread beneath the fleshy folds of her waist. She is no laundress or concierge, no milliner or wool carder. The shadow of her stockings lurches the mind from decent work, and only a whore slips on a dress with her backside still bare [After the Bath]. I have looked away from such pictures in Monsieur Degas’s workshop. But today I stay and gawk, wondering. Why does he make such things? Why is it on display, when he has so many pictures, some even a little bit pretty if you ignore the cutoff [sic] feet, if you do not mind a girl sweaty upon a bench. Why a fleshy backside instead of me in fourth position, a ballet girl sprouting wings? (171-2) The descriptions of the pictures, on the whole, seem rather unambiguous and unbiased - Marie documents the factual information that can be read from the canvases (the exact position of the models, the compositional solution), re‐ fraining from personal interpretation and solely attempting to understand the occupation of the represented figures. The last picture, After the Bath, however, triggers an emotional reaction - Marie questions not only Degas’s motives in creating this artwork but also his intention in selecting it to be displayed, choosing it over her own image. It is interesting that while Marie deliberately avoids looking at pictures of prostitutes in the artist’s studio, she is determined to examine the exhibited piece. Although the nature of the pictures is the same, the change in their location in space seems to affect the viewer’s concern for them. In contrast to the private space that situates artworks in casual domestic surroundings, offering an occasional visitor the choice of whether to examine an artwork or ignore it altogether; the public space isolates artworks from mun‐ dane reality, imposing on the viewer to acknowledge and observe the exhibited piece, enhancing its perception. Therefore, the conditions of display of After the Bath intensify Marie’s experience of an artwork and reinforce the act of looking at it with an aesthetic intention. At the sixth exhibition Marie goes through another Degas collection, which includes Cabaret, 14 Woman Ironing  15 and Room in a Brothel: 16 Hanging there are a dozen pictures belonging to Monsieur Degas. A singer at a café concert, one with a vulgar face, leaning over, her open mouth and plunging neckline 197 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections <?page no="198"?> 17 The original name of the painting is Alphonsine Fournaise sur l’île de Chatou (Alphonsine Fournaise, Daughter of a Restaurant Owner of Chatou), Pierre-August Renoir, 1879, oil on canvas, 93 x 73 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France: ‘Where do you want me? ’ she asked. ‘Sitting next to the railing, facing me but showing some of the chair.’ Auguste set out a plate and tableware and handed her a napkin. ‘Will you fold this to make it stand up like a sail? ’ She took great care and set it on the plate, adjusting it until she was satisfied. He posi‐ tioned her with her left elbow bent and resting on the table, her left hand at her cheek. […] Auguste put a cherry in his mouth and licked its smooth skin, the juice exploding, the sweetness. He placed the bowl closer to Alphonsine. ‘Eat one.’ She lifted two by the joined stems, and tried to catch one in her mouth. Her little mauve tongue curled like a cat’s in search for it. She giggled, caught one and pulled off the stem. He loved watching her roll it around in her mouth, and bite it to taste its succu‐ lence. He cupped his hand under her chin. She hesitated, making a soft purring sound as she chewed, then squeezed the pit out of her mouth and it dropped into his palm. Its wetness, where her tongue had been, an intimate thing. (192-3) 18 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. La Grenouillère, 1869, oil on canvas, 66 x 81 cm, National Mu‐ seum, Stockholm, Sweden. taunting the men crowding the stage [Cabaret]. A woman, bent over a hot iron [Woman Ironing]. Another woman, this time, lumpy and naked, scratching at her backside in what has to be the salon of a brothel [Room in a Brothel]. Each is caught being who she is in everyday life. I look hard at the woman scratching away. She is exactly herself in the picture, not some other woman, one made up by the men usually visiting her. (TPG 351) The collection introduces the reader to another series of Degas’s pictures of women of various occupations (a singer, a laundress, a prostitute). Along with a brief description of each of the exhibited works, Marie gives a general inter‐ pretation of them: “Each is caught being who she is in everyday life.” Instead of disputing the artist’s intentions and questioning his predilection for realistic representation, this time the model simply accepts the artist’s viewpoint. Unlike in MV, WV and TPG discussed above, the numerous Renoir paintings alluded to in LOTBP are not actually seen by any of the characters in situ; instead, they emerge in the artist’s mind. In fact, the reader encounters Renoir working only on two paintings, Luncheon of the Boating Party and Alphonsine au temps des cerises. 17 His other works exist in his memory, among which are: La Gre‐ nouillère, 18 which the artist recalls while thinking about the beginning of his career as a painter and working together with Claude Monet the day they “dis‐ covered that juxtaposed patches of contrasting color could show the movement of sunlit water” (2); Bal au Moulin de la Galette, “his painting of the open air dance hall in Montmartre” (12), which Renoir remembers as a counterargument 198 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="199"?> 19 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. At the Inn of Mother Anthony, Marlotte (Mother Anthony’s Tavern), 1866, oil on canvas, 194 x 131 cm, National Museum, Stockholm, Sweden. 20 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Portrait of the Actress Jeanne Samary, 1878, oil on canvas, 174 x 105 cm, Hermitage, St. Petersburg, Russia. 21 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Sleeping Girl with a Cat, 1880, oil on canvas, 120.3 x 92 cm, Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, MA, USA. 22 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Madame Charpentier with Her Children, 1878, oil on canvas, 153.7 x 190.2 cm, The Met, New York, USA. to Zola’s accusation that Impressionist paintings lack thoughtful preparation; and At the Inn of Mother Anthony, Marlotte, 19 “a rustic inn in Marlotte, Mère Anthony’s, with Monet, Sisley and Le Coeur posing around a table” (118), which according to the artist paves the way to Luncheon of the Boating Party. Further‐ more, Renoir reminisces about the portraits of the two models who are also sitting for Luncheon of the Boating Party, one being Portrait of the Actress Jeanne Samary: 20 “In a flash of memory he saw the shimmering white gown with a train, the white satin slipper peaking out from her hemline, her white-gloved hands holding a handkerchief, her lips parted sensuously” (35), the other Sleeping Girl with a Cat: 21 “In the morning she had fallen asleep in his armchair with the neighbor’s cat on her lap, a happy accident suggesting the reason for her di‐ shevelment. ‘I remember your blue and white striped stockings which you wore when I painted you asleep’” (127). Like any stored memory, the artist’s ability to recall past experiences, impressions, learned facts and developed skills as well as the ability to recall information about the previously created artworks not only influence the current Luncheon of the Boating Party project but also enable him/ her to adapt to the newly established work conditions. Thus Renoir, for example, uses the discovered Impressionist painting techniques (applying patches of contrasting colours and mixing his colours directly on the canvas). His experience with Bal au Moulin de la Galette and At the Inn of Mother Anthony, Marlotte affects the composition of the painting, the positions of the fourteen figures including the children of the owners of Maison Fournaise. The artist also decides to paint the models he has already worked with ( Jeanne and Angèle) as their presence will ensure the desired result. Finally, contrary to his own deter‐ mination - having finishing the family portrait Madame Charpentier with Her Children  22 “with one of her children sitting on their snoring hound” (292) - never to painting another dog, the artist consents to adding Aline’s pet to the boating party as it seems to be the only solution to keep his model still. By applying connoisseurial art historical methods to illustrate that each experience and every produced painting lay the groundwork for Luncheon of the Boating Party, Vree‐ land defines and interprets the artist’s decisions taken in the process of its making. 199 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections <?page no="200"?> 23 Degas, Edgar. Women on a Café Terrace (Femmes à la terrasse d’un café le soir), 1877, pastel, 55 x 72 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. The Impressionist style of painting is the result of the mutual work of an affiliated yet heterogeneous group of artists - central to which are Edouard Manet (usually claimed to be the father of Impressionism), Edgar Degas, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro, Alfred Sisley and Paul Cézanne - who pain and exhibit together and face the fierce criticism directed at their art. Therefore, it is not surprising that selected art fictional narratives exploit the complicated relationship between these artists (for instance con‐ frontations between Renoir and Degas in LOTBP as well as Manet and Degas in WV). Yet, most importantly, in order to properly introduce the reader to the movement, the novelists consider the artworks by several artists, sometimes just mentioning them, sometimes commenting on the paintings or offering inter‐ pretive descriptions of them. Thus, the novels allow the reader to see the contrast between the individual styles and intentions that co-exist within the group and enrich the assembled collection of artworks. An interesting example of such a collection is found in LOTBP. The collection is created by Gustave Caillebotte, who argues that a substantial collection is fundamental to represent Impres‐ sionism, because “the work of the group has to be shown together as a solid movement long enough to outlast the ridicule heaped on it. Long enough so Impressionism won’t be a blink of an eye in the history of art” (126). When Renoir pays a visit to Caillebotte, meaning to ask him to model for Luncheon of the Boating Party, he firstly passes through his friend’s painting collection: There were several by Claude, a luncheon in his garden, a regatta at Argenteuil, and Gare Saint-Lazare. Both Sisley’s and Pissarro’s versions of the street in Louveciennes showing his mother’s ocher cottage and her prized trumpet vines always moved him. Degas’ pastel of the Café Nouvelle-Athènes with four faded prostitutes made him wonder what one of them meant by that gesture of flicking her thumbnail against her top front tooth. Maybe it meant, Not even a sou tonight [Women on a Café Terrace]. 23 None of these were what he’d come to see, the two paintings he knew would open the wound of remorse. He had a phantom model to consider. Margot. […] His own Bal au Moulin de la Galette was there, and Margot, dancing. Her gaiety vibrated in the mottled light of the outdoor dance hall under the acacias. He loved the freshness and innocence of the place, so he didn’t think it hubris to love his painting of it. He studied it. Yes, he could surpass it. He would surpass it. He had to. […] Ah, there. Margot. She had a place all to herself Margot in her pink dress with blue bows down the front standing on a swing talking to two men in the leafy garden of the studio he’d rented 200 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="201"?> 24 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. The Swing (La Balançoire), 1876, oil on canvas, 92 x 73 cm, Musée d’Orsay, Paris, France. 25 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Cup of Chocolate, 1877-78, oil on canvas, 100 x 81 cm, Private Collection. 26 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Lovers, c. 1875, oil on canvas, 130 x 175 cm, National Gallery in Prague, Prague, Czech Republic. 27 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Confidences, 1878, oil on canvas, 61.5 × 50.5 cm, Oskar Reinhart Collection, Winterthur, Switzerland. 28 Renoir, Pierre-Auguste. Woman with a Cat, c. 1875, oil on canvas, 56 × 46.4 cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., USA. on the Butte, Montmartre d’en haut. Three people snatching a few hours of pleasure to last them the whole week [The Swing]. 24 He stepped close and his fingers stroked her cheek. She wasn’t a raving beauty. Her face was a bit too chubby and her hair was thin and lifeless, but oh, her spirit. He remembered the sweltering summer day when she had jumped into the fountain of Place Pigalle, fully dressed, and splashed him. Her zest would have been perfect for his new painting. She had done some good things with him, Cup of Chocolate, 25 Lovers  26 and Confidences, 27 and Woman with a Cat. 28 (56-7) While only briefly paying attention to Monet’s works as if just to acknowledge their presence, Renoir expresses his appreciation of Sisley’s and Pissarro’s land‐ scapes, which are of particular personal value. As for Degas’s pastel Women on a Café Terrace, it awakens the artist’s curiosity and invites him to interpret a very particular gesture of one of the prostitutes. August attempts to decode the message Degas intends to transmit. By translating the gesture as “Not even a sou tonight” he proposes a subjective answer to what is being communicated. Still the artist only skims the works of his friends put on display in Gustave’s apart‐ ment to find two of his own paintings that feature the same model, his beloved Margot. On the one hand, he comes to study his own achievement in Bal au Moulin de la Galette, his highly valued representation of the outdoor location, to make sure that with Luncheon of the Boating Party he can surpass his own success. On the other, Renoir is desperate to re-visit Margot’s portraits to see her again and to learn what made her so special: “If she were here, she would be in his new painting. She would bring out the best in him, out of his love for her, out of her love for him, and this painting at this critical time in his life had to be his best” (57). Unable to bring Margot back to life, the artist needs to find a substitute, a new model for the boating party with a spirit equal to Margot (which he later discovers in both Angèle and Aline). With Renoir in the role of a viewer, Vreeland takes the reader on a guided tour around a private collection that contains paintings by several Impressionists, creating the feeling of a 201 5.3. Revisiting Images and Looking at Collections <?page no="202"?> bonded group yet at the same time showing the diversity of the subjects they approach. 5.4. Art Criticism Art criticism is the discussion, evaluation and interpretation of visual art within the context of aesthetic theory. It plays a complex role in communicating the meaning of an artwork on the one hand and negotiating the relationship estab‐ lished between its meaning and the cultural, social and political ideology of a specific period of time on the other. In nineteenth-century France, art critical commentary existed in various forms and appeared in different media such as exhibition reviews, exhibition guides, newspaper articles, novels about art as well as correspondence between artists, their friends, patrons and art collectors. It is important to understand that in the epoch of Impressionists any art com‐ mentary was a result of the viewer’s direct contact with the original artwork put on display. As has been previously discussed, public display attracted a wider audience, including people who were genuinely interested in the exhibited pieces, usually people whose profession was linked to the art field, among whom there were artists, art buyers, journalists and art critics. In this part I will focus on the representation of notion of art criticism and examine the ‘published’ commentary on the Impressionist artworks introduced in selected art fictional works. According to Hepburn, art “serves the social purpose of affirming and per‐ petuating class divisions by creating categories of those who appreciate art‐ works, as opposed to those who do not. The artwork is thus never entirely free from social value” (8). In most general terms the spectrum of viewers’ reactions can be narrowed down to two opposing categories: positive and negative. Both types of response are then transformed into either gratifying interpretation (ap‐ preciative evaluation of the work, the artist or the art movement) or mortifying interpretation (negative comments and generally unfavourable feedback about the work, the artist or the art movement) accordingly. With regard to the Im‐ pressionists, however, the most prominent contemporary response to their work was distinctly negative public judgement, which not only affected the artists’ individual careers (the absolute majority of art buyers and collectors were in‐ terested in purchasing the works by artists who received public recognition and approval), but also influenced the development of their painting styles and de‐ termined the socio-cultural changes surrounding the art movement. Therefore, 202 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="203"?> it is not surprising that the criticism of the Impressionist artworks becomes an integral part of art fictional discourse. In MV, for example, Manet confronts an Academy student’s accusation di‐ rected at the entire group: “You fellows are a bunch of dabblers […] Your paint‐ ings are nothing more than a train wreck on canvas […] You destroy the past and everything that's beautiful” (23). The art student represents the general hostility towards the painters who do not conform to the standards of painting dictated by the conservative Academy. The opposition between Academic and Impressionist art is further reinforced in the novel when Street Singer is accepted to the Salon and, anticipating the actual reviews, Manet predicts the art critics’ reaction to the subject matter, size and the radicalism of his work: ‘How dare that madman Manet paint a canvas the grandiose size of a history painting yet with a subject as quotidian as a common cabaret musician? And she’s clearly a woman of low morals, judging by the visual clues in the painting. This is unabashed radicalism thrown in the face of the august academicians.’ (MV 38) The artist is aware of the fact that with Street Singer he denounces the grand tradition established by the Academy. The week after the Salon opening, Manet and his friends read the following exhibition review published by the editorial by Maxime Du Camp: “The painting […] is at once sad and grotesque. It is one of the oddest you could see. People come to the exhibition and laugh as they do at a farce. It is hoped that the jury will spare us the sight of such lamentable things as this in the future” (43). The quoted fragment does not contain any description of the painting, nor does it mention the transmitted meaning; it only labels the picture as grotesque and odd without giving any support to the ar‐ gument. The author of the article refers to the viewers’ reaction to the painting, which elicits in them the same reaction that the comical absurdity of a farce does. In other words, by evaluating the painting in terms of socio-cultural standards of the time, the representation of an ordinary woman is perceived as distorted and comical. The journalist then appeals to the conservative jury of the Salon, basically requesting a stricter selection of the accepted works of art. An even more hostile reception is given to Manet’s second portrait of Victorine, Olympia - a nude in a contemporary context causes another scandal in Parisian art society: […] the critics missed the point and reported that the artist had completely lost his mind; they questioned his sanity in painting a female nude in a contemporary context. She was clearly not a classical goddess, nor an allegorical wood nymph, and this rep‐ resented blatant rebellion against the elite canon of the Academy. The general public reacted viscerally, and branded the painting an insult to morals. Clerics and conser‐ 203 5.4. Art Criticism <?page no="204"?> 29 The Impressionists organised their own independent exhibitions in 1874, 1876, 1879, 1880, 1881, 1882 and 1886. vative politicians used their perspective pulpits to warn of the dangers of modern ideas and the decline of civilised French values as represented by this young woman in the painting, this Mademoiselle Victorine. (64) The omniscient narrator emphasises the fact that the painting receives an anal‐ ogous reaction from different parties, including art critics, the general public, the church and politicians. While the art critics condemn the subject of the art‐ work and the fact that Manet defies the grand tradition of the Academy, the general public, the clerics and politicians censure the message the artwork con‐ veys. Both the art critics’ and the general public’s invariably negative reaction to his works becomes the reason for Manet’s further absence at the Salon and the artist’s decision to hold a private exhibition, which ultimately brings him success and recognition. Indeed, the exclusivity of the Salon, the jury’s constant rejection of Impres‐ sionist artworks and willingness to attract a wider audience induce the Impres‐ sionists to find a way to circumvent the system, eliminating the Salon and ex‐ hibiting privately as a group. 29 This radical step gives the artists an opportunity to display a varied selection of their works and interest the public in a new painting ideology. Although the Salon maintained the status of the leading art exhibition in nineteenth-century France, by the late 1870s an alternative view‐ point on art exhibitions was acknowledged and firmly adopted. The Impressio‐ nists’ divorce from the Academy and the Salon is an inevitable topic in selected art fiction; it also becomes a recurrent controversy between the artists. For in‐ stance, Manet in WV is reluctant to make a public stand against the Salon by participating in an independent showing on Boulevard des Capucines organised by Degas, Pissarro, Renoir, Monet and Morisot - all disillusioned with the es‐ tablished system and “tired of being bound by the Academy’s strings” (280). Conversely, Degas, who is portrayed as a main developer and coordinator of the Impressionist independent exhibitions in both LOTBP and DFD, establishes his own rules for the exhibitors and decides who can and cannot exhibit with the group. One of such arbitrary rules, namely, that the artists exhibiting in the Impressionist shows are not allowed to submit their work to the official Salon, prevents Renoir’s presence at the group show in LOTBP. While Monet in DFD has to beg Degas’s permission to exhibit his landscapes with the group, which he receives only due to Alexandrie’s incidental interference - replying to De‐ gas’s comment that Monet’s paintings are “just decorations, […] [un]suitable for an exhibit” (146), the ballerina points out that it is the beautiful pictures that 204 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="205"?> attract women who actually do the decorating (146) and who, therefore, would be eager to purchase them. In addition, not only does Degas’s character make it difficult for other artists to cooperate with him, but it also affects the organisa‐ tion of the show: for example, in DFD Cezanne accuses Degas of being too critical of the inconsequential details: ‘Edgar, you were supposed to find a dealer to exhibit our work, but it’s only been met with resistance. You take each refusal personally and, in your ignorance, are alienating many of the dealers in town. We’re becoming doubtful about securing a venue. Instead of making progress, you’re making enemies along the way.’ (210-1) The arguments between the characters (artists representing the group) about individual manners of painting, style and the further development of the art movement - their personal decision whether to stand against the Academy and the Salon by exhibiting separately or remain loyal to the traditional way to gain recognition - introduced in the novels not only help to develop the characters and propel the plot, they also become crucial for the reader’s understanding of the rich diversity within the Impressionist group. The organised Impressionist exhibitions are an important field for the ‘pub‐ lished’ art criticism in the novels - the exhibition reviews published in the jour‐ nals and newspapers become an essential part of the narrative. For instance, in LOTBP, it is Zola’s review of the fourth independent Impressionist Exhibition published in the magazine Le Voltaire that first and foremost encourages Renoir to create Luncheon of the Boating Party: If one is too easily contented, if one sells sketches that are hardy dry, one loses the taste for works based on long and thoughtful preparation. The real misfortune is that no artist among the Impressionists has achieved powerful and definitely the new for‐ mula which, scattered through their works, they all offer in glimpses. […] They are all forerunners. The man of genius has not yet arisen. We can see what they intend, and find them right, but we seek in vain the masterpiece that is to lay down the formula. All remain unequal to their self-appointment task. That is why, despite their struggle, they have not reached their goal; they remain inferior to what they undertake; they stammer without being able to find words. (10-11) In his article Zola refers to the artists as a group, seeing them as an artistic force introducing a radically new approach to painting. The writer challenges the entire group, accusing their work of being sketchy, illogical and incomplete and criticising the artists’ inability to devise a solid unified formula that they could rely on. What is interesting is that the article is actually read by the artist himself. 205 5.4. Art Criticism <?page no="206"?> This allows the character to debate some of the points raised. For example, to Zola’s argument that Impressionists lack a formula, Renoir’s response is that art does not have a formula: “If it did, any Montmartre peddler would be painting pictures” (11). Moreover, the artist disagrees with the take on the Impressionists’ inefficiency in producing works based on long and thoughtful preparation, giving his own Bal au Moulin de la Galette as a representative example: “Six months’ work and two preliminary oil studies. You can’t lay down thirty heads on a canvas and make it look like a spontaneous moment without long and thoughtful preparation’” (11). Renoir also defends the Impressionists’ idea of a finished artwork: “If an Impressionist settles for a sketch, it’s because a sketch serves his particular purpose” (11). Having the character contradict the critic’s opinion, reason and justify the choices made by the artists allows the novelist to achieve the special effect of an intended dialogue established between the artist and the ‘published’ commentary. Another example of a review that ad‐ dresses and evaluates the group effort of the new painters Degas, Manet and Renoir is found in TPG. Yet, here the commentary exists only in the form of a monologue. The article is published in Le Figaro, which, in contrast to Le Vol‐ taire, offers a highly positive appraisal of the Impressionists finding new subjects in everyday life: Along with fresh subject matter, there is a new focus on truthfulness. The new painters have said farewell to the body treated like a vase, with an eye for the pretty curve. They seek to know and to embrace the character of a subject, to portray it faultlessly. A back makes known temperament, age and social position. A hand reveals the mag‐ istrate or the merchant. A face’s features tell us with certainty that a man is dry, orderly and meticulous, rather than the epitome of carelessness and disorder. As the new painter strives to reveal character, the neutral or vague background disappears. The trappings that surround a subject indicate his wealth, class and profession. A figure sits at the piano, irons at a worktable, dodges a carriage while crossing the street or waits in the wings for the moment to enter the stage. The new painter’s pencil is infused with the essence of life, and his artworks capture the true story of a heart and a body. (131-2) Newspaper articles with a mass audience play a significant role in shaping public opinion of the contemporary art scene - affecting the audience’s attitude to‐ wards the artists and influencing the audience’s perception and interpretation of their work. In addition to the artists’ reaction to published art criticism, art fiction explores that of their models. For example, as a consequence of the neg‐ ative commentary on Renoir’s portrait of Jeanne Samary, the model decides to end relationship with the artist and is unwilling to pose for him again, preferring 206 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="207"?> “more academic painters […] [who] present her identifiably in her theatrical roles to advance her career” (LOTBP 35) instead. Even though Jeanne agrees to model for Luncheon of the Boating Party, she does not miss the opportunity to remind August about the art critics: “You’re not doing dabby strokes, are you? Remember the critic. ‘Putrefaction.’” (172). The critic’s opinion does indeed make Renoir see the limitations of the Impressionist technique when applied to painting figures: “visible Impressionist strokes didn’t allow him to do what he wanted with figures, what Ingres had done with invisible strokes early in the century. […] Carried to the extreme, choppy strokes and feathery touches could destroy figure painting” (172). As a result, in his group portrait of the boating party the artist uses a combination of painting styles: “The faces modelled with more classical techniques, one hue blending seamlessly into another to create shape, but the landscape and still life in looser, distinct strokes” (12-13). There‐ fore, yet again Renoir is involved in a dialogical relationship with published art criticism that eventually impacts his own painting style. Another example of art criticism shaping the public as well as the model’s opinion about the artist and his work is given in DFD. While not knowing any‐ thing about Degas or his art, Alexandrie naïvely assumes that the reason why he comes to the ballet rehearsals is to capture the beauty of the act of dancing, the more experienced ballerinas like Noelle are already familiar with the critics’ interpretation of Degas’s disparaging representation of the ballet dancers. Thus, recognising Alexandrie’s fascination with the artist, Noelle decides to warn her about the nature of his paintings: ‘That one is not right in the head. His fascination with the ballet is only a guise. He thinks he’s better than everyone else who comes here because he pretends to be here for his art […] Have you seen any of the work he has done? […] I suggest you famil‐ iarize yourself with the masterpieces before you get swept away with romantic incli‐ nations of him. […] He gives us low foreheads and pig faces to show we are members of the criminal lower class. He thinks of ballerinas not only as sexual deviants but as threatening social deviants. He paints us as the lowly creatures that he views us as. […] Those are the paintings of a deranged lunatic. […] Just accept the fact that your beloved artist is not here because he respects the ballet and idealizes it. He thinks you’re a pathetic, lowly creature’. (113-6) The fact that except for the two general details of how Degas depicts ballerinas, namely, with low foreheads and pig faces (which are seen as characteristic fea‐ tures of the criminal lower class) there is no further description of any of his artworks, makes the reader assume that the dancer has not personally seen the actual pictures displayed but repeats the viewpoint dictated by the art critics. 207 5.4. Art Criticism <?page no="208"?> This viewpoint is emphasised by the strong opposition between the personal ‘him’ (the painter) and generic ‘us’ (the dancers) - although Noelle has not modelled for any of the images, she takes Degas’s representation of the dancers as a personal insult. Since the ‘us’ group includes Alexandrie, she is inevitably accepted as a part of the established opposition. Yet, in order to persuade the future model to take the same stance, Noelle specifically points out that Alex‐ andrie is no exception, that she is also perceived as a pathetic, lowly creature by the artist. Reluctant to trust Noelle’s judgement, it is, however, more difficult for Alexandrie not to accept the view of an art critic published in a newspaper she reads herself: He shows all the real ugliness underlying the stage pageantry - the unhealthy pre‐ cociousness of these little girls, their childish limbs topped by faces of little old women, too delicate, too bold, or too dreamy. Most of his dancers are minor supernumeraries who appear in the group scenes and the back row of the ballet, with their soiled feet and anemic pallor… With an audacity that is both strong and attractive, he shows her emerging from a lower world, proud of appearing in the glow of the footlights, with a sly, common expression on her vulgar monkey-face. […] How true, how alive it is! The figures seem to exist in air. Light bathes the scene convincingly. The expressions on the faces, the boredom from their painfully mechanical work, the scrutinizing look of the mother whose hopes will harden when the body of her daughter wears away, and the indifference of their companions to the drudgery they know, these are em‐ phasized and recorded with the pointedness of an analyst who is always both cruel and subtle. (115) Furthermore, the article reveals that while Degas refuses to comment on his paintings, arguing they “spoke for themselves and to explain them would only be insulting to their artistic representation” (116), Paul Gauguin shares his interpre‐ tation of the series of ballet dancers pastels, which expose the essence and the illusion of the Opera Ballet: “Nothing is real but the effects they create, the skeleton, the human structure, the movement, arabesques of all sorts […] If you are aspiring to sleep with a dancer, do not permit yourself to hope […] that she will swoon in your arms. That never happens; the dancer only swoons onstage” (116). Degas’s realistic representation of the ballet praised by the art critic, his deconstruction of the ballerinas’ grace and beauty mentioned by Gauguin, as well as Noelle’s determined antagonism towards his art eventually convince Alexandrie of her own flase impression of the artist: I feel degraded in the knowledge that he views us as animals performing for his own entertainment. We have to face degradation from men every time we perform, men trying to convince us to entertain them as if we are common whores. The one person 208 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="209"?> who I thought looked at us as living works of art is only searching for our faults so that he can display them for the entire city to see. (117) The ballerina’s bitter disappointment in Degas and his art leads to an open con‐ frontation between them - when Edgar comes to another rehearsal, Alexandrie defends the ‘us’ group: “I don’t care for the entire city to view us as you do. We may be dancing monkeys in your eyes but there is beauty beyond our staged exterior” (119). Later becoming Degas’s model and seeing the first picture of her, Alexandrie is thus even more surprised to find a depiction of a beautiful dancer instead of an ugly girl with a pig face: “he has not painted a pig or a monkey, but rather an angelic figure whom I barely recognise as myself. My white skirt has pale yellows and blues swirled in, as if the colors are dancing in the tulle” (147). The realisation that the artist’s representation is in fact true to the repre‐ sented object changes Alexandrie’s perspective not only on his work but also on the artist himself, who the ballerina now recognises as her ally and later falls in love with. Conclusion The interpretation of re-presented extant works of art given in contemporary art fiction balances the idea of the meaning of an artwork intended by the artist with the way it is perceived by the viewer. The novelists use the museum setting as a meeting point for those viewers who go to the exhibition singularly for the sake of art and those who see the museum as a place of social encounter. The outcome of these casual encounters is a combination of an individual reaction to the artwork and an interpretation resulting from conversations that occur among the visitors. Therefore, while putting re-presentations on museum dis‐ play and making the characters go through a gallery of paintings, re-creating the experience of seeing the artworks in a public place, the narratives generate a multitude of meanings assigned to the displayed works of art. On the one hand, the characters of models depicted in ekphrastically re-pre‐ sented paintings function as inseparable details of the artworks and by associ‐ ation fall victim to their criticism. On the other hand, they perform the roles of actual participants in the painting process. In discussing the difference between participants’ and observers’ understanding of a cultural artefact, Baxandall ar‐ gues that while the participant “understands and knows his culture with an immediacy and spontaneity […] [and] act[s] within the culture’s standards and norms without rational self-consciousness” (109), the observer, not having the same knowledge, “has to spell out standards and rules, making them explicit” (109), which in turn allows him/ her to gain a different perspective. Though qualitatively different, both the participant’s and observer’s understanding have 209 5.4. Art Criticism <?page no="210"?> limitations imposed on them by their proximity to and distance from the artwork respectively. Therefore, having information unavailable to a common viewer of an artwork, the model’s understanding of the painting is different in its quality. As an actual participant the model is connected with the artwork on a very deep level. She is the represented detail yet she is also the referent of the aesthetic communication taking place between the creator and his work. Therefore, the model-viewer’s interpretation is a result of her immediate relationship with the artwork; it is a combination between the model’s unconscious understanding of her own self, the artist’s labour (in some cases her own contribution to the painting) and finally her emotional response to the image. Lacking the same quality of immediacy with an artwork, a common observer, however, has an outside perspective, which inspires critical viewing and helps to generate more ‘distant’ meanings. The interpretation of the re-presented artwork benefits from both perspectives as, while having some first-hand information on the back‐ ground of the painting helps to uncover some of meanings intended by the artist and some of the meanings proposed and determined by the model, it is also important to consider thoughts and reflections that this artwork provokes in an impartial viewer - after all, it is what a public display of an art piece is intended for. As an object of interpretation, a work of art naturally invites a genuine dif‐ ference of opinion between viewers, and consequently is affected by both pos‐ itive and critical reception. The depicted characters of Renoir, Manet and Degas do not intend their paintings to narrate a story; the artists deliberately show a moment of modern life that a contemporary viewer can understand and relate to. Yet, such representation becomes a key point of difference between the Im‐ pressionists and the Academy, the latter acknowledging the works created only in line with the established standards of visual arts and criticising the rest. The critical reception of an artwork is a fundamental element of its understanding: it shows that while an artwork may elaborate various meanings, the value of these meanings is neither apparent nor stable. By embedding criticism of Im‐ pressionism in art fiction, not only do the novelists achieve a historiographical effect, but they also establish an opposition between those who appreciate the re-presented artworks and those who do not. With both opinions being pre‐ sented, the narratives encourage the reader to participate in the debate sur‐ rounding Impressionism, raising the question of aesthetic thinking and com‐ munication taking place between the artist as a sender and the viewer as a receiver of a message. 210 Chapter 5. Interpretation <?page no="211"?> Chapter 6. Conclusion Indeed today the locations that enable ek‐ phrastic writing, such as the art gallery and the museum above all, indicate that the de‐ scribed artworks - real, observable objects introduced in an imagined world - have broken free from their specific spaces of dis‐ play to enter a fictional world and pose aes‐ thetic and moral questions about the nature of visual representation and the value of its rendering in language. In these contexts, art about which much is written gathers a tex‐ tual life that extends its influence and re‐ ception in contexts beyond the museum or gallery. (Karastathi 98) The preceding chapters have focused on the concept of intermediality and in‐ termedial interaction between narrative texts and the visual arts in contempo‐ rary Anglophone art fiction. Examining possible ways of how something in‐ trinsically visual can be embedded into a verbal form this study established a trinary framework of intermedial relations (communicative, re-presentational and interpretive), which was further applied to the analysis of the selected novels about French Impressionists (Renoir, Manet and Degas) and their figure paint‐ ings. Not only did this classification allow for a more focused and systematic analysis of how and to what extent artworks are used in art fiction, but it also helped to distinguish which aspects of the paintings are highlighted, which are omitted, what is added and, most importantly, how a re-presented work of art affects the interpretation of an artistic creation. The first category of the suggested framework (chapter three) examined how à la mode intermedial products are communicated to the present-day reader through the medium of a book cover. Being the first manifestation of a literary work, the book cover functions as an introduction to the text; it aims to establish a relationship with the readers by encouraging them to interpret the conveyed meaning of the cover and triggering their interest in the content of the book, and, eventually, to tempt them to purchase the product. As the selected book <?page no="212"?> covers integrate textual (the name of the author, title, genre indication, press blurbs) and visual (cover illustration) components they are multimodal by def‐ inition. Moreover, due to the nature of the cover design these elements are not separated from each other but are consolidated in such a way that they form a unified whole - the textual elements are laid directly on, and for the most part, incorporated into the image so that they complement the featured illustration and reinforce the message the cover seeks to transmit. While the titles of the selected novels create explicit references to the world of art (alluding to the artists, models, the painting process, the works of art as such or certain details of these artworks), genre indication labels the status of the narrative as fictional and blurbs inform the reader of the content of the book and extol the product in order to attract potential customers and entice them to select, purchase and read the work in question. The visual illustration chosen for the cover is a re‐ production of the image - the extant work of art that is either actually re-pre‐ sented in the text (LOTBP, MV and WV) or used to refer to the artist and his choice of subject (Degas’s general representation of ballet in TPG and DFD) - that clearly defines the focus of the literary work. The reciprocal relationship in which these elements stand on the book cover emphasises the intermedial nature of the narrative and, thus, produces a dual effect of informing and per‐ suading the reader to buy the product. This study has shown that art fiction provides an ideal opportunity for a targeted promotion of the product, which is meant to select its readership mainly by attracting readers who are a priori interested in art and artists. With the regard to the cover illustration, the narrative seems not just to narrow down possible options of the images the publishers select from but even to impose the use of a particular image. Although, while tempting a particular group of readers, art fiction may not necessarily appeal to a wider audience, I have argued that the situation with novels about well-known French Impressionists like Re‐ noir, Manet and Degas is refreshingly different as not only has Impressionism always excited enormous attention, it has also become a crowd-pleasing art movement that guarantees art museums and galleries a record number of visi‐ tors. Thus, taking into account the immense popularity and immediate recog‐ nition of the Impressionist figure paintings and mindful of the fact that if the artwork quoted on the cover is widely recognised, it adds aesthetic value to the book itself, elevating its status to an art object through a metonymic shift, it is my contention that the book covers embellished with reproductions of these would automatically generate interest among a wide readership. Another conclusion reached within the communicative category is that while representing the content of the book, - illustrating the characters, alluding to 212 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="213"?> the artist, an artwork or an artistic movement in general - the cover illustration suggests the experience of seeing an art object, which is one way or another tied to the content of the book. The cover illustration makes the image consciously present in reader’s mind, before he/ she re-encounters them in the narrative - hence, giving a spatial representation of the object that will be experienced temporally in the process of reading. In this sense, the publisher provides a prospective reader with a preview of the future experience he/ she will acquire through reading. Therefore, the presence of the image in the vicinity of the text fulfils a mnemonic and didactic function - furnishing art fictional narrative with a visual dimension, the front cover supports the reading process, educating the readers by introducing them to, or reminding them of, a particular artwork, which is either verbally re-presented in the text or indicative of a particular artist. Although having a visual representation to a certain extent arrests the reader’s imagination, possibly distracting his/ her attention from the descriptive passages given in the narrative, it may require heightened attention to the nu‐ ances of the artworks (composition, details, colour) alluded to in the text as well as activate other skills such as verifying the artwork and reflecting on the use of created word and image combinations. Ultimately, it is the reader’s ability to experience the same object in different media (seeing it visually and ‘seeing’ it verbally) that brings about the effect of dual perception of the artwork, which becomes the principal focus in contemporary intermedial practice. In chapter four I examined how existing Impressionist figure paintings are re-presented and re-interpreted through the lens of contemporary culture and how visual and sensual feelings about the re-presented artworks are recreated. This study has identified a tendency of selected art fiction to narrate the process of making an artwork, exhibiting the labour that goes into its making, including such issues as the artist gaining inspiration, finding locations and models, choosing colours, applying paints, confirming composition, considering details, dealing with the problems of artistic creation and the like. As a result, the novels provide the reader with art provenance in a narrative form, reinforcing the very idea of re-presentation through a creative process and experimental practice and speculating about the meanings of an artwork intended by the artist. According to Bryson, while “it might be possible for the painter to know that his image corresponds to his original perception or intention, no such knowledge is avail‐ able to the viewer: the latter can only see what the painter has set down on canvas” (39). Combining the cultural and art historical knowledge of the epoch to conjure up and reconstruct the circumstances of creation Vreeland, Finerman, Robards, Buchanan and Wagner exploit the perception of an artwork from a new perspective - going beyond the limits of traditional observer’s perception 213 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="214"?> and redefining the role of the reader as a participant making him/ her witness the process of making. On the one hand, showing the complex process of crea‐ tion allows the novelists to contextualise an art object in historical, philosophical and psychological settings (which the re-presented actually existing images au‐ tomatically dictate). On the other, while confronting a historical representation of a painting (which has already been interpreted and commented upon by var‐ ious art historians) with a subjective, fictive re-presentation of the process of creation of the painting, the novelists recycle not only the image but also the story that occurred in the image, hence going far beyond ekphrastic description, as the process of tailoring the painting presupposes constant alterations such as compositional adjustments, modifications of colour or decorations, a change of models or location, the addition or transformation of details as well as their relationships to any accidental decisions the painter makes. Therefore, it is my contention that by showing the reader the creative process through which the artworks have passed, writers of contemporary art fiction delve deeper into the image and the history within it, letting the reader experience the artwork grad‐ ually (by seeing what it was influenced by and how it was adapted to internal and/ or external circumstances) and by that practically demonstrating that art‐ works are neither static nor unchanging. Another point of consideration within the re-presentational category (chapter four) was the model. I have argued that in art fictional narratives the model functions as a human subject with a life outside the canvas, as a repre‐ sentation of art itself and as an artist tout court. The readers’ attention is drawn to the fact that a model is a ‘real’ person that acts in and within the discourse of an artwork. Creating a detailed portrait of each of the models - Alphonse, Alphonsine, Jeanne, Aline, Angèle, Antonio, Gustave, Ellen, Charles, Jules (LOTBP), Victorine (MV), Berthe (WV), Marie (TPG) and Alexandrie (DFD) -, the novelists add to the understanding of both the model as a fictional character and as a result the model as an object coming from the painting - merging the two into one in order to create and intensify a rather intimate meaning of the art‐ work. During the painting sessions the model is automatically seen within the discourse of a painting; hence, the communication that takes place between the model and the artist during the sittings (which is otherwise unavailable to the viewer) becomes an important element of the reader’s experience of the re-pre‐ sented artwork. For all that, models communicate the emotional meaning of an artwork, conveying the fictional subjective meaning that is based on the actual experience of the modelling process rather than available art-historical inter‐ pretation of the painting. 214 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="215"?> A close analysis of the modelling sessions, which structure the narrative and move the plot forward, making the artwork a type of a bridge that not only connects the events but also signals their progression, has shown that a model is more than a passive sitter for the duration of the creative process of painting. It has been confirmed that while some models are unconsciously engaged in the painting process (for example, by bringing in a distinct personality, revealing individual interests, making unexpected gestures and facial expressions, redi‐ recting their gazes or accidentally taking poses that inspire the artist), others participate consciously, actively contributing to the development of an artwork. Whether passively or actively, models become co-creators of a work of art, in‐ fluencing the intended meaning of the re-presentation and hence occupying a prominent place in artistic production. However, as the artwork and the model seen as an inherent detail are mutually integral, not only can a painting be af‐ fected by the model, but a model can also fall under the influence of the painting. This study has found that while an artwork may manipulate models’ feelings (arousing such emotions as contentment, satisfaction, desire, anger, hate, jeal‐ ousy or anxiety), it may also alter models’ lives (influencing the model’s social standing), guide their thoughts (changing the way the model thinks, perceives the world in general or interprets art), regulate their actions and even determine their identities (shaping a new identity for the sitter and haunting the character to the extent that she suffers from ambivalence). Further, I have examined re-presentation of the artwork through selected visual details and colour, which is an integral element of any detail of a painting. Both constituent units are of special interest in the context of Impressionism. Impressionists pay great attention to the optical effects of light and explore the resulting combinations and subtlety of colours, introducing the technique of broken colour. With the great emphasis on the overall effect of the first impres‐ sion and the essence of the subject matter, perceived as a whole, there is not a great deal of attention devoted to the recording of the separate details of the painting. However, in ekphrastic writing it is the details of the painting that help to re-present and to a certain extent explain the perception of the visual source. Therefore, although the details may be of little significance for the meaning produced in Impressionist figure paintings, the novelists manipulate the de‐ picted attributes of la vie moderne using them as tactical accents that, on the one hand, orient the reader en route of exploring the artwork, and, on the other, help to structure the narrative, develop the plot and contextualise the painting in its socio-historical and cultural setting. I have argued that by pre-selecting the focal details of the painting on behalf of the reader-observer the novels perform the main operations of perception 215 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="216"?> (exploration, selection, simplification, completion, comparison and contextual‐ isation) and thus control the reader’s experience and perception of the visual source. However, in spite of the limitations that such a guiding principle imposes on the experience of ‘seeing’, the effect that art fictional narratives achieve is that of a camera zooming in and zooming out of the painting. The details of the painting that are zoomed in on are scrutinised in ekphrastic descriptions and often the colour solution of the details attributes an additional symbolic meaning to the painting - as is especially in case of the items of clothing the models are wearing, which assist in building up the relationship between the characters, revealing characters’ feelings and redefining the meaning of the re-presentation. The study has also shown that a precise description of the way the colours are applied to the canvas allows the novelist not only to single out specific details in the process of being painted, but also to allude to Impressionist painting techniques, and thus to enrich the aesthetic value and understanding of the re-presentation within the context of the Impressionist art movement. One of the significant findings to emerge from this study is that although the descriptive ekphrastic passages of a visual source (the details and the colour solution) slow or even pause the linear flow of narrative in order to re-present the spatial form, they complete art fictional narratives by substantially enhancing the experience of ‘seeing’, provoking the reader to think about the intensified meaning of the purposely chosen fragments. Finally, in chapter five I analysed interpretations given to the re-presented artworks by the actants of the novels: the artist, who explains the idea of subject matter, composition or colour solution, and other viewers, such as models posing for the painting, painter’s friends, art critics, exhibitors and general public. Any given interpretation of an art object is the result of one’s visual perception, which is conditioned by such factors as personal experience, knowledge, cultural background and the ability to imagine. However, in case of actual ekphrasis - and Impressionist artworks in particular - there is a remarkable variety of ready-made interpretations immediately available to contemporary writers to choose from and recycle in the narrative form. As most commonly in the selected novels fictional commentary on the re-presented works of art echoes ‘real’ art discourses (the characters voice the opinions about Renoir’s, Manet’s and De‐ gas’s figure paintings known in the art scene, and in cultural and literary studies) I have proposed to view this commentary as a second-order representation of interpretation and attempted to trace it back to the art historical methods usually applied while interpreting Impressionist paintings (connoisseurial or biograph‐ ical, iconographical, Marxist and social art historical) and their combinations. The aim of the present study was to examine which approaches the novelists 216 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="217"?> put to use and in which combinations, what effect they create in the narrative, how they embellish the understanding of the re-presentation and, most impor‐ tantly, if they help to generate new meanings of an artwork. The research has shown that the dominating art historical method adopted in selected art fiction is the connoisseurial or biographical approach. In applying the biographical approach to the character of the artist, the selected narratives exploit the idea of actual intentionalism - advocating an assumption that an interpretation of an artwork, which reflects the creator’s individual perspective and attitude to the subject matter, is determined by the style and intentions of the artist. While establishing a strong connection between the artist and his work, art fiction relies heavily on the established assumptions about the style and the manner of painting, for example, when referring to the features of painting that are representative or even singular of particular artists (in MV, WV, TPG, DFD and LOTBP). However, as information on the artist’s ideas or intentions is rarely accessible, the novelists use a pseudo-connoisseurial ap‐ proach as a springboard for inventing a fictional version of the nexus of events in the artist’s life that surround the time of painting and influence the meaning of the re-presented artwork, such as interpreting Manet’s The Dead Christ with Angels in MV as a result of the artist’s personal experience, a reflection of his emotional state, his grief and regret over losing Victorine; explaining the rep‐ resentation of the waiter in Le Balcon through Manet’s kinship to Léon in WV; or indicating that each experience and every previously produced painting in‐ fluence Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party in LOTBP. Thus, by imagining a story of the artist’s private life, relationships and endeavours that surround the time of painting the novelists re-interpret the artworks in view of the fictional biography and intentions of the creator based thereupon. The formulated spec‐ ulative hypotheses resulting from a pseudo-connoisseurial approach cannot be confirmed, yet neither can they be rejected. Therefore, the proposed explana‐ tions manifest a plurality of acceptable interpretations and contribute to the overall understanding of an existing artwork. A second perspective is the iconographical approach, which allows the nov‐ elists to focus on the artist’s perception of an object and illustrate how such perception influences his painting techniques and determines the change of his painting style. In view of Impressionism, this method turns out to be particularly effective not only because it facilitates references to the technical radicalism of the Impressionist painting, helps to explain the general change in content and reveal themes and ideas that are manifested in the re-presented artworks, but also because it enables a comparative analysis of the way various artists perceive and represent the ‘reality’ surrounding them within the same art movement. 217 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="218"?> Various characters in the novels give interpretations deriving from the icono‐ graphical approach. For example, in LOTBP Gustave contrasts Renoir’s view of modernity and approach to the representation of modern society as a congenial, friendly and sociable mass with those of Degas and Manet, who in contrast are eager to depict the disintegration of society; in DFD Alexandrie points out the noticeable difference between the subject matter chosen by Degas and other artists of the Impressionist group; while in TPG a random art gallery visitor talking to Marie justifies the Impressionist painting style by referring to the entire group of painters whose change in style is driven by a change in the content of art and modern ideas, which these artists intend to manifest in their work. Moreover, the novelists draw attention to the difference in content that is found in Impressionist paintings by making the artists mutually criticise each other’s work, namely, Renoir and Degas in both LOTBP and DFD - the former condemning the realist representation of le misérabilisme and depravity of so‐ ciety, the latter rebuking an idealised utopian perception of modernity. Though to a significantly lesser extent, art fictional narratives also implement a Marxist approach in order to reflect on the changes in the economic organi‐ sation of society and its social and political development at the time of Impres‐ sionism (establishing the difference between the social classes, criticising the economic materialism and moral hypocrisy of the bourgeoisie and compli‐ menting the growing potential of the industrial proletariat), and adapt a social art historical method to examine the relationship between art and socio-political circumstances as well as the cultural and intellectual concerns of the time (ex‐ amining how the artists reflect on changes in modern society in a new form of visual art). Arnold points out that since the beginning of art history, artworks have been interpreted in a variety of ways and the “different modes of descrip‐ tion and interpretation inscribe meaning into art and it is here that art and its history are perhaps most intricately linked” (1). Therefore, by recycling existing interpretations given to an extant work of art and imitating art historical methods, contemporary ekphrastic narratives determine the re-presented paint‐ ings by their context - whether intentional, historical, cultural, social or political - and by that not only offer a versatile and functionally rich interpretation of the re-presentations but also refer to the historical circumstances surrounding the time of the creation of an art object, hence providing the artworks with related fictional historical evidence. The analysis of various interpretations has shown that together with re‐ flecting on a particular work of art the novels inevitably comment on Impres‐ sionism as an art movement in general, re-creating aesthetic debates about it from a present-day perspective. Since by making the characters verbalise their 218 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="219"?> opinions on the story level, the writers verbalise these opinions on the discourse level, I propose to consider the fictional art discourse as an ekphrastic meta-com‐ mentary. Similar to the ekphrastic re-presentation of a pictorial source, meta-commentary turns the text into an intermedial hybrid on the level of in‐ terpretation of both an artwork and the art movement from which it springs, thus facilitating the subjective re-interpretation of both. This confirms my hy‐ pothesis that in accordance with the writer’s frame of communication, contem‐ porary ekphrasis recontextualises the visual source on both representational and interpretive levels, which again proves that contemporary ekphrasis should in fact be seen and studied as a verbal re-presentation and re-interpretation of a visual representation. The analysis of selected contemporary art fiction on Impressionist figure paintings has addressed the pragmatics of the image, focusing on its creation, re-presentation, re-production and re-interpretation. It has shown that the re-presented visual sources that lie at the heart of the narratives can take on various functions. Within the communicative category they can serve mne‐ monic, informative and persuasive functions - for the purpose of attracting a wide readership. Within re-presentation they can achieve the aim of visualisa‐ tion of the characters or be a reference to a particular subject matter chosen by the artist; they can also carry out an ideological function by revealing the artist’s perception of the world and the intended meaning of the artwork; they can fulfil a psychological function by negotiating questions of the identity of the model; the re-presented details of the painting can also contextualise it in its socio-his‐ torical and cultural setting; and, finally, on the discourse level through allusion to its creation (the painting and modelling processes) the visual source can structure the narrative. Last but not least, within the interpretive category, the artwork triggers explanatory and reflective operations aiming to decipher the possible meanings; it can also perform a historical function by alluding to the cultural and socio-political issues of the time; and serve a sociological function by referring to the established relationship between art and society; ultimately, it can carry out an illustrative function by indicating an artistic movement as a whole. The novels discussed in this study make use of actual ekphrasis to create a transformational fusion of two media. The narratives can be framed as synthetic intermedial products (profiting from the parallel existence of visual represen‐ tation - usually in the paratextual zone - and its verbal re-presentation) that either emerge in a hybrid form (manifesting an extant artwork only verbally) or appear as both, establishing a word-image co-presence of only one of the re-presented visual sources. In any case, while confronting the reader with a 219 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="220"?> spatio-temporal discourse, the narratives not only evoke the extant works of art in the reader’s memory, but also encourage the reader to trace them and thus intensify the aesthetic experience of discovering the same art object both ver‐ bally and visually. Since tracing the extant works of art nowadays does not cause great difficulty, it is my contention that the reader of contemporary art fiction is actively involved in the intermedial interaction between the verbal and the visual. A question inevitably raised in the analysis of selected art fiction is whether or not these narratives should only be looked at from a literary perspective. If not, could they possibly be acknowledged as a distant form of art history or should one consider them a new independent aesthetic discipline? According to Chapman, “[f]iction about artists and art reveals a parallel extra-academy, extra-museum art history” (129). In other words, Chapman argues that art fiction is an example of a form of art history that exists parallel to academic art history, yet is not governed by the same institutional rules. Further she points out that art narratives “expose what happens in the popular imagination when the art historian turns social historian and philosopher, challenges the canon, re‐ searches the art market, and examines objects through the lens of science” (129). By providing the reader with a fictionalised account of the painting coming into being and its reception, art fiction partially mirrors art historical practices but mainly it directs attention to the intimate settings of creation and the emotional effect the painting has on the viewer. It is the emotional reaction that is central to the experience of ‘seeing’ and generating meanings of an artwork. In art fiction the novelists transform the material of the re-presented visual sources into meanings (making use of already established meanings by art historians and creating new ones) setting them in the context of the emotional reactions of the fictional characters. Bryson claims that each viewer is an interpreter and “since interpretation changes as the world changes, art history cannot lay claim to final or absolute knowledge of its object” (xiii). Yet instead of seeing it as a limitation, Bryson suggests that it imposes a condition that allows growth: “once vision is realigned with interpretation rather than perception, and once art his‐ tory concedes the provisional character or necessary incompleteness of its en‐ terprise, then the foundations for a new discipline may, perhaps, be laid” (xiv). Taking this into consideration, I believe that contemporary art fiction writers turn into art historians and refocus the narrative as fictional art history, con‐ ventionally illuminating and/ or distorting the past of the artworks to re-create the effect of historical authenticity. Finally, the results of this research make one see contemporary art fiction as a product of society, as a reflection of the aesthetic and cultural assumptions of 220 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="221"?> the present day, which promote the idea of creative recycling. Unlimited public access to pictorial sources leads to an endless recycling of the images in various sources and literature seems to be no exception. It may seem that creating something new by re-using materials that have already been developed, pro‐ cessed and evaluated is far less intensive than making something from scratch. However, writing about extant works of art, even more so those by such well-known artists as Renoir, Manet and Degas, obliges the novelists not only to conduct an extensive in-depth research of the artworks, artists, depicted models, the historical epoch and the Impressionist art movement in general, but also to become art historians for the ekphrastic moment and communicate new meanings of the art objects. By adopting an art historical approach, introducing a close reading of an extant image, interpreting the preceding and the subse‐ quent stages of an artwork (reporting on how the image comes into being as well as investigating how this image is perceived by the fictional audience) art fiction brings museum ‘high’ art to the masses, making it more accessible and intelligible for the public. 221 Chapter 6. Conclusion <?page no="223"?> Bibliography Primary Sources Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Painted Girls. New York: Riverhead Books, 2013. Finerman, Debra. Mademoiselle Victorine. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2007. Robards, Elizabeth. With Violets. New York: HarperCollins, 2008. Vreeland, Susan. Luncheon of the Boating Party. New York: Penguin, 2008. Wagner, Kathryn. Dancing for Degas. New York: Bantam Books Trade Paperbacks, 2010. Secondary Sources Alberti, Leon Battista. On Painting. Trans. John R. Spencer, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1956. Albers, Stefanie. Verbal Visuality: The Visual Arts in Contemporary Anglophone Fiction. Trier: WVT, 2011. Arnheim, Rudolf. Visual Thinking. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1969. ---. New Essays on the Psychology of Art. Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1986. Arnold, Dana. “Art History. Contemporary Perspectives on Method”. In Dana Arnold (ed.), Art History. Contemporary Perspectives on Method. Chichester: Willy-Blackwell, 2010. 1-7. Barbe-Gall, Françoise. How to Look at Impressionism. London: Frances Lincoln Limited, 2013. Barthes, Roland. Image, Music, Text. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. Baxandall, Michael. Patterns of Intention: On the Historical Explanation of Pictures. London: Yale University Press, 1986. Beebe, Maurice. Ivory Towers and Sacred Founts: The Artist as Hero in Fiction from Goethe to Joyce. New York: New York University Press, 1964. Bender, John B. Spencer and Literary Pictorialism. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1972. Berger, John. Ways of Seeing. London: British Broadcasting Corporation and Penguin Books, 1972. Bilman, Emily. Modern Ekphrasis. Bern: Peter Lang, 2013. Blackhawk, Terry. “Ekphrastic Poetry: Entering and Giving Voice to Works of Art.” In Tonya Foster and Kirstin Prevallet (eds.), Third Mind: Creative Writing through Visual Art. New York: Teachers & Writers Collaborative, 2002. 1-13. <?page no="224"?> Bowie, Theodore Robert. The Painter in French Fiction: A Critical Essay. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1950. Brettell, Richard. Impression: Painting Quickly in France, 1860- 1890. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000. Bryson, Norman. Vision and Painting: The Logic of the Gaze. London: The Macmillan Press Ltd, 1983. Buchanan, Cathy Marie. “Author’s Note.” In Cathy Marie Buchanan (ed.), The Painted Girls. New York: Riverhead Books, 2013. 391-93. Carrier, David. “Ekphrasis and Interpretation: Two Modes of Art History Writing.” The British Journal of Aesthetics, 27.1 (1987): 20-31. Carter, Roland, Angela Goddard, Danuta Reah, Keith Sanger, and Maggie Bowring. Working with Texts: A Core Introduction to Language Analysis. Second edition. London: Routledge, 2005. Chapman, Perry H. “Art Fiction”. In Dana Arnold (ed.), Art History. Contemporary Per‐ spectives on Method. Chichester: Willy-Blackwell, 2010. 129-49. Cheeke, Stephen. Writing for Art: The Aesthetics of Ekphrasis. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008. Clüver, Claus. “Ekphrasis Reconsidered: On Verbal Representations of Non-Verbal Texts.” In Ulla-Britta Lagerroth, Hans Lund, and Erik Hedling (eds.), Interart Poetics: Essays on the Interrelations of the Arts and Media. Amsterdam and Atlanta: Rodopi, 1997. 19-33. ---. “Quotation, Enargeia, and the Functions of Ekphrasis.” In Valerie Robillard and Els Jongeneel (eds.), Pictures into Words: Theoretical and Descriptive Approaches to Ek‐ phrasis. Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1998. 35-51. de Armas, Frederick A. “Simple Magic: Ekphrasis from Antiquity to the Age of Cervantes.” In Frederick A. de Armas (ed.), Ekphrasis in the Age of Cervantes. Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2005. 13-31. Drew, Ned, and Paul Sternberger. By Its Cover: Modern American Book Cover Design. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2005. Dunning, William V. Changing Images of Pictorial Space: A History of Spatial Illusion in Painting. New York: Syracuse University Press, 1991. Eagleton, Terry. How to Read a Poem. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2007. Eco, Umberto. The Open Work. Trans. Anna Cancogni. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uni‐ versity Press, 1984. Eisenman, Stephen F. Nineteenth Century Art: A Critical History. London: Thames and Hudson Ltd, 1994. Freud, Sigmund. Case Histories II. V. 9. London: Penguin Freud Library, 1988. Gea Valor, Maria Lluïsa. “Advertising Books: A Linguistic Analysis of Blurbs.” Ibérica 10 (2005): 41-62. 224 Bibliography <?page no="225"?> Genette, Gérard. Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation. Trans. Jane E. Lewin. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Gilman, Ernest B. The Curious Perspective: Literary and Pictorial Wit in the Seventeenth Century. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1978. Goehr, Lydia. “How to Do More with Words. Two Views of (Musical) Ekphrasis.” British Journal of Aesthetics, 50.4 (2019): 389-410. Goldberg, Roselee. Performance: Live Art since the 60s. New York: Thames & Hudson, 1998. Goldhill, Simon. “What Is Ekphrasis For? ” Classical Philology 102 (2007): 1-19. Gombrich, E.H. Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation. New York: Pantheon Books, 1960. Goodman, Nelson. Languages of Art. Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company, 1976. Hagstrum, Jean H. The Sister Arts: The Tradition of Literary Pictorialism and English Poetry from Dryden to Gray. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1958. Hatt, Michael, and Charlotte Klonk. Art History: A Critical Introduction to its Methods. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006. Heffernan, James A.W. Museum of Words: The Poetics of Ekphrasis from Homer to Ashbery. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1993. Hepburn, Allan. Enchanted Objects: Visual Art in Contemporary Fiction. Toronto: Univer‐ sity of Toronto Press, 2010. Hofmann, Hans. Search for the Real and Other Essays. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1967. Hollander, John. “The Poetics of Ekphrasis.” Word & Image 4.1 (1988): 209-19. ---. The Gazer’s Spirit: Poems Speaking to Silent Works of Art. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1995. Horst, Philipp. Language/ Art - Artistic Representation between Poetry, Concept and the Visual. Trier: WVT, 2009. House, John. Pierre-Auguste Renoir: La Promenade. Los Angeles, CA: Getty Museum Study on Art, 1997. Howatson, M.C. (ed.). The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature. Oxford: Oxford Uni‐ versity Press, 1989. Hutcheon, Linda. The Politics of Postmodernism. London: Routledge, 2002. Joyce, Wendy Lyn Nola. Fashioning the Subject: The Artist and His Model in the Prose Fiction of Balzac, Gautier, and the Goncourts (1837-1867). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001. Karastathi, Sylvia. “Ekphrasis and the Novel/ Narrative Fiction.” In Martin Middeke, Ga‐ briele Rippl, and Hubert Zapf (eds.), Handbook of Intermediality, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2015. 92-111. Kolers, Paul. “Reading Pictures and Reading Texts.” In David Perkins and Barbara Leondar (eds.), The Arts and Cognition. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977. 136-64. 225 Bibliography <?page no="226"?> Krieger, Murray. “Ekphrasis and the Still Movement of Poetry; or Laokoön Revisited.” In Murray Krieger (ed.), Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign. Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press, 1992. 263-88. ---. Ekphrasis: The Illusion of the Natural Sign. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. ---. “The Problem of Ekphrasis: Image and Words, Space and Time - and the Literary Work.” In Valerie Robillard and Els Jongeneel (eds.), Pictures into Words Theoretical and Descriptive Approaches to Ekphrasis, Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1998. 3-20. Kurman, George. “Ekphrasis in Epic Poetry.” Comparative Literature 26 (1974): 1-13. Lawrence, D.H. “Making Pictures.” In Brewster Ghiselin (ed.), The Creative Process: A Symposium. New York: Mentor Books, 1963. 62-67. Lessing, G.E. Laokoon: On the Limits of Poetry and Painting. Trans. Ellen Frothingham. New York: Noonday, 1957. Lodge, David. The Art of Fiction. London: Secker & Warburg, 1992. Louvel, Liliane. Poetics of the Iconotext. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2011. Lund, Hans. Text as Picture: Studies in the Literary Transformation of Pictures. Trans. K. Götrick. Lewiston: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1992. Mausfeld, Rainer. “Conjoint Representations and the Mental Capacity for Multiple Si‐ multaneous Perspectives”. In Heiko Hecht, Robert Schwarz and Margaret Atherton (eds.), Looking into Pictures: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Pictorial Space. Cam‐ bridge, MA: MIT Press, 2003. 17-60. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media. London: Signet, 1964. Meyers, Jeffrey. Painting and the Novel. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1975. Milner, John. The Studios of Paris: The Capital of Art in the Late Nineteenth Century. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1988. Mitchell, W. J. Thomas. “Going Too Far with the Sister Arts.” In James A.W. Heffernan (ed.), Space, Time, Image, Sign: Essays on Literature and the Visual Arts. New York: Peter Lang, 1987. 1-17. ---. “Representation.” In Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin (eds.), Critical Terms for Literary Study. 2nd edition. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1995. 11-22. Mukařovský, Jan. The World and Verbal Art: Selected Essays by Jan Mukařovský. Trans. John Burbank and Peter Steiner. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1977. Offen, Karen. European Feminisms, 1700-1950: A Political History. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000. Panofsky, Erwin. Meaning in the Visual Arts. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1955. Pfister, Manfred and Broich, Ulrich. “Intertextualität: Formen, Funktionen, anglistische Fallstudien.” Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1985. 1-30. 226 Bibliography <?page no="227"?> Piltz, Elisabeth and Paul Åström Kairos. Studies in Art History and Literature in Honour of Professor Gunilla Åkerström-Hougen. Jonsered: Paul Åströms Förlag, 1998. Rathbone, Eliza. Impressionists on the Seine: A Celebration of Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party. Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint, 1996. Renoir, Jean. Renoir: My Father. New York: New York Review Books, 2001. Rewald, John. The History of Impressionism. Fourth revised edition. New York: The Mu‐ seum of Modern Art, 1973. Rippl, Gabriele. Beschreibungs-Kunst: Zur Intermedialen Poetik Angloamerikanischer Ikon‐ texte (1880-2000). Munich: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 2005. Robillard, Valerie. “In Pursuit of Ekphrasis (An Intertextual Approach).” In Valerie Ro‐ billard and Els Jongeneel (eds.), Pictures into Words: Theoretical and Descriptive Ap‐ proaches to Ekphrasis. Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1998. 53-72. Rubin, James H. Impressionism. London: Phaidon, 1999. Ryan, Marie-Laure. “Narration in Various Media.” In Peter Hühn, John Pier, Wolf Schmid and Jörg Schönert (eds.), Handbook of Narratology. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009. 263-81. Sager Eidt, Laura M. Writing and Filming the Painting, Ekphrasis in Literature and Film. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2008. Said, Edward. The World, the Text, and the Critic. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1983. Saintsbury, George. A History of Criticism and Literary Taste in Europe. Third edition, Vol. I. New York: Blackwood, 1908. Scholz, Bernhard F. “‘Sub Oculos Subiectio’: Quintilian on Ekphrasis and Enargeia.” In Valerie Robillard and Els Jongeneel (eds.), Pictures into Words: Theoretical and Descrip‐ tive Approaches to Ekphrasis, Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1998. 73-99. Schroeder, Tali M. “Ma’at as a Theme in Ancient Egyptian Tomb Art,” Oglethorpe Journal of Undergraduate Research 5.1 (2015): 1-11. Seznec, Jean. “Art and Literature: A Plea for Humility.” New Literary History, 3.3 (1972): 568-74. Shackelford, George T.M. Degas: The Dancers. Baltimore, MD: Schneidereith & Sons, 1984. Sonzogni, Marco. Re-covered Rose: A Case Study in Book Cover Design as Intersemiotic Translation. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2011. Spitzer, Leo. “The ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, or Content vs. Metagrammar.” Comparative Literature 7 (1955): 203-25. Steele, Elizabeth. “Achieving the Composition in Luncheon of the Boating Party.” In Eliza Rathbone (ed.), Impressionists on the Seine: A Celebration of Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party. Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint, 1996. 231-238. Steiner, Wendy. Pictures of Romance: Form Against Context in Painting and Literature. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1988. 227 Bibliography <?page no="228"?> ---. The Real Real Thing: The Model in the Mirror of Art. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2010. Stella, Frank. Working Space. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986. Tolstoy, Leo. What is Art? and Essays on Art. Trans. Aylmer Maude. Oxford: Oxford Uni‐ versity Press, 1930. Torgovnick, Marianna. The Visual Arts, Pictorialism, and the Novel: James, Lawrence, Woolf. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1985. Thomson, Belinda. Impressionism: Origins, Practice, Reception. London: Thames and Hudson World of Art, 2000. Thomson, Richard. “‘Les Quat’ Pattes’: The Image of the Dog in the Late Nineteenth-Cen‐ tury French Art.” Art History 5.3 (1982): 323-37. van Alphen, Ernst. “The Heterotopian Space of the Discussions on Postmodernism.” Poetics Today Art and Literature I, 10.4 (1989): 819-39. Vreeland, Susan. “A conversation with Susan Vreeland.” In Susan Vreeland, Luncheon of the Boating Party. New York: Penguin, 2008. 4-13. Wagner, Kathryn. “A Conversation with Kathryn Wagner.” In Kathryn Wagner, Dancing for Degas. New York: Bantam Books Trade Paperbacks, 2010. 373-81. Wagner, Peter. Icons - Texts - Iconotexts: Essays on Ekphrasis and Intermediality. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1996. Webb, Ruth. “Ekphrasis Ancient and Modern: The Invention of a Genre.” Word & Image 15.1: (1999): 7-18. ---. Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Practice. Al‐ dershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2009. Weisstein, Ulrich. “Comparing Literature and Art: Current Trends and Prospects in Crit‐ ical Theory and Methodology.” In Zoran Konstantinović (ed.), Proceedings of the IXth Congress of the International Comparative Literature Association. Innsbruck: Institut für Sprachwissenschaft der Universität Innsbruck, 1980-1982. 19-30. Wilde, Oscar. “The Critic as Artist.” In Oscar Wilde, The Plays, the Poems, the Stories and the Essays including De Profundis. London: Wordsworth Library Collection, 2007. 963-1016. Winner, Viola Hopkins. Henry James and the Visual Arts. Charlottesville, VA: University of Virginia Press, 1970. Wolf, Werner. 1999. The Musicalization of Fiction: A Study in the Theory and History of Intermediality. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1999. ---. “Pictorial Narrativity.” In David Herman, Manfred Jahn and Marie-Laure Ryan (eds.) Routledge Encyclopedia of Narrative Theory. London: Routledge, 2005. 431-35. ---. “The Relevance of Mediality and Intermediality to Academic Studies of English Lit‐ erature.” In Martin Heusser, Andreas Fischer and Andreas Jucker (eds.), Mediality/ Intermediality. Tübingen: Gunter Narr, 2008. 15-44. 228 Bibliography <?page no="229"?> Woolf, Virginia. Walter Sickert: A Conversation. London: Hogarth Press, 1934. Yacobi, Tamar. “Pictorial Models and Narrative Ekphrasis”. Poetics Today 16.4 (1995): 599-649. ---. “Verbal Frames and Ekphrastic Figuration.” In Ulla-Britta Lagerroth, Hans Lund and Erik Hedling (eds.), Interart Poetics: Essays on the Interrelations of the Arts and Media. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1997. 35-46. ---. “The Ekphrastic Model: Forms and Functions.” In Valerie Robillard and Els Jongeneel (eds.), Pictures into Words: Theoretical and Descriptive Approaches to Ekphrasis. Am‐ sterdam: VU University Press, 1998. 21-34. Dictionaries Hammond, Nicholas G.L. and Scullard, Howard H. “Ekphrasis.” The Oxford Classical Dic‐ tionary, 2nd edition. Glasgow: Oxford University Press, 1970. 377. Hornblower, Simon and Spawforth, Antony. “Ekphrasis.” The Oxford Classical Dic‐ tionary, 4th edition. Oxford: OUP, 2012. 495. 229 Bibliography <?page no="231"?> List of Figures Figure 1: Robards, Elizabeth. With Violets. New York: HarperCollins, 2008. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 Figure 2: Finerman, Debra. Mademoiselle Victorine. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2007. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 Figure 3: Wagner, Kathryn. Dancing for Degas. New York: Bantam Books Trade Paperbacks, 2010. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Figure 4: Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Painted Girls. New York: Riverhead Books, 2013. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Figure 5: Vreeland, Susan. Luncheon of the Boating Party. New York: Penguin, 2008. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 Figure 6: Robards, Elizabeth. With Violets. Waterville, Maine: Five Star, 2005. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Figure 7: Finerman, Debra. Mademoiselle Victorine. Budapest: Geopen, 2008. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 Figure 8: Vreeland, Susan. Luncheon of the Boating Party. Waterville, ME: Thorndike Press, 2007. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 Figure 9: Wagner, Kathryn. Dansatoarea lui Degas. Bucharest: Humanitas Fiction, 2013. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Figure 10: Buchanan, Cathy Marie. The Painted Girls. New York: Harper Perennial, 2014. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 <?page no="233"?> List of Tables Table 1. Four possible ekphrastic relations exhibited in literature (Yacobi, “Pictorial Models” 602) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Table 2. The Differential Model (Robillard 61) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 <?page no="234"?> S C H W E I Z E R A N G L I S T I S C H E A R B E I T E N S W I S S S T U D I E S I N E N G L I S H This work analyses the relationship between visual art and contemporary art fiction by addressing the problem of the ekphrastic re-presentation and re-interpretation of an Impressionist figure painting through its composition, selected details of the painting and allusion to specific techniques used in the process of creating the masterpiece based on the examples of the following novels: Luncheon of the Boating Party by Susan Vreeland (2007), Mademoiselle Victorine by Debra Finerman (2007), With Violets by Elizabeth Robards (2008), Dancing for Degas by Kathryn Wagner (2010) and The Painted Girls by Cathy Marie Buchanan (2013). S A A 1 4 5 ISBN 978-3-7720-8700-4 Lyutsiya Staub Revisiting Renoir, Manet and Degas Revisiting Renoir, Manet and Degas Lyutsiya Staub Impressionist Figure Paintings in Contemporary Anglophone Art Fiction 38700_Umschlag.indd 1,3 04.11.2019 11: 51: 35