For the couple of years before his death, Edouard Manet, contemporary of the French Impressionists & painter of the controversial Le déjeuner sur l’herbe (Luncheon on the Grass), was forced by the exigencies of a worsening illness to leave his beloved Paris during the summer months & to give up working on large canvases.  Exiled to the countryside for treatment & rest, Manet missed both Parisian society & the company of his close friends, among whom could be counted the poet Stéphane Mallarmé & the younger Claude Monet.  Despite physical debilitation & constant pain, Manet continued to paint, albeit on a smaller scale & with less complex subject matter.  Specifically, this is the period when he created a series of 16 small oil paintings of bouquets. 

The poignant story of these final works, painted by the person who is often considered to be the first modern artist, is told in Robert Gordon & Andrew Forge’s little treasure of a book, The Last Flowers of Manet, which I encountered in 2006 while trolling for treats in the gift shop of the Art Institute of Chicago.      

Touched by the context in which Manet painted these still lifes & captivated by their lovely simplicity & charm, I felt compelled to copy one or two of them.  Since it just so happened that I had also been increasingly eager to give oil pastels a try, this was the perfect opportunity to do both, for as I mentioned in an earlier blog, copying from the Old or Modern Masters is an excellent way to learn how to use a medium.  So, on November 24, 2006, I spent a memorable & exceedingly pleasurable day in my studio recreating Lilas et Roses (Lilacs and Roses) by Edouard Manet & falling, all the while, ever more in love with Sennelier oil pastels.

All of this comes to mind, I suppose, because of my previous blog, On Bouquets.  In writing about the initial painting in my intended series of small oil pastels depicting my garden’s final blossoms each autumn, it strikes me that my series of paintings will constitute a sort of homage to Manet’s.  Truth to tell, I’ve probably felt a subliminal connection to Manet throughout these last nine years of working primarily in oil pastel.  Besides which, it’s hard for me to not feel an affinity with someone who, when he saw flowers, supposedly said, “I would like to paint them all.” 

At any rate, the fact is, Manet’s paintings both inspired me & functioned as the catalyst that set me on my current creative path.  And, of course, none of this would have happened in quite the same way if I hadn’t come across a certain book just when I was longing to try oil pastels.  There is a proverb, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”  So let’s just say, I will always be grateful to Professeur Manet & to Messieurs Gordon & Forge for their timely arrival in my life.

Gordon, Robert & Forge, Andrew.  The Last Flowers of Manet.  New York:  Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1986.