The relationship between artist and home is one of the most fascinating dimensions of the creative process. Even for those artists who don’t seem explicitly to show manifestations of their early environment in their work, can such a powerful element ever be completely absent? It seems almost inconceivable. One’s early surroundings — whether good or bad, whether providing a burst of inspiration or an impetus to flee — tend to stay with us. And often in quite profound ways.
For Paul Cezanne, the relationship between art and home is no mystery — at least not in the sense of having to wonder whether he was influenced by his native environment. Aix-en-Provence, located in the south of France, was of the utmost importance: it was his birthplace and stomping ground as a youth, and a place of development and discovery as an adult. The beauty of the land and its majestic delights were intoxications for which Cezanne could never pull himself away. Even during his many times in Paris — that hip and trendy epicenter of the art world — it was Provence that would always draw him back home.
PBS’ Cezanne in Provence, written by Norman Allen and Jackson Frost, focuses on this special relationship while also providing general background on Cezanne and his relationship with the Impressionists. Although the Impressionists influenced him, and he them, Cezanne ultimately wanted to go his own way.
In telling Cezanne’s story, the documentary makes effective use of letters from both Cezanne and his friend, the writer Emile Zola. The two were dear childhood companions and it was Zola who would introduce Cezanne to the sights and magic of Paris. Later in life, however, they would have a permanent falling out — initiated by Cezanne — who was deeply offended at the way he was portrayed in one of Zola’s novels.
The documentary also, fittingly, gives viewers copious shots and views of the Provencal environment which Cezanne so adored: the beauty of Montagne Sainte-Victoire (which “held both a philosophical and aesthetic fascination” for him), the bay of L’Estaque, the Bibeus Quarry, and other areas of Provence. We also see his studios and favorite painting spots.
Interestingly enough, the cerebral presence and evocative sights of Cezanne’s native land did not fully take hold of him until around middle age. In his own words, he “began to see nature rather late.” In the very early stages of his career, Cezanne, as mentioned, made his way to Paris, an experience which produced in him a flurry of ambivalent feelings.
The Parsian scene was a brand new environment for Cezanne, and although the young artist was eager and motivated to receive instruction and improve as an artist, the change was a jolt. In part this was because of his Provencal upbringing set against the drastically different environment. One commentator, Philip Conisbee, describes how Cezanne saw himself as somewhat of a “country bumpkin.” But it was also, and perhaps more specifically, related to Cezanne’s personality, which was never the type that could seamlessly blend in with different people and a variety of situations.
Despite the relatively jarring experience of his first time in Paris, it would be far from his last stay. For over a decade Paris was an important home for Cezanne — a place where he received instruction, interacted with some of the key Impressionists (Pissarro especially, who instilled in him the value of plein-air painting), and where he acquired invaluable artistic wisdom. It was through his many experiences in Paris that he gradually learned what of kind of artist he wanted to be, as well as what kind of artist he didn’t want to be.
Throughout the documentary’s examination of Cezanne and his relation to Provence, we get a vivid picture of the artistic temperament of the man. In many ways Cezanne was the kind of artist we tend to think of when we conceive of artistic genius: someone reclusive and socially aloof; a figure who needs to be entirely free of distractions; a being capable of love and warmth but who is singularly focused on achieving the nearly impossible. All of these things were true of Cezanne.
The latter half of his life exemplified these qualities. Using his studio at the beautiful family home of Jas de Bouffan, in Aix, and later an apartment studio, Cezanne dedicated himself to his relentless pursuit of his own individual art form. While he had respect for the Old Masters and his fellow contemporary artists, Cezanne was after his own vision, his own set of principles, and his own artistic experience of the world.
Integral to this process was taking in the landscapes that had been around him since childhood, especially those ethereal views of Mont Sainte Victoire. Along with being a painter, Cezanne had something of the philosopher in him — always searching, always reflecting and trying to understand the world around him from a new perspective. When Cezanne looked at his surroundings he was acutely sensitive to what was unfolding; he noticed how the brilliant sun in Aix would make “objects…silhouetted not only in black and white, but in blue, red, brown, and violet.” He understood the immense beauty of his region — “the treasures” it possessed — and how it “had not yet found an interpreter” (Cezanne’s own words). It was a lifelong quest to discover how to represent what he saw.
The Impressionists, of course, had similar motivations, but Cezanne’s art departed from theirs in important ways. As Nina Kallmyer notes, “[Cezanne] modified the more naturalist way of looking at nature, which was the Impressionist way, in a more abstracted, more stylized way.” The element of abstraction would come to have a great influence on many future artists — and art trends — of the 20th century. Paul Cezanne is not for nothing frequently referred to as the father of modern art.
In his own time, however, Cezanne was not much appreciated — and to the extent that he was, the praise came toward the end of his life. How much Cezanne valued such praise is difficult to say. As the documentary points out, there were many ambiguities enmeshed in the figure of Cezanne. One the one hand, he wanted to be accepted and acknowledged; on the other, he didn’t even show up for his one-man show — put on by the art dealer Ambroise Vollard, in 1895 — which included over 100 of his works. But that was Cezanne in a nutshell: elusive, peculiar, private, and difficult to crack.
He died in 1906, age 67, after a bout of pneumonia. He was a lifelong artist who never stopped searching for those rare and fleeting moments of artistic transcendence.
Spectatio 