Saturday, January 22, 2011

Jean-Louis-André Theodore Gericault


(b Rouen, 26 Sept 1791; d Paris, 26 Jan 1824).

 French painter, draughtsman, lithographer and sculptor. He experienced the exaltation of Napoleon’s triumphs in his boyhood, reached maturity at the time of the empire’s agony and ended his career of little more than 12 working years in the troubled early period of the Restoration. When he died, he was known to the public only by the three paintings he had exhibited at the Salon in Paris, the Charging Chasseur (1812; Paris, Louvre), the Wounded Cuirassier Leaving the Field of Battle (1814; Paris, Louvre) and the Raft of the Medusa (1819; Paris, Louvre), and by a handful of lithographs.

A number of painters in the Romantic period, and some before it, believed imagery should present situations, states of suffering, and outrage in forms that were extreme and compelling in themselves. These images, they thought, would stimulate the sympathy and satisfaction that were regarded as salutary and sublime - indeed they envisaged a situation in which agony as such would create a demand for experience that would in other contexts be intolerable. Among these uncommon spirits the painter Géricault was quite exceptional. He generated images of physical grandeur, brushing light into dark with an impulsive bluntness, which was a direct manifestation of natural force. He portrayed, for example, triumphant heroism, valiant defeat, splendid savagery, and animal magnificence, all of them with irresistible nobility and pathos.
In the last years of Napoleon's rule Géricault painted the military myth on a grand scale and interested David. With the Restoration, he was painting subjects of barbaric violence and accumulating studies of injuries and executions when history provided him with the shipwreck of an ill fated expedition and the desperate suffering of the survivors. Within a year he had painted The Raft of the Medusa, a picture of pathos and protest outstanding in the history of art. It equipped romantic realism with a terrific commitment to humanity and an equally terrific style, in which the ruthlessness of the square brushed modeling and the livid light were unforgettably compelling. Five years later, after extending his repertory of extreme situations to the pathos of the insane, he died in a fall from a horse. Once he was dead, the regime which his great picture had arraigned found no difficulty in buying it. The most sincere protests have a way of turning into sensational aesthetic entertainments. It is apparently the nobility and insight in themselves that fulfill the deeper needs. The loss of Géricault depleted the French reserves of seriousness through the half century to come, sadly but not fatally.

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