New Directions

Pablo Picasso, Portrait of Ambrose Vollard, oil on canvas, 1910


 
      Marc Chagall called Vollard “a great precursor.” Matisse recalled: “More than ten years ago, I met Vollard for the last time at Vittel.  I reminded him of one of the old anecdotes he liked to bring out about female logic.  Afterwards he said ‘Monsieur Matisse is a very dangerous man because  he has an excellent memory.’” It has been recounted that in his shop on Rue Lafitte, piled high with Cézanne’s and Van Gogh’s paintings, Vollard used to light a lamp at dusk and pretend to sleep.  He hoped to hear the opinions of possible collectors and passersby concerning the young painters whose works were hanging in the windows of his gallery and whose success he was anxious to share.  When an aspiring young art dealer asked his advice, Vollard replied tersely, “You sleep a lot.”

 

Pierre Bonnard, Ambrose Vollard and his cat, oil on canvas, 1904-5




      With shrewd judgement Vollard had quietly acquired a magnificent collection of modern paintings.  His policy of buying low and selling high inevitably brought results far exceeding even his own aspirations.  He was willing to follow the advice of the artists who were forging a new vision but who were generally unaccepted by the Academy and ignored by many critics and dealers.  He took the risks of dealing in their paintings, drawings and prints, which were not then fashionable.  With seldom-challenged authority and a gruff dignity, Vollard assumed his exceptional position in the art world of Paris.  But to Vollard this early success was simply a stepping stone, a means to still another objective.  It was on the publishing of fine prints, albums, and illustrated books that he proceeded to spend – and lavishly – the growing wealth that modern paintings had brought him.  For nearly forty-five years his publishing ventures were to occupy his time, his thoughts and his tireless energy.  It was through them that he realized his desire for eminence as a publisher and entrepreneur.


From:  Una E. Johnson, Ambrose Vollard, Editeur (Prints, Books, Bronzes), New York, Museum of Modern Art, 1977.

One of many “basement dinner parties” held by Ambrose Vollard at his gallery.

Pierre Bonnard, La Petite Blanchisseuse (The Little Laundry Girl), color lithograph, 1896.  This image appears on the cover of Una Johnson’s MOMA book/catalogue.

Someone's Sleeping

In the morning through my window
Creeping
Sunlight chasing Colors on my wall
By my side,  She lay sleeping
Cradled in an antique shawl.

Tuck her 'neath my cover,
Watch her Face settle in my down.
I suppose we were lovers,
She was good -- good to have around.

Some things are for Keeping (No);
Some things are Too Good and they Go:

 

I remember
Market place in Tangiers --
Standing there --
Beggars all around her legs,
She looked like an angel

From a second story window
Caught a glimpse of Someone's life
And it was Mine
And My face was dark and dirty,
And I'd been crying.

John Phillips: Someone's Sleeping (Link)





NOTE:  


This is not even the saddest song from one of the saddest, but most beautiful records ever, "John Phillips"  aka “John, The Wolf King of L.A.” 


The album, with the possible exception of its funny, wistful, rollicking  hit  single "Mississippi" (a masterpiece, but the whole record is) plays like what it was, i.e., a Goodbye Letter from John Phillips to the World as he entered his long living-dead  period of drug addiction.


Some cavil (making the obvious comparison to the Mamas & Papas' powerful and flexible male lead singer Denny Doherty) that Phillps’ soft and thoughtful voice detracts from the  songs, but these deeply poetic and personal compositions  succeed as performances because John Phillps' timbre and diction sketch the words and notes like a combination of drypoint and watercolor.  (Interestingly,  Doherty, who had rehearsed singing some of the tunes before the Mamas & Papas disbanded, agreed.)


If you've never heard "John Phillips," you really need to.  It isn't remotely like anything else, although it does mine more deeply the underlying melancholy of some of the great Mamas & Papas hits.  Like those records, this one was exquisitely produced by Lou Adler and played by the Wrecking Crew geniuses plus some gifted helpers, including Buddy Emmons, Red Rhodes and Darlene Love.

Images:  

Top:  Henri Matisse:  Door in the Casbah, Tangiers, 1912, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow

Plus Tangiers postcards from the early 1900s through the 1950s and a portrait of the artist as a young man.