Ingres 1780 – 1980

INGRES 1780 – 1980
Fogg Museum (Harvard University Art Museums), Cambridge, MA, November, 1980.

(Orig­i­nally published in Art New England, December, 1980.)

This is a superb exhi­bition of the Fogg Art Museum’s entire, extensive collection of drawings and paintings by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780 – 1867), in cele­bration of the two hundredth anniversary of his birth. The exhibit is framed by a miniature pencil self-portrait, which shows the artist as a provincial young man of the eigh­teenth century, and a painted self-portrait at the age of seventy-nine, showing Ingres dressed in elegant black, wearing the medals he had won in the course of his long career as a much-honored painter and chef-d’ecole. Also shown are a number of exquisite pencil portraits, drawings, and studies for major works, and some important paintings including Raphael and the Fornarina, Madame Reiset, and Odal­isque with a Slave.

The show provides a good portrait of Ingres’s perfec­tionism, the obsessive quality of his temperament and art. Picasso said of Cezanne, that it is his anxiety that interests us, and this is also true of Ingres. He returned again and again to certain subjects – forms, curves, triangles, and config­u­ra­tions – and worked over them cease­lessly, changing and refining, his anxious line always seeking some ideal arrangement of forms. A favorite subject was the beau­tiful, dreamy, expres­sionless women whom he painted either dressed in the marvelous clothes that seem part of their bodies, like an animal’s fur, or naked and languorous and posed in an attitude taken from clas­sical cart. Drawings of Madame d’Haussonville show that Ingres changed slightly the angle of her neck and the flounce of a skirt; hand studies show the tiny alter­ations he made to perfect every detail of the image. Certain images such as the bather wearing a turban, seen here in two small water­colors, and the odal­isque take on an extra­or­di­narily intense, iconic quality.

The drawings espe­cially are astounding. Ingres’s line has power, grace, life; it’s bril­liant, dramatic, neurotic, even perverse; every­thing is in the line. Painting was Ingres an extension of drawing. He told his students:

Drawing is every­thing; it is all of art… Drawing includes every­thing except color. It is the expression, the interior form, the plan, the modeling.”

Several studies for Virgil Reading the Aeneid, a subject that Ingres worked out in many vari­a­tions over fort years, show that the artist worked on a grid in some early drawings. In these, the volup­tuous curves hang upon the straight lines of the grid, each square providing a kind of abstract subplot to the drawing. In a water­color version, vestiges of this grid appear as parts of furniture and columns and in the powerful columnlike limbs of a statue in the wall. The grid, now partly invisible, provides a framework to hold in place the lavish linework of the curves of the bodies and folds of the cloth.

For a twentieth-century audience brought up on abstraction, Ingres’s greatness, his fasci­nation, lies in the abstract qual­ities of his line, its inde­pen­dence, and its serious, restless, obsessive movement across the page. The line has a life of its own and its own immor­tality too.

by Rebecca Nemser for rebeccanemser.com

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