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Malcolm
Miles |
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A
RESIDUAL SUNDAY
This paper is a short version of the first part of a chapter for a forthcoming
book, and paper delivered to the 7th international conference of
the Utopian Studies Society, Tarragona, July 5th-8th, 2006. The
later part of the chapter, not given here, deals with Seurat and
Anarchism.
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Introduction
This paper links Ernst Bloch's utopian idea of a residual Sunday,
from The Principle of Hope [1959] (1986), with two paintings
by George Seurat: Une Baignade (Asnières) (1883-84,
London, National Gallery) and Un dimanche à la Grande
Jatte (1885, Chicago, Art Institute), which I read as utopian
images produced in an Anarchist milieu.
The argument is necessarily interpretive and speculative. Bloch
is dismissive of Seurat but did not as far as I know see either
painting in the original. Nor could he have seen them together since
both left Europe in the early 1920s. Bloch and Seurat had different
national and class backgrounds. Bloch was from a petit-bourgeois
family in the provincial town of Ludwigshafen, Germany, and Seurat
from a bourgeois family in metropolitan Paris. Their formative years
were spent in different academic milieux, Bloch attending Georg
Simmel's private colloquium in Berlin and then becoming part of
Max Weber's circle in Heidelberg (Geoghegan, 1996: 11) while Seurat
attended the Academy des Beaux-Arts before joining an informal group
of fellow ex-students, artists and critics in Paris. Nor could Bloch
have engaged Seurat in intellectual conversation, being aged six
when Seurat died in 1891 (aged 31). If there is a commonality it
is that both went against the grain, Bloch writing sympathetically
on popular culture when it was disdained by the Frankfurt School,
and Seurat absorbing classicism and a feeling for imagined rather
than perceived realities amid Impressionism (Leighton and Thomson,
1997: 14). This is anecdotal, hardly a basis for an academic paper.
But...
My commentary hinges on remarks made by Bloch, almost in passing,
in The Principle of Hope to effect that Seurat's La Grande
Jatte is a parody of the utopian idea of a residual Sunday,
cited as only as a negative foil to Manet's Le Déjeuner
sur l'herbe (1863, Paris, Louvre). I question Bloch's reading
of the work, seeing it rather as one of a pair of related images
by Seurat (with the Baignade) depicting exactly the residual
Sunday, or the life of perpetual ease, enjoyed in these paintings
by the bourgeois and artisan classes. The case is supported, but
not conclusively, by Seurat's link to a milieu of Anarchist leanings,
including Paul Signac and Félix Fénéon. Why
did Bloch miss the point? Or, what does this story of a connection
which was not and could not have been made, this non-event, say
about Bloch's idea of a residual Sunday and Seurat's utopian imagery?
Bloch's aesthetic sympathies are generally for Expressionism and
cases of late 19th-century art, such as Cézanne, which he
sees as its precedents. Seurat's cerebral approach does not coincide
with his liking for gesture. But the situation is compounded by
Bloch's eclecticism and an idiosyncratic writing style described
by Vincent Geoghegan as constructing "a unique Blochian world
with its own topography, systems and processes" (Geoghegan,
1996: 1) but also as "intimidating" and "forbidding"
(Geoghegan, 1996: 2). Bloch includes such cases as he likes, and
writes about them as vehicles for his ideas, not as an art historian.
Volumes 2 and 3 of The Principle of Hope - he cites Seurat
in Volume 2 - are taken by Ronald Aronson as "a torture to
read" and "impossible to follow." (Aronson, 1991:
223, in Geoghegan, 1996: 2-3). It would be easy to be as dismissive
of Bloch as he is of Seurat. It is more helpful, then, to ask what
is gained from re-reading Bloch via Seurat and re-seeing Seurat
via Bloch, an effort valid in terms of an insight held by both,
if independently gained, of a world indisputably better in terms
of human happiness and ease than that offered under capitalism.
There are, obviously, some important differences between Bloch's
utopianism, elaborated over almost 1,400 pages in The Principle
of Hope, and Seurat's at best implicit utopianism given the
absence of a published programmatic description of the works. Bloch
is informed primarily by Marxism, Seurat by Anarchism, in particular
by Peter Kropotkin. Yet Bloch attaches importance to the forming
of ideas of utopia, not least in art; and the form the utopian world
is given in Seurat's two monumental paintings cited above is both
of inherent interest in context of utopian ideas in 19th-century
social thought, and as a case of the cultural agency proposed by
Bloch. Bloch argues, that is, that the arts give glimpses of utopia
to educate an otherwise latent if universal hope. I see Seurat's
paintings as doing exactly this (though most art historians refuse
Seurat's Anarchism on the grounds of his reticence to speak about
it).
I begin by setting out what Bloch says about Seurat and Manet, then
contextualise this in terms of his theory of hope and art's utopian
agency, and note his work on millenarianism. I look next at Seurat's
two paintings to argue that one shows the artisan class and the
other the middle classes at ease in what could be a residual (or
perpetual) Sunday enabled by industrial-scale production's ending
of the economic problem of scarcity. I link this, too, to the idea
of a promesse du bonheur, derived from Baudelaire, stated
by Herbert Marcuse in an essay on French literature under the German
Occupation (Marcuse, 1998: 199-214). Finally I ask what insights
are made available by comparing the approaches taken by Bloch and
Seurat.
Bloch on Seurat
Bloch writes of Seurat's painting La Grande Jatte, in Volume
2 of The Principle of Hope,
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This
picture is a single mosaic of boredom, a masterpiece of the
longingly unsuccessful and distanced element in the dolce
far niente. The picture portrays a bourgeois Sunday morning
on an island in the Seine in the vicinity of Paris, and in
fact: it now portrays this solely in a scornful way. Figures
rest in the foreground with vacant faces, the group of others
forms for the most part wooden verticals, like puppets from
the toy-box, intensively preoccupied with strolling stiffly
about. Then there is the pale river, with sailing boats, a
rowing regatta, pleasure steamers, a background which despite
its fun rather seems to belong to Hades than the sun. There
is sheer hapless idleness in the picture, in its light matt
and watery space, in the expressionless brooding. There is
the Land of Cockaigne here, too, but such that with the working
world every world, indeed every object seems to fade into
watery tepidness. The result is bottomless boredom ... (Bloch,
1986: 814). |
Later he adds, "The memory of the Sunday misery which Seurat
painted in his promenade piece ..." (Bloch, 1986: 909); and
argues that humanity can be liberated from false utopia, as in the
"Devil's blessing" of La Grande Jatte (Bloch, 1986:
920), only by the introduction of a classless society. Seurat depicts
artisans and the bourgeoisie in different drawing styles, hence
not a classless but a class-based society (in which he enjoyed a
privileged position, his studies and later independence from the
mainstream art market enabled by financial support from his father).
But Bloch's comments are based only on La Grande Jatte. He
may not have known of the Baignade, though there are figures
other than the bourgeoisie in La Grande Jatte, and ludic
elements such as children, monkeys, and musicians which Bloch ignores.
Bloch on Manet
For Bloch, Seurat's imagery is introduced as a negative foil to
Manet's, for him more direct, utopianism. Of Le déjeuner
sur l'herbe he says,
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...
a relaxing day of enjoyment, a day of aesthetic pleasure ...the
garden of Epicurus gathers and assembles. Soft light, as only
Impressionism could create it, flows through the trees, surrounds
the two couples, the naked woman and the one undressing to
bathe, the dark male figures. What is portrayed is an extraordinarily
French, extraordinarily lingering situation, full of innocence,
supreme ease, unobtrusive enjoyment of life, and carefree
seriousness. (Bloch, 1986: 813). |
This innocence has no currency after feminist reconstructions of
cultural histories (Betterton, 1987; Pollock, 1988). Janet Wolff
(1989) asks why there are no flâneuses in modern literature,
and just as the masculine flâneur gazes at poor or
lonely people as representations of himself but at women as objects
of desire, so the women in Manet's painting are there to serve the
gaze of the men. They are artists' models and not bohemians, although
Manet does in part critique the gaze in his painting Olympia
(1863, Paris, Louvre).
Bloch cites Giorgione's Fête Champêtre as precedent,
seeing the Déjeuner sur l'herbe as preserving a Renaissance
echo (without the golden light) in "an aristocratic bohemia."
(Bloch, 1986: 813). The dark, dressy clothes of Manet's male figures
indicate a bohemia independent of social norms, but also, in Bloch's
comment, a regressive aspect of bohemianism in its nostalgic glance
to an aristocratic (pre-revolutionary) past. And although the art
of the 1880s and 1890s was characterised by political disengagement
and adoption of the artist's or writer's own state of psyche as
subject matter, the seeds of disengagement are there in the 1860s
in a Baudelarian ennui in face of a remodelling of Paris
as a bourgeois city by Haussmann, before the defeat of cultural
radicalism in the crushing of the Paris Commune in 1871. Seurat
paints after that point, though in a politicised milieu and after
the coded political comment of Impressionism. But his figures evidently
represent class while Manet's presume to be déclassé.
But if that de-classification, so to speak, rests on a nostalgic
aristocraticism this is not a classless society.
Bohemianism allowed people from different class backgrounds to mix
in certain circumstances, in cafés and artists' and writers'
gatherings, for instances, but did not cancel class divisions. Neither
were bohemian artists and writers, or students, generally free from
the economic structures and exchange mechanisms of a capitalist
society. But if bohemianism offered a model of a society within
but distanced from the dominant society, this may be a model for
what became, a few decades later, the autonomy of modern art. In
critical theory, Adorno and Marcuse discuss the limits of an aesthetic
dimension in transforming social life, in their cases - unlike Bloch's
- from comfortable backgrounds. But I wonder if, for Bloch, though
he is not explicit, bohemianism as depicted by Manet in the 1860s
is a proto-representation of the state of ease which he identifies
as the end of social transformation. He calls this a residual Sunday,
a day of ease which, in freedom, is everyday. Art allows glimpses
of it.
The Residual Sunday
Bloch puts forward the idea of a residual Sunday in a section of
The Principle of Hope titled 'Wishful Landscape Portrayed
in Painting, Opera, Literature' (1986: 794-838). He cites van Eyck,
Brueghel, Giorgione, Vermeer, de Hooch, Rembrandt, Watteau, Gauguin,
and Cézanne as well as Manet and Seurat. He begins from the
idea that expression shapes an inner voice, following his argument
throughout The Principle of Hope that hope is shaped in moments
of its coming into consciousness. What begins as a latent content
of consciousness first known in daydreams becomes more consciously
directed (as daydreams are more directed than night dreams), and
is educated through the act of articulation, or of recognition in
a suitable vehicle, and hence brought closer to real-possibility.
This might be called the work of hope, to which the work of reading
art could be parallel.
Bloch begins the section, "It leads nowhere at all merely to
feel in a beautiful way." (Bloch, 1986: 794). This echoes a
passage in Volume 1 in which the real and artificial are juxtaposed:
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We
say of the beautiful that it gives pleasure ... But its reward
does not end there, art is not food. For it remains even after
it has been enjoyed, even in the sweetest cases it hangs over
into a land which is 'pictured ahead'. The wishful dream goes
out here into what is indisputably better ... Only: is there
anything more in what has been shaped in this way than a game
of appearance? (Bloch, 1986: 210). |
In 'Wishful Landscape Portrayed' Bloch adds,
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A
picture is therefore also heard ... it narrates what we see
in it. And first of all in a friendly way, what is colourful
as such has a cheerful effect. (Bloch, 1986: 795). |
The last phrase has particular relevance to Seurat's adoption of
a theory of colour in which the colours red to yellow in the colour
circle evoke a happy mood. But Bloch's first reference to art here
is to Dutch 17th-century genre painting, and to the objects depicted
rather than the mode of depiction or pictorial language of the work.
Bloch says little about how the manner of representation speaks
the content of a work as much as the subject matter, except in his
description of Cézanne (see below).
Bloch describes an interior by de Hooch, making the subject-matter
metaphorical,
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A
junk shop of happiness ... the effect here of a treasure chamber
... [where] Nothing but domestic everyday life is painted
... but for all its nearness it is also presented ... as a
sailor may see it from a distance when he thinks of home.
(Bloch, 1986: 796). |
Utopia is equated with the recovery of a potentially better world,
always extant but latent, of which, because it was there before
as well as eventually, the attainment can be likened to a home-coming
- recovery of Heimat, redemption which infuses the present
with its radical goodness from afar. Suspension of time may enable
Bloch to read art history outside its chronology - as a timeless
continuity taking forms inflected but not determined by historically
specific conditions. Again, there is a parallel with art's autonomy
as site of a timeless aesthetic in modernism. But I think there
is something particular about Bloch's idea of redemption from after
history, as it were. He ends The Principle of Hope, "there
arises in the world something which shines into the childhood of
all and in which no one has yet been: homeland." (Bloch, 1986:
1376). Peter Blickle, in a study of Heimat, gives a slightly
different translation: "... that which shines everyone into
his or her childhood ..." (Blickle, 2002: 131). Blickle continues,
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Heimat
shines into childhood. But to do so it has to exist outside
of it. Heimat is not childhood itself. It is that which is
seen to lie in childhood from an adult point of view. ...
a place and a source of gentle light, light that shines everyone
into his or her childhood ... (ibid). |
He adds from wider references that it has a "softly glowing,
intermingled aura of innocence and authenticity ..." (ibid)
- which to me brings Seurat's softly glowing paintings to mind.
Setting aside a discussion of Heimat which could constitute
a chapter itself, for Bloch, art produces glimpses of this not-yet
homeland in mediated images of a land without illness, wildness,
loudness and disruptiveness, where "nor does it seem as if
care itself could ever visit." (Bloch, 1986: 797). This is
real life not art, but not-yet real-ised. Art prefigures it or points
the way, and Bloch's next example - Watteau's Embarkation for
Cythera - indicates its existence in times of oppression. There
are three versions of the picture. Bloch states that the arrangement
of the figures in the first is "still wooden" (Bloch,
1986: 797). Citing the second - Le Pèlerinage à
Cythère (1717, Paris, Louvre - he sees a libidinal landscape,
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dream
and group formation ... the love-barque waits on the silver
water, distant mountains stand in the twilight, invisibly
but directly the night of the island influences the movement
and fore-pleasure of the picture." (Bloch, 1986: 798). |
He prefers this to the more ornate third version in Berlin though
in that the combination of "rosy-red and sky-blue around the
sail is emphatic sweetness ... a flag of the promise sent across
by the island of love." (Bloch, 1986: 798). An inference from
the comparison of these versions is that Bloch, at times, pays close
attention to artworks. But I do not know which of Watteau's paintings
he saw in the original, and if he did see them in Paris and Berlin,
which is entirely possible, whether he writes about them from memory
or with the aid of art book reproductions. Bloch cites Rubens' Garden
of Love (Madrid, Prado), for instance, as a superior precedent
for Watteau's paintings of Cythera, showing "repose, almost
habit of happiness" (Bloch, 1986: 798), but he did not go to
Madrid.
Whether Bloch wrote from primary or secondary sources may seem inconsequential.
But if his negative reading of La Grand Jatte was based on
seeing the work in reproduction - it was acquired for the Art Institute
in Chicago in 1924 (Herbert, 2004: 12) - it is appropriate to pursue
the point because, firstly, Bloch's complaint in response to Lukács'
critique of Expressionism is that Lukács relied on literary
reviews and introductions, failing to get to the core of the matter
when "His material is second-hand from the outset" (Bloch,
1980: 19); but secondly, since the two paintings were purchased
by different museums in different continents it has not been possible
to see them as the pair on which my own interpretation in depends,
this puts me in the same position as Bloch puts Lukács yet
in which Bloch, too, might be in his dismissal of Seurat.
Moving on, Bloch's idea of a residual Sunday derives from Pieter
Brueghel's Land of Cockaigne: "an eternal Sunday, which
is one because there is no sign of any treadmill", followed
via "a leap in manners, attitude and spirit" by the "epicurean
happiness" of Manet's Déjeuner sur l'herbe (Bloch,
1986: 813) with its "supreme ease, unobtrusive enjoyment of
life, and carefree seriousness." (Bloch, 1986: 813). He asserts
that depicting scenes of ease was difficult in the 19th century,
when the restrictive mentality of bourgeois life curtailed articulation
of such content, Seurat's paintings conforming to this limitation.
But it is Cézanne who above all depicts the utopian home-coming,
through the objects of the bourgeois world, or, "those in which
even in the bourgeois world a positive image of Sundayness
was still possible." (Bloch, 1986: 815). Cézanne paints
a world of simple things, in which the ease is laconic. Bloch writes,
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Cézanne
transforms even his still lifes into places in which things
are rigorous and sedentary, in which happy ripeness has settled.
What has been plucked in these pictures, the apples, lemons,
oranges, are not fruits any more, although they are painted
as such with extreme care and precision, they are witnesses
to a heavy contentment, brought from Hesperidean landscapes
on to the tablecloth of the feast day. (Bloch, 1986: 815). |
Cézanne's landscapes with bathers, too, are utopian images.
What, then, is the problem in Seurat? Is it his overtly modern,
quasi-scientific visual language, the aspect of his work most cited
by favourable critics in the late 1880s (Herbert, 2004: 125-130)?
Or his adoption of a style informed by neo-classicism, which may
have seemed to Bloch too close to the classicism which informs an
aspect of Socialist Realism? Perhaps Seurat lacks the passion Bloch
sees in Cézanne, whom he calls in Spirit of Utopia,
"the last great modern stylist", in whose work "even
more deeply than in van Gogh, the Expressionist revolution is evident."
(Bloch, 2000: 31). Bloch continues, in a passage seemingly revised
as the extract above,
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for
this is no longer fruit, nor is it fruit modeled in paint;
instead all imaginable life is in them, and if they were to
fall, a universal conflagration would ensue, to such an extent
are these still lifes already heroic landscapes, so loaded
are these paintings with mystical gravity and a yet unknown,
nameless mythology. (Bloch, 2000: 31). |
Cézanne might not have put it like that. Bloch, putting Cézanne
in the pre-history of Expressionism, reads into his still lifes
an apocalyptic aspect. But while Expressionism has a millenarian
aspect, as in Wassily Kandinsky's theory - Über das geistige
in der Kunst (published in 1911) - it is hard to find in Cézanne's
still lifes, landscapes, or timeless bathers. If is found in one
of Bloch's other abiding interests, however: millenarianism.
Seurat's Residual Sunday
Seurat's Baignade was his first large-scale composition,
or salon painting, completed in 1884 (with additions in 1887) after
many preliminary studies of figures and the work's site on an island
in the Seine. It is in a tradition of monumental paintings which
includes the academicist works familiar in the annual Salons, and
Courbet's The Studio (1855, Paris, Louvre), a statement of
revolutionary content informed by the utopian social theory of Charles
Fourier. Seurat's development in the years prior to the Baignade
was, too, influenced by his art education, in which he encountered
both images and theories. Among the former were two mural copies
of Piero della Francesca's Battle of Heraclius and Chroesus
and Discovery and Proof of the Cross (both c.1460, Arezzo,
San Francesco) installed by Charles Blanc in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts
in 1872 and 1873 (Smith, 1997: 12). John Leighton and Richard Thomson
see the Baignade as a departure from conventional idealization
in late 19th-century French art, leaving aside the forms of Greek
sculpture and the smooth brushwork of Salon artists like Bouguereau
and Merson (Leighton and Thomson, 1997: 126). Seurat was drawn towards
Piero's work (though seeing it in a secondary source), anyway: Paul
Smith remarks that the hat worn by the male youth on the river bank
in the Baignade is "borrowed from the sleeping soldier
in Piero's Resurrection", also citing Blanc on the spiritually
uplifting quality of Greek art and the "hieratic idiom"
of Puvis de Chavannes (Smith, 1997: 12). For Blanc the uplift was
moral. I argue that for Seurat it is aesthetic and political.
This suggests the making of a genealogy linking Piero, Puvis de
Chavannes and Seurat. Smith adds that Seurat not only saw Puvis'
work but depicted his Le pauvre pêcheur in Paysage
avec 'Le pauvre pêcheur' (c.1879-1880, Paris, Collection
Huguette Berès). Seurat may even have been Puvis' assistant,
squaring up his murals and working alongside the Symbolist painter
Edmond Aman-Jean. Smith argues that Puvis was an idealist exemplifying
Blanc's theoretical position, but a modern idealist outside the
academic system to be "almost regarded as an avant-garde painter."
(Smith, 1997: 14). So, another genealogy emerges linking Puvis and
Seurat to Signac and, in the early 1900s, to Matisse in depictions
of a state of ease which Matisse calls Luxe (from Baudelaire's
poem 'Invitation au voyage'). At first, this subject-matter may
seem remote from political concerns and revolution. Yet Herbert
Marcuse, in an essay on French literature under the German occupation
in the 1940s, cites this poem as "in the face of a society
based on the buying and selling of labor power, the absolute negation
and contradiction ... and, at the same time, the utopia of real
liberation." (Marcuse, 1998: 204). Marcuse elaborates, citing
Eluard and Aragon, that sensuality "expresses the individual
protest against the law and order of repression" (Marcuse,
1998: 204); and that the last of Eluard's 'Sept Poèmes d'amour
en guerre' "comprises all the terror of fascism and all the
hope of the revolution ..." (Marcuse, 1998: 206). The permeating
content of this genre of love poetry, as of Baudelaire's work and
by extension I would say images of Luxe, is the promesse
du bonheur which to me appears close to the always-present even
if latent hope which Bloch attempts to establish as equivalent to
a Freudian drive.
The promesse du bonheur is not a moral quality. For Leighton
and Thomson, Seurat both adopts and resists the idealisation taught
by Blanc, which had a moral undertone. They note the absence of
facial features in the Baignade, and that some characteristics
may, in the interpretation of physiognomy of the day, indicate alcohol
abuse and a physical vigour unmatched by intellectual ability, so
that "the features of the central youth quite contradict the
elevated serenity of his fellows' poses." (Leighton and Thomson,
1997: 126). This could be a rude, in the sense of rustic or homely,
interruption of serenity. But to me the reading of real-life dis-ease
is compatible with a reading of the painting as the artisan class
taking its ease, in terms both of the fusion of individual features
in a schematic treatment representing the reality of a social category,
and of the contrast of a physical appearance denoting the impact
of present conditions with a pictorial scheme representing liberation
from such conditions. Leighton and Thomson say that when the painting
is seen as a whole "its idealising nature becomes clearer."
(Leighton and Thomson, 1997: 126). They also note that other artists,
such as Jean-Charles Cazin, aroused controversy by depicting classical
characters to look like street prowlers (Boulanger, G. (1885) A
nos Elèves, p.7 in Leighton and Thomson, 1997: 126; fig.
152) in what seems a form of Baudelaire's characterization of the
modern artist as a painter of modern life. The difference between
Seurat and the Romantic, Realist or Naturalist artists of the mid
century is that Seurat paints modern life as it could be, or, taking
an inference from the stillness and monumentality of the work, as
it always was in potential - a latently hoped-for world indisputably
better than that of present restrictions.
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pp.141-156 |
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