Monet exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris

[tchaika]

This work is Monet's "Sunset in Etretat" (60 x 73 cm), painted by the artist in 1883, kept in the Museum of Arts Nancy (Nancy), France.
She exhibited at the Museum Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum (Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza) in Madrid, which took place from February to May of this (2010) year.

[tchaika]

"I intend to write a big rock Etretat - wrote to Monet in 1883 - although it's awfully brave to do this after Courbet, who did it admirably, but I'll try to do it differently.» ("Je compte faire une grande falaise d'Etretat, écrit Monet en 1883, bien que ce soit terriblement audacieux de faire cela après Courbet qui l'a faite admirablement, mais je tacherai de la faire autrement. ")

It is located in Etretat, to prepare for his big picture of a few preliminary tests. Among them and this work (shown in a previous post), in which the artist tried to capture the fleeting effects of light and variable. Claude Monet, indeed, knew Normandy - his childhood and youth in Le Havre - this is where Eugene Boudin spent it in landscape painting. Monet in Normandy, then visited regularly.

Paintings by Gustave Courbet, created in Etretat in the years 1869-1870:

[tchaika]

Eugene Boudin landscapes, painted in Etretat:

[tchaika]

More scenery by Eugene Boudin:

[fabosch]

Landscapes Boudin good.
Particularly liked number number 2 and 4 of the first portion.
I suspect that number 3 is also good, but just a poor quality image.
It seems that the number number 2 and 3 were written in one day.

[tchaika]

More scenery by Eugene Boudin:

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And yet the work Boudin:

[tchaika]

"I love this place, I love living here because my roots here, the deep, sensitive roots that bind man to the ground, where they were born and died of his ancestors, tied him to a certain mindset, a certain food, the customs, to local exchange speech to speaking peasants, the smell of the soil, villages, even to the very air. I love the house where I grew up ... "- Guy de Maupassant.

("J'aime ce pays, et j'aime y vivre parce que j'y ai mes racines, ces profondes et délicates racines, qui attachent un homme à la terre où sont nés et morts ses aïeux, qui l'attachent à ce qu'on pense et à ce qu'on mange, aux usages comme aux nourritures, aux locutions locales, aux intonations des paysans, aux odeurs du sol, des villages et de l'air lui-même "- Guy de Maupassant," Le Horla ".)

Guy de Maupassant was born in 1850 in Normandy in a castle near the town of Dieppe Miromenil. In the eleven years he lived in Etretat.
Ki-boy there learned all the neighborhood and clambered all rock. He has led, according to the expression of his mother, "the life escaped the foal." There awakened sensitivity of the future writer. He saw Corot, writing, rural landscapes, watched as Courbet tried to catch the movement of his famous "wave". He was followed by Claude Monet in his quest for experience.

- The house of the writer Maupassant in Etretat.

[tchaika]

"I love this place, I love living here because my roots here ..." How much is expressed in these lines!
Remembered involuntarily from Esenina:

"I would like again to an area
To the sound of young swan ... "

"On the edge of the spill threatening
And quiet veshnih forces
Here at the dawn and the stars
I passed a school ... "

"The Edge's favorite heart is dreaming
Mow the sun in the waters of the pubic.
I would like to get lost
In green your stozvonnyh ... "

[tchaika]

Guy de Maupassant
Natural landscape

"My dear friend, thank you for your letter which gave me the news of Paris. It gave me great pleasure and struck me as having appeared from the other, I long ago abandoned the world. Like, people about whom you talk to me, did not die and continue to do the same nonsense? Boulevard worried about all those ridiculous? Salons embarrassed at the thought that Mrs. X., apparently flirted with Mr. Z.; stupid policy jumps out of a rut in a rut, the important gentlemen daily write endless columns are all on the same subjects, and naive people talk about long time friends of newspaper articles, not noticing that they have read ten thousand times the same thing.

At this moment I live in the middle of painting as a fish lives in water. Until then, many would be surprised if they knew what the color for us, if they could comprehend what great joy it gives people who have eyes to see.

I assure you, I live vision, and I from morning to night I wander through the valleys and forests, on rocks and bushes, searching for true colors, not noted by colors, in short, that the school, teaching blind and a classical education hinder know and understand .
My eyes open, just thirsty mouth and devour the earth and sky. Yes, I feel a definite and profound temptation to swallow the whole world my eyes and stomach tone as digest meat and fruit.

And it is so new to me! So far I have worked quietly and confidently. Now I'm looking for. Ah, the old man, you do not know, you never know what a clod of earth and how important is the shadow that he casts. I have an infinite time to stop leaf, before a small pebble in front of a beam or a bush grass, and I eagerly look at them, worried more prospector who found a nugget, I enjoy the mysterious and exquisite happiness, expanding their inconspicuous hues and subtle glow.

I notice that I still am no matter what never watched. Believe me, it's all better and more useful aesthetic chatter before a pile of saucers, denoting the number of drunk beer steins.

Sometimes I stop, struck by the fact that I see bright colors, which had never before suspected. Look at the trees and the grass in the bright sunlight, and try to write them. You try. All written sunny landscapes, because all are blind. My dear, leaves, grass, anything that falls full sunlight, not colored, and light, and light so that this light does not pass. You can not write a glow, you can not even give him the illusion. "