Dawn Of Impressionism: Paris 1874

Bluesky

There are moments in history when culture begins to stagnate, when nobody can see a clear way forwards. They’re often accompanied by geopolitical strife which may have a similar point of origin, and it usually takes a calamity to bring about change. After that, however, fresh perspectives emerge, and ideas are generated in a great tumult, carrying us to new places, birthing new ways of being. One such moment came in 1874.

Ali Ray’s documentary begins with footage from a 2024 exhibition jointly held by Paris’ the Musée d’Orsay and the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC. As we observe people wandering round it and admiring the gilt-framed works crowded together onto red walls in imitation of the Salon de Paris (a remarkably restrained imitation – the Salon sometimes went so far as to exhibit works on the ceiling), we hear audio from auctions where paintings where works by those now accorded ‘the great Impressionists’ sell for tens of millions of pounds; and then the words of the painters themselves, recorded in their many letters and journals, reflecting on the critical hostility they faced, on how they could barely afford enough to eat.

1874 was the year when it changed, when the Société Anonyme emerged from the shadows and, under a much more sober name, put on its own exhibition to rival the Salon which routinely rejected innovative work. It was not an immediate triumph, but it got the ball rolling, kicked off something that rapidly gained momentum, and art historians have often reflected on it as the moment when things changed. What’s interesting is that until now we have actually known very little about it. Nobody had really put the pieces together, exploring its catalogue along with associated correspondence, and worked out how it would have come across in its time. Much of this film represents an effort to achieve that, whilst it also spends time establishing the personalities of key players in the movement.

With so much history to dig into, the film spend less time poring over the craftsmanship of individual works than most previous entries in the Exhibition on Screen series, but in telling its story it goes beyond the well known masterpieces and shows us a lot of early, experimental works, as well as contextualising less successful but significant paintings like Monet’s Impression Sunrise. We also go beyond the paintings. There is an emphasis on early Impressionism – not then known by that name, of course, though critic Émile Cardon seems to have got the message – having been a multimedia project, and we see something of the sculptures and other works that were displayed on that momentous occasion. Though none of them really stand out, they contribute to a deeper understanding of the better known art.

The use of artists and critics’ own words persists throughout and forms the bulk of the film’s narration, sometimes accompanied by visual reconstructions of suitably clad hands putting pen to paper. These images merge together well, creating a visual experience that flows evenly despite the eclectic nature of the works displayed. We also see images depicting pertinent scenes from the time, from the horrors of the siege of Paris to the efforts of struggling artists to place their works at the Salon, whose interior is depicted both in formal fashion and satirically, with unflattering depictions of the crowds it drew.

The difference here from more familiar selections allows us to appreciate different qualities in the art. Particularly striking are the vivid colours of many of the early works. There’s an interesting snippet of commentary on Renoir’s The Dancer, criticising her crimson lips and red hair, which reminds us that red pigments fade fastest – she doesn’t look particularly salacious today. It’s striking to see the delicate, precisely crafted works of Berthe Morisot beside the fierce whorls of Cézanne, and we hear how Manet warned her not to share an exhibition with him; how Manet himself, in fact, chose to forgo the opportunity in order to keep on exhibiting at the Salon and confronting its patrons with challenging work. It’s a reminder that revolutions generally only happen when those inside and outside the establishment coordinate their actions.

There is, of course, some musing on that establishment itself, again with illustrations captured at the time, and this helps to make clear just how revolutionary the Impressionists were, to counter own own experience of them, in the context of our time, as old fashioned. Seen through their developing work and through one another’s eyes, they spring to life, and the film becomes a celebration not just of their paintings but of the vital force within art itself, the need for continuing change and the embracing of the new.