“Simplon Pass: Reading, c. 1911” watercolor by John Singer Sargent (courtesy of MFA, Boston)
After visiting the massive “John Singer Sargent Watercolors” exhibit at Boston’s MFA (through 1.19.14), I was curious to re-read John Updike’s famous critique of the artist entitled “Something Missing” (in “Just Looking”, MFA Publications, reprinted 2001). In it, Updike proffers that Sargent’s work lacks “psychological depth”. Especially his portraits. And especially his portraits of rich Europeans, not so much his portraits of Americans. And his earlier watercolors, especially under the tutelage of Monet. Not so much his later watercolors or his watercolors of water, they’re rather nice. Or America; no, his American vistas were inspired. Updike’s many qualifications do little to staunch the bleeding delivered by his fundamental blow.
“Venice: Under the Rialto Bridge, 1909” watercolor by John Singer Sargent (courtesy of MFA, Boston)
Updike re-tries the tired point that Sargent grew disaffected by his European clientele when he unsuspectingly crossed a line of propriety with his scandalous portrait of Madame X, painted with one strap of her dress dropped suggestively off her shoulder. Even though he re-painted it with the strap up, the French barred him from their Salon. Sargent naturally resented the disingenuous pretense that his artistic growth and experimentation would be embraced by French sophisticated society.
“Madame X strapless, c.1883-4” study for oil painting by John Singer Sargent (courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY)
Chastened by the betrayal, Sargent arrested whatever artistic trajectory he was attempting in his European oil portraits, took his toys and left, literally, for greener pastures. In the decades that followed, he followed his own muses. The “Watercolors” show at the MFA highlights his late-career experimentation with Impressionism and watercolors, applied to a multitude of subjects: from Venetian waterways to nomadic Bedouin tribes, from garden statuary and informal portraits to mountainous landscapes and urban architecture. He was prolific, to put it mildly.
“Bedouins, 1905-6” watercolor by John Singer Sargent (courtesy of MFA, Boston)
Is every piece brilliant? Of course not, but Sargent’s batting average is far superior to most artists before him or since (and, in case anyone is unconvinced about his stature at the time, the exhibit includes comparison works from his contemporaries). His ability to invoke structure, gesture, mood and expression in a loose Impressionistic style demonstrates remarkably deft brushwork and sophisticated judgment. His techniques were innovative, with his use of “wax resist” and opaque tints; his compositions were dynamic and angular, with daringly unconventional vantage points. The curators at the MFA seemed most impressed with the myriad nuances of white on white that Sargent revealed in his watercolors, incorporating shadows and reflections with consummate skill.
“Corfu: Lights and Shadows, 1909” watercolor by John Singer Sargent (courtesy of MFA, Boston)
I think Sargent’s inherent talent and worth are abundantly apparent, in this show and elsewhere. I frankly don’t think Updike was revelatory in recognizing that Sargent would be most passionate about subjects of his own choosing. Or that his later watercolors would be more skillfully rendered than his earlier ones. To me, these seem petty criticisms. Perhaps Sargent was a giant in the art world, but he was still a human being, with all the attendant frailties, and it seems unjust to hold him to a separate standard. “Watercolors” at the MFA features Sargent’s late artistic efforts, representing some of his most passionate, experimental and dazzling work.
“Genoa: The University, c. 1911” watercolor by John Singer Sargent (courtesy of MFA, Boston)
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