Modigliani
Who can resist these women? They confront us with a look that is both self-confident and introspective. Amedeo Modigliani allows them to define their own space; at times they appear charming, at times curious and impertinent — and often pensive as well. The nudes seem casual and relaxed, as if posing naked were the most ordinary thing in the world. The women Modigliani portrays on the canvas seem astonishingly modern: even today, most of them would hardly be out of place at either the supermarket or the gym — and not because they are unremarkable. On the contrary: their short hair and androgynous appearance fit perfectly into our era.
What I look for is neither reality nor unreality but the subconscious, the instinctive mystery of the human race.
The exhibition Modigliani: Modern Gazes also corrects the image of Modigliani as a perpetually intoxicated artist attracted only to mute stereotypes, as well as the myth of the egomaniacal womanizer who drove his pregnant mistress to suicide with his early death from tuberculosis. In reality, Amedeo Modigliani treated women with considerable respect and could even be described as an early feminist. The exhibition project, conceived in cooperation with the Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, looks beyond the milieu of Paris and Montmartre to show Modigliani in a European context alongside artists like Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele, Paula Modersohn-Becker, and Wilhelm Lehmbruck.
Modigliani loved poetry and judged ... with spirit and a mysterious sensitivity to the subtle and the adventurous.
The environment in which Amedeo Modigliani grows up is a cosmopolitan one: born July 12, 1884, he is the youngest of four children in a liberal Jewish family in the port city of Livorno in Tuscany. His family places a high value on education, and “Dedo,” as everyone calls him, attracts notice early on for his “precocious intelligence and thoughtfulness.”
He devours stacks of books and is intimately acquainted with Dante and Petrarch. Since the family business had gone bankrupt shortly before Amedeo’s birth, his French mother supports them by teaching languages and translating literature, including works by Gabriele D’Annunzio.
Dedo, a sickly child, is educated at home. The pen scarcely leaves his hand: he makes little drawings on every sheet of paper, a habit his friends in Montmartre will later observe as well. His philosophically-minded grandfather imparts a humanistic worldview to the boy and frequents the museums with him; Dedo knows the Uffizi in nearby Florence like the back of his hand. And so it comes as no surprise that already as a youth, he firmly resolves to become a painter—especially since his cousins Olga and Corinna Modigliani work as artists in Rome with some success, even showing at the Venice Biennale.
For a time, Amedeo lives in their studio house after a stay in the south of Italy due to a recurring respiratory ailment. The young man’s fragile health, however, does not deter him from studying art in Florence and Venice.
Amedeo Modigliani’s death of tubercular meningitis at the age of thirty-five is only partly the result of his “irregular” lifestyle. Already as a small child, he suffers from pleurisy and contracts typhus at the age of fourteen, followed by serious respiratory illness. For weeks, Amedeo hovers between life and death.
The need to break off his schooling is not unwelcome to the boy, since he is much more interested in drawing and is able to receive well-grounded instruction from Guglielmo Micheli at the age of fourteen. However, in the painter’s studio he contracts tuberculosis, a disease that around 1900 is still incurable and will regularly afflict him for the rest of his life. The fact that Modigliani later abandons sculpture after a promising start in Paris is due not least of all to his weakened physical condition.
Through the constant ups and downs, art becomes Modigliani’s driving force and an elixir of life. Even amid the chaos of World War I and in the French Riviera, where he seeks refuge from German troops, he never ceases to paint — until his early death in January 1920. Thereafter, the myth of the ailing artistic genius is not long in coming.
In 1906, the twenty-two-year-old Modigliani feels drawn to Paris. An artistic revolution is underway in Montmartre, and Modigliani lives quite close to the legendary Bateau-Lavoir, the dilapidated studio building where Picasso is wrestling with his Demoiselles d’Avignon and the avant-garde is giving birth to Cubism and other visions.
Unlike the Spaniard Picasso, who is teased for his accent, the suave Modigliani speaks fluent French and is fond of quoting Baudelaire — and especially Dante. Women flock to this refined, bright-eyed charmer, and his fellow artists are taken by his friendly, open demeanor and witty conversation. Although he strikes an unusual figure with his large felt hat, velvet suit, and red scarf, his skillful hands and confident line bear witness to his professional skill.
Modigliani makes the rounds, drawing his patron, the physician Paul Alexandre, and of course the companions he flirts with in the cafés and dance theaters. Night soon turns to day, and the bohemian life works its magic on the young man from sheltered circumstances — along with the extraordinary, self-confident women.
Among them is his friend Maud Abrantès, who like Modigliani is drawn to literature and art. Clearly addicted to morphine, she is featured in an impressive portrait by Modigliani.
As sabers rattle throughout Europe, the atmosphere in Montmartre in the summer of 1914 is still pervaded by a fascinating openness. Even after the outbreak of World War I, artists are interested less in national loyalties than in the thrill of experimentation. The revolution in modern art is propelled not least of all by immigrants who have arrived in Paris seeking the free exchange of ideas and who nonchalantly introduce their traditions into the avant-garde. Modigliani observes his environment carefully and paints his milieu, including new colleagues like the Mexican artist Diego Rivera who have come to the city on the Seine for inspiration.
Modigliani’s style is now distinct and unmistakable, especially in its reduction to essences. The portraits of his friends now confront the viewer directly, as if using their own countenances to underscore their artistic convictions. This holds true for Juan Gris and Moïse Kisling as well as Chaïm Soutine, with whom Modigliani has a special connection. Around 1915, the faces become even flatter, almost like disks. Eyes and nose are indicated by simple contours, and the viewer is involuntarily reminded of the almost 5,000-year-old Cycladic idols that also made an impression on Brâncuşi and Picasso.
The intellectual women who surrounded Amedeo Modigliani in his childhood not only shape his sensibilities, but also influence his interaction with female friends and lovers. Musical, literary women are especially attractive to him — like the urbane, drug-addicted Maud Abrantès (morphine was downright fashionable among the affluent bourgeoisie) or the Russian poetess Anna Akhmatova. For Modigliani, Akhmatova is a kindred spirit: in the summer of 1910, they visit museums in Paris, and he creates drawings of his brilliant, beautiful acquaintance.
The painter’s two-year affair with the highly emancipated writer and journalist Beatrice Hastings is turbulent and exhausting. Modigliani makes multiple portraits of his British companion; a painting from 1915 bears the telling title “Madam Pompadour” — with the English spelling “Madam” — in allusion to the mistress of Louis XV. The couple have no loyalties to each other, and infidelity is the order of the day. In 1916, the liaison ends when Modigliani decides to move in with Jeanne Hébuterne, an art student almost fourteen years his junior.
The relationship with Hébuterne is much more harmonious: Modigliani produces over twenty portraits of his final companion, images that tell of an affectionate gaze. His distinctive style, however, with its elongated necks, tilted heads, and almond-shaped eyes, emerges during the stormy liaison with Hastings.
Trousers, neckties, and short hair: around the turn of the century, masculine dress for women is considered shocking and scandalous — no one cares that it might also be practical. Thus it is all the more remarkable that as early as World War I, Amedeo Modigliani paints a whole series of femmes modernes with pageboy hairstyles, bobs, and even the ultrashort boy cut worn by the bookseller Elena Povolozky. Modigliani anticipates what will become chic only in the late 1920s, but also has connections to queer circles and the fashion scene.
Androgynous clothing is popular among progressive artist couples. With their plain suits and bobbed hair or coupe garçonne, Moïse and Renée Kisling look like twins. Modigliani is good friends with both of them.
He also associates with Ossip Zadkine and the latter’s partner Nina Hamnett, who makes no secret of her bisexual affairs. The scintillating “Queen of Bohemia,” as Picasso calls her, even borrows a pair of trousers from Modigliani and takes the Paris nightclub scene by storm, costumed as an “Apache” — with a female dance partner. In Paris, costume balls and studio parties also offer welcome opportunities to exchange roles.
Along with portraits, Modigliani once again focuses intensively on nudes. Picasso’s Demoiselles d'Avignon, painted in 1907, is shown in public for the first time in 1916 and demands a response from the Italian artist. While Modigliani has no interest in deconstructing the figure, his nudes — who loll about casually, echoing traditional imagery — still manage to burst the bounds of the frame.
Modigliani prefers tightly cropped compositions, intensifying the flesh tones to an almost Pompeiian red and taking liberties with the proportions. He may be the only modern artist to invoke Renaissance painting without overstatement, imbuing his nudes with a timeless, classical quality.
These are not destitute, addicted prostitutes, as some have insisted. And the scandal provoked by the artist’s only solo exhibition in 1917 is in fact no scandal at all. A nude by Modigliani displayed in the window of Berthe Weill’s gallery on the Rue Taitbout in Paris causes consternation among policemen at the nearby station; only by removing the “offensive nude” from her window can Weill keep the exhibition from being shut down. It is the pubic hair that the police chief finds objectionable — or is it perhaps also the model’s direct gaze, with the self-confidence that it expresses?
Modigliani’s art finds its counterparts less in Paris than among his fellow artists in German-speaking countries. Both August Macke and Ernst Ludwig Kirchner prized directness and naturalness, and, like Modigliani, also distanced themselves from the image of woman as femme fatale.
His pictures have endless dignity and elegance. You will find nothing common, coarse, or banal in them.
War looms: in March 1918, Modigliani and Jeanne Hébuterne retreat to Cagnes-sur-Mer and Nice in the South of France, seeking refuge from the bombs. The artist’s respiratory condition has been deteriorating for months, and the mild Mediterranean climate promises relief. The couple will remain in the French Riviera for over a year. Their daughter Jeanne is born shortly after the armistice in November 1918, but Modigliani lacks the necessary documents for a proper wedding.
During this phase he even begins painting landscapes reminiscent of the work of Paul Cézanne — and not solely due to the delicate colors. Above all, however, this period is marked by the emergence of the artist’s late, “classicistic” style. His contours become even more elongated and softer, the loosely applied pastel tones more cheerful. Harmony and beauty play an ever-greater role, and the faces of his subjects, with their often pupilless eyes, seem enraptured.
In the French Riviera, Modigliani paints portraits of serving maids, shop girls, and, for the first time, children. His favorite model is Jeanne, the love of his life, but their time together is quickly running out.
Modigliani once again falls ill to tuberculosis, more seriously than ever. Back in Paris, he dies on January 24, 1920, at the age of only thirty-five. The next day Jeanne, seeing no hope for the future, takes her own life.
Struck down by death at the moment of glory
This horrific end casts a long shadow across Modigliani’s oeuvre — even as his works are finally beginning to gain notoriety in Paris and even London and the artist is beginning to enjoy success. Be that as it may, the unconventional women Modigliani portrayed so sensually and seriously reveal just how far ahead of his time he really was.