Le Pont de Maincy FWN 143 1879/80 58.5 x 72.5 cm
Wow – dense and intense, strong and sturdy, deep and lush, balanced and reflective, shimmering and glimmering, up close and afar, … this is fantastic! If ever you’re in Paris, do, do go see it in the MO. I first saw it there, and then again when it was exhibited in the Tate here in London in 1996, and I scribbled some notes on the catalogue – “Trees in foreground + (connecting with them) the bridge, to the left, in high definition – gives depth. Stillness of water adds depth vertically”.
One of the most important aspects of beauty is harmony or balance; and boy does this painting ooze balance in every direction that there is. Just take a moment to notice what balances with what – horizontal, vertical, into depth, and out…The lines of the trees (two intertwined saplings really) in the left foreground are so strong and defined – in high definition, literally out-standing in layer on layer of paint – so that they can hold their own, in balance with the whole clump of trees at right background; the arches of the little bridge are displayed at middle left and middle right, linked by the sturdy wooden beam supporting the central motif bridge; the river itself runs middle right foreground to middle left, and into the distance, still and deep. The mill building on the far side of the river, with its own foliage bending over the bridge to intermingle in the middle above the bridge with the foliage coming from the other side at background right. The balance of colours distributed through-out is equally delightful.
It’s lovely; and all the more amazingly so because you don’t apprehend the deep fracture in the whole – hidden behind the sapling in the foreground! All the aspect of the painting to the right of the sapling is seen from the river bank directly opposite the vertical support of the arch on the right bank; while the aspect of the painting to the left of the sapling is from further down the viewer/painter’s left along the bank, beyond the sapling itself. The lower horizontal line of the supporting wooden beam of the bridge does not match up left and right, and this is hidden behind the sapling. Left and right aspects are fused together in the riotous intermingling of the foliage in the centre, above the bridge. This acts as a counterbalance to the stillness of the river below, but also as a distraction from the fracture of the two view-points: indeed, the riotousness of the foliage above the bridge plays a major part in realizing the harmony, balance and integration of the whole.
Theodore Reff (the distinguished American French Art Scholar, now heading for 100 years of age!) was equally taken with this painting, noting especially the hatched brushstrokes of the foliage, and the balance of the painting on the two sides of the bridge; he it was who first coined the description “Constructivist” to describe this phase of Cezanne’s work (Cezanne’s Constructive Stroke, 1962). Reff concluded that what was significant about this constructivist phase of Cezanne was that Cezanne built his painting up in an orderly fashion, he ‘constructed’ his paintings, with little concern for the scene itself. What was most important to Cezanne was to express his feelings, rather than the motif. (“It is as if he (Cezanne) strove to incorporate these hidden feelings into the domain of constructive …activity”, writes Reff; Alex Danchev interprets Reff’s meaning rather more bluntly – The constructive stroke was a means of self-control).
Fortunately, others since then have tracked the bridge itself; not as easy a task as you might think: Cezanne’s son said it was painted at “Mennacy” , not far from “Maincy” (both places, near Melun, a couple of hours cart-ride South East of Paris) – maybe it was his Provencal accent, but it got called firstly the bridge at Mennacy. But, with hindsight, not unexpectedly, nobody could find the aforementioned bridge at Mennacy. So it was renamed the bridge at Maincy! Then, 50 years later, up comes the emeritus professor of psychology and art, who wants to find the actual location of the motif, and psycho-analyse the painting in comparison with the scene itself! He it was, Pavel Machotka, who found and photographed the actual bridge (in 2011 – good holiday adventure!): not at Maincy either – actually just outside Melun, at Trois Moulins, on the river Almont (book published in 2014). He concluded using his photograph, in opposition to Reff, that Cezanne was more interested in the scene itself, and that any adjustments made to the scene itself by Cezanne were necessary simply to translate the ‘scene itself’ (three dimensional) onto the canvass (two dimensional), not because Cezanne was more interested in his own feelings. (I know, it’s a bit contrary, coming from a psychology professor!)
And so arose this rather dry, but heated debate about whether Cezanne was wanting to faithfully represent the motif or whether he was more interested in representing his own emotional response to the motif: what he saw or what he felt. I’ll be suggesting that the debate itself presupposes a picture of reality that is made up of objects and emotions, as separate ‘things’; that this picture of reality does not do justice either to ‘things’ nor to ‘emotions’; and that the genius of Cezanne is that he uncovers a new paradigm that enables him to transcend that dichotomy.
My point at this stage is that Cezanne was effectively painting two motifs on the same canvass into one painting, left and right of the sapling, and merging them into the one whole scene; or if you prefer, one motif from two completely different stand-points, fused together.
But in real life, where does one ‘motif’ begin, and another end? Cezanne’s answer, as we shall see later, lies beyond our first impression, formed as it is through our patterning mind, and somewhere in a oneness of spirit. And that’s what I think Cezanne was trying to express when he said he painted what he ‘felt’ (“I dare to paint as I feel!”): he felt, and realized, (sometimes!) a deeper, undivided oneness, beyond the first impression of object and subject, a space where the motif and the motive are one.
Sometimes when I sit under the cheese plant tree
the distant horizon draws close to me
my safe pace
one second per second
evaporates….
and spirit energy of the big bang
and the trees and rivers of heaven
are here
in the joy-filled
timefullness
of being
one
with no second.
Mike B
