A quote from artist Suzanne Valadon rings so true: “Mastering a line (in a drawing) was like riding on a wave; either you caught it and the drawing came to life, or you had failed and must start again.”
Young Girl resting on her arm, Suzanne Valadon, black chalk, 1894 (Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Canada)
Indeed such an accurate statement, one that I can relate to, especially when drawing in metalpoint, a medium that does not forgive erasures and alterations.
Valadon’s observation was cited in a fascinating book I had bought some while ago but have only just read - Renoir's Dancer: The Secret Life of Suzanne Valadon by Catherine Hewitt. Valadon, respected as a consummate artist, made her way against almost overwhelming odds of station in life, gender, early injury, transitioning from artist’s model to artist, coping with her talented but alcoholic painter son, Maurice Utrillo, and, in general, her epoch’s ethos. Born in 1865, she lived until 1938, and spent much of her life in Montmartre, where she shared the febrile creativity of the late 19th and early 20th century art world. Her world wove around Renoir, her mentor Degas, Puvis de Chavannes, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, Modigliani, Erik Satie, and countless others from artists to gallery owners and famed collectors.
Drawing was her sustaining passion from the age of nine, and only later did she transition to painting, to considerable success. Her eye was highly original, direct and honest and she broke many boundaries in terms of what a woman could produce by way of drawings, prints and paintings.
Catherine drying herself, Suzanne Valadon, 1895, graphite and gouache on yellow waxed transparent paper (Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Canada)
Women, chalk, Suzanne Valadon, 1895, dedicated to Berthe Weill, the French gallery owner who was such a friend and champion of Valadon and many other early 20th century artists
Degas was her mentor and friend; she must have learned a great deal from his way of observing and rigorous drawing.
Edmond Duranty, 1879, Conte crayon, heightened with white chalk, on blue laid paper, Edgar .Degas, (Image courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum, New York)
The Violinist, Study for the Rehearsal, c. 1879, charcoal with white chalk on blue-grey laid paper, Edgar Degas, (Image courtesy of the Frick, New York)
Carnet 8 de dessins, Edgar Degas, (Image courtesy of Biibliotheque Nationale de France)
Later, she knew of Picasso’s astonishing facility with drawing, and would have felt, I suspect, that he indeed mastered lines like riding a wave.
Marie-Thérèse Coiffee d'un Beret (1927), charcoal on paper, Pablo Picasso (Image courtesy of pablopicasso.org)
Portrait d'Olga, 1920.Pablo Picasso, pencil on paper, Private collection (Image courtesy of Pinterest)
Something I was left wondering about after reading Catherine Hewitt’s biography of Suzanne Valadon – another woman artist, living almost during the same period (1867-1945), in Germany, also breaking art boundaries and a master draughtswoman, was Käthe Kollwitz. Did Valadon and Kollwitz know of each other and know of the other’s masterful drawings? I am certain Kollwitz’s drawings would have qualified for Valadon’s definition of total mastery of line.
Self portrait turned half right (c. 1890), Käthe Koolwitz, (Courtesy of the Kupferstich-Kabinett, Staatliche Kunstsammlung Dresden)
Self-portrait, 1933, charcoal on brown laid Ingres paper, Käthe Kathe Kollwitz (Image courtesy of National Gallery of Art)