Cézanne & Braque and landscape

I had intended to write about Cézanne’s influence on Braque — specifically with reference to the still lifes of these two painters. However, in looking through some books on Cézanne and on Cubism, it seems to me that the landscapes of Cézanne made a more significant impact on Braque than did his still lifes.

I've decided to take a look at only one landscape by each painter. In doing this I realise that I am effectively leaving out — if not almost wholly ignoring — a vast literature on Cubism. This movement — created by Picasso and Braque, often in tandem in the same studio before the same motif — ramified in so many directions, and threw up so much theoretical discussion, that it would be impossible to do justice to the subject within the limited aims and space of this essay. However, none of this precludes a close look at two paintings. And if anything can be said with certainty it is that, if Cézanne’s work had not developed as it did, then the painting by Braque  here reproduced would never have been made.

Cézanne. Mont Sainte–Victoire Seen from Les Lauves. Pencil and watercolour. c. 1904.

To look first at Cézanne’s Mont Sainte–Victoire Seen from Les Lauves. There are three aspects to this painting which are of particular note: 1) As with all      of Cézanne’s work it is both an exploration  and a study — not simply ‘a watercolour’; 2) Cézanne  employs a great economy of means: accentuating only such aspects of the landscape as he feels necessary to achieve his result; 3) Cézanne has achieved a remarkable degree of flatness across  the picture plane.   Scarcely is there any indication   of perspective: except that of the bevelled dip slope of Mont Sainte–Victoire. And it would seem that we only see this latter because, in some sense, we expect or know it to be so. Turn the picture upside–down, and the mountain becomes as flat as any other feature in the landscape. In fact, the ‘nominally’ foreground ‘block’ of trees then takes on a cliff–like echo of the unique shape of Mont Sainte–Victoire. Looking at the painting ‘right way up’, it can be seen that the two rounded, and cloud–like trees (on the left), connect the ‘nominal’ foreground to the ‘nominal’ background. And then — crucially — the patches of green and blue in the sky (top left) establish the equality of tonality, and complete the picture (in that their colour strength   is too great to relegate them ‘backwards’ in space. Put your fingers over them, and you will see what I mean. This painting is, I think, nothing short of a small masterpiece (though in the scanned reproduction almost all of its subtlety is lost).

Braque. Castle at La Roche–Guyone (1909). Oil on canvas

In comparing Braque’s Castle at  La Roche–Guyone (1909) to Cézanne’s Mont Sainte–Victoire  Seen from Les Lauves, perhaps the two most obvious similarities are: 1) the overall flatness, and 2) the deliberately limited colour range — particularly Braque’s, which is Camaïeu, (‘a technique that employs two or three tints of a single colour, other than gray, to create a monochromatic’ effect). However, it is perhaps more interesting to look at the marked differences between the paintings, which I think are more significant than is immediately apparent. Perhaps the most obvious difference is that between the contrasting media:  Cézanne’s 
watercolour, where the whiteness of the paper effectively binds the composition; and Braque’s oil paint, where compositional ‘binding’ must be achieved by means of an opaque material. A second difference is between Braque’s depictions of form — albeit expressed by an irregular perspective — and Cézanne’s flat washes. However, the most striking difference is the contrast between Cézanne’s intense and patient concentration, and the altogether more urgent experimentation of Braque. Both painters used passage (‘the blending of overlapping planes into one another’) in their work, but Cézanne would never have allowed himself such near–impatient freedom as Braque. For Cézanne, the motif was all; for Braque the motif was a means to an end, a starting point. It is true that some painters — including Picasso — regarded Cubism as a means   to a truer representation of our inevitably fragmented and multi–faceted view of things. But I doubt that this ever was or could be the case. Most importantly, I think that Cubism — at its most inventive — produced a more vibrant form of art than had ever been possible while the primary concern of the artist was to be faithful to the appearance of things.      

I am aware that my analysis of Cézanne’s landscape is more comprehensive than that of Braque’s. This reflects the fact that, while I have read several books about Cézanne, I have not read a single study devoted exclusively to Braque. However, I think that one of the primary things to notice about Castle at La Roche–Guyone is the way in which Braque blends or merges the buildings with the hillside and the trees. This creates ambiguity — particularly at centre top — and achieves a rich patterning. And these ‘irreverent dislocations’ are, in a certain sense, what Cubism was primarily about. Some might argue that that is an over–simplification, but as a working definition, I think it holds up well enough. My next posting will be about a still life by Juan Gris. Gris was one of the most inventive practitioners of what came to be called Synthetic Cubism. That label need not trouble us, and I hope that my analysis of one of Gris’ works will elucidate just such factors as can give aesthetic pleasure and delight from many of the best works of Cubism.