“MIMI PINSON, TU IRAS EN PARADIS!”
V
FRÉDÉRIC VALLOTTON
Vallotton’s work has probably appeared less frequently in the French press than that of many of his confrères to whom we are directing our attention.
His drawings are marked by a singular boldness of execution; and his skilful manipulation of masses of pure black gives his work distinction, and makes them attractive on any page.
Good draughtsmanship, and this clever use of unbroken black masses—wherewith to indicate and model both his shadows and his half-tones—is wherein Vallotton struck out a new line for himself, and established his individuality. This he did, too, at a time when there was a lamentable aberration evident among the ranks of the French illustrators. It became the fashion for the comic draughtsmen to draw as though they could not draw—a proceeding which provided a grand opportunity for those who could not draw if they would to join their ranks on even terms, and to pass as geniuses of a very spirituel order.
The irritating group to whom I refer, in its frantic efforts to be original, hit on the idea of drawing with the naïveté of the untutored child; and this rôle was for several years acted so thoroughly that some of the papers looked as if their illustrations had been copied from a collection of babies’ slates. Terrible examples of this evident incapability passing muster as genius may be seen in the ludicrous discords by “Bob,” and, in a less degree, in the many works by Dépaquit, Delaw, Rabier and others.
Midway between this group of soi-disant or actual incompetents, and the valiant band of thorough unflinching draughtsmen of realism—in whose ranks we find Renouard, Steinlen, Léandre, Huard, Malteste, Wély, and others—came an intervening group. Their work was, and is, extremely interesting. They adopted much of the naïveté of the enfantillistes, but wedded to it much knowledge and artistic feeling. In this class one may mention Lautrec, who wavered between one group and the other, Ibels, who did much the same, Jossot, who, amongst a large number of weird drawings, has produced some really fine, strong work in black and white and in colour, Metivet, who has similarly produced both classes of work, Hermann Paul, an undeniably great draughtsman, and the subject of this chapter, Frédéric Vallotton.
The curious thing about Vallotton’s drawings is that we do not miss the half-tones; the unbroken blacks are so skilfully managed that we do not feel the want of Nature’s intervening tones between pure black and pure white. His convention in no wise shocks one, but gives keen artistic pleasure.
This question of the accepting of conventions must strike one as a very remarkable matter. The human face, in reality covered with a smooth, soft skin, delicately gradated in tone and colour, is quite completely and satisfactorily conveyed to us by Vallotton, in a cunning arrangement of black splotches; while Huard will model the delicate roundness of a cheek with two or three bold black lines in curves. In both cases we at once realise the truth to Nature, and can even from such suggestions conjure up the particular colouring and flesh texture of the person represented.