Eugene Delacroix (1798-1863) was one of the greatest French painters of the Romantic period. Passionately opposed to the sterile conventions of David and the other academic artists, he took up again the broken threads of the great Baroque style and created a long run of masterpieces. But even if he had never put brush to canvas, he would still live as a famous diarist. "Delacroix's Journal" is one of the great documents in art history, a work of literature as well as a vital documentary source for scholars and students. In it the artist discusses his own paintings, his life, his sorrows and hopes; the paintings and sculptures of Rubens, Michelangelo, Constable, Bonington and others; old and new literature and the music of Mozart, Beethoven, Rossini and his close friend Chopin; the events of his tune; the beauties of nature; life in foreign countries. Throughout he never loses his grip on the reader, though it seems that he wrote for himself only and never thought of being read. The resulting unselfconscious spontaneity and freshness give the work its unique quality, both as literature and as a source of insight into the mind of a great artist. The complete text of the journal is immensely long, and the selection of this volume, edited by Hubert Wellington and translated by Lucy Norton, comprises about half of the original. The 80 illustrations complement the text by reproducing relevant portraits, works in progress at certain dates, and pictures by Rubens and others which are commented on in the journal or form important sources of influence.
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Text: English, French (translation)
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18 of 18 people found the following review helpful
By Anne
Format:Paperback
This journal is a surprisingly accessible account of Delacroix's life. It has been well edited and covers a time frame spanning his early years, then his later life. Within these pages he includes his observations of Paris and the French countryside in the mid-nineteenth century, the people he knew like Chopin and Georges Sand, as well as his passionate reviews of works of art that influenced him. He offers sublime meditations on the nature of creativity and ruminates over ideas he has for new works. His outpourings capture the essence of the romantic movement. As an artist, even though separated from him by over a century, I found him to be a kindred spririt.
20 of 27 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
In order to get something worthwhile out of reading Delacroix's Journals, the reader should know something about Delacroix other than that he was a 19th century painter of the first rank. Ingres found Delacroix's work execrable and cast aspersion upon him by saying that: Delacroix was an apostle of ugliness who had come to 'end' painting as the French and the Europeans in general knew it. Today, Delacroix's work occupies a huge chunk of the Louvre's halls -- outstripping Ingre's portion. The fact that Delacroix in fact did fulfill Ingres' curse/prophecy may say something about the nature of death/life and rebirth/resurrection in art.
I read this wonderful book over ten years ago and so powerful was the impact of Delacroix's insights into the nature, perception, creational origin, and fate of art that much of it still remain with me. Delacroix in his day was not revered as he is today. He did not have people knocking down his doors to see his work, nor did he always have it easy trying to show it publicly. One day, after a bad review, to console himself, he wrote that (I paraphase) a great work of art in history is like a plank of wood held under water -- it is kept down when the powers-that-be hold it down. But that power ('political agenda' in contempo art-babble) does not last forever and must sooner or later let go of the plank whose nature is to float to the surface for all the world to see. He seem to have had the same intuition about the nature and fuction of art as the Greeks did: that art is light, that which shines of its own, and by which power that which 'sheds lights' and 'explains' what is around it rather than something that needs to be explained.
He never married but was looked after by a doting housekeeper. Not exactly a recluse, but most certainly a man of breeding descended of a noble stock who was careful about the company he kept, Delacroix spent much time, as artists and thinkers do, with his own thoughts and feelings, and expressing them. He was famous for his cordiality and urbanity, and among his friends in town (Paris) were Chopin, Georges Sand, and other individuals who would leave a mark (or in some cases, a mountain) in the arts one way or another. In other words, Delacroix was an agreeable man and as sociable as any thoughtful man would be but no more. Delacroix's social life is visible in these pages as is the Parisian milieu in which he lived and worked.
But the really great thing about Delacroix's Journals is that one gets to see something about how a great artist sees and feels things. Although he is over a century removed from us, his work and thoughts serve as a reminder that art is not always about anything socially or politically itchy; that art is just art; and that art is not something one needs to get hysterical about or merely a medium to carry an agenda. The fact that, historically, art was always commissioned by the aristocracy, and executed by those who were aristocratic in feeling and sensibility is one that is largely ignored today. Read this and see the significance of this fact, and why the term democratic art is ultimately an ugly oxymoron. Those who would champion the 'demos' sometimes think too highly of art and the need for "the people"'s participation in it.
In my humble opinion, if Delacroix were alive today, I think he would have loved Rauschenberg's and Jean-Michel Basquiat's work and their strong democratic origins but he would detest the democratization of art as such as found in Van Gogh umbrellas and calendars so loved by those who "love" art. He wouldn't go to Mozart Festivals either.
I read this wonderful book over ten years ago and so powerful was the impact of Delacroix's insights into the nature, perception, creational origin, and fate of art that much of it still remain with me. Delacroix in his day was not revered as he is today. He did not have people knocking down his doors to see his work, nor did he always have it easy trying to show it publicly. One day, after a bad review, to console himself, he wrote that (I paraphase) a great work of art in history is like a plank of wood held under water -- it is kept down when the powers-that-be hold it down. But that power ('political agenda' in contempo art-babble) does not last forever and must sooner or later let go of the plank whose nature is to float to the surface for all the world to see. He seem to have had the same intuition about the nature and fuction of art as the Greeks did: that art is light, that which shines of its own, and by which power that which 'sheds lights' and 'explains' what is around it rather than something that needs to be explained.
He never married but was looked after by a doting housekeeper. Not exactly a recluse, but most certainly a man of breeding descended of a noble stock who was careful about the company he kept, Delacroix spent much time, as artists and thinkers do, with his own thoughts and feelings, and expressing them. He was famous for his cordiality and urbanity, and among his friends in town (Paris) were Chopin, Georges Sand, and other individuals who would leave a mark (or in some cases, a mountain) in the arts one way or another. In other words, Delacroix was an agreeable man and as sociable as any thoughtful man would be but no more. Delacroix's social life is visible in these pages as is the Parisian milieu in which he lived and worked.
But the really great thing about Delacroix's Journals is that one gets to see something about how a great artist sees and feels things. Although he is over a century removed from us, his work and thoughts serve as a reminder that art is not always about anything socially or politically itchy; that art is just art; and that art is not something one needs to get hysterical about or merely a medium to carry an agenda. The fact that, historically, art was always commissioned by the aristocracy, and executed by those who were aristocratic in feeling and sensibility is one that is largely ignored today. Read this and see the significance of this fact, and why the term democratic art is ultimately an ugly oxymoron. Those who would champion the 'demos' sometimes think too highly of art and the need for "the people"'s participation in it.
In my humble opinion, if Delacroix were alive today, I think he would have loved Rauschenberg's and Jean-Michel Basquiat's work and their strong democratic origins but he would detest the democratization of art as such as found in Van Gogh umbrellas and calendars so loved by those who "love" art. He wouldn't go to Mozart Festivals either.
8 of 12 people found the following review helpful
By A Customer
Format:Paperback
Critic Roger Kimball called Delacroix's Journal "perhaps the greatest literary testament any painter has left." See Roger Kimball, "Delacroix Reconsidered," The New Criterion, Sept. 1998, p. 10.
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