OUTRAGE : THE ARTS AND THE CREATION OF MODERNITY
By Katherine Giuffre
Stanford University Press. 200 pages. £21.99. ISBN 978-1-5036-3582-1
Reviewed by Jim Burns
When Picasso, “a twenty-five-year-old impoverished painter living in squalid
conditions in Paris”, exhibited
Les Demoiselles d’Avignon in 1907
the reactions were generally not favourable. The collector Leo Stein laughed
at what he referred to as a “horrible mess”, and the painter André Derain
said, “This can only end in suicide. One day Picasso will be found hanging
behind the Demoiselles”. Picasso
put the canvas away and only displayed it again in 1916. But, points out
Katherine Giuffre, it “became one of the most important paintings of the
twentieth century”.
Giuffre refers to some other examples of works now considered of importance
which were initially either dismissed or ignored: “Moby
Dick was so unpopular that it effectively ended Herman Melville’s
flourishing writing career”. And Henry David Thoreau’s books lingered in
their publisher’s warehouse until he bought the unsold copies to save them
from being pulped: “I have a library of nearly nine hundred volumes” he
said, “over seven hundred of which I wrote myself”.
The point she’s making is that the new and different very often aroused a
hostile reaction of one kind or another. There are plenty of other examples
she could have used. Van Gogh’s paintings only one of which sold in his
lifetime. Now you have to queue to see the blockbuster shows of his work.
But it’s interesting to look at why people, including many who were
otherwise intellectually active, viewed something unusual with suspicion.
Was it a simple lack of
understanding, or did they truly think that what they read or viewed or
listened to presented a threat to civilised living?
“And what rough beast, its hour come
round at last/Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? ”, wrote W.B.Yeats. And
people rioted at the first performance by the Ballets Russe of Stravinsky’s
The Rite of Spring.
As a contradiction to neglect being a means of dismissing the new, Giuffre
chooses to look at the Brontë sisters and the ways in which their writings
were received by critics and the wider public. It seems to be true that
books like Jane Eyre, Agnes Grey,
and Wuthering Heights were
popular, at least with general readers. What really seems to have caused
controversy was the revelation that the novels, which were first published
under male names, had, in fact, been written by women : “The Brontës,
writing novels that passionately and unapologetically exposed the inner
lives of their protagonists, clearly violated every precept for femininity,
upended every rule for proper female decorum, and usurped every privilege
usually reserved for the male counterparts”.
There was also the question of the social and political implications of what
the Brontës wrote about and how they wrote about it.
Giuffre refers tellingly to a December 1848 review by Elizabeth Rigby
which savagely attacked Jane Eyre.
Bear in mind that 1848 was a significant year in terms of the revolutions
across the Continent and the political unrest in Britain. Rigby was in no
doubt about what was behind the novel: “We do not hesitate to say that the
tone of mind and thought which has overthrown authority and violated every
code human and divine abroad, and fostered Chartism and rebellion at home,
is the same which has also written
Jane Eyre”.
In France in the nineteenth century the Salon held sway when it came to the
standards set for anyone wanting recognition as a painter. The competition
for a place in its annual exhibitions was fierce, and in 1863, following
Napoleon the Third’s intervention, the Salon des Refusés was created so that
some of the artists whose work had been rejected could display their
canvases.
One of the paintings in the exhibition was Manet’s
Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe, now
considered a modern masterpiece but at the time causing consternation and
controversy. It showed a naked woman with two fully-dressed men gathered
around a picnic spread, and with another young woman in the background
washing herself in a stream. Giuffre points out that it was based on an
engraving by Raphael, but the matter of the men being clothed in
contemporary dress clearly changed the setting to a modern location. There
was also the fact that the naked woman in the foreground didn’t seem at all
embarrassed by the situation and was looking directly at the viewer in a
quite open manner. It was a kind of “Well, what are
you looking at?” stare that was
evident.
Among the criticism levelled at Manet was that, although talented, he
“persisted in reproducing repulsively vulgar subjects, scenes devoid of
interest”. And it was suggested that “All his efforts should be directed
towards expressing living nature in its most beautiful forms”. Like the
Brontës it was proposed that he “must be ill, either physically or morally”.
The work was said to be unhealthy. There were indications that he might have
been suffering from “an acute affliction of the retina”.
His work wasn’t alone in being attacked. The artists who generally became
known as Impressionists took a
beating. The majority of the reviews of the first Impressionist show in 1874
were hostile. They pointed to what they claimed was the “unfinished” nature
of the paintings, and there were jibes about “palette scrapings” and the
artists having “declared war on beauty”. Giuffre sees much of the reaction
as arising from the insecurity of the bourgeoisie who were unsure of their
place in society and therefore unwilling to hold themselves open to ridicule
by supporting something that had not received official approval. She directs
our attention to the fact that the Impressionists sold better in the United
States where “new money” had more confidence in its role.
Was Emily Dickinson “an eccentric, dreamy, half-educated recluse” writing
short-lined little verses that broke all the usual rules that applied to
writing poetry? And mostly
refusing to circulate them beyond her immediate friends and relations? The
story of how and why Dickinson’s poetry was written and what happened to it
when it fell into the hands of those determined to make it “respectable” is
well-known, but Giuffre manages to tell it again without losing the reader’s
interest. What was put into print after her death was not what Dickinson
intended in terms of layout, punctuation, and other factors. It was tidied
up by those who thought they knew best.
Giuffre is seemingly more concerned to deal with the story behind the poems,
the way Dickinson lived, who she knew, what she was interested in. There was
a long-standing relationship with Susan Gilbert which was effectively left
out of early accounts of Dickinson’ life. It’s still not really known what
the nature of that relationship was.
Instead, according to Giuffre, an image was created “of the author as
a timid and virginal recluse, uneducated in literature, writing from pure
instinct as a way to alleviate the broken heart she had suffered from some
mysterious unrequited love”. This was meant to give her work wider popular
appeal. But the critics still wrote against her. One said: “Miss Dickinson
in her poetry broke every one of the natural and salutary laws of verse.
Here is the very anarchy of the Muses”. But she followed her own path and
became a genuinely original poet.
A term like “Delirious Cocksuckers” might bring about a burst of outrage
from some sensitive readers, even now in our supposedly more-tolerant times.
It refers to the “kind of homosexual Swiss Guard” clustered around the
impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his Ballets Russe. He’d left St Petersburg
because he was openly gay in a society that wasn’t inclined to accept such
behaviour, and relocated to Paris where homosexuality wasn’t illegal.
Principal among his followers was the dancer Vaslav Nijinsky who, it was
said, often appeared to hang suspended in the air when he made one of his
fantastic leaps.
Diaghilev’s most famous triumph was the opening night of Stravinsky’s
The Rite of Spring in 1913. It
was almost a deliberate act of provocation and designed to create a
sensation and attract publicity. Which isn’t to suggest that was all it was:
“The sets and costumes were stunningly colourful, the music and choreography
were strikingly modern, and the dancers were energetic and powerful”. It not
only changed ballet by challenging the established rules about
subject-matter, tempo, and the techniques of dancing, it had an influence
“on the rest of the art world – not only music and design, but also fashion,
painting, and even poetry”. However,
the immediate effect was, as Diaghilev no doubt anticipated, that a riot
broke out in the theatre. Advocates of the new ideas in the arts, and their
traditional opponents, traded insults and blows while the musicians and
dancers did their best to carry on regardless of what the audience was
doing.
I think I ought to point out that Katherine Giuffre is a “specialist in the
sociology of art and culture and studies social networks and communities”,
so literary and art criticism isn’t at the forefront of her writing. When
she turns to how James Joyce’s
Ulysses was received she is largely concerned to deal with matters of
censorship. It was. she says, “bound up with social control in rapidly
urbanising societies where traditional mores no longer held sway and where
diverse populations mixed more frequently”. Her account of the legal battles
fought over the right to read what an enemy of the book described as
“damnable hellish filth from the gutter of a human mind” is brisk and
informative. Margaret Anderson, editor of
The Little Review, a standard
bearer for the modernist movement, was taken to court for using extracts
from Ulysses. Later, when the
book was published by Sylvia Beach from her bookshop, Shakespeare and
Company, in Paris, and imported into America, there were further legal
tussles until Ulysses was cleared
by the courts for open sale.
It’s notable that women were closely involved with the struggle to get
Ulysses into print and available
for anyone to read. Margaret Anderson, Sylvia Beach, and Jane Heap were
essential to not only the publication of Joyce’s work, but also in providing
support at a time when there was little coming in from other sources. A
couple of other things occur to me. One is that
The Little Review is worthy of a
study in itself. It was described in
The Little Magazine: A History and Bibliography (Princeton University
Press, 1946) as “one of the few outlets in this country for ideas and
techniques which were to influence profoundly much of our later writing”.
And on that question of “influence” it can still be a matter for debate
about the amount of influence Joyce had. And even whether or not that
influence was, when it came to straightforward questions of literature,
always for the good.
Giuffre looks at Zora Neale Hurston’s novel,
Their Eyes Were Watching God,
largely from the point of view of how it was criticised by members of the
black community in America. Hurston had grown up in a small town populated
by blacks, and had been a student at Howard University. She moved to New
York and was prominent in the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s. But when her
book appeared in 1937 it was seen by Richard Wright as being in “the
tradition which was forced upon the Negro in the theatre, that is the
minstrel technique that makes the ‘white folks’ laugh…….The sensory sweep of
her novel carries no theme, no message, no thought”. He accused Hurston of
pandering to white tastes. Another black writer, Ralph Ellison, likewise
found fault with Hurston’s portrayal of black lives. It might be relevant
that both reviews were published in the
New Masses, a Communist Party
publication. The Party was then keen to promote the interest of blacks,
provided they were in line with Party politics. And Hurston’s writing was
seen as “not serious” and “not political”.
Katherine Giuffre may not have broken any new ground with her study of six
examples of creative works that aroused opposition of one sort or another
when they first came to wider attention, but which, she avers, had a place
in the creation of modernism. However, she has produced a lively and
thoughtful account of how and why the new and different could cause outrage.