Three billion

Photographs

Smell sensors, that is.

For any Francophile, one of the endearing charms of Martin Walker’s ‘Bruno – Chief of Police’ novels is the detailed recipes to be found in these elegantly written thrillers.

Dogs also feature, a source of delight to this reader. While the bloodhound is the king of dogs where scent tracking is required, the basset hound runs a close second with no fewer than three billion smell receptors, compared to a mere 2 million for us ordinary humans. Bruno Courrèges’s choice of dog is a basset (maned Balzac, naturally) and he uses it for police tracking and, more importantly, for finding truffles, those costly delicacies essential to many a French dish. Those long, long ears serve a purpose, as do most designs in nature. They drag on the ground, yes, but in doing so they stir up the grass surface releasing odors, thus acting as odor concentrators! Accordingly proper ear cleaning is an essential part of basset health.




The business end of a basset hound.

The novels are set in the southwest of France, in that haven of all things agricultural, the Dordogne, so it’s a trivial matter for Bruno to source all his produce locally, either from his garden or from the weekly local village market. Locally made cheeses? Check. Pâtés galore? Of course. Wines in infinite varieties? Mais naturellement. The recipes are set forth in great detail in Walker’s books and the fabulous meals described act as natural breaks in the thrilling detective action, set in a small town where everyone knows everyone.

His latest novel has just been published but you cannot go wrong with any of these.




The Dordogne.

Interestingly, Walker states that the cops prefer to use Alsatians at airports as drug sniffing dogs owing to their frightening demeanor (well, they are German), not something of which a basset could be accused.

The series – and the dog – is highly recommended.

Panasonic GX7, 9-18mm Olympus MFT lens.

James Tissot

Art Illustration, Paintings, Photographers

French society painter.

For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.

Where the French impressionists painted for art, James Tissot (1836-1902) {‘tea-sow’) painted for a living. While defying easy characterization, ‘society painter’, with all its attendant pejoratives, comes close.

Tissot was much more than a hack painting for shekels from the rich. He was very much his own man and, while friendly with many of the impressionists, he made it a point not to exhibit with these cultural rabble rousers.

He painted the rich, but at a skill level denied the common or garden society dauber. Gaze at the detail and rendering of the beautiful women’s clothing of La Belle Époque and you will see this is no ordinary artist. Nor are his compositions anything but perfect, the space used well, the dynamics preserved.




Dynamic composition. Portsmouth, 1877.


Attention to detail. 1878.


Witty and enchanting.


The pug came too. 1870.


These competing suitors are more than aware of the wealth of their surroundings.


Vacation snap – the sort of thing the Kodak Brownie replaced, poorly.


Tissot was an avowed Anglophile for which he can be forgiven. His work with its charm and lightness could only ever be French. At least the man had the good sense to settle down in St. John’s Wood, close to Lord’s, the home of cricket. James Tissot had a photographer’s eye at a time when photograhy was yet to emerge as the modern illustrator’s medium of choice.

For a modern image (mine!) in the decorative style of Tissot, click here.

If the period women’s clothing is of interest, the key designer of the era was Paul Poiret.

If you want to see how mediocre even the best photography is when it comes to portraying the rich, click here.

George Barbier

Art Illustration, Paintings, Photographers

Art Deco illustrator.

For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.

George Barbier (1882-1932) died young, just as the Great Depression started to roar. That’s somewhat appropriate as his delicate Art Deco illustrations are frequently about flappers and society people of the 1920s, the newly rich who saw no end to stock market gains. They had disappeared by the time of his death.

“Stock prices have reached what looks like a permanently high plateau,” quoth the famous economist Irving Fisher in early October, 1929. Proving that you should never take investing advice from an economist. Black Thursday, October 24, saw the market drop by 11 percent, followed four days later by Black Monday, when it fell another 13 percent; and the next day, Black Tuesday, when it lost 12 percent more. Good market timing, Irving.

Sounds just like today when stocks are overvalued by 50% as the market continues in denial about 40 million unemployed – and largely unemployable – American workers. Today we are waiting for the pandemic to ‘magically disappear’ courtesy of the moron in the Oval Office. Nothing changes.

Here are some favorite Barbier images from the Roaring Twenties, ones no photographer could ever equal:




The Roaring Twenties and its denizens.


Exquisite use of line.


Before the days of sardine cans masquerading as transportation.


Simple charm and great sophistication. Hitchcock
appropriated the firework background in ‘To Catch a Thief‘.

Like Dufy and Gruau after him (see the previous two posts here) Barbier’s work was always in demand.

If you are interested in learning more about the gorgeous bias cut dresses frequently draped so elegantly on Barbier’s women, check out Madeleine Vionnet.

Raoul Dufy

Art Illustration, Paintings, Photographs

French fauve painter.

For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.

The Fauves (‘wild beasts’) were a collection of early 20th century painters who emphasized color over form. While Derain and Matisse are the most well known members of the group my personal favorite is Raoul Dufy (1877-1953) for the sheer joy and abandon he brings to his many paintings. In that regard, Dufy (‘Do-fee’) was happy to cross the barrier into commercialism, and his images feature to this day on anything from chocolate box covers to tea towels. That in no way minimizes their significance to a century hungry for visual arts in a world of growing advertising and marketing, all of this before photography became mainstream and inexpensive. Today, a Dufy could not pay the bills in a world where literally everyone owns a camera. In his abundant output he was a predecessor to the supreme commercial artist of the century, René Gruau.

Here are some favorites from his large body of work:




The influence of cubism is writ large.


A wonderful realization of Montmartre and Sacre Coeur.


The Riviera was a favorite venue.


Vive La France!


René Gruau

Art Illustration, Paintings, Photography

Master of sparsity.

For an index of articles on art illustrators, click here.

There has been no greater illustrator than René Gruau (1909-2004), an Italian master best known for his long association with Christian Dior, back when ‘couture’ meant something and the working class knew its place. Gruau (‘Grew-oh’) was of Italian birth but Paris was his abode. There, at the age of 14, he was already making a living from his marvelous drawings. Every major fashion house retained him and while his images remain in our subconscious few know who this master artist was.

His relevance to photography is that once the barrow boys (working class lads with a Pentax like Bailey, Donovan and Duffy, their fathers barrow boys from the East End of London, whose perfectly virulent English they inherited) started snapping the demand for traditional drawings plummeted. Not that this bothered Gruau for he was in a class of one, remaining happily employed for the rest of his very long life. And the barrow boys never came close to Gruau’s class, greatly devoid in their make up.

There is so much of his work out there it’s hard to know where to begin, but the following images are Gruau at his very best.




Just a splash of red.


Alluring, eye catching, perfect.


A sparsity of line not known since Matisse.


His greatest partnership was with Christian Dior.


Utter genius.