Skip to main content

On the journals of Eugene Delacroix


As I’ve been re-reading and posting from Van Gogh’s letters, I’ve been struck by how often he mentioned the name of the French painter Eugene Delacroix. Delacroix, born in 1798, died in 1863 when Van Gogh was ten. If we look at Delacroix’s first paintings from the 1820s, it appears that they couldn’t be more different from Van Gogh and his contemporaries:

Yet many of the Impressionists claimed Delacroix as a pioneer in their method of eliminating what painters refer to as ‘half-tones’, and using small strokes of pure unmixed colour. Delacroix also kept a journal, which he wrote in almost daily for the last 16 years of his life. There is a big contrast in personalities between the Delacroix of the journal and the Van Gogh of the letters, so I thought it would be interesting to start posting entries from the older painter’s writings too.

Delacroix was a success from the beginning. You might say he was born to it, being the son of a military man who fought both for the French revolution and then in Napoleon’s army. Delacroix was an aristocrat by temperament, even though he was initially considered to be ultra-modern and revolutionary in his painting. While Van Gogh’s letters are full of a kind of pining for an imminent future, Delacroix hated democratic politics and thought that the common people should know their place. He craved worldly success in the form of commissions for painting frescoes in public buildings, but even as he achieved this, many of his journal entries complain about boredom and ennui, the burden of his social obligations, and the tiresomeness of the conversation at the fashionable dinners he nevertheless always attended. Compare this with the tone of Van Gogh’s letters: at worst, there is a little too much of the ‘O joy!’ enthusiasm of the gauche autodidact, but at best they are the record of a deeply generous and loving spirit. On the other hand, Delacroix had many fascinating things to say about the craft of painting, and given how few of the truly great classical painters left behind any written record of their education and technique, Delacroix’s journal can be seen almost as a manual for the accumulated craft-wisdom of almost 400 years of easel painting.

Here, then, is my first excerpt from the Journal of Eugene Delacroix, dated January 27, 1847:

“But luckily, fragile though it is, painting (and failing this, engraving) does preserve the evidence for the verdict of posterity, and thus allows the reputation of an artist of real superiority to be reassessed, even though he may have been underestimated by the shallow judgement of contemporary public opinion, which is always attracted by flashiness and a veneer of truth.” 
 Subscribe to Praeterita in a reader

Popular posts from this blog

Restoring my Printing Press

I've just finished restoring and assembling my large etching press -- a six week process involving lots of rust removal, scrubbing with steel wool, and repainting. Here is a photo of the same kind of press from the Chicago Printmakers Collaborative: And here is a short YouTube video of me testing the press, making sure the motor still works after nearly seven years of lying in storage:

Brancusi in Plastic

Artist Mary Ellen Croteau is showing these columns made from recycled plastic cartons and lids in the window of the Columbia College bookstore on Michigan Avenue. They are a playful homage to Brancusi's "Endless Columns", with a serious environmental message for our times: Image copyright Inhabitat.com and Mary Ellen Croteau Mary Ellen also runs a wonderful experimental art gallery in a window space in west Chicago, called Art on Armitage . I will be exhibiting a mixed media piece there during August 2012.

How to etch a linoleum block

Linoleum as a material for printmaking has been used for nearly a hundred years now. Normally, you cut an image out using special gouges similar to woodcut tools, cutting away the lino around the image you want to print. This is called relief printmaking, because if you look at the block from the side, the material that remains stands up in relief from the backing material. You then roll ink with a brayer over the surface of the block, place paper over it, and either print by hand or run it through a press. You can do complex things this way (for example, reduction linocuts), but the beauty of the process is that it is quick, simple, and direct. Incised lino block, from me.redith.com Etched lino block, from Steve Edwards A few years ago, I saw some prints that were classified as coming from etched linoleum blocks, and I loved the textures I saw in them. In the last few months, I've been trying to use this technique in my own studio, learning about it as one does these d...