Madame Paul Escudier (Louise Lefevre), 1882 by John Singer Sargent

The Art Institute of Chicago has three examples of John Singer Sargent’s portraiture from the turn of the twentieth century.  The first is Mrs. George Swinton (Elizabeth Ebsworth), who is more imposing than her wall-mate on the right, Mrs. Charles Gifford Dyer (Mary Anthony), yet not as compelling as who hangs on her left, Madame Paul Escudier (Louise Lefevre). Sargent also painted landscapes and vignettes, some of which also hang in the Institute, but he made his bread and butter with portraits of new and more seasoned wealth. His work outside of profiles is good and it speaks of an able impressionist but none draw the viewer in in the same way that his celebrated portraits do. The vivid and melancholic painting of Paul Escudier’s wife is much more intriguing than the rest.

            One common thread in all of Sargent’s representations of the wives of the haute bourgeoisie is the singular clarity and explicitness of their faces. All around the subject is shadowy fuzz. And with this portrait it’s easy to get lost in the strokes of red, white, brown and midnight green, but the face is what keeps you from drowning. It’s almost as if Sargent used a camera when it came to this woman’s face. Madame Escudier's stare burns the viewer and it’s impossible to take this in without wondering about her life. The writer, Cynthia Griffin Wolff, wrote of Sargent that he “offered a superficial elegance and flattering but shallow likeness… his fluent use of light and color often deteriorated into empty display.” Wolff has a point and it must have been a very valid one in Sargent’s time when women themselves were only for display, but the lens of history sometimes illuminates the seemingly shallow. What might appear as empty display in 1882 conveys a deeper truth about the role of women to us in 2011, something Sargent very well may have been aware of from the insight his title gives us, her married name in terms of the husband with her first and maiden name in parentheses. The former Louise Lefevre drills her way out of her canvas into the viewer. The subject of this portrait is blistering and keenly aware despite her foggy surroundings.

            Edith Wharton, who lived at the same time as Sargent and fictionally chronicled the same sort of woman he painted, said of him that she couldn’t think of any other artist who had the technique of genius but lacked the temperament of one. One could surmise that she knew Sargent socially and found him without ego, but perhaps she speaks to his talent. Sargent’s depiction of Madame Escudier is not blatant or overt, after all Madame and Monsieur were expected to pay Sargent for his work and supposedly hang it in their home. Sargent seems to have been very careful about how he revealed her authenticity.  If he does lack the temperament of a genius, all the better, for where Wharton and others spelled it all out, Sargent left it to the subtlety of his strokes.

Calder's 'Flamingo' in Federal Plaza

     I can only begin to discuss public art by admitting to a bias and because of that I have to ask you to be indulgent of my use of the first person and a little bragging. My hometown, Des Moines, Iowa, is not known for much. Des Moines generally comes to the forefront of America’s collective brain when national political caucuses become the only newsworthy item. The city usually leaves the country’s consciousness approximately two minutes after the results are announced. Des Moines likes it that way, but what most of America misses about Des Moines is the art located in the city. The Des Moines art museum was designed by the architect, I.M. Pei, who also designed the entrance to the Louvre in Paris. Public art, especially in the downtown area, is ubiquitous. The sculpture garden includes pieces by Louise Bourgeois and William de Koonig. John Pappajohn, a local financier and art collector, who has funded a great deal of the city’s art expansion, is known for having sculptures in his front yard, which change at his whim. The city is consistently acknowledged as a smaller scale metropolis with an enviable art scene. With all that said, I would not suggest that Chicago’s public art is pitiable (although I could be tempted to), but I would say that for a city of its size it lags behind in one aspect of culture, per capita anyway, when compared to my supposed miniscule hamlet of a hometown. 
     The Calder ‘Flamingo’ sculpture in the Federal Plaza of downtown Chicago has always reminded me of a sculpture in Des Moines that is similar in scale. The ‘Flamingo,’ which was unveiled in 1974, is less intimidating in its size than one would imagine. It only reaches to the seventh story of its neighbor, the Federal Building. The sculpture is industrial and sharp, jagging out in unexpected places and depending on one’s view, possibly unseen places. Still, it is warm in spite of its streamlined look and surroundings.
     There isn’t much about the piece that initially calls to mind a flamingo. The shade is too vivid and the shape doesn’t speak of it literally. Observing the piece, ‘Insect’ seems to be a more fitting name, but the contours and lines are so flamingoesque. All at once blunt and rounded, and despite it’s shade of fantasy it never inspires flight, firmly grounded, like the bird.

     One wonders how many people gave pause to take it all in in 1974 or even 1975. Did locals dismiss it so easily in 1980? People don’t really see the ‘Flamingo’ with purpose and those who observe it every day see it as part of the landscape. Perhaps that’s what Calder intended. With its location, one would assume, its most frequent viewers would be those who only see the sharp, scarlet edges out of the corner of their eye. At times, Chicago seems perpetually gray and this blast of coloring and structure is refreshing when noticed.

Cruel Intentions (Remake of Dangerous Liaisons)

            Choderlos de Laclos’ epistolary novel, Les Liaisons Dangereuses, has been told in a myriad of different cultures and settings. The most linear adaptation is the 1988 Stephen Frears’ film, Dangerous Liaisons, but the story of deception and seduction is probably best known as being set on the cusp of the millennium in New York City under the name of Cruel Intentions. Technically, Cruel Intentions is adapted only from the book but there are many pieces of dialogue that seem to be lifted directly from Christopher Hampton’s Dangerous Liaisons screenplay and the 1999 film is nonetheless, a remake.

            The original story concerns two wealthy, vengeful aristocrats, the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont who simper and scheme in18^th century France partly for pleasure, partly for power and partly out of plain boredom. In short, they conspire, and largely succeed in destroying the reputations of two women; a married woman considered to be beyond moral reproach, Madame de Tourvel and a young girl recently engaged, Mademoiselle de Volanges. The calculated events that revoke Tourvel's and Volanges' virtue are orchestrated by the malevolent Merteuil. Valmont enters the picture as the seducer of both women. Beyond that there is plenty of intrigue and high drama trivialities that make up the intricacies in the tale of deceit and defeat.

            Cruel Intentions takes all the details, names included, and plants them amongst the upper echelon of a set of prep school seniors in New York society present day. Changes come to the story in mostly original forms. The director, Roger Kumble, who also adapted the screenplay, did a superb job of updating the story with use of technology and placing some of the original story’s specifics and minutia into modern forms of communication. All of this was done effortlessly and the film manages all of the particulars with ease. All around, the film is a remarkable translation and the integrity of the dishonorable characters holds up.

            The film, in many ways, works very well and tells of all the devious sexual manipulations in a way that is just as fascinating present day as it must have been when the novel debuted in 1782. Largely, the problem with the film is that it lacks the bite of the truer adaptation, Dangerous Liaisons. The devastation of the victims is much more apparent when placed in 18^th century France. Place whatever social commentary on it that you like but the fact of the matter is that women’s virtue is not given as much importance and regard in modern day America. Reputations do not carry the same weight they once did and a loss of one is not the tragedy it once was. The stakes of Cruel Intentions are simply not as high, because of that, it loses the genuinely sweet malice of the story. Watching the machinations carried out by a set of teenagers only reminds the audience that these games are better left to the grown-ups. Baudelaire said when Les Liaisons Dangereuses was first published that it, “burns like ice.” Where Dangerous Liaisons burns, Cruel Intentions only singes.