Come up and see my etchings...

Another member of the circle of artists that clustered around the neighbouring ateliers of Jean-Gabriel Daragnès and Roger Lacourière in the 1920s was Charles Martin (1884-1934). Martin was born in Montpellier, where he began his art studies before going to Paris to study at the Académie Julian and at the École des Beaux-Arts.

Charles Martin, Woman putting on her stockings

Pochoir for Manon Lescaut, 1934

Charles Martin was a significant figure in Art Deco graphics, as illustrator, poster-designer, fashion, ballet, and theatre designer, as well as contributor to fashion journals such as the Gazette du Bon Ton and the Journal des Dames et des Modes.

Charles Martin, Le baiser rendu

Pochoir for Contes et nouvelles en vers. 1930

Charles Martin’s heyday was also the highpoint of the French livre d’artiste and livre de luxe. Among the texts he illustrated with original etchings are Carmen by Prosper Merimée (173 copies published by La Roseraie, 1926), L’illusion héroïque de Tito Bassi by Henri de Regnier (291 copies published by La Roseraie, 1926), Charles de Montesquieu’s Lettres Persanes (223 copies published by Jean Terquem, 1926).

Charles Martin, La servante justifiée

Pochoir for Contes et nouvelles en vers, 1930

But Charles Martin was most active as an illustrator using the pochoir (hand-stencil) technique that was favoured by the fashion journals. Among his books illustrated with pochoir plates are

Henri de Regnier’s Contes Vénitiens  (Émile Chamontin, 1927), L’Abbé de Prévost Histoire de Manon Lescaut (La Meridienne, 1934).

Charles Martin, Les oies de Frère Philippe

Pochoir for Contes et nouvelles en vers, 1930

I have a copy of his Manon, and also of his Contes et nouvelles en vers of Jean de La Fontaine (Librairie de France, 1930). In the English-speaking world we think of La Fontaine as a children’s writer, the French Aesop, but his verse Contes are lightly erotic, rather in the manner of Boccaccio. This is a very lavish production but because it uses pochoirs rather than etchings, it was published in a substantial edition of 3,415 copies. There were 350 on Arches, 1500 on Lafuma, and 1500 on Alfa Navarre; these copies have the text and pochoir illustrations. The 65 remaining copies (50 on Hollande van Gelder and 15 on Japan) also had a separate suite of the 64 plates (of which 32 are in colour). I have copy XXV of the 50 on Hollande.

Charles Martin, Joconde

Pochoir for Contes et nouvelles en vers, 1930

 Charles Martin, Joconde

Etching with aquatint, 1930

Also included with my copy of the Contes, but with no indication in the justification that it is supposed to be there, is a portfolio of 15 much more explicit etchings, also by Charles Martin and relating to the same subjects. These etchings are in two states: pure etchings on Japan, and etchings with aquatint, and the title etched into the plate, printed on Hollande van Gelder. The etchings are aesthetically similar to the pochoirs, but - while still relatively innocent - are intended to be more titillating. For instance, while the pochoir for La chose impossible, in which a woman outwits the Devil by challenging him to straighten out a pubic hair, shows her with her head modestly lowered and her private parts covered, the etching lifts a wild froth of petticoats aside to reveal all.

 Charles Martin, La chose impossible

Pochoir for Contes et nouvelles en vers, 1930

Charles Martin, La chose impossible

Etching with aquatint, 1930

I haven’t been able to find out anything about these erotic etchings by Charles Martin. Were they included in all 65 of the special copies of Contes et nouvelles? It doesn’t appear so. It seems quite likely that Martin made these as a side-project, and they may have been published quite separately. As to how many copies were printed, and by whom, I can only guess. Roger Lacourière would be my first guess as the printer, and a total of around 65 copies would seem reasonable for the etchings (though possibly not so many of the pure etchings on Japan).

Charles Martin, Le calendrier des vieillards

Etching with aquatint, 1930

The only comparable publication I can trace by Charles Martin is his suite of erotic etchings Mascarades et amusettes, which was published sometime in the 1920s in a total of 63 copies. It was wittily naughty etchings such as these that gave rise to the seducer's catchphrase, "Come up and see my etchings."

The art of taille-douce

Following my previous post on Terry Haass and her close collaboration with the master taille-douciers at l’atelier Lacourière-Frélaut, I was delighted to hear from Antoine Rubington, the son of Norman Rubington, with further information on his father’s etchings. Antoine (himself a printmaker) tells me that all of Norman Rubington’s etchings were also made at Lacourière et Frélaut, and that this explains the technical mastery displayed. In a print studio such as Lacourière’s, the artist had the help of highly skilled and experienced artisans in all aspects of preparing the plates, biting them in acid, inking, and so on. The fact that there are usually only a few artist’s proofs of Norman Rubington’s etchings is down to cost; a struggling artist such as Norman Rubington could afford to have a few proofs printed for his own satisfaction, but not to commission an edition.

André Dignimont

Man with his hand up a waitress's skirt

Etching, 1927

Definitive state in colour

Artists such as Picasso, Chagall, Dalí, Miró, Buffet, Beaudin, and Masson all benefited from the craft skills of Roger Lacourière and Jacques Frélaut, who were the pre-eminent taille-douciers of the postwar years (a taille-doucier is a specialist in printing intaglio prints such as etchings and engravings, on a hand press from the original plate). The work of such printers has scarcely changed in centuries, and often the skills were passed down in families (two famous father and son taille-douciers of the twentieth century were Edmond and J. J. J. Rigal, and Raul and Raymond Haasen). Often, too, the taille-douciers were themselves printmakers of note.

In black-and-white

In the case of Roger Lacourière, he had been a significant figure in the Paris art world since just after the First World War. From 1919 until the Great Depression, Lacourière ran the printing atelier La Roseraie, in the building next door to the studio of another great artist and taille-doucier, Jean-Gabriel Daragnès, in the avenue Junot in Montmartre. Like Daragnès, Lacourière was both a printer and a publisher. He printed the etchings for the books published by his own Éditions de la Roseraie, and also for Les Éditions d’Art Devambez. The artistic director of both of these lists was Édouard Chimot (working from his studio nearby in rue Ampère), and the artists and writers who contributed to them were all regulars at the atelier of Daragnès, which was really the hub of the Montmartre artistic and literary scene between the wars.

In colour with remarques

In black-and-white with remarques

In black-and-white from the cancelled plate

This post celebrates the exquisite craftsmanship of Roger Lacourière with images of every known state of one of André Dignimont’s etchings for Amants et voleurs by Tristan Bernard, printed and published by La Roseraie in 1927. Dignimont (1891-1965) was one of the regulars chez Daragnès. I will probably post separately on him in due course. His etchings for Amants et voleurs are among his most remarkable achievements, showing the influence of the German Expressionists. Amants et voleurs was published in an edition of 420 copies: 20 on Japon ancien, 50 on Japon impérial, and 350 on vélin de Rives. My copy is no. 8 on Japon ancien, and although not called for on the justification page, has an original watercolour by Dignimont and a huge stack of loose prints, also on Japon. Besides the etchings in their definitive state in colour, there are four additional suites—in black-and-white, in black-and-white with remarques, in colour with remarques, and in black-and-white with cancellation marks.

The Artist's Studio

I visited today the exhibition The Artist's Studio (curated by Giles Waterfield) at one of my favourite local galleries, Compton Verney, which is a wonderful country house with Capability Brown gardens, turned into a museum by the philanthropist Peter Moores. It started me thinking about how many depictions of artists' studios I have, so I thought - given my recent silence - I should quickly post a few images of the artist's studio as Bohemian hideout. Here they are:

Henri Boutet (1851-1919)
L'Atelier d'Ulysse
Etching with aquatint, 1913

Louis Legrand (1863-1951)
À l'Atelier
Etching, 1885

Paul-Maurice Vigoureux (1876-?)
Artist's studio
Etching, 1925

I apologize if there are any weird mistakes in this post - everything about Blogger, which I felt quite comfortable with, seems to have changed without warning, and I feel I am blundering around without a clue what I'm doing.

Building blocks of space and time

Terry Haass (1923- ) is to my mind one of the outstanding printmakers of the twentieth century. She is rightly regarded as a technical virtuoso, who mixes etching, engraving and aquatint. Her etchings are at the same time deeply bitten in blocks and lines, and spattered, or swept across the surface with a starched muslin tarlatan. The result is a combination of formal and restrained composition with a gestural impulsiveness of expression. In his contribution to Terry Haass: The Graphic Work, edited by Peter Spielmann on the occasion of a major retrospective at the Bochum Museum in 1997, Ole Henrik Moe writes, “One may say that she orchestrates her etchings like a musician, letting them “sound”—the sweeping brushstrokes like strings over the sombre and blocklike depths of the winds.”


Inanna VII, 1961
(110 copies and 30 suites)

This brilliant description by Moe draws attention to the resonating depths of Terry Haass’s work. As an artist she is drawn to the mysteries of the cosmos and of the psyche, regarding the play of light over matter as a kind of sacred equation which will solve the riddles of space and time. This can be seen especially in her two most important livres d’artiste, Inanna, which ventures into the darkest recesses of the female psyche to explore the ancient Sumerian myth of the descent of the goddess into the underworld, and Mein Weltbild, a kind of hymn to Einstein’s intellectual curiosity, and to the forces that shape the universe.


Albert Einstein: Mein Weitbild I, 1975
(120 copies and 30 suites)

Terry Haass was born Tereza Haass into a Jewish family in Český Tĕšín in what is now the Czech Republic. She studied art and art history in Paris for two years, escaping to New York in 1941, where she became a scholarship student at the Art Students’ League. There, she made her first etchings and wood engravings, in a representational style. In 1947 she attended classes at Stanley William Hayter’s Atelier 17 in New York, and under Hayter’s influence her prints veered towards abstraction, adding engraving with a burin into her heady mix of techniques. In 1950 Hayter returned to Paris, leaving the Atelier in the hands of Terry Haass, Karl Schrag, and Harry Hoehn.


Floréal III, 1960
(140 copies and 10 suites; this from one of the 10 signed suites, from the collection of Madeleine Lacourière)

In 1951 Terry Haass won the Fullbright Grant and Woolley Scholarship to study with the master printer Roger Lacourière in Paris. It was in the Atelier Lacourière in Montmartre that she made the bulk of her etchings, first with Roger Lacourière, then with his wife Madeleine, then with Jacques Frélaut, who took over the studio. Also in 1951 Haass made her first trip to Norway, where she met her lifelong friend Anna-Eva Bergman; Bergman and her husband Hans Hartung became Terry Haass’s closest artistic allies.


Floréal IV, 1960

At the same period, Terry Haass began to study Mesopotamian archaeology, receiving her diploma and subsequently engaging in important digs across the Near East from 1954-1971. It was no doubt this which led her to make her extraordinary series of etchings for Inanna. From 1971, Haass returned to art fulltime.


Inanna II, 1961

Her 1975 exhibition Homage to Albert Einstein, which travelled around Europe for four years, and the associated artist’s book Mein Weltbild, marked the end of her work in the graphic arts, and since that time she has devoted herself to sculpture in plexiglass and stainless steel.


Albert Einstein: Mein Weltbild V, 1975

In The Artist and the Book in France, W. J. Strachan writes of the etchings of Terry Haass: “her designs—abstract but always possessing some link with reality—are controlled but full of verve; the colour, subdued when necessary, is often rich and glowing… the sheer technical accomplishment is overwhelming and one is not surprised at the success of her exhibitions of these works and separate prints.”


Albert Einstein: Mein Weltbild VII, 1975
(Terry Haass’s last etching, evoking the flight of a bird)

Terry Haass has referred to the copper plate as “a mirror of the soul,” and her art is infused with spirituality. Her prints based on organic forms, such as the etchings for Floréal, are luminous, and somehow mystical. And whether one is faced with the psyche stripped bare in Inanna, or the secrets of the physical universe unlocked in Mein Weltbild, there is always the sense in her work of a creative mind playing intently with the building blocks of space and time.

Let's do anything that Picasso hasn't done

In my previous post on the portfolio Douze poètes, douze peintres, I reproduced a single etching with aquatint by Norman Rubington (1921-1991), an artist from New Haven, Connecticut, who spent the post-war years in Paris. Now, thanks to Ann May Greene, who inherited Rubington’s artistic estate, I know more about this interesting artist, and also have another 13 prints to share.


Norman Rubington, Man playing a flute
Etching, 1950, artist's proof

According to a note Rubington supplied for an exhibition of his etchings at the Palazzo Sormani in Milan in 1986, all of Norman Rubington’s etchings date from his Paris years in the 1950s. These Parisian years were his most vital artistic period. One French art critic, signing himself P. D., hailed Rubington’s solo show at Galerie 8 in 1950 as an astonishing success. Norman Rubington’s art, he wrote, was “burning with a new flame”.


Norman Rubington, Fisherman's daughter
Etching with aquatint, 1956, edition of 25

Very few of the etchings seem to have been formally editioned; most likely Rubington simply pulled a few proofs for his own satisfaction. He may have been living a fairly hand-to-mouth existence on his G.I. loan, but he did not stint himself on the quality of his papers. His artist’s proofs are all on high-quality wove paper, mostly pur fil Johannot or Lana 1590 (both made from 100% linen or cotton), bought with his other materials from the Charbonnel art supplies shop opposite the Académie de la Grande Chaumière. Rubington taught himself the techniques of etching from a manual. He quickly achieved a remarkable proficiency, using aquatint to eloquent effect, and mastering the technique the French call vernis mou, soft ground etching, in his witty portrayal of a boy with a bicycle. 28 etchings by Rubington are known to exist.


Norman Rubington, Boy with a bicycle
Softground etching, 1950s, artist's proof

The book Left Bank Right Bank: Paris and Parisians by Joseph A. Barry (Kimber & Co., 1952) has quite a bit about Norman Rubington in his Paris period. Barry writes: “When I first met Rubington, I found him in a room on the ground floor, directly behind a fish shop of Rue Henri Barbusse off Boulevard St. Michel. He had knocked out a wall, put in glass panes, a wood-burning stove, a box-bed, a dog, an easel, some canvases, and had begun to work. There were no toilet facilities and he had to get all his water from the fish shop.”


Norman Rubington, An artist in Paris
Etching, 1950s, artist's proof

At this time Rubington, living on his G.I. Veterans Administration checks, was a registered student at the Académie de la Grande Chaumière, but he told Barry, “I couldn’t work there. It was too stifling.” He was thoroughly enjoying Paris, though. “When I came to Paris, it felt like coming home. I could breathe. People asked me what I did. I said I was an artist. They said, ‘Ah, an artist.’ Back home they said, ‘How do you live?’”


Norman Rubington, Sunflowers and dinosaur bones
Etching with aquatint, 1955, artist's proof

Rubington was painting at a furious rate (74 canvases in 1949), and exhibiting on equal terms with the best young artists of the day— Bernard Buffet, André Minaux, Roger Montané. A French critic of the group show of Jeunes Peintres Français at the Galerie J. Leuvrais c.1950 picked Rubington out as the best of the lot. Norman Rubington spoke to Joseph Barry about his theory of art. “It seems to me that the young artist is just overwhelmed by Picasso and how he has touched every area of painting. He says to himself, ‘Let’s do anything that Picasso hasn’t done.’ In that sense there is a reaction to Picasso. He has dominated art so long that the young artist from sheer exasperation wants to do just the opposite. That’s it. Picasso, Matisse, Braque—they’ve dominated so long that we have to paint anything that they haven’t done. Besides, we feel that their art is an art of sophistication. So we are trying to get away from sophistication. That brings us to primitive art again. But isn’t that the way it goes in the history of art? You have one school, then a reaction to it, and then another school, and so on. It’s all to the good.”

There is also some material on Rubington in James Campbell, Exiled in Paris (Scribner, 1995), as well as in the memoirs of Maurice Girodias, the publisher of the Olympia Press, and in John St. Jorre’s history of Olympia, The Good Ship Venus (Hutchinson, 1994). Rubington was a close friend of Girodias, and wrote books for Olympia under the pseudonym Akbar del Piombo.


Norman Rubington, Naked couple
Etching with aquatint, 1950s, artist's proof

As one might expect from a member of Girodias’s circle, there is a strong erotic component to Norman Rubington’s art, but just as strong is the religious element. Speaking to Joseph Barry about “the ancient primitives”, Rubington said, “They had a feeling for design that shows up in our abstract art. But they had something else. When you see a pagan god, you don’t believe in it, but you can appreciate the feeling for divinity that the artist had. Maybe we’re looking for something to believe in.”


Norman Rubington, Naked man
Etching with aquatint, 1951, artist's proof

In 1957, Rubington entered a Crucifixion in the exhibition Church Art Today held at Cathedral House, San Francisco. The First Prize for painting went to a work by Rodger Bolemey, but Norman Rubington’s painting was singled out by the critic Alfred Frankenstein in the San Francisco Chronicle, Dec. 8, 1957. He wrote: “I find only one contribution which rises to a major issue in terms of today’s conceptions of space, movement, form, and coloristic resonance. That is the painting of the Crucifixion by Norman Rubington. . . . Here the dynamics of contemporary thought are really joined to a religious theme.”


Norman Rubington, Crucifixion with two weeping women
Etching with aquatint, c. 1951, artist's proof

Rubington’s Crucifixion was purchased by the Grace Cathedral, San Francisco. Ann May Greene has sent me a copy of a letter from Norman Rubington dated Feb. 20, 1958, to the Very Reverend C. Julian Bartlett, the Dean of the cathedral, thanking him for a letter telling him of the painting’s success. Rubington writes, “I admit I did not expect such a fine reception of my crucifixion and am more than pleased that it is now in a cathedral. Perhaps I expected antagonism to my view rather than acceptance, for it is a personal, subjective interpretation of the crucifixion and as such is out of bounds of orthodox theological conceptions. I could not discuss such matters for my own knowledge is of a different kind, but perhaps the meaning for me is purely in the realm of human suffering....”


Norman Rubington, Crucifixion with male onlooker
Etching with aquatint, 1951, edition of 25

Of the thirteen new images posted here, two are of crucifixions—both very powerful. In one, a puzzled everyman is gazing up in bewilderment at the crucified Christ; in the other, Christ is gazing with curiosity at two distressed women, probably an ordinary mother comforting her daughter rather than two Biblical figures. In both, a connection is made between the everyday suffering of humanity and the Passion of Christ. Several other male figures seem to have something Christ-like about them (as, in fact, does the figure in Rubington’s etching for Douze poètes, douze peintres).


Norman Rubington, Salome
Etching, 1950, artist's proof

Rubington was evidently brooding on Biblical imagery at this time. In another print, what at first sight seems an amusing line etching of a naked woman sitting at a dining table turns out to be replete with religious imagery, with a chalice, a fish, and the head of John the Baptist being brought in on a platter.


Norman Rubington, Standing male nude
Etching with aquatint, 1951, artist's proof

But there is wit and joy in life in these etchings, too. The man playing the flute, the rather doleful bearded man (probably a self-portrait) clinging to a naked woman, and the etching crowded with little scenes from the artist’s daily life—all of these make the viewer smile, and are intended to.


Norman Rubington, Three female nudes
Etching with aquatint, 1950s, artist's proof

Rubington is not always completely successful in avoiding a debt to Picasso; his three standing nude women, for instance, inevitably recall Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. There are also elements of Surrealism in some of the etchings, including one of sunflowers growing through the bones of a dinosaur, and the human-animal hybrids of Les Acrobates de la Nuit.


Norman Rubington, Les acrobates de la nuit
Etching with aquatint, 1950s, edition of 20

I feel very privileged to handle these beautiful etchings, which are evidence of a rare talent. Norman Rubington’s early successes were followed by relative obscurity, partly because of his distrust of the art world, partly because he dissipated some of his artistic energy on books for Olympia, and experimental film-making, and partly no doubt because when he returned to the USA he left his reputation behind in Paris. Perhaps now is the time for Norman Rubington’s achievement as a printmaker to be fully recognized.

Gregory Masurovsky 1929-2009

The printmaker and typographer Gregory Masurovsky was born in the Bronx on 26 November 1929, and has died in Paris on 17 July 2009. Masurovsky studied at Black Mountain College (where a number of teachers from the Bauhaus had ended up) and at the Art Students' League in New York. He had lived in Paris since 1954. In France he was particularly celebrated for his 40-year collaboration with the writer Michel Butor on a series of projects, celebrated in an exhibition at the Musée de Pontoise in 2004, "La Plume et la Crayon". Many of Gregory Masurovsky's etchings were published in New York by Sylvan Cole at Associated American Artists, including the one below, which is one of seven delicate etchings made to accompany poems by Carl Sandburg in 1970. It was printed by Atelier Georges Leblanc on B.F.K. Rives, pencil-signed and justified by the artist, one of 150 copies thus out of a total edition of 190.


Gregory Masurovsky, Fog
Etching, 1970

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg
from Chicago Poems, 1916

La Bande Noire

The School of Pont-Aven that centered on the maverick Paul Gauguin in the late 1880s and early 1890s spawned two art movements of the 1890s. The first is Les Nabis. Founded by students at the Académie Julian, including two of Gauguin’s Pont-Aven acolytes, Paul Sérusier and Maurice Denis, Les Nabis took a mystical slant on Gauguin’s innovations in colour and composition. In the Kunstmuseum, Winterthur, is a canvas of 1902-1903 by one of the Nabis, Félix Vallotton, entitled Five Painters. It shows four leading Nabis, Pierre Bonnard, Édouard Vuillard, Ker-Xavier Roussel, and Vallotton himself, clustered admiringly round a fifth figure, who seems to be the leader of the group. This fifth man is Charles Cottet (1863-1925).


Charles Cottet, Pays de la mer: soir orageux
Lithograph, 1897

Although Cottet too attended classes at the Académie Julian, he is not usually counted even as a member of the Nabis (though he did take up lithography at their urging, contributing his first lithograph to La Revue Blanche in 1894). Instead he is regarded as the leader of the second movement influenced by Pont-Aven, La Bande Noire, or Les Nubians. As the name La Bande Noire suggests, this group, looking back to Gustave Courbet for their inspiration, painted in sombre colours. Whereas the Nabis carried Gauguin’s artistic innovations forward, the Nubians devoted themselves to the subjects that had inspired his art in Pont-Aven—the Breton landscape and the daily lives of the Breton peasants and fisherfolk.


Charles Cottet, Marine
Drypoint, 1906

In the wake of Barbizon artists such as Millet, peasant life was now an accepted subject for art, and one that allowed the artist, in dignifying the toil and hardship of the poor, to offer a subtle critique of the established social order. The Newlyn School in Cornwall, the Danish Impressionists in Skagen, and the Hague School in Holland, all followed Millet’s lead in their choice of subject matter, as did Gauguin’s key artistic ally, Vincent van Gogh.


Charles Cottet, Au pays de la mer: douleur
Etching, 1908

Charles Cottet’s little band of Nubians have been overlooked by art historians, and are long overdue for re-evaluation. Cottet himself was born in Le Puy-en-Velay (Haute-Loire). Although he studied under Puvis de Chavannes and Alfred Roll, even as a student Cottet preferred to work directly from nature rather than under instruction in an atelier. Cottet exhibited at the Impressionist exhibitions organised by Leparc de Bouteville, and exhibited for the first time at the Salon de Paris in 1889. His 65 etchings were all made between 1903 and 1911 when, increasingly disabled by illness, Cottet ceased to etch. In 1906 he was co-opted as a member of the Société des Peintres Graveurs Français, at the invitation of its president, Léonce Bénédit, who was Cottet's friend and patron throughout his career.


Charles Cottet, Bretonne
Etching, 1911

Cottet was one of the founder members of the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts, and in 1900 of La Société Nouvelle; he also exhibited with the Salon de la Gravure Originale en Couleurs. Although he travelled to Algeria and Egypt, he was most truly at home with the melancholy landscapes of Brittany. Bénézit calls him "un des artistes les plus intéressants du XIXe siècle". Cottet was represented in the 1973 exhibition Visionnaires et Intimistes à l'époque 1900 at the Grand Palais, Paris. There was an exhibition of his work at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Quimper and the Musée d'Art et d'Histoire de Fribourg in 1984, but the art of Charles Cottet is still waiting for a full re-appraisal. The last major retrospective was in 1911, when 431 works were shown at the Galerie Georges Petit. Cottet's graphic work, however, has been fully assessed, with an exhibition at the Musée de Pont-Aven in 2003, and an accompanying Catalogue raisonné de l'oeuvre gravé by Daniel Morane. I am indebted to this work for a number of details in this post.


Charles Cottet, Vieille femme d’Ouessant
Etching and acquatint, published 1922

Cottet’s two most prominent followers were André Dauchez (1870-1948) and Lucien Simon (1861-1945). Dauchez and Simon were not only firm friends and artistic colleagues, but also brothers-in-law.


André Dauchez, La récolte du varech
Etching, 1906

The self-taught painter and printmaker André Dauchez was born in Paris. Dauchez studied printmaking with Gaston Rodriguez; his first prints date from 1887, and his output includes lithographs, etchings, and wood engravings. The Breton landscape was an inexhaustible source of inspiration for Dauchez.


André Dauchez, La chapelle de Beuzec
Etching, 1906

As a painter, André Dauchez exhibited with the Salon de la Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts from 1894, becoming a member of the Society in 1896, its secretary in 1927, and its president in 1938.


André Dauchez, Au-dessus du port de Douarnenez
Etching, 1923

Lucien Simon was also born in Paris. Simon taught at the École Nationale des Beaux-Arts; among his pupils were Lucien Fontanarosa, Yves Brayer, and Georges Rohner. Lucien Simon was himself taught by William Adolphe Bouguereau and Tony Robert-Fleury.


Lucien Simon, Les Marguilliers
Lithograph, 1897

Lucien Simon exhibited regularly at the Salon des Artistes Français; from 1931-1934 he also exhibited at the Royal Academy in London. He specialised in Breton and religious subjects.


Lucien Simon, Causerie du soir
Etching, 1902

One of Cottet's closest allies was René Ménard (1862-1930). Marie Auguste Émile René Ménard was born in Paris, into an artistic family - his father René Joseph Ménard and uncle Louis Nicolas Ménard were both noted painters. He first exhibited at the Salon des Artistes Français in 1883.


René Ménard, Automne
Lithograph, 1897

Another member of La Bande Noire was René François Xavier Prinet (1861-1946). Like Lucien Simon and René Ménard, Prinet was a contributor to the Art Nouveau/Symbolist lithographic portfolios L'Estampe moderne. Prinet was born in Vitry-le-François (Marne). He studied under Gérôme, Courtois and Dagnan-Bouveret. With Albert Besnard, Bourdelle, and Edmond Aman-Jean, Xavier Prinet founded the Salon des Tuileries. Prinet taught many pupils, first at his open studio in Montparnasse, and then at the École Nationale des Beaux-Arts, where he ran an atelier specifically for female students.


Xavier Prinet, Manon
Lithograph, 1898

A younger artist associated with this group was the Breton painter Jean Julien Lemordant (1882-1968), about whom I have posted before. Lemordant was close to Cottet, and influenced both by Gauguin and the School of Pont-Aven and by the Fauves. Lemordant was blinded at the battle of Artois in October 1915.


Julien Lemordant, Dans le vent
Etching, 1914

You could write a Catalogue Raisonné of Julien Lemordant’s etchings on the back of a postcard: he only made three, all marked by the extraordinary vigour with which he attacked the etching plate.


Julien Lemordant, Ramasseurs de goëmon
Etching, published 1919

Since I first posted about Lemordant I have acquired proofs of his two very Bande Noire etchings of Breton fisherfolk (including one of seaweed gatherers that makes an interesting comparison with an etching of the same subject by Dauchez; both “varech” and “goëmon” mean seaweed). In the interests of completeness, I am re-posting his etching Maisons en construction, which shows his art taking off in a Modernist direction.


Julien Lemordant, Maisons en construction
Etching, 1912