A lasting Impression

As we celebrate the 150th anniversary of the first Paris exhibition of the Impressionists, we cross France to visit the areas that inspired them to turn the art world on its head

Words Katja Gaskell

The first thing you notice when you arrive on the Normandy coast is not the sweeping beaches or the dusky blue ocean, or even the towering white cliffs. The first thing that hits you are the vast skies and the extraordinary light. No matter where you stand, you are surrounded by a constantly shifting landscape: billowing clouds that form and swirl, stormy skies that roll and tumble, and dreamy sunsets in sugar-almond shades of pink and purple. It’s little wonder that this stretch of coast became a muse for some of the greatest painters of the 19th century.

I was in Yport, a small seaside town sandwiched between Fécamp and Étretat, standing alongside Sophie Justet, a local landscape artist working swiftly with her brushes and paints to capture the moment. Above us were cartoon-like clouds hovering in a hazy blue sky, casting shadows on the sheer cliffs of the Alabaster Coast.

“I work with the light,” said Sophie, who has been painting the Normandy coastline for the last 30 years. “You need to work quickly because the light is constantly changing. Every time I get home, I feel as if I have been painting in an entirely new place because of the way the light changes the landscape.”

These fast-moving skies have long inspired artists and writers, but it was the Impressionist painters who, in the mid-19th century, made their name by reproducing these landscapes on canvas. The advent of passenger railways and portable metal paint tubes had allowed artists to escape their city studios, venturing to the coast and into the countryside. In doing so, they turned their backs on conventional subjects and traditional techniques, choosing instead to work, like Sophie, en plein air, capturing the beauty of nature in the moment.

“Working outdoors is wonderful,” said Sophie. “Like the Impressionists, I work outside whatever the weather. Although if it’s really bad, I will sit in my car to paint.”

Yport was just my first stop on an Impressionist-themed road trip that followed in the brushstrokes of some of France’s greatest artists. My journey traced the curves of the River Seine through Normandy and on to the bright lights of Paris, then south to Aix-en-Provence. Along the way I discovered the people and places that helped to shape this groundbreaking art movement 150 years ago. I also found that, as I travelled, I became just as keen to discover what it was about these areas that inspired such work.

In search of Monet

A short drive west of Yport lies Le Havre, France’s second-largest port, where a teenage Claude Monet first met landscape artist Eugène Boudin in 1858. Nicknamed the ‘King of the Skies’, it was Boudin who persuaded Monet to swap his sketchpad for a paint palette.

Monet later produced the iconic Impression, Sunrise from a hotel room window overlooking the harbour 15 years after this meeting. It was this painting that earned what was then a group of young renegade artists their name, after critic Louis Leroy sneered in 1874 that the work was merely an “impression” and not a finished piece. Little did he know that the name would stick and we would still be celebrating these artists and their works 150 years later.
Little remains of the Le Havre of Monet’s day. Most of the city was flattened during the Second World War, although the town’s glass-and-steel Musée d’Art Moderne André Malraux (MuMa) on the seafront boasts a similar view and light to that which Monet would have enjoyed.

“There is a special light that forms above the estuary,” said my guide, Lise Legendre-Onijas. “A mixing of the soft river water of the Seine and the salt water of the Channel seems to create this light that captivated the artists.”

I understood what she meant while browsing MuMa’s collection, which has a large number of Boudin’s paintings of big skies, alongside works by the likes of Monet, Alfred Sisley, Édouard Manet and Camille Pissarro.

From Le Havre I drove over the Normandy Bridge that crosses the Seine estuary to the beautifully preserved tiny harbour town of Honfleur. The town is credited as being the birthplace of Impressionism, and it’s easy to see why. Honfleur escaped the Second World War largely intact, and its Vieux Basin (Inner Harbour), lined with tall, slim quayside buildings, is still picture perfect.

Young Impressionists gathered here in the mid-19th century, staying at La Ferme Saint Siméon, a short walk from the town centre. There they were looked after by the formidable Mère Toutain, spending their time painting the ethereal estuary light by day and at communal dining tables at night, often swapping canvases for room and board. Today the property is a five-star Relais & Châteaux hotel, and while the accommodation might have changed since the impoverished artists stayed here, the scenery has not.

“This spot has always enjoyed wonderful views over the Seine estuary,” said Xavier Parent, the hotel’s exuberant concierge. “The colours change regularly with the seasons. Strong reds and blues emerge during the summer months, and pearl greys, pale blues and rose pinks during the winter. This is what the Impressionists wanted to capture.”

Guests with artistic leanings can today enjoy an art lesson with a local painter, but I opted instead for lunch at Bistro La Boucane, the hotel’s casual dining room. Housed within an old cottage, the former outbuilding was the subject of the Monet painting A Cart on the Snowy Road at Honfleur.

The following morning I travelled to Rouen, famous for its Gothic churches, enormous Renaissance clock and its medieval centre filled with precariously crooked and half-timbered houses. Rouen is also where a teenage Joan of Arc met her grisly end, burned at the stake for heresy by the English in 1431.

Dominating the city skyline are the spires of the grand and ornate Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen that so captivated Monet. Over the course of two years he produced 28 paintings of the cathedral’s intricate west facade, capturing its variations in appearance in a variety of different seasons and times of day.

“He came to his studio as soon as the sun rose and left only when he could no longer paint,” said local guide Lisa Concato. “The light changed so quickly that he could have as many as 14 canvases around him in the studio at any one time.”

Today the series is scattered across galleries and museums around the world, but one hangs in the city’s excellent Musée des Beaux-Arts. Rouen Cathedral, the West Portal, Dull Weather was purchased by François Depeaux, a wealthy local coal merchant and avid collector who donated his enormous art collection to the museum in 1909. Visitors these days are invariably glad that he did.

That evening I dined at La Couronne, the oldest restaurant in France, established in 1345. Set on the Place du Vieux-Marché, the entrance hall and stairways feature a who’s who of celebrities, politicians and famous faces. To celebrate the city’s brush with the Impressionists, La Couronne serves a themed menu filled with colourful dishes, including lobsters, oysters, roast pork and grilled dorade, all inspired by recipes from Monet’s kitchen in Giverny – the artist was a well-known gourmet.

There were no recipe books on display when I visited Monet’s rose-coloured home in the tiny village of Giverny the following day. The restored house does, however, capture life as it was in Monet’s time. The artist moved here in 1883 and crafted the gardens and lily ponds that formed the inspiration for so many of his well-known works, most notably Water Lilies, a series of approximately 250 oil paintings.

“Monet came to Giverny not knowing that he would stay for 43 years,” said Philippe Piguet, art historian, critic and the great grandson of Claude Monet, who himself spent childhood summers in the village. “But in Giverny he found all the conditions that he was searching for: nature, isolation, space and light.”

My visit coincided with the final days of summer, when the gardens were at their most colourful, wild and free, and the sensation of wandering among the copious flower beds was akin to stepping inside a Monet canvas. A road – formerly a railway – separates the Clos Normand flower garden from the Japanese-inspired water garden where gem-coloured lilies in pinks and violets floated upon the glassy pond surface. It proved a fittingly decorous end to the first part of my journey, as I left the formative days of Impressionism behind for the bright lights of the city.

Making a scene

Normandy might be the birthplace of Impressionism but it’s in Paris where the movement took root. This is where the young Impressionist artists first met, working in creaky old studios and socialising in tawdry bars and cabarets. It is also where, in 1874, they staged the first of eight historic exhibitions, held in defiant response to the annual official Salon de Paris that dominated the art scene at the time.

I based myself in lively and bohemian Montmartre. Having escaped the ambitious urban renewal programme led by Baron Haussman between the years 1853 and 1870, this corner of Paris remains largely unchanged and its steep cobbled streets ooze history. On my first morning there, I walked up to Place du Tertre where artists once came to capture the light; now they stay for the tourists. Dozens sat under colourful parasols painting cityscapes or sketching portraits for eager visitors. So coveted are these spots that artists can wait for up to ten years for one to become free.

Rickety roads wind away from the artist’s square, all lined with shops and restaurants. On Rue Saint-Rustique, the oldest street in Montmartre, I stopped by La Bonne Franquette where artists including Paul Cézanne and Alfred Sisley once clinked glasses, and where Vincent Van Gogh painted his Terrace of a Café on Montmartre. Nearby is Au Lapin Agile, a historic cabaret venue said to be a favourite of Edgar Degas and Pierre-Auguste Renoir, whose former home, where he painted The Swing, is only a short walk away and is now host to the Musée de Montmartre.

On Rue Lepic stands Moulin de la Galette, a reminder of a time when La Butte, as Montmartre is known, was peppered with windmills. During the 1870s, this lively open-air dance hall was popular with Monet, Cézanne and Degas. Renoir’s Dance at the Moulin de la Galette now hangs in the Musée d’Orsay, which formed the inevitable next destination for my artistic wanderings.

Located in the heart of Paris, this museum is the magnificent grande dame of the city’s cultural institutions. Housed on the fifth floor of a former train station from the Belle Époque era is the world’s largest collection of Impressionist works. Paintings range from a Water Lilies by Monet to Cézanne’s The Card Players, to The Absinthe Drinker by Degas. Newly acquired in time for the 150th anniversary of the Impressionists’ first Paris exhibition is The Boat Party by artist and art patron Gustave Caillebotte. I spent my time there searching out some of the more scandalous paintings of the era, including Manet’s The Luncheon on the Grass, which was described as a ‘shameful open sore’ when it was first exhibited in 1863.

A short walk across the Léopold Sédar Senghor footbridge brought me to the Tuileries Garden, the oldest and largest in Paris. The raised terraces, manicured and tree-lined pathways and promenading Parisians were a popular subject among the Impressionists. In the western corner lies the Musée de l’Orangerie, home to eight of Monet’s vast and, for the time, daring Water Lilies series. He called them his “grandes décorations”, and they were gifted to the French state after the First World War.

“Monet carried out his ‘grandes décorations’ project over 27 years,” explained Philippe Piguet. “At the time, no artist had ever created such a work. To achieve this, he first created a water garden from scratch, then had a huge workshop built to paint these giant canvases. The Water Lilies paintings thus constitute a real environment in which the painter invites us to immerse ourselves.”

The big-name Parisian museums come with big crowds, so I was delighted to discover the quieter Musée Marmottan Monet a short metro ride away. One hundred works by Monet occupy the lower ground floor, including the famed Impression, Sunrise that really should be seen in person at least once in a lifetime. I was equally thrilled to see an exhibition dedicated to Berthe Morisot, one of a small handful of successful female Impressionist painters and the only one to exhibit in the 1874 exhibition.

The shifting of light

While living in the capital, the Impressionists painted the wide boulevards, grand buildings and the comings and goings of life in Haussmann’s new Paris. Degas is even celebrated as the ‘painter of dancers’ for his portraits of ballerinas at the Paris opera. But the artists also escaped as often as possible, catching trains to small towns such as Argenteuil, perched on the banks of the Seine, or disembarking at tiny islands such as that of the Grande Jatte.
I followed in their tracks and took a train to Chatou, a little island in the Seine north-west of the city. Nicknamed ‘Impressionist Island’, it became a popular spot for artists, painters and all manner of Parisians, who gathered for swimming, boating and merrymaking in the guinguettes (open-air café-bars) that peppered the riverbanks.

One of the most popular was the Maison Fournaise, which inspired Renoir’s celebrated Luncheon of the Boating Party. The restaurant still stands today, and as I sat on the terrace enjoying lunch beneath its candy cane-striped awning, it was all too easy to imagine the carefree summer days of the late 19th century, filled with chatter and laughter.

Just 15 minutes away by train, where the Seine joins the Oise, is the town of Argenteuil, once a favourite with well-heeled Parisians for its summer regattas and chic restaurants. Monet was so enamoured with the bucolic lifestyle that he moved here with his family in 1871 and stayed for six years. He welcomed regular visitors during this time, including Sisley, Renoir and Manet, and the artists would often paint together in the garden. Today, Monet’s Swiss chalet-style house is a museum dedicated to the artist’s time in Argenteuil and holds a replica of the floating studio that he created from a small rowboat.

From here it was time to head south, to trace the life of another of the movement’s iconic figures. My arrival in Aix-en-Provence, the final stop on my journey, coincided with market day transforming the town centre into a riot of colour. Rows of stalls sold trays of tomatoes the size of pétanque balls and overflowed with huge bunches of sunflowers and linen tablecloths in all the shades of the rainbow.
I was here to explore the early years of Paul Cézanne, who was born in Aix-en-Provence in 1839. Although he is now considered a post-Impressionist painter, he was very much part of the group in Paris and exhibited with them twice, including in the first exhibition.

Looking around Aix today, you would be forgiven for thinking that Cézanne was their favourite son. Dedicated walking trails and a life-size bronze statue standing opposite the Fontaine de la Rotonde all speak to a legacy that has been firmly embraced by locals. The reality, however, is that while he was alive, Aix-en-Provence treated him with froideur. “Never in my lifetime,” said the then curator of the Musée Granet, Henri Pontier, when Cézanne offered him dozens of canvases for the gallery’s walls.

Cézanne’s atelier sits halfway up a hill on the outskirts of town. Built in 1902 with floor-to-ceiling north-facing windows, it’s been scrupulously preserved; its easels, palettes and all manner of jugs and vases have been brought from the family home, the Bastide du Jas de Bouffan. Also among the display is the wooden drawing model that the artist used for many of the figures portrayed in his The Bathers series. From the studio I walked uphill to the plateau where Cézanne often stood in front of his easel to paint the triangular peak of Mont Sainte-Victoire in the distance, a mountain he painted 87 times over the course of his life.

To truly understand his impact on the art world, however, you must visit the Bibémus quarries, which is where I met my guide, Arthur Carlier, just as the sun was beginning to dip. These vast fields of ochre sandstone were excavated here until the 18th century and were used to construct the town’s grand mansions, leaving behind tall, angular, oddly shaped slabs of golden rock.

“The Bibémus quarries were a great playground for Cézanne because of the colours. The yellows of the stone contrasted against the green of the vegetation and the blue of the sky,” explained Arthur.
Cézanne only discovered the quarries late in life, and it’s the works that he produced here, such as The Quarry at Bibémus, that saw him shift from Impressionism to the early stages of Cubism.

“Saying that Cézanne was an Impressionist is both true and false,” said Arthur. “It’s true because he was part of the group of Impressionists at one point, but it’s false because he did something else; he went further than his contemporaries did.”

As we prepared to leave, we stopped at the final viewing platform on the marked trail to watch the sun begin to set over Mont Sainte-Victoire. The golden evening light shone softly on the limestone peak, giving the bleached rocks a dreamy pink hue. Shadows formed within the quarries, creating new shapes and angles, slowly darkening the stone. Once again it was the light shaping and changing the landscape, creating a new canvas that was just waiting to be captured.

About the trip

The author travelled with support from Explore France, Normandy Tourism, Aix-en-Provence Tourism and Seine & Marne Attractivité.