Day 313- Manet

 September 1, 2022

Gallery 810 is one of the iconic galleries of the Met, a real jaw-dropper. Its 14 oil paintings include nine by Manet, and this in itself would make it worthy of note. The Manets are among the artist’s most celebrated works: “The Spanish Singer,” “Young Lady in 1866” (I always thought it was called “Woman With a Parrot,” which is what it depicts), “Mlle. V. in the Costume of an Espada,” “A Matador,” and “Dead Christ with Angels.” I had never realized that Manet used the same model for the “Young Lady” and “Mlle V.” paintings as for “Olympia” and “Le dejeuner sur l’herbe," nor that many of the characters in his paintings were professional models who posed in his studio.  On top of the Manets,  there are three wonderful portraits by Degas, a powerful portrait by Fantin-Latour, and an accomplished still life by Philippe Rousseau (yet another painter previously unknown to me).  This splendid collection of Manets, many of which were, I suppose,  donated, makes me rethink my notion that people gave their Courbets to the museum when they grew tired of them. How could one possibly grow tired of Manet?

I chose today’s work not because I like it the best or because it’s the most powerful - the "Dead Christ" would take that prize (it reminds me of the Caravaggio “Deposition” in the Vatican Museum)-  but because it shows just how remarkable a painter Manet was. What first strikes me about “The Spanish Singer,”  besides the liveliness of the singer's gesture - his mouth is open, as if the artist has captured him in song -  is the painting's limited palette. The figure's black jacket and barely visible hat are situated against a dark background; the headband, the front and cuff of the singer's shirt  visible below his jacket, and - unexpectedly - the  (canvas?) shoes provide slashes of white.  Gray pants, a dark green bench, a tan guitar, and the singer's flesh tones pretty much complete the color scheme.  The brushstrokes seem broad and fresh, giving the painting an immediacy.  But then I look at the lower righthand corner of this large canvas (I would estimate that it measures 64 inches high and 54 inches wide) and note the care with which Manet executed the little still life there: the transparency of the onion skins, the luster of the jug. (My photograph doesn't do it justice.)  Really, is there anything this painter couldn’t do?