Intimate Friends...

The book is coming along fine, well, that is what I want to believe; keeping in mind that if I was working under the pressure of a deadline, the book would have been finished ages ago. Like many other creative minds that are not authors by profession, I find it hard to find the time to work on it as much as I really want. All things are not bad working this slow way, you have much more time for reflection and can reevalute your work as you grow old with it. I guess all aspiring authors go through this process, at least one time in their career. As they get better as storytellers, so does their craftsmanship automatically, and hopefully, when the painful experience of writing a first book is done, you (I) can start anew, much wiser and more efficient.

These past few months, I have been reading a lot of interesting material concerning Joséphine De Forget (Delacroix mistress), and from what I've gathered, they where as passionate about being lovers, as being close friends. Actually, I think their relationship was based upon mutual respect and love, not just sex. In many love affairs, there is always a party that "feels" more than the other; Eugène and Joséphine where equal in that regard. Delacroix needed Joséphine and she needed him, but that fact did not end his curiosity regarding other women. He had some other adventures, not as fulfilling, but equally important, to him at least.

Relationships in the past where as complicated as they are now, if not more. They certainly had many other functions than they have in our time. For example, it was regarded as normal in french society to take advantage of your intimate friends contacts. This early way of networking served many purposes; a way of life, I am certain - we would have hard to accept these days since we are careful of being used. Since we go about living our lives in a different way in our modern world, we expect; from ourselves - to find our own way without the help our friends. There is no doubt in my mind that we help anyone we can when they ask, but informally, we give our friends as much attention as we get from them. This "balance" is the only thing we know, and we stick to it.

Since many of Delacroix intimate friends died young, there where not that many people that he could turn to or "network" with, with utmost confidence or trust. With age he grew much more confident in himself and his art, something I believe was very important in his later life. After his nephew died, his sisters only son, he couldn't help feeling quite alone and old, and perhaps even abandoned. "J", removed some of his loneliness, but Delacroix was a complicated man, often he would refuse to meet her, not telling her directly, but going away to the countryside and later sending a mail where he stated that he had been ill.

"J", I am sure, could see through his lies, and she wrote back, very politely that although she missed him dearly, she hoped that he would feel better and come and see her. And see her Delacroix did, at least, as long as there was a need to. After they parted ways, I am sure he was sad to realize that he had once again lost a few years searching for something he would never have; a wife. All he got was the spirit of kindred spirit, but he knew that would never last.

Fortune Favors The Bold...

I am very fortunate to have good friends. Recently a good friend of mine read the first 100 pages of my Delacroix book and gave me valuable feedback. There are segments here and there that might seem unclear for the reader that I have to rewrite or clarify.

Any aspiring writer needs commentary on his or her manuscript, I realized this long ago when I wrote poetry. Often philosophically laden; the reader of poetry needs a requisite of intellectual ïndulgence, something often frowned upon in our modern society. Step back twohundred years and it was a necessity. A novel is much the same, although not assembled in the same fashion, it bears the resemblance of the grandiose.

Currently I am reading the wonderful book "The End Of The Salon" by Patricia Mainardi, who states that:

"Nineteenth-century studies' previous focus on the modernis avant-garde..."

- which is, by any means a humble statement. If Delacroix would have lived to see the development of the Salon, or the politicas regimes, perhaps he wouldn't have tried so hard to become a part of the institution. Or, perhaps he would have sought out a change?

Delacroix friend Alexis-Joseph Pérignon wrote:

"The annual Salon cannot satisfy everyone, because it has two contradictory purposes: "to be an exposition of choice works", and to: "serve the artist"...

Today we know who the "winners" of the Salon where. Merely a bunch survived the history pages and a household names today. I wonder if this was the prerogative of Charles Blanc, the Directeur des beaux-arts?

The Road To Paris...

I went to Paris this summer with a friend of mine and did the last research to my book. It was quite an interesting trip. The Delacroix museum and former home of Eugène was wonderful, his studio as well and the little garden next to his bedroom. It was nice to see the studio in real life after reading so much about it for over ten years, in some way I could feel his spirit there, he would have been happy that they kept it nice and tidy considering it took so long for him to get everything done. The rest of Paris, unfortunately was another story, it seems as though the whole city is about to crumble. Perhaps it is the lack of interest in "old" art these days, I am not sure, but it's still a shame, especially when Paris would not be what it is without its art.

On a happy note, it was nice to see some familiar places again, the Louvre of course and many other. I especially liked my walk in the Jardin des Plantes, but the Muséum national d'histoire naturelle and Ménagerie du Jardin des plantes where somehow in the process of being rebuilt or updated, so I could not enter all places. The Museum was founded in 1795, so perhaps it was about time.

I went hunting for Delacroix' ghost in his old familiar surroundings; his "old" apartment at 114 rue de I'Université where he lived with Henriette and Raymond De Verniac was still there, although, the number 114 was gone. Outside the National Assembly of France I asked two guards if they could help me find this number, but it was missing. Gazing up at the building I then realized that it had been there on the corner, and after the Delacroix' gave the apartment up, other famous people have lived there, so, it is not a known fact that Eugène lived there when he was young.

Another trip took me to the Pere-Lachaise graveyard, and I must say I did not expect such a huge place. Me and my friend roamed the "streets" and searched for Delacroix tomb until we realized we had an old map. When we finally found the grave it was a surreal experience. Now I could see for my own eyes that he was really dead. Not that I did not know that before, but for me, trying to figure his life out, he has been with me such a long time; and as it is, I am not yet ready to let him go...

Take care until next time...

Tokyo Blues...

So, I finally went to Japan. It was a rush and it was something I will never forget. What I remember most clearly is the people, not the grand architecture or the sushi, wasabi or any fish that can fit any japanese dish. They where so humble and so akin to fit the rush of the day that I felt out of place and out of time. And who can blame me, I come from a rural city where culture is a speck in the dust. There, it was apart of everything, and when write everything, I mean just that.

I had a hard time to fathom the vastness of the city, Tokyo is by any means, one of the biggest cities in the world. I kept looking for some sign of antiquity, there was places and parks where the old city Edo whispered to me, but I could not hear its voice clearly as I would have wanted. I did follow a trail that led me to Ueno park, and there I found a piece of history that I have come to adore.

At The National Museum Of Western Art I was very fortunate to stumble upon a great exhibition which had works loaned from the Louvre; I quote:

"This exhibition features 17th century European painting; but rather than dividing the works by national boundaries, as is customary, instead these paintings will be divided into three major themes, thus giving viewers an opportunity to enjoy a lateral cross-comparison of the paintings created in Europe during this period. These three themes are The Golden Age and its Shadow, Great Oceangoing Ships and Scientific Revolution, and Relics of Classical Civilization in a Century of Saints. The exhibition will feature important works by such major masters in the Louvre collection as Rembrandt, Vermeer, Rubens, Poussin, Claude Lorraine, La Tour, Domenichino, Guercino, Velasquez, and Murillo..."

Of course this exhibition was a success, I loved the old masterpieces, especially taking a close look at Vermeer and Rubens, but on the second floor, in their permanent exhibithall I found Delacroix thanks to Matsukata Kojiro (1865-1950). He was was the president of Kawasaki Dockyard and invested his own personal fortune in the acquisition of several thousand examples of Western paintings, sculptures and decorative arts. He collected these works throughout Europe, but primarily in Paris, and I guess it must have been there where he saw Delacroix' "The Education Of The Virgin."

This small painting from 1852 is marvellous in its simplicity. It has all the romantic "mannerism" we've become accustomed when looking at Delacroix art. The subject is not as actionpacked as his lionhunts, but portrays a restrained passion which I somehow immediatly associate with his person. A lovely painting which I would hope to see again someday...

Now, I am trying to plan a new trip to Paris this year, just recently I missed an exhibit at the Delacroix museum where the emphasis was on Delacroix' use of photography in his sketching. I am certain this is an area of his art that people are interested of. In my book I have not written anything on the subject because I feel it is to modern. I love to think of Delacroix' art in the romantic way, that he did not use the help of modernity in his work, but hey, I use it myself, I wonder what he would think of my art? Hmm...

Now I am back again on the last third part of my book, exploring the reasons why his uncle Riesener went to Russia for seven years and how it affected him...

This New Year...

Time moves on, never awaiting man or his impeccable visions of the future coming true. That is life, that is art, that is the hierachy of time and everything in it...

The work still goes on with my book, I have been researching more about Paris in the 17-the century and the facts of the city are just astounding. The city has such a rich history it is hard to fathom everything that has taken place there. Eugène could have never been more happier or more miserable in another city, perhaps just like me, now a resident in a much smaller community than Stockholm where I lived before. Outside my window the rain keeps falling, it is a good day to read and enjoy art...

Development...

At the moment I am re-reading Duff Coopers book: "Talleyrand". This books was first published way back in 1932 and I was very fortunate to get a hold of it a bookshop some time ago. I am also reading Dwight V. Swains: "Techniques Of The Selling Writer", not because I want to make a lot of money (then I would work at a bank), rather to find out more about writing in general.

Progress?

Well, things have gone quite well I think, although I have done yet another re-write of the beginning of the book, this time focusing more on the characters and their emotions.

I am still trying to find time to go to Paris to visit Delacroix studio, but I am caught up in much designwork all the time, sometimes hardly having the energy to even open my laptop. Delacroix often scolded himself for being lazy, that was not true, he was very creative all the time. I think he wanted to be as good and as disciplined as his favorite artists; I am but a fellow in their shadows, still I feel the hardship of being an artist...