The Fortune Teller by Jean Georges Vibert

Gad, I love this picture.

We continue our weeklong look at Jean George Vibert (1840-1902) with one of his finest pictures, The Fortune Teller.

Vibert served in the war of 1870-71 as a sharpshooter, and was wounded at the battle of  Malmaison in October of 1870.  He was awarded the Légion d’Honneur and became a Chevalier de la Légion d’Honneur for his efforts. 

While recovering from his war wounds, Vibert started writing plays, staging many productions and sometimes serving as actor in his own works.  Not surprisingly, his plays mocked the establishment and contemporary mores.  He also wrote an operetta, Chanteuse par Amours, performed at the Variétés in 1877.  It was at this time that he also starting writing short stories Century Magazine in the US, finding a free public relations bonanza in writing stories based on his pictures.   

Vibert continued to submit work to the Salon until 1899 with L’Aigle et le Renard (The Eagle and the Fox).  No slouch at self-promotion (or self-congratulation), Vibert wrote of himself in the third person: …being an excellent cook, you have invented and prepared sauces that make your compatriots lick their fingers; that, using your pen as well as your brush, you have written songs and plays that have been applauded in the minor theaters of Paris; that, following the example of Molière, and having, like him, an extraordinary talent as an actor, you have played your own productions at the club and in artistic salons; then, having a passion for building, and trying your hand at all the trades, you are not only your own architect, but do not disdain occasionally to work in iron, like Louis XVI., or in wood, like the good St. Joseph; and finally that, in decorating your house, you have distinguished yourself as an upholsterer. In the last particular, you may even say that you surpass Molière, or he, although the son of an upholsterer, was not himself one.

So, it is no surprise that a man with such a dramatic turn of mind would paint a picture as boldly dramatic as The Fortune Teller.

As with other pictures we have seen, Vibert strives to render the clergy (particularly cardinals) as both human and ridiculous.  Certainly good churchmen should have no traffic with such superstition as fortune tellers or tricksters.  However, both cardinals (one amused, the other thoughtful) look on, an enormous Gutenberg bible on the bookstand beside them.

As usual with Vibert’s clergy, the cardinals are in a room of considerable splendor.  The gilt table, divan with canopy, Oriental carpet and magnificent fireplace, though, all become a mere backdrop to the drama of the fortune teller. 

The Fortune Teller herself stands as if in a spotlight.  Her confederates (other gypsies, perhaps?), stand ready upstage left.  Her raiment is as colorful and dramatic as that of the cardinals, and the train of her dress follows the flowing line of the train of one of the cardinal’s robes.  Indeed, the Fortune Teller’s cards and box of magic are proudly displayed, much like the on-display bible of the cardinals.

What is perhaps most significant here – and why I think this is one of Vibert’s finest works – is how the artist uses light.  While the Fortune Teller is in the ‘spotlight,’ so are the robes of the two cardinals, linking the figures together.  More telling is the light from the stained glass windows near the other gypsies – light comes from behind them, illuminating the figures modeled in glass.  But, aren’t the figures from early Christian mythology more reminiscent of the costumes of the performing gypsies than that of the cardinals?  While Vibert is drawing a parallel between the dawn of Christianity and the simple superstitions of the gypsies, he is also commenting on the smug condescension of the church.  Notice the supercilious smile of one of the cardinals.  “Superstitious peasants,” the look says.  “We know so much better.”  However, Vibert points out the amusing truth that there is little that separates the two.

Eureka by Jean Georges Vibert

We continue our weeklong look at master artist Jean Georges Vibert (1840-1902), who painted many satirical pictures of the church and its clergy.

We mentioned earlier that in the 1860s, Vibert traveled to Spain with his friend Eduardo Zamacois, a young Spanish artist.  Vibert collected Spanish clothing and objects, which were later used to create scenery for many of his ecclesiastical paintings.  But while Spain influenced many of Vibert’s paintings, his travel to the East also affected his style of painting. Vibert’s sense of fine detail was a quality that he shared with the Orientalists.

Always versatile, Vibert also became an advocate of watercolors, formalizing the Societe des Aquarellistes Francais, and becoming its president, in 1878. He was also an author and actor, writing plays and sometimes appearing in them.  (Vibert also had an active association with stage and theatrical productions in Paris.)  He also used his scientific abilities to prepare his own colors after studying the chemistry of colors, and wrote a book of the science of painting in 1891, La Science de la Peinture.

Vibert wrote stories for The Century Magazine, sometimes based on scenes from his paintings, finding it a convenient way to advertise his works in America. In 1878, Jean placed six watercolors and seven oil paintings on exhibition in the Exposition Universelle, and was awarded a third-class medal.

Like many artists, Vibert compared his works to fatherhood – he loves all of his ‘children,’ though he wasn’t always completely satisfied with them. If I were he, I would have a particular fondness for today’s picture, Eureka.

Once again, Vibert places his cardinal in a setting of enviable luxury.  The secretary desk at which he sits was, I’m sure, a valuable antique when Vibert painted the picture let alone today.  The green felt of the writing blotter is clear, as are the beautifully rendered books at eye level.  The secretary comes complete with a pillow for the prelate’s sensitive feet, and sports two-toned wood.  (Your correspondent has a particular liking for this picture because a small, black onyx Sphinx is clearly visible on the cardinal’s desk opposite the inkwell.)

There is an elaborately carved vase of flowers overhead, and floridly-painted walls surround door and mantle trim.  The beautifully depicted parquet floor is immaculate, as the cardinal’s robes and golden tassel rest upon it without danger of soiling. 

The drapery of the cardinal’s robes is, as per usual with Vibert, painted with a sure hand; indeed, he fully understands both the beauty, the extravagance, and the absurdity of the clerical costume.  I particularly like how much attention he lavishes on the priestly red shoes – particularly the buckles.  (Remember the luminescent pumps worn by the Preening Peacock seen earlier...)

 

“Eureka,” of course, is an exclamation of discovery or “I have found it!”  One would expect such an epiphany form a cardinal to be spiritual in nature, but such simplicities should never be expected from Vibert.  In fact, it’s quite clear from the cardinal’s face that he has crystalized some perfidy … either a sneaky way around a problem, or, perhaps, a manner of creating a new problem.  This is not the smiling to the self over a job well done, but a dirty deal just devised, or an argument or position that cannot be countered.  The expression is more Bernie Madoff than Vicar of Christ, and, as such, indicative of Vibert’s subversive humor.

More Vibert tomorrow!