An Open Question
My recent comments about Matisse's apparent hesitation to advance into absolute abstraction must be qualified by one exception. It is his oil painting, “Open Window at Collioure,” 1914, located in Room 7, Level 5, of the Centre Pompidou, Paris. It's title refers to the town of Collioure, on the Mediterranean coast of southern France, which attracted Matisse, and other artists, for its fine climate and reclusive medieval dignity. Art tourists may wish to visit the Collioure Maison du Fauvisme.
Matisse's painting of “Open Window at Collioure” was contemporary with the outbreak of World War I, in 1914. It is an easel painting, measuring about 45” in height, by 35” in width—of modest scale—made to fit comfortably in the dwelling of a private art collector. The scene is void of figures. It may be classified, at a glance, as all paintings which fall under the category “geometric.” At the same time, it has more going for it—as art—than mere abstract geometry.
The painting's bleak outlook assuredly reflects Matisse's concern, at the time, about the outbreak of war. It is not so much a statement as a contemplation. It has been compared to Matisse's “The Piano Lesson,” 1916. Looking beyond the obvious similarities of design, while “The Piano Lesson” rings with Pythagorean harmony, “Open Window at Collioure” resonates with a thud, which may be compared to the dull impact of a heavy object which has been dropped (or has fallen.) To be unambiguous, it is not the sound of shattering glass or a smashing ceramic pot. It is a sound which corresponds, visually, to the audible impact of dead weight dropped.
To be blunt, my allusion is to death by falling from a height, whether by accident, or intentionally. The stark simplicity of “Open Window at Collioure,” plus the foreboding blackness of the “window” within the composition, bespeaks emotional despondency. It represents a moment of doubt—personal doubt—not the theatrical performance of the same. We do not know with certainty what Matisse had in mind when he painted "Collioure.” What matters is that something compelled him to paint it as he did. It's not typical Matisse. Some would say fate made him paint it. Whatever the motive, it is what makes it his masterpiece.
As a matter of art criticism, “Open Window at Collioure” could have been painted by any amateur, with or without academic training. It is easy to fake. It is barely competent. It has no drawing. All that remains of Matisse's Fauvist exuberance is a sickly color scheme, weak brush work, and a harsh dark/light contrast. It is as if the artist painted it while convalescing from a life-threatening illness, such as from a stroke. Looking at “Open Window at Collioure” is like looking into the face of a person on the verge of a stroke. Recognize the signs of stroke before it is too late!
The abstract formalism of “Open Window at Collioure” has been addressed often. The emotional despondency of the image has not. Perhaps it may be compared to witnessing a personal misfortune—a stroke of bad luck—at which we are too polite to stare. Jumping from a high balcony—often a lavish property—is a common motif in the news. One unforgettable instance involved an aspiring government employee who was reputed to have child pornography on his laptop. He leaped to his death from a high rise Washington, D.C., condominium balcony. It was reported without apparent irony that before he committed suicide, he had ordered delivery of a pizza. It was discovered afterwards that the hapless victim had not taken a single bite of the pizza before jumping to his death.
I offer this example without gratuitous intent. The scenario of the crime is, regrettably, typical. The complex imagery of "Collioure,” in particular the open French-style window, the black night, the empty room—empty because the tenant has departed—reminds me of nothing so much as Jean-Paul Sartre's existential play “No Exit.” True, 30 years separate the painting “Open Window at Collioure,” from Sartre's masterpiece. That is an insignificant circumstance. The French title, “Huis Clos,” corresponds to the idiomatic English expression, “behind closed doors.” They are in hell. They are in hell for the sin of suicide.
All are guilty as sin, and yet, they are given the opportunity to exit. Sartre's open door = Matisse's open window. To exit through either stage play door, or painting window, would be suicidal. In Sartre's own words, from No Exit:
GARCIN: Open the door! Open, blast you! I'll endure anything, your red-hot tongs and molten lead, your racks and prongs and garrotes— all your fiendish gadgets, everything that burns and flays and tears— I'll put up with any torture you impose. Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough. Now will you open? (THE DOOR FLIES OPEN: a long silence.)
INEZ: Well, Garcin? You're free to go.
GARCIN: Now I wonder why that door opened.
INEZ: What are you waiting for? Hurry up and go.
GARCIN: I shall not go.
“No Exit” savages the involutional melancholia of petit bourgeois society. Knowing Sartre, it seems unlikely he'd be so concerned about a mĂ©nage Ă trois of misfits as to write a bitingly satirical theatrical masterpiece about them. What is more probable is that Sartre had in the back of his mind the incessant warring of the European states, one country against another, all against all, all for nothing, and, in particular, against France. That Sartre was politically conservative is the only conceivable reason he did not skewer the various State actors by name, directly, literally—embarrassingly—in a stage play.
As a matter of historical speculation, it is an valid conjecture that Sartre was inspired to write “No Exit” by Matisse's “Open Window at Collioure.” Matisse's painting pre-dates Sartre's play. The question for art historians is if, when, and where Sartre may have viewed “Open Window at Collioure.” An alternative explanation for the aesthetic similarity of the oil painting and the stage drama is a more general idea. It is, that all of Europe—from 1914 to 1944—felt itself on the path of self-destruction, a final act of mass suicide.
Did Sartre meet Matisse? Or, is the aesthetic overtone incidental? Alas, it is not probable that the two geniuses met. The Centre Pompidou Internet dossier on “Open Window at Collioure,” by Henri Matisse, ends speculation thus:
"Ne la considérant pas comme terminée...Not considering it finished, Matisse did not sign the painting, but he kept it. It was not rediscovered, restored, and exhibited until well after his death, in 1966 in Los Angeles. Since then, it has fascinated an entire generation of painters, as the never-claimed trace of Matisse's improbable transition to abstraction."
Well! For 52 years “Open Window at Collioure,” by Henri Matisse, knocked about the bric-a-brac of the artist's estate. Hesitant over what he had created, he never signed the painting. By today's standards, it might be mistakenly attributed to scores of abstract artists. Based solely upon privileged access to the artist's estate is the painting's provenance verified. It is a shame Sartre never viewed it. Nobody did, until years after Matisse's death. It is a pity.