The Last Good Kiss. Mme. de Villeparisis’ salon continues. Our narrator watches the social sparring between the attendees, comparing Mme. de Villeparisis’ salon to others, including Mme. de Guermantes. There is a strategically off-handed comment made about Mme. de Guermantes’ strained marriage. There is a discussion around Mme. de Villeparisis’ paintings, as well as more references to her Memoirs. Bloch speaks to our narrator about his excitement at meeting M. de Norpois, also in attendance. Bloch bombards Norpois with questions about the current political climate.
THIS IS THE SECOND TIME PROUST HAS DEPICTED A SALON WHERE THE SALON’S HOSTESS FORCES ALL OF THE ATTENDEES TO STOP WHAT THEY ARE DOING TO ADMIRE HER PAINTINGS. I want to believe that Marcel Proust loves paintings so much that he is compelled to stop his fictional characters dead in their narrative tracks to admire a painting. As a reader, I too will stop me dead in my reading tracks to do the same.
“Everyone gathered round Mme. de Villeparisis to watch her painting.” (p. 286)
PROUST WROTE HIS PROSE IN FRENCH AND I AM READING ONE OF THE ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS. It is always difficult to determine the accuracy of a translator’s word choice. That being said, the choice of the verb, watch, when to describe Proust’s approach of viewing a painting strikes me as curious, although “curious” is a word that best encompasses Proust’s approach to life. When I consider how I view paintings, it would never occur to me to say that I am watching the painting. I watch a television show. I watch a movie. I watch my nephew while my brother is at work. The word implies that the object I am watching is dynamic and will change, so if I am not watching the object I am at risk of not witnessing that change, missing a crucial plot point in a movie, or my nephew may evade my eyeline and getting into trouble. An object that demands my watching is either in motion or has the ability to be.
Yet, Proust applies the word to viewing a static image. I’m writing this while sitting in my office. I have a bunch of different things hanging on my office; a couple of comic books, a New Jersey license plate from when I lived in the state, my diploma, and my therapist license. I also have prints of two paintings. One is a Jackson Pollack “drip” painting.
Jackson Pollack “Number 1” (1948)
The other painting is based on the story of Faust (my favorite myth). It depicts the titular character playing chess with Mephistopheles, the demonic spirit that Faust trades his soul to in return for universal knowledge.
Moritz Retzsch “Checkmate” (1799)
I’ve stared, noticed, looked, admired, and studied these paintings, but I cannot say that I ever watched them. What would happen if I did? Would the Pollack painting suddenly started melting off the canvas and down the wall, like a bad acid trip, paint dripping onto the bookcase directly below, ruining my copies of “The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson[1]” and my collected edition of the Batman comic book storyline “Knightfall.[2]” What would happen if I turned my attention to the “Checkmate” painting to watch Faust play Mephistopheles in a game of chess? Would Faust suddenly start playing a Sicilian defense? Would Mephistopheles enact a Queen sacrifice? Will Faust sense that he is losing the game and, in a sudden fit of rage, upend the table? Doubtful.
If watched deeply enough, something will always be revealed. Proust knew that there is no such thing as a static image. This is consistent with Proust’s overall belief that regardless of appearance, nothing in life is static or mundane. Through watching and observing the static or mundane, something dynamic and special will be revealed. But revelation is not given willy-nilly; one must watch and observe consistently and deeply.
If we watch a painting long enough its world will be revealed as well as more of our own world. I am reminded of a very profound example of this that I experienced with the abovementioned Jackson Pollak painting a few years back. It was during the COVID pandemic. That’s when I bought the print, and before it migrated to my office, it hung over the television in my apartment. During that time, I also bought a record player and started collecting vinyl records. Because it was the pandemic, I wanted to ensure that I was not spending ALL OF MY TIME in front of the screens of my phone, computer and television, so I spent about one to two hours every night lying on my couch listening to the records. As I laid there my eyes would naturally wander and quickly landed on the Pollack print over my television.
On one of these nights, after about two weeks of this routine, I remember watching the Pollack print and having the strangest thought pass through my mind, “I’m staring at the face of God.” Now, no one would accuse Pollack of being a religious painter, and I can safely say that he never depicted God (as far as I know) in any of his paintings. But, as I laid staring at that painting, I remember thinking that I was looking at chaotic lines of paint that on the surface appeared randomly placed. There was no sense or logic to it. But I remember feeling the order and harmony at work below the surface, but I could not articulate it.
Feeling harmony and order in the midst of chaos – Jackson Pollack’s painting, “Number 1” is a better presentation of God then anything else I could imagine.
[1] Every single person, when they reach the age of 21, should have to read Emerson’s essay “Self-Reliance.”
[2] This is the storyline that introduced the character “Bane” - my favorite Batman villain.
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