Word: bonnards
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...flowers that fill Chagall's home in Vence you report: "The moment they begin to fade, the artist prods his wife to throw them out." The contrasting attitude of Pierre Bonnard is interesting. In an interview some years after Bonnard's death, his longtime housemaid said that one of her despairs was the master's way with the bouquets she brought in from the garden daily. Not until they were ready to throw out did he show interest in them; then, when that first shine was off and petals were falling, he began to paint them...
...Bond & Bonnard. By far the most spectacular space within the building is the penthouse where the bachelor baron, as head of the house of Lambert, lives alone. Broad reception halls and dining rooms convert from business luncheons at noon to formal dinners at night. Strolling through suites studded with Giacometti's lean bronzes, through rooms where Picassos and Mirós alter nate with Bonnards and Rouaults into his big library, the baron likes to wink roguishly as he touches a hidden button that causes the book-lined wall to swing back, revealing a glass-sheathed bedroom with...
...pencil and crayon drawing by Pissarro, drew a walloping $2,300. From then on, there was no stopping them. Bids came in volleys as Chagall's La Madone du Village shot up to $82,500 (v. his previous all-time high of $77,500). Bonnard's opalescent bath peekaboo at his wife, La Glace Haute, went to the Carnegie Institute for $155,000 (v. $101,000). When Degas' Repetition de Ballet, a pastel and gouache painting considered the high point of the evening, came up on the block, it was greeted like a masterful pas de deux...
...light," said Bonnard, and he was an ingenious supplicant. In the checkerboard tiles that pattern his work, the color changes to harmonize with nearby colors. Nude flesh becomes a chameleon mirror for interior hues; a bathtub becomes an irregular cocoon for the human form. Bonnard's pictures are made of optical bewilderment and caprices of color...
...Bonnard's wife died in 1942; he lived on until 1947, painting in his austere south-of-France villa. When he died at the age of 79, few came to honor the master of color more than nature herself. For his funeral, a rare snowstorm shrouded the spectrum that he had honored so well...