Word: corots
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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JEAN-BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT rode to fame in 19th century France on his ability to produce a vision of dappled Elysian fields populated by maids dancing under ever blue skies. But 20th century taste has preferred the pyrotechnics of the impressionists to Corot's blue and silver waltz. Beside figures painted in hot, expressionist colors, Corot's milk-white shepherds piping to their sheep were considered as unsatisfying as a diet of lily stems...
...rolled out of the chateau's gates under the admiring eyes of the neighboring peasants, who had heard of the arrival of a real "grand seigneur." In the next two days the count bought a nearby model farm for 10 million francs ($28,500), ten paintings (including a Corot valued at $18,500), $2,800 worth of lingerie for his wife, $25,700 worth of jewelry, $1,100 worth of Havana cigars, ten typewriters, assorted washing machines, television sets and kitchen stoves, and a station wagon to transport his purchases back to the chateau. On his way home...
Pissarro's claim to recognition lies in such paintings as Peasant Digging (see opposite). A realist at heart, he followed Corot's advice always to paint out of doors. Pissarro made no effort to turn the young peasant woman into a monumental symbol, but accepted her as part of the landscape. His real joy, as his broad brush strokes show, was in catching on the spot the midday heat and glitter...
...moments, though. "Am I leading?" asks a muscular young woman Fred is dancing with. "No," he replies, breathing hard. "I think it's a tie." For the art lovers, there is a scene in which the camera respectfully inspects a series of paintings, genuine originals, by Jean Baptiste Corot, Raoul Dufy, Georges Braque, Pablo Picasso and Claudette Colbert...
...work he described as "little music." The phrase is not simply humble; it has the distinction of accuracy. But when it flowed pure, Corot's "little music" surpassed that of his greatest contemporaries. Neither the lyre of Ingres nor the trumpet of Delacroix is so haunting as Corot's pastoral pipes...