Word: mallarme
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...Wilde, who owed so much to his ideas and style), Whistler was seen as an honored veteran and not an avant-garde figure; his paintings had lost whatever experimental look they once had, and were surpassed by impressionism. Curiously, his biggest influence was on writing. Poets Stéphane Mallarmé found their own cult of the indeterminate, the penumbra of experience, confirmed in his work. The Whistlerian landscape of Thames kept turning up in English poetry for another generation-not least in The Waste Land, with its "brown fog of a winter dawn" lying on London Bridge. Marcel Proust...
...Manet died of tertiary syphilis in 1883 at the age of 51, Emile Zola and Claude Monet helped carry his coffin to the grave. In life, his milieu had included nearly every French artist of significance, along with writers of the stature of Charles Baudelaire and Stéphane Mallarmé; the latter called him "goat-footed, a virile innocence in beige overcoat, beard and thin blond hair graying with wit." Dressed to the nines, Manet was celebrated as a dandy in that city of dandies, Paris. To read his friends and admirers, you would suppose that he never uttered...
FIZDALE: We practically wrote a book on Mallarmé! It's in the drawer. GOLD: We wrote 50 pages on Revue Blanche before we realized that it wasn't our subject. The problem was to marry cultural history and biography. It is difficult to steer a clear course between interpretation and fact. And it should not be 900 pages long...
...memory was as short as the walk from the pond to the studio. In his genius for rendering evanescence within a monumental structure, Monet became a master of le temps retrouvé: the most Proustian of painters. His truer literary equivalent, though, was the symbolist poet Stéphane Mallarmé. The blank page, for Mallarmé, trembled with possibility, as calm water or the tight-stretched canvas did for Monet. Its white flatness was not an absence: it was a poetic element, possessing the character of thought. "The intellectual armature of the poem," Mallarmé once wrote, "conceals itself...
...blue that I might call mine," says Motherwell, "it is simply a blue that feels warm, something that cannot be accounted for chemically or technically but only as a state of mind." This blue has literary prototypes, embedded in Motherwell's reading of French verse. It is Mallarmé's azur, the color of oceanic satisfaction. It is the hue of Baudelaire's sea, the color of escape. But it is also pure ideated feeling. One cannot say that a painting like Summer Open, with Mediterranean Blue, 1974, with its softly respirant field of ultramarine, "depicts...