The book begins with the story of Misia, away at boarding school in Paris at the age of 8, listening to an organ grinder playing for her on the street below her balcony. She tossed the busker a little golden trinket pig---something which meant a lot to her---and thus began a life-long career as patron of the arts.
Of course while I am reading this book I have to stop and Google all of the cross-references to people and art. (This is the kind of stuff I love...and thank God for the internet!) I'm only on page 47 (of 311) and I already sense Misia's story does not end well, but I am loving every sentence of this book.
Three things I've already taken from reading this book:
1 Misia's maternal grandfather was Adrien-Francois Servais. In his lifetime he played with and saw many great musicians play, including Chopin. As a child the pianos Misia practiced on were played by people like Franz Liszt, Hector Berlioz, Anton Rubinstein. She would sit on Liszt's lap and play for him. Her own teacher was Faure---and after listening to her play her lessons, he would then play them back for her with his inflection and feeling interpretations. (Experiential, immersive, hello!)
2 Misia's own father was Cyprien Godebski. Godebski was invited to decorate the Servais' villa in Brussels, and that is how he and Misia's mother were introduced and fell in love. A sculpture I find profoundly moving by Godebski---is this one:
Our Lady of The Shipwrecked Men which appropriately stands here.
Wow. The solemn beauty of her face. The baby (slipping through her fingers) who will surely be consumed by the man who is so desperately reaching. The viewer doesn't even need to see the sailor's face to know it. By faith, we hope we know how this already written story ends.
3 Misia collected Bonnard, Vuillard and Roussels while they were unknown and there was no thought of their works as valuable objects. In her lifetime these men became famous, but it did not change Misia. The book describes this well:
"Still later, when Misia commissioned Bonnard to paint a frieze for a new apartment, she found the long, straight edges of his canvas monotonous and cut them into scalloped shapes. By that time Bonnard was recognized as a great painter, and her friends were scandalized. The same friends, Misia recalled, had laughed and said, 'Are you sure they're not hanging upside down?' when she and Thadee had bought Bonnards back in 1893 and 1894. Now when they reproached her for her lack of respect, she replied, 'I don't respect art; I love it.' It was very like Misia, and the kind of answer her artist friends understood. At the end of his life, whenever he made one of his infrequent trips to Paris, Bonnard would come to sit quietly in a corner of Misia's salon in a tender, adoring silence."
Books like this confirm my belief that artists (dancers, painters, musicians, etc.) are just people. They are not to be worshiped and esteemed beyond any man's reach. They are merely vessels. If anything great comes from the work of their hands, it is good and meant to be enjoyed. Great art should not be determined by a set of rules, the congeniality, the faith, the appearance or the fame of the creator. Art is made great when it is encountered and experienced by a moved viewer (even if the only viewer moved is its creator). The possibility of great art can be found everywhere, in any era, in any town. Art is a gift and it is available to anyone who seeks it.
EDIT: Holy Cow I just noticed how expensive this book is! I snagged my copy for .95. If anyone wants to borrow it, just let me know. Lucky me!
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