Heather Pentecost

Art 351, Dr. Milliner

May 9, 2013
An Examination of Camille Corots Interrupted Reading
All thanks and praise to the architects of the Art Institute of Chicago. No, not for the mighty
lions or the intricate facade on Michigan Avenue, or even for Renzo Pianos grand Modern
Wing; for the walls. Because when you have been elbowed out of the viewing area of A Sunday
on La Grande Jatte and frowned upon for looking horizontally along an Impressionist painting
to see the brushstrokes, these walls provide such a sweet, sweet refuge.
As I snuck behind one of these merciful dividing walls to escape the clamor of noise in
the main Impressionist Wing, the quiet was deafening. The crowds were nowhere to be found,
unconcerned with any but the most prominent of artists. I found myself with the canvases of a
smaller gallery, finally able to breathe. I was alone at last in Gallery 224, staring straight into
the visage of a young woman. Her portrait was proudly set in the center of the display, ready
and waiting unashamedly for the next transient passerby. The frame was ornate and gold,
giving the painting a certain degree of depth through its four graduated tiers.
This captivating piece was Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corots 1870 Interrupted Reading.
Fairly simple in subject matter -- its only subject is an interrupted reader -- the nearly life-size
painting asks more about the girl than it answers. On the surface, she is young, fair skinned,
and dressed in an Italianate costume. Looking closer, she appears introverted, concerned only
with the book that she has been forced to momentarily set down with your entrance. She makes
direct eye contact; she is not intimidated by whomever you are. Her gaze is not unlike that of
Manets Olympia at first glance, but upon closer inspection, is neither sexually driven or aloof.
She is merely disinterested in company, or perhaps, as Tinterow of the MET posits, is only a
model sitting in [the artists] studio with a book in her hand, making the title a mere
pretext (1996). Whoever she is, and whatever her thoughts, she provides the context for Corot
to experiment with the weight of his paint and the finesse of his hand, experiments that would
culminate in Impressionism.
The painting is a beautiful fusion of the Renaissance tradition of portraiture and the
Impressionist tradition of hasty brush strokes. Her skirt is done with thick, broad strokes, with
slivers of canvas faintly visible along the edge. Her face, however, is impeccably detailed. It is
no surprise that modernist critic Lionello Venturi, according to the Metropolitan Museum of
Arts 1996 exhibition, sought to place it within no less than four different movements in

nineteenth-century art, as the composition recalls Corots neo-classical origins: the theme is
romantic, the scope is realistic, the execution comes close to impressionism.
With this myriad of influences and subsequent styles, Camille Corot is somewhat of an
enigmatic figure in art history; his influences on impressionism are undeniable, especially by
his contemporaries, but his general style remained alongside that of the traditional landscape
artists. The neo-classical and realist origins that Venturi spoke of above resulted from his
zealous studies of painting in France. His style was further muddled by his frequent trips to
Italy, and especially Rome. The vast majority of his paintings are consequently of French and
Italian landscapes, making his later figure drawings such as Interrupted Reading especially
distinct, albeit less memorable in the art history timeline.
In researching for this piece, the idea resounded that Corot was in all respects an
agreeable individual, with no real scandals to blot his reputation. The implication of this idea,
though, was that his lack of improprieties contributed to Corots lack of international fame,
despite his popularity in every exhibition from 1827 through the posthumous Salon of
1875 (Shakelford). How sad it is that an art world that is intended to reveal beauty in life also
requires its contributors to take the beauty out of life, be it through adultery, murder, or
tasteless nudity. Corot may have lessened his potency in the art world because he had the
decency to depict his subjects, almost always women, doing nothing more strenuous than
picking flowers or fruits (Shakelford, 2002). While not proactively feminist, he avoided the
temptation to show only the sensual side of his muses, but instead showcased their intellect, in
pieces such as the one focused on here, and their ability to appreciate art, in his many paintings
entitled The Artists Studio. Corot did seem to be immune to the seductive blandishments of
fame, (Roberts, 1966) but would consistently submit grand canvases to the Paris Salons,
discovering through trial and error what the curators and the people desired, since he would not
flagrantly give them nudes, inspiring Edgar Degass classification of Corot as an angel who
smokes a pipe.
Corots love would always be simple landscapes. He wrote to a student once that I
need living boughs. I want to see how the leaves of the willow grow from their branches. I am
going to the country . . . It is good. It breathes love (Allnutt, 1910). The color palate of
Interrupted Reading is consequently not unlike that of many of his grand canvases of trees and
sunsets, incorporating these beloved tans, blacks, browns, and pops of coral red. His unique
combination of precise detail and muted representation is also evident here; the hand by her
face is carefully painted, with depth and accurate dimensions, while the hand in her lap is little
more than a single brushstroke, keeping with his bauche, or unfinished, style. Her skirt and
background are textured; Corot used wide brushes and liberally mixed his colors with white,
making a thick paste that would retain the marks made by the brush (Tinterow). While his

landscapes are ostensibly repeatable, per the old joke of the three thousand pictures that Corot
painted, some four thousand are now in America, (Roberts) his later figure paintings are not.
The marrying of styles, old and new, in both his landscapes and portraits make him as relevant
today as he was to the fledgling Impressionists.
For a painting, and an artist, that does not receive the same foot traffic as one of
Monet's or Sisley's, the same reverence must not be withheld. Camille Corots intent was not to
be the star attraction at a museum, but instead to paint for the love of painting. His plein-air,
Salon landscapes, in addition to his private figure drawings, are aesthetically striking, created
with the exemplary technique of the Ancien Rgime (Galassi, 1991), and are worthy to be
studied in depth. Even though historians have attempted [since the 1930s] to establish Corot
as the precursor of Impressionism, the inventor of sunlit landscapes untroubled by anecdote or
meaningful incident, (Tinterow) he is often forgotten in all but revised edition of art history
texts. There is a certain vivacity and emotion in his paintings, even when the subject is
portrayed as disinterested or disengaged. The harmonious blend of colors utilized in portraits
like Interrupted Reading, when considered alongside the deliberate variations in texture, merit
Corot high regard and a hushed thank you the next time you abide in Gallery 224, hiding
away from the field-trippers and tourists shuffling along on the other side of those walls.

Works Cited
Allnutt, S. (1910) Corot. London, T. C. & E. C. Jack. Retrieved from: http://
babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015014403433;view=1up;seq=19
Galassi, P. (1991) Corot in italy. New Haven, MA: Yale University Press.
Roberts, K. (1966) Corot. London: Spring Books.
Shackelford, G. & Wissman, F. (2002) Impressions of light: The french landscape from corot to
monet. Boston, MA: Museum of Fine Art Publications.
Tinterow, G., Michael, P., & Pomarde, V. (1996) Corot. New York, NY: The Metropolitan
Museum of Art.