.jpg?w=1)
Lot Essay
This extraordinary canvas, full of witty characterisations and pictorial incident, both evokes and gently satirises French fashions of the Grand Siècle. The lavishly feathered hats worn or held by five of the gentlemen present, their high-heeled shoes with silk ribbons, the soft-leather boots with copious turn-down tops worn by the figure seated with his back to the viewer, the excessive lace and ribbon trimmings to the suits worn by the men, their long and luxuriously curled coiffures, and the voluminous linen cuffs worn by everyone in the company all lend themselves to an impression of a preponderance of fine stuffs and fashionable fussiness. If anything the men are more showily attired than the women, for all that pearls and gold chains are in evidence in the feminine wardrobe. The picture teems with a rich variety of gesture, expression and incident: the knowing look on the face of the mustachioed gentleman, somewhat more soberly dressed than his comrades, who leads the masked lady entering from stage right; the expression of delight on the face of the seated man wearing his hat, perhaps the central protagonist, as he turns toward them, laying his cards on the table as though he has momentarily lost interest in the game; by contrast, the nonchalant, slightly bored look on the face of the lady playing chequers, not sufficiently distracted to abandon her move; the groping gesture (received? rejected?) of the other hatted gentleman, as he investigates the cleavage of one of the ladies with his right hand while accepting a façon-de-Venise glass of wine with his left; the general carelessness of the cardplayers, several of whom leave their hands exposed--they show their hearts in this company, and their other suits as well.
Perhaps the most interesting narratives are those which take place at the extreme periphery of the composition. On the right, an embracing couple are completely distracted by a trio of characters who seem just to have entered from stage left: one of them, a woman more plainly dressed than the ladies at table, decorated with wild flowers rather than rich jewelery or expensive ribbons, seems to be showing the gentleman the portrait miniature of another lady (is this a procuress arranging an assignation?); meanwhile, a small girl, perhaps her daughter, cuts his purse strings, encouraged by another woman who hides behind her partners bustle. Is this three generations of iniquity? At the opposite end of the stage, four men in red masks are cramped into a narrow space, one of them in an extraordinary and humourous contortion, two others playing instruments which may or may not be in tune with the orchestra at upper right. These are the familiar figures of Commedia dell'arte, the so-called zanni, and the woman in a black mask and orientalising costume is one of their number. Although she is being led away by the knowing gentleman, who gestures with his hat toward an empty seat at the table, she maintains her allegiance to her brethren, tickling the fingers of the contorted, smiling zany.
The scenographic perspectival background recalls a theatrical backdrop, and the stage-like setting cannot be unintentional, especially given the entrance of the comédiens italiens from stage right. The characterisation of the whole scene oscillates happily between incisive social commentary and sheer farce, and belongs to the age of the French comedy crowned by the work of Molière. The faces are caricatures, but some of them--especially those of the two figures who gaze out at the viewer, the striding man in grey and the baby-faced man in front of the columns just right of centre--are almost specific enough to be portraits. The work is painted with a considerable degree of technical skill, from the witty and confident draughtsmanship to the beautiful scratching-out of the lacework. An affinity to the prints of Abraham Bosse (Tours 1602-1676 Paris) suggests that the artist may have been a member of his circle or drawn inspiration from his work.
Perhaps the most interesting narratives are those which take place at the extreme periphery of the composition. On the right, an embracing couple are completely distracted by a trio of characters who seem just to have entered from stage left: one of them, a woman more plainly dressed than the ladies at table, decorated with wild flowers rather than rich jewelery or expensive ribbons, seems to be showing the gentleman the portrait miniature of another lady (is this a procuress arranging an assignation?); meanwhile, a small girl, perhaps her daughter, cuts his purse strings, encouraged by another woman who hides behind her partners bustle. Is this three generations of iniquity? At the opposite end of the stage, four men in red masks are cramped into a narrow space, one of them in an extraordinary and humourous contortion, two others playing instruments which may or may not be in tune with the orchestra at upper right. These are the familiar figures of Commedia dell'arte, the so-called zanni, and the woman in a black mask and orientalising costume is one of their number. Although she is being led away by the knowing gentleman, who gestures with his hat toward an empty seat at the table, she maintains her allegiance to her brethren, tickling the fingers of the contorted, smiling zany.
The scenographic perspectival background recalls a theatrical backdrop, and the stage-like setting cannot be unintentional, especially given the entrance of the comédiens italiens from stage right. The characterisation of the whole scene oscillates happily between incisive social commentary and sheer farce, and belongs to the age of the French comedy crowned by the work of Molière. The faces are caricatures, but some of them--especially those of the two figures who gaze out at the viewer, the striding man in grey and the baby-faced man in front of the columns just right of centre--are almost specific enough to be portraits. The work is painted with a considerable degree of technical skill, from the witty and confident draughtsmanship to the beautiful scratching-out of the lacework. An affinity to the prints of Abraham Bosse (Tours 1602-1676 Paris) suggests that the artist may have been a member of his circle or drawn inspiration from his work.