Lot Essay
In the spring of 1889, Paris was transformed for the opening of the ambitious Exposition Universelle, a grand World’s Fair intended to showcase the stability and strength of France, as well as its bold, modern outlook as a nation. Commemorating the centenary of the French Revolution, the Exposition attracted over thirty million visitors and more than sixty thousand exhibitors, who were featured across a series of monuments and national pavilions that were specially erected for the duration of the exhibition. Perhaps most famously, the event saw the unveiling of the Eiffel Tower, originally a temporary structure that suffered huge critique among contemporary commentators, only to gain immense popularity among the public and become a symbol of Paris. Created during this exciting year, Portrait de Nai Chipp is a rare early portrait by Paul Sérusier and one of only a handful of paintings from this pivotal stage of his career to have survived to the present day. Recent research on the painting conducted by the Courtauld Gallery in London has pieced together a series of clues within the canvas that together reveal that the mysterious sitter was not a member of the Javanese delegation featured in the Exposition Universelle’s infamous colonial exhibition, as previously assumed, but rather most likely a diplomatic representative of the Kingdom of Siam, visiting Paris during the event. Held in the same private collection for the last quarter of a century, Portrait de Nai Chipp offers a glimpse into the rich diversity of nations, cultures and people that converged on Paris during the grand Exposition Universelle of 1889, and the cross-currents and dynamic influences that would leave an indelible mark on the imagination of the city’s young artists.
At the time of the Exposition Universelle Sérusier was at the very forefront of the French avant-garde. Initially trained at the renowned Académie Julian in Paris, he had grown restless amid the confines of a traditional academic programme of artistic study. Yearning for a more radical and innovative approach, he travelled to the small town of Pont-Aven in Brittany during the final months of 1888, immersing himself in the bourgeoning artists’ colony that had taken root there. At the heart of this circle of forward-thinking painters was Paul Gauguin, whom Sérusier met via the painter Emile Bernard. The two artists quickly forged an incredibly fruitful friendship, and Gauguin specifically encouraged Sérusier’s dramatic experiments in colouration, famously telling him: “What colour do you see that tree? Is it green? Then use green, the finest green in your palette. And that shadow? It’s blue, if anything? Don’t be afraid to paint it as blue as possible” (quoted in Beyond the Easel: Decorative Painting by Bonnard, Vuillard, Denis, and Roussel, 1890-1930, exh. cat., The Art Institute of Chicago, 2001, p. 17).
Sérusier’s experiences in Pont-Aven in the autumn of 1888 opened his eyes to new possibilities of creativity, ushering in a revolutionary shift in his style that would come to full fruition in his paintings through the ensuing years. Indeed, he ultimately ventured further into abstraction than Gauguin ever did, pushing his landscape paintings nearly past the point of recognition in perhaps his most famous painting, Le Talisman, l'Aven au Bois d’Amour (Guicheteau, no. 2; 1888, Musée d’Orsay, Paris). Once back in Paris, Sérusier shared the ideas and painting techniques that he had exchanged with Gauguin with his friends at the Académie Julian, including Maurice Denis, Pierre Bonnard and Edouard Vuillard. In this way, Sérusier became “the direct and vital link between Pont-Aven and the Nabis”—the new name assumed by this cohort of young artists (R.T. Clement, A. Houzé and C. Erbolato-Ramsey, A Sourcebook of Gauguin's Symbolist Followers, Westport, 2004, p. 231). Portrait de Nai Chipp reveals Gauguin’s ongoing influence on Sérusier during this pivotal moment of his career, its use of vibrant, rich colours, thick dark outlines, and simplified description of the play of light and shade across the man’s face, all echoing the older artist’s style.
The identity of the sitter, however, has long remained something of an enigma. While some scholars have suggested the gentleman was a member of the highly popular Javanese contingent, who were stationed within the model village known as Kampong at the end of the Esplanade des Invalides, it now appears more likely from his contemporary European-style attire that Sérusier’s model was a representative of the Kingdom of Siam. The modernising influence of King Chulalongkorn (Rama V), who ascended to the Siamese throne in 1868, had brought large-scale transformation to the kingdom nation during the final decades of the nineteenth century. Alongside the abolition of slavery and the introduction of modern educational institutions, a preference for western-European clothing swept through the Siamese court, including longer hairstyles and moustaches, fashions further promoted by Prince Prisdang, who served as the country’s principal diplomat in Europe at the time. Siam’s presence at the 1889 Exposition Universelle was part of a broader strategy by King Chulalongkorn to reposition the kingdom on the international stage, presenting the nation as a modern, forward-thinking power, and resist the encroaching tide of colonisation sweeping South East Asia at the time. Several members of the Siamese royal family visited the Exposition during its run, including four of King Chulalongkorn’s sons, and a number of French newspapers commented on the delegation’s sartorial preferences, noting their choice of suits and waistcoats for everyday wear, while traditional dress was reserved for official events.
It remains unclear how Sérusier may have encountered a member of the Siamese delegation, though he is known to have visited the Exposition, as well as the satellite art exhibition organised by Gauguin at the Café Volpi. While European painters and photographers were employed by the Siamese court during this period, it seems unlikely that the painting was a commissioned portrait, but rather an independent project inspired by Sérusier’s experiences – he rarely painted male figures, and those he did choose to depict were often close friends and artistic acquaintances, which suggests the artist may have come to know the sitter quite well. A handwritten label on the reverse of the painting, lists the gentleman as “Naip Chipp”, while an exhibition catalogue from Galerie Druet in 1909 gave his name as M. Nai-Chipp, which was later misspelled as “Maï Chipp” in a publication from 1976. While research has yet to trace an individual by that name within the delegates from Siam who visited Paris in 1889, it is possible that the title was in fact a misspelling on Sérusier’s part – Nai may be translated to the equivalent of Monsieur or Mr, while Chipp may have been a phonetic estimation of a Siamese name.
Infrared reflectography of the painting has revealed traces of a floral motif in the upper left corner of the canvas, indicating that Sérusier had originally intended the surrounding background to be more decorative, rather than the subtly modulated plane of blue that frames the sitter in the final composition. Perhaps a lotus or torch ginger flower, the addition may have been inspired by the Siamese pavilion at the Exposition Universelle, which reportedly included deep blue lacquered surfaces, punctuated by vivid floral details – one visitor described the experience of entering the pavilion “by four staircases whose banisters are loaded with sculptures. It is a mixture of flowers and golden figures, which stand out against a dark blue background” (quoted in Les merveilles de l’exposition de 1889, Paris, 1889, p. 514). The use of flower motifs around the figure also echoes several of Gauguin’s paintings from the same year, such as La belle angèle (1889; Musée d’Orsay, Paris), where small blossoms and buds are dotted through the surrounding background. Sérusier made several other adjustments to final composition of Portrait de Nai Chipp as he worked, most noticeably removing the man’s right hand, which had originally been tucked into the front of his waistcoat – the subtle pentimenti of this shift in direction are still visible on the surface of the canvas, the traces of the artist’s brushstrokes detectable in the figure’s sleeve and across his torso.
Christie’s would like to thank Chloe Nahum, Bridget Riley Art Foundation Curatorial Fellow at The Courtauld Gallery London, for her invaluable research into Portrait de Nai Chipp which has informed this essay.
At the time of the Exposition Universelle Sérusier was at the very forefront of the French avant-garde. Initially trained at the renowned Académie Julian in Paris, he had grown restless amid the confines of a traditional academic programme of artistic study. Yearning for a more radical and innovative approach, he travelled to the small town of Pont-Aven in Brittany during the final months of 1888, immersing himself in the bourgeoning artists’ colony that had taken root there. At the heart of this circle of forward-thinking painters was Paul Gauguin, whom Sérusier met via the painter Emile Bernard. The two artists quickly forged an incredibly fruitful friendship, and Gauguin specifically encouraged Sérusier’s dramatic experiments in colouration, famously telling him: “What colour do you see that tree? Is it green? Then use green, the finest green in your palette. And that shadow? It’s blue, if anything? Don’t be afraid to paint it as blue as possible” (quoted in Beyond the Easel: Decorative Painting by Bonnard, Vuillard, Denis, and Roussel, 1890-1930, exh. cat., The Art Institute of Chicago, 2001, p. 17).
Sérusier’s experiences in Pont-Aven in the autumn of 1888 opened his eyes to new possibilities of creativity, ushering in a revolutionary shift in his style that would come to full fruition in his paintings through the ensuing years. Indeed, he ultimately ventured further into abstraction than Gauguin ever did, pushing his landscape paintings nearly past the point of recognition in perhaps his most famous painting, Le Talisman, l'Aven au Bois d’Amour (Guicheteau, no. 2; 1888, Musée d’Orsay, Paris). Once back in Paris, Sérusier shared the ideas and painting techniques that he had exchanged with Gauguin with his friends at the Académie Julian, including Maurice Denis, Pierre Bonnard and Edouard Vuillard. In this way, Sérusier became “the direct and vital link between Pont-Aven and the Nabis”—the new name assumed by this cohort of young artists (R.T. Clement, A. Houzé and C. Erbolato-Ramsey, A Sourcebook of Gauguin's Symbolist Followers, Westport, 2004, p. 231). Portrait de Nai Chipp reveals Gauguin’s ongoing influence on Sérusier during this pivotal moment of his career, its use of vibrant, rich colours, thick dark outlines, and simplified description of the play of light and shade across the man’s face, all echoing the older artist’s style.
The identity of the sitter, however, has long remained something of an enigma. While some scholars have suggested the gentleman was a member of the highly popular Javanese contingent, who were stationed within the model village known as Kampong at the end of the Esplanade des Invalides, it now appears more likely from his contemporary European-style attire that Sérusier’s model was a representative of the Kingdom of Siam. The modernising influence of King Chulalongkorn (Rama V), who ascended to the Siamese throne in 1868, had brought large-scale transformation to the kingdom nation during the final decades of the nineteenth century. Alongside the abolition of slavery and the introduction of modern educational institutions, a preference for western-European clothing swept through the Siamese court, including longer hairstyles and moustaches, fashions further promoted by Prince Prisdang, who served as the country’s principal diplomat in Europe at the time. Siam’s presence at the 1889 Exposition Universelle was part of a broader strategy by King Chulalongkorn to reposition the kingdom on the international stage, presenting the nation as a modern, forward-thinking power, and resist the encroaching tide of colonisation sweeping South East Asia at the time. Several members of the Siamese royal family visited the Exposition during its run, including four of King Chulalongkorn’s sons, and a number of French newspapers commented on the delegation’s sartorial preferences, noting their choice of suits and waistcoats for everyday wear, while traditional dress was reserved for official events.
It remains unclear how Sérusier may have encountered a member of the Siamese delegation, though he is known to have visited the Exposition, as well as the satellite art exhibition organised by Gauguin at the Café Volpi. While European painters and photographers were employed by the Siamese court during this period, it seems unlikely that the painting was a commissioned portrait, but rather an independent project inspired by Sérusier’s experiences – he rarely painted male figures, and those he did choose to depict were often close friends and artistic acquaintances, which suggests the artist may have come to know the sitter quite well. A handwritten label on the reverse of the painting, lists the gentleman as “Naip Chipp”, while an exhibition catalogue from Galerie Druet in 1909 gave his name as M. Nai-Chipp, which was later misspelled as “Maï Chipp” in a publication from 1976. While research has yet to trace an individual by that name within the delegates from Siam who visited Paris in 1889, it is possible that the title was in fact a misspelling on Sérusier’s part – Nai may be translated to the equivalent of Monsieur or Mr, while Chipp may have been a phonetic estimation of a Siamese name.
Infrared reflectography of the painting has revealed traces of a floral motif in the upper left corner of the canvas, indicating that Sérusier had originally intended the surrounding background to be more decorative, rather than the subtly modulated plane of blue that frames the sitter in the final composition. Perhaps a lotus or torch ginger flower, the addition may have been inspired by the Siamese pavilion at the Exposition Universelle, which reportedly included deep blue lacquered surfaces, punctuated by vivid floral details – one visitor described the experience of entering the pavilion “by four staircases whose banisters are loaded with sculptures. It is a mixture of flowers and golden figures, which stand out against a dark blue background” (quoted in Les merveilles de l’exposition de 1889, Paris, 1889, p. 514). The use of flower motifs around the figure also echoes several of Gauguin’s paintings from the same year, such as La belle angèle (1889; Musée d’Orsay, Paris), where small blossoms and buds are dotted through the surrounding background. Sérusier made several other adjustments to final composition of Portrait de Nai Chipp as he worked, most noticeably removing the man’s right hand, which had originally been tucked into the front of his waistcoat – the subtle pentimenti of this shift in direction are still visible on the surface of the canvas, the traces of the artist’s brushstrokes detectable in the figure’s sleeve and across his torso.
Christie’s would like to thank Chloe Nahum, Bridget Riley Art Foundation Curatorial Fellow at The Courtauld Gallery London, for her invaluable research into Portrait de Nai Chipp which has informed this essay.