Suzanne (2026) by Michael Saxton

 

🎨 First of all, many thanks to Michael Saxton, for giving me a free copy of his self-published book: Suzanne. I have first stumbled upon this book on Davida's blog (she reviewed it for #ParisinJuly2026), and I was fascinated by the story - the first French female painter of the of the Impressionism, whose works were admitted at the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts. I have never heard of her, and yet I was vaguely familiar with the name Utrillo, who was Valadon's son (also a painter). Hence, I was most curious about this Suzanne Valadon, who started her career in Montmartre as model for famous artists such as Berthe Morrisot, Pierre Puvis de Chavannes, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and Pierre-Auguste Renoir; but later on became "one of them" - as Edgar Degas had said at that time - the model had become the peer of the artists she had posed for. 🎨 Suzanne Valadon was born Marie-Clémentine Valadon in 1865 from an unmarried mother who was a laundress at Montmartre - her father was unknown. From childhood, Marie loved to draw, but both her mother and the Sister at the school forbade her to pursue this hobby. After being injured following a fall as trapeze acrobat in a circus, Marie began to pose as model and muse for several painters. One of these paintings, and perhaps the most famous, is Dance at Bougival (1883) by Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

🎨 From those hours of posing for the painters, Marie (or Maria - her chosen "professional" name as model) observed and learned their techniques. She went home often bringing some discarded papers and charcoal, and tried and trained herself to draw. It was Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec who first "found" her hidden talent, and he brought her to Edgar Degas, who was at that time considered the highest authority in paintings. And the rest, as they say, is history. Marie, or Maria, has become Suzanne - the name she assumed - the painter. However, that was only the beginning. Suzanne had had a long way to go to be well respected among her contemporary (male) artists, and to be considered a professional. One of her biggest obstacle was Maurice Utrillo, her son, born out of wedlock. 🎨 Maurice was conceived when Suzanne was only eighteen years old. She never revealed the father - most probably because she herself was not certain. However, Miquel Utrillo signed a legal document acknowledging paternity, without being sure himself of the truth. Anyhow, Maurice was a restless boy from the beginning, and Suzanne's mother often gave him a small dose of alcohol into his diet to "calm" him. Either from this diet or hereditary alcoholism in his blood, Maurice grew up an alcoholic. And so, Suzanne's personal life was always in between poverty and alcoholism (and perhaps a hint of schizophrenia). Paul Mousis, a banker, was the only non-bohemian man who had ever really loved Suzanne. He provided respectability and establishment to Suzanne's life (they lived in a Paris apartment), staying away from Montmartre and bohemian influences that Suzanne believed was bad for Maurice. 🎨 Unfortunately, once a bohemian, one would always be one. Suzanne began an adulterous affair with a boy of the same age of Maurice - in fact he was Maurice's friend - called André Utter in 1909. He posed for her painting Adam et Eve. I was quite furious with Suzanne at this point. What kind of a mother who would prioritize passion on top of the wellbeing of his sensitive son? She admitted to herself that if she were to chose between her husband (Paul) and her son, she would have picked Maurice. That was quite understandable, considering her relationship with Paul was more of comfort rather than passion. But to "sacrifice" Maurice's feeling to passionate affair with a mere boy was too much for me - bohemian or not. Well, they say that genius artists (and writers) are usually selfish, so maybe that's one quality that Suzanne needed to be what she had later become. 🎨 All in all, this is a nice historical account of a self-made woman painter, at the time when the art world was dominated by men. Suzanne had always been persistent in both her art and her dealings with blood-sucker art dealer, and with people who was on the way between her and her son's happiness. Personally I prefer Maurice Utrillo's art of cityscapes than the bold-lined and crude Suzanne's feminine nudity. Well, I generally dislike feminists, so... But that didn't deter my enjoying this book. The first half is perhaps quite confusing; one chapter, for instance, Maurice was still a toddler, then apparently in the next he's already six. But the rest are more neatly paced. Though I was not quite immersed into the Paris of between the end of Impressionism era to the rising of Expressionism, this would be a perfect choice for #ParisinJuly, or if you are a Francophile like me.

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐