When fate dictated I read two unrelated biographies simultaneously I admit I thought the plan was stupid. Recent reads of Christopher Moore's “Sacre Bleu” and Andrew Graham-Dixon's “Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane” left me curious about both Henri Toulouse-Lautrec and the Baroque period in Italy, respectively, and fate was not to be deterred, especially by a feeble mind. So onward I pushed with my reading of Julia Frey's “Toulouse-Lautrec: A Life” and Franco Mormando's “Bernini: His Life and His Rome” expecting confusion reminiscent of that old Reese's Peanut Butter Cup commercial: “You got your Toulouse-Lautrec on my Bernini....No - you got your Bernini on my Toulouse-Lautrec.”
Some people are born into this world, others are born alongside it. Gian Lorenzo Bernini was definitely one of those individuals born into this world, embracing it, molding it to his desires, squeezing every last drop from it. Recognized immediately as a prodigy, the world seemed to be there for Bernini's picking. And pick he did, combining his artistic talents with his amazing abilities to dissimulate to gain the favor of pope after pope and king and queen alike and amass an unrivaled fortune. Bernini would use that fortune to cushion him from many attacks by jealous rivals and to allow him and his family to escape actions which should have destroyed their noble standing.
Conversely, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, owing to a hereditary bone growth disorder, was born alongside the world, feeling forced to look at the world from a few feet away, anxious to be a part, angry to be apart, quick to point out the world's flaws even – or, rather, especially – amid its beauty. Escaping unscathed was never a possibility for Toulouse-Lautrec. Sentenced from the outset to a life as a derided spectator he thought solace and acceptance were to be found in drink, and that decision brought his life to an early end.
As for the art of the two talented men, again the extreme differences prove somehow complimentary. Much of Bernini's work is at first glance beautiful but seems to bend toward the grotesque with continued examination. It feels as if Bernini takes the sacred and underpins it with touches of the profane which ultimately bleed through to dominate and spoil the work; as evidence consider Bernini's portrayal of St. Theresa. On the other hand, most of Toulouse-Lautrec's work initially feels grotesque but often becomes more beautiful with continued examination; I'm thinking now of his work “Au Salon de la Rue des Moulins (reprise). He takes the profane and adds in gentle touches of the sacred which ultimately come through to augment the work. Admittedly, Toulouse-Lautrec's paintings very often feel like jabs at conventional ideals of beauty, but I really can't blame the man for wanting to jab a world that excluded him from every aspect of its beauty.
Even the subtitles of the two works are revelatory of the difference between the lives of the two men. Mormando's Bernini is subtitled “His Life and His Rome,” indicating the control and mastery Bernini had over his life and his time. Frey subtitles her work on Toulouse-Lautrec impersonally and generically “A Life.”
Regarding each biography as a reading experience I would give the edge to Frey. The many color plates showing many works of Toulouse-Lautrec along with her comments on these works strengthened my feelings for Toulouse-Lautrec the artist, and her sympathetic and thorough text strengthened my feelings for Toulouse-Lautrec the human being. The only complaint I would have is often the references to the paintings are not presented in the same order as the plates themselves. As for the Mormando book, I don't think the chosen plates do justice to the talents of the artist; most plates are just the busts of certain figures from Bernini's time, and these busts feel like little more than concrete evidence of Bernini's dissimulating nature. The author often mentions many of Bernini's architectural masterpieces but no plates showing these masterpieces are present in the book.
Who knew? What initially felt like an ill-advised foray into two unrelated lives at the same time actually ended up as an enjoyable study in contrasts. Like the characters in that old Reese's Peanut Butter Cups commercial, I was pleasantly surprised by the results of the serendipitous blending of such different tastes. I guess it goes to show you - sometimes you feel like a nut, and sometimes you don't.