Shortly after the imposed isolation of the pandemic, Sara Baume came across a painting at a pop-up exhibition in a renovated shed in rural West Cork. It so intrigued her that she was inspired to make contact with the artist. Mollie Douthit, a North Dakotan exile, was living and working alone in a log cabin down a ravaged laneway surrounded by rugged coastline. Sara and Mollie discovered they had much in common - a dysfunctional attitude towards companionship, a devotion to the daily rituals of their respective art practices, an affinity with nature. They started to meet every month for soup and punishing swims in the Atlantic.
Sara fell under the spell of Mollie's paintings, pictures that welded memory and reality, and gradually started to write about them, curious as to whether any particular insight might be provided by the intimacy of friendship with the artist, and whether it might be possible to craft a book in the style of the paintings. But what she had not anticipated was that a settled period in her own life would coincide with a period of tumultuous change for Mollie, and soon she found herself squabbling with more complex ideas, about community and nationality, about neurosis and mysticism, about love and pain and the power of art.
Sara Baume is an Irish novelist. Her father is of English descent while her mother is of Irish descent. As her parents travelled around in a caravan, Sara Baume was born "on the road to Wigan Pier". When she was 4, they moved to County Cork, Ireland. She studied fine art at Dun Laoghaire College of Art and Design and creative writing at Trinity College, Dublin from where she was awarded her MPhil. She has received a Literary Fellowship from the Lannan Foundation in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Her books are published by Tramp Press in Ireland and Heinemann in Britain. In 2015, she participated in the International Writing Program's Fall Residency at the University of Iowa, in Iowa City, IA.
4,5 A story about friendship and art. Now that I finished it, I want to buy the book as well; I would love to read certain passages again and to see the paintings in colour. Beautiful. Thank you Farrar, Straus & Giroux and Edelweiss for the ARC.
There’s a particular genre of books I adore: books about art, making it, living it, pursuing it, struggling to define it in a particular moment and then redefining it the next. I don’t particularly care for conventional biographies of artists, as those tend towards judgement. Many autobiographies by artists and writers also have an eye on posterity, and tend toward the tidy anecdote, the easily digested lesson. Sara Baume’s Opening Night is perhaps the apotheosis of this not-genre, this difficult fusion of writing about art, the creation of art, and recording the life choices an artist makes, but without judgement or attempting to distill the process into a commodity — the very thing Baume bemoans as a regretted, but necessary end-point for visual artists like her subject, Mollie Douthit.
Opening Night is the story of the friendship between two artists, Irish sculptor and novelist Sara Baume, and painter Mollie Douthit, an American living near Baume in Co. Cork, Ireland — although Mollie describes herself as an “Irish Painter” as she feels that her time in Ireland made her a painter. Both are of similar temperament, happy in their own company, and prepared to order their lives around the creation of their art, even when that impacts their personal comfort. Baume’s attention is caught by two paintings of Douthit’s in a group exhibition organized by a mutual friend, but the two do not meet right away, various factors (the Irish winter, a new sense of caution around socializing after the height of the pandemic, and the fact that Douthit doesn’t own a vehicle) keep them apart, but Baume seeks out more of Douthit’s art through social media, gets to know the art before the artist, and they begin to chat online.
When they do meet, they are quite simpatico, enjoying each other’s company, and the opportunities to discuss their practice with a kindred spirit. Baume’s book takes us through a couple of years as the friendship matures, and is structured around Douthit’s preparations for a big exhibition in Dublin. Along the way we learn a great deal about both women’s childhoods, and see how the past — and their sometimes-flawed memories of that past — has influenced their art. We also watch as Douthit navigates a new relationship, and Baume reflects on how artists must also negotiate how to maintain space for their art within their personal relationships, and ponders the nature of friendship.
It’s a fascinating story, albeit not one that lends itself to easy summation and social-media-friendly blurbage. Baume’s novels and her outstanding memoir Handiwork all explore the balance between art and life, the individual and the other, to a certain degree, and with Douthit as her muse and subject, and in some ways her artistic doppelgänger, Baume explores the choices that guide artists in both art and life, and paints a vivid picture of the sacrifices, risks, and joys involved. I sense it will provide a lot of food for thought for the artistically inclined.
Reviews will no doubt use the word “unflinching” a lot, as Baume does not shy away from the less attractive aspects of artists’ lives: the poverty, the housing insecurity, the anxiety over your work, and the need for occasional material success. Similarly, she refrains from painting an overly flattering picture of either Douthit or herself, sharing occasional feelings of jealousy and a resentment of wealthy collectors who have less of an appreciation for the art than herself. As Douthit’s health worsens, Baume wonders if this is manifestation of the stress of completing paintings for her exhibition or a tendency towards hypochondria. It’s important to note that the book grew from Douthit asking Baume to write the catalog for her exhibition, so for most of the period covered by the book, Douthit was well aware that Baume was writing about her, and would joke whenever something occurred that she knew could appear unflattering.
Impressively, while the book ends shortly after the opening night of Douthit’s big exhibition, it leaves the reader in the dark about some of the artist’s personal trials during this period. We are left to guess if her health issues got resolved, and have no real clue about whether her relationship with a Swedish man worked out or not. Just like attending an exhibition, we are left to interpret the art itself, written and visual, and can only guess what comes next. In this way, I felt Baume was reminding the reader that at a certain point you have to separate the art from the artist, despite an entire book being so intensely focused on the creation of both of their art.
Many of Douthit’s paintings are reproduced in color throughout the book, which helps as Baume discusses all in great detail, often circling back to pictures that represent particularly impactful events in Douthit’s life. The inclusion of these paintings allows the reader to compare Baume’s interpretations and emotions to their own, essentially reproducing the final exhibition in book form and expanding the conversation about this art far beyond the walls of the galley where it briefly lived.
Opening Night is a fascinating piece of reportage/memoir/meditation about the life of the artist and the nature of friendship, and a book that I think artists will be reading for a long, long time.
“I rarely asked Mollie very probing questions about the practical considerations of her paintings. Part of me assumed that I would not fully understand her answers anyway, but a larger part of me enjoyed the process of guessing the answers for myself, of crafting a mythology. I was not able to afford to purchase any of her work, but as time went by I came to feel as if I had a greater stake in the ownership of certain paintings than the people who had paid for them and brought them home, due to the time I had spent thinking and looking; due to the opinions I had shaped around the works themselves, separate from their maker.” Sara Baume has long been a favourite of mine — her three novels are endlessly excellent, and her memoir handiwork is an all-time favourite — so of course I couldn’t wait to read her new memoir, Opening Night. (Literally couldn’t wait; I begged for a proof the second I could and started reading it as soon as it arrived.) Here, Baume writes about a period of her life marked in particular by her friendship with the artist Mollie Douthit, and through this friendship comes to reflect on the world around her, threatened by environmental calamity, political unrest and pandemics, but redeemed through art and humanity and mutual care. Reading this book nearing the end of a pretty bleak winter, I could feel my heart warming and opening; it made me think of the friendships in my life that mean so much to me and nourish me, and the art that does the same. I’ve not stopped thinking, since finishing the book, about my own relationship to art: what draws me to partake in its witnessing as well as its creation, what I get from it and what I can give to it. It also renewed my love for Baume’s work, of course, my gratitude for her steady eye, her curiosity, and her unerring sentences; and what’s more it introduced me, through Baume’s evocative descriptions and some reproductions, to Douthit’s work, so rich and shining with wry interest in the world, a quality the two share in spades. I can’t recommend enough reading it when it’s out on 2 July — and thanks so much to Granta for the early proof.
I recognise the gallery on the cover of this book: it's the National Gallery in Dublin, where a portrait by the artist Mollie Douthit was exhibited as part of the national portrait prize. Yet from the angle of the photograph, it's difficult to pinpoint exactly where the picture was taken, even though I recognise the floor tiles. Both Mollie Douthit, in her paintings, and Sara Baume, in her prose, are very good at making the familiar strange.
Sara Baume encounters paintings by Douthit in a small exhibition space near her home in West Cork. She is immediately drawn to the paintings, and wants to learn more about Douthit. Opening Night is an account of the growing friendship between the two artists, both loners, living in isolated houses in West Cork. Both struggle to make ends meet, and to afford to continue their lives as artists. They meet for monthly to swims in the freezing Atlantic, no matter the weather, and share conversations. Throughout, Baume's understanding of Douthit's paintings and artistic practice deepens, and begins to inform Baume's own work, until she starts writing about Douthit. The memoir looks at the ways making art can change the course of our lives, how difficult it is to crave companionship while also being fiercely independent, and the beauty of the rugged seascapes around West Cork, an area Baume ironically christens 'the Irish Riviera".
I hugely enjoyed this book: Baume's prose is utterly immersive, and a thought-provoking story emerges, one that does not romanticise creativity, but shows all the ways it is difficult and heart-breaking. Nevertheless, this is an uplifting read.
Unfortunately, some of Douthit's paintings are hard to make out in the reproductions in this book. I recommend going to her website (MollieDouthit.Com) t0 see them in crisper colour.
Started reading this because I adore Sara Baume's previous novels & was delighted to be introduced to Molly Douthit's art which also happens to be right up my street! Baume writes about their friendship in the area of Ballydehob, their sea-swims, meals, drives, chats & gradually it becomes clear what Mollie's art is influenced by in her life & Sara is deeply affected by the knowledge behind each painting. There is also a deeper, darker undertone that unfolds in their relationship that begins as Mollie's exhibition gets closer & manifests in dental issues that appear unfixable & there is a definite tension in the later chapters that felt to me almost like a thriller (will both characters actually make it to opening night?) This book is a wonderful insight into artistic creativity & the struggle to make it in both literature & artistic worlds. Fascinating & fabulous.
This is the exact kind of reflective read I love. The voice is raw yet deeply analytical, taking the protagonist's obsession with this female painter and portraying their friendship as if it were a complex and detailed canvas. I loved the profound admiration required to fulfill this project, and I also very much enjoyed the author's ability to combine different codes and domestic themes within the very texture of the novel.
Special to read this while traveling in Ireland! There are some really great descriptions of the Irish landscape and the sea (the Atlantic). The story itself is a portrait of a really meaningful friendship between two female artists. I love books about friendship and about Ireland! The book was really up my alley in a couple of ways.
Also a wonderful introduction to the painting of Mollie Douthit. Many images of her works are included in the book and they are gorgeous.
This is one of those very small scale memoirs that I particularly love - the story of a woman and an artist she met first through her art, and the friendship and collaboration they built over the course over the pandemic, and how the friend's life ended up unraveling during that time. Highly recommended read if you're in a reflective mood when it comes out in December.