A Wall Street Journal and Times Literary Supplement B ook of the Year | Long-listed for the Plutarch Award
A bold new biography of the legendary painter John Singer Sargent, stressing the unruly emotions and furtive desires that drove his innovative work and defined the transatlantic, fin de siècle culture he inhabited.
A great American artist, John Singer Sargent is also an abiding enigma. While dressing like a businessman and crafting a highly respectable persona, he scandalized viewers on both sides of the Atlantic with the frankness and sensuality of his work. He charmed the nouveaux riches as well as the old money, but he reserved his greatest sympathies for Bedouins, Spanish dancers, and the gondoliers of Venice. At the height of his renown in Britain and America, he quit his lucrative portrait-painting career to concentrate on allegorical murals with religious themes―and on nude drawings of male models that he kept to himself.
In The Grand Affair , the historian Paul Fisher offers a vivid life of the buttoned-up artist and his unbuttoned work. Sargent’s nervy, edgy portraits exposed illicit or dark feelings in himself and his sitters―feelings that high society on both sides of the Atlantic found fascinating and off-putting. Fisher traces Singer’s life from his wandering trans-European childhood to the salons of Paris, and the scandals and enthusiasms he caused, and on to London. There he mixed with eccentrics and aristocrats, and the likes of Henry James and Oscar Wilde, while at the same time forming a close relationship with a lightweight boxer who became his model, valet, and traveling partner. In later years, Sargent met up with his friend and patron Isabella Stewart Gardner around the world and devoted himself to a new model, the African American elevator operator and part-time contortionist Thomas McKeller, who would become the subject of some of Sargent’s most daring and powerful work.
Illuminating Sargent’s restless itinerary, Fisher explores the enigmas of fin de siècle sexuality and art, fashioning a biography that grants the man and his paintings new and intense life.
Fantastic. One of the more arresting and beautifully written artist biographies I've ever read. I had only a passing knowledge of Sargent before I began it and this book has ignited an obsession. The handling of Sargent's mystery-shrouded sexuality is deft, comprehensive and balanced, but it pushes back necessarily on the "obviously they were just roommates" school of straight washing famous historical figures. The book also manages to be transportive and atmospheric in its depiction of the different countries and cultures Sargent visited during his lifetime. I just loved it.
When John Sargent meets Henry James at a fashionable Paris salon in 1882, this cloying and often annoying biography finally springs to a bit of life (after 131 pages). James, 39, was 13 years older and had just published "Portrait of a Lady." Both men were very similar: both came from intelligent, well-traveled American families, were interested in art and music, could speak several languages and, as bachelors, insisted on a mask of "respectability" at all times. Their salon hostess was Henrietta (Etta) Reubell, a bold, independent woman who liked to ignore gender and sexual conventions -- as did other salonistas. Decadents, dandies and aesthetes dominated the scene. With few exceptions, the salons were always run by graceful women with an ability to amuse and appreciate. The heyday was the Belle Epoque. Oscar Wilde and Robert de Montesquiou were among those who frequented Etta's salon. (James gives his version of Etta as Miss Barrace in "The Ambassadors," 1903, and Little Bilham, suggests bio author Fisher, was inspired by Sargent himself. Fisher further notes a "distinctly queer feeling" between Strether and Little Bilham). Anyway--
Sargent became famous for his portraits of society women, but privately his artistic intensity was on nude male figures, which he did not dare exhibit. Sargent had a couple of close chums that he painted and traveled with, but left no hint as to deeper intimacy. After all, his "Portrait of Madame X" (1884) had caused a scandal in Paris when it was first exhibited with a drooping shoulder strap. Eventally, a favored Italian model, Nicola d'Inverno, became his valet then house manager, and was with him for 25 years...but, beyond these facts, the rest is left up to your imagination. So, author Paul Fisher is a cock tease ! He lacks any new information. Their separation is also left very muddled/confusing.
An early Sargent biographer was the psychotic Charles Merrill Mount, an American accused of selling and painting fake Sargents, who went to prison for the theft of rare documents from the Library of Congress. Mount died in 1995. (An editor once sent me to interview him; it was the creepiest experience I ever had). Yet author Fisher cites him in a footnote...whaaat? Ok, I can overlook one footnote. But then -- he cites him 2 more times?? This is pathetic).
Sargent and James were lifelong friends, yet author Fisher does not mention the artist and his sitter in "The Tragic Muse," 1890.
In The Grand Affair: John Singer Sargent in His World, Fisher offers a unique rendering of intimacy. Driven by the desire to unveil both the man and his art, the narrative adjusts to the tantalizing ambiguity of Sargent’s life.
With his beginnings rooted in the Victorian era, Sargent’s world is one of telling omissions and riotous innuendos. In compliance with this long-forgotten code of silence, Fisher recognizes the provocation in a model’s pose, or the shade used to delineate a coveted body. In doing so, he encircles the empty space, in which affection can seek its true embodiment.
Where others might wilt before certain assertions, especially those concerning a strictly homoerotic narrative, Fisher emerges as a steadfast and attentive student of the implicit. Without oversimplifying the man or banalizing an established enigma, he sets out to retrace Sargent’s sooty silhouette.
Left largely untouched by history, it’s slowly filled in with all that has been omitted by the fear of the unmanageable, unnameable, and unsympathetic to restrictive beliefs. In fact, The Grand Affair draws much of its appeal from the ampleness of Fisher’s research.
Weaving a narrative framed by both a distant sympathy and a fierce curiosity, he calls on others’ deductions, memories, and open-ended sentiments. From the few biographers that have cropped up over the years to the preserved ideas of the times, Fisher crafts a full-bodied composition that carries a touch of his own wit and humor.
What’s interesting to note is that Sargent’s life is never the summation of the narrative. As a mere speck in a dust storm — as is the case with any individual — Sargent is directed by the reverberation of family values, perceived impropriety, social class, views on gender and sexuality, and so forth.
Fisher makes sure to acknowledge women’s limited scope for self-expression and self-governance during the Victorian era, paying particular heed to Sargent’s mother, Mary, whose willfulness helped carve her son’s path as an artist.
And so, by unfolding the topography of the times — with all the unforgiving realities and covert pleasures they entailed — Fisher manages to suffuse his work with the air of complexity that distinguishes Sargent’s work. With special emphasis placed on nudity and its censorship, as well as the physical form as both the product and its endless source of inspiration, the author marks a journey into — and through — eroticism.
This is largely due to Sargent’s portrayal of self-possessed women, not to mention the countless sketches of nude males uncovered after his death. Because of the vein of passion running through his art, the book’s eroticism exceeds the aesthetic fascination that is bonded with the art world. And yet, as potent as it proves, it’s forever trapped by the ambiguity of expression.
Here, Fisher’s vibrant storytelling envelops the contorted, censorious language of desire with an elegant flair. Grasping the art of self-disguise, he presents the contrast between today’s more liberal discernment of texts and the “mutilation of pronouns” they illustrate.
Fraught relationships, romantic friendships, and collaborations obscured by the machinations of portrait painting all point to a psychological appraisal of some heady power dynamics. And so, with the “complexity of human intimacy” at the forefront of the narrative, a tale of sexual and gender nonconformity, competitiveness, alienation, passion, and even obsession begins to unfold.
At several points, Fisher all but embodies the protagonist of Death in Venice, slinking after the object of his fixation with an infectious sort of disquiet. Coincidentally, both Venice and Thomas Mann feature in the text as Sargent orbits several stars, including Claude Monet, Oscar Wilde, Henry James, and more.
In navigating the mystery shrouding him, the text oscillates between the human element and the strictly aesthetic. In fact, the deeper we delve, the more frequently Sargent’s art is placed at the helm, allowing our gaze to fix itself on the peripheral figures gliding across the horizon. This is understandable, as history has retained little evidence of past events and affiliations, and what does remain appears heavily biased. Fisher, in his quest to trace the parameters of the black hole, welcomes every atom of data.
Incidentally, in doing so, he establishes a largely neutral viewpoint. And so, Sargent, a man shaped by the prejudices and facades of his era, is never portrayed as an exemplary figure. Antisemitism, the demonization of same-sex pairings, and the physical objectification of African Americans uphold the trap of safety and respectability that houses Sargent, even when his personal views differ.
And yet, the author sets such sensibilities within the context of the times, acknowledging without justifying. From this duality emerges a lifelike depiction of the artist, fortifying the bond that forms quietly between the subject and the reader.
It’s so palpable, in fact, that experiencing the birth and death of John Singer Sargent leads to an unfathomable sense of loss. And it’s this feeling, more so than the objective acuity of Fisher’s work, that serves as the highest compliment for both the artist and the man responsible for reviving him.
Author Paul Fisher has written an exhilarating and slightly exhausting modern biography of renowned painter John Singer Sargent. I say modern only to mean that Fisher looks at Sargent’s glorious and momentous body of work through the lens of Sargent’s probable sexuality. In the last few decades highly erotic drawings by Sargent of the male body has added to the speculation that Sargent was homosexual, though there isn’t a lot of concrete evidence. The male model drawings however are a window into the obvious desires and predilections of this renowned painter. This book is a must read for the millions of fans of John Singer Sargent’s thrilling work. I found this book to be a page turner. Bravo Paul Fisher. Thank you NetGalley.
This is a feast of a book for art lovers in general and John Singer Sargent fans in particular. It may be too detailed for some, and I found the ongoing questioning of Sargent's sexuality a waste of time (who cares? and if he needed any reminders of the dire consequences of being "out", he only needed to look across the street at his neighbor Oscar Wilde). The coverage of Sargent's childhood is important to understanding the man. His father was a doctor and wanted to stay in the US, but Mrs. Sargent was the financial mainstay of the family and she much preferred Europe and anyplace that was rich in art and artists. John barely went to conventional schools but, thanks to his mother, he was provided with every advantage a gifted young artist could hope for. And he was very young when his gift made itself known. The book proceeds through Sargent's lifetime, giving the history of every significant work of art he produced. His relationships were colorful, evenly distributed among fellow painters and people of high social standing (who provided much of Sargent's living by commissioning portraits). I especially enjoyed the information throughout describing how he developed his very recognizable style, conveying a string of pearls with a few dabs of paint and the personalities of his subjects with careful posing. Not to mention, he staged (and sometimes created) the backgrounds in his portraits to further convey the interests and lifestyles of his sitters. I very much liked the man portrayed in this biography and appreciated the author's ability to organize large amounts of information in highly readable ways.
I see several reviews upset about the focus on Sargent’s sexuality. Clearly y’all didn’t read the back cover/synopsis. Though this is a biography of famed and prolific artist John Singer Sargent, the author is using his life as a lens through which to see the world in which he lived as well - specifically the coded, hidden, and repressed sexualities of the late 19th Century. If you want a dry biography of this artist, there are others out there. But this incredibly important work of historiography illuminates these queer spheres around the world so often shunned or willfully overlooked. This book yields profound context and scholarship through which we can better understand the works by this marvelous artist.
If you’re bothered by discussions of sexuality, you should see yourself out (and I sincerely question your motivations for learning about art and/or artists). But if you want a deeper dive into the complex art worlds in Europe and America of the late 1800s and early 1900s, and/or want to have a deeper understanding of Sargent as a person AND and artist, I highly recommend this book.
Its fine, i enjoyed this! Definitely comprehensive and interesting. Fisher is mainly interested in discussing sargent's relationships with men which is great, but in my opinion it also means that he neglects other, equally important aspects of sargents life and work. Like its crazy to me that he doesnt dedicate more than one or two sentences to carnation lily lily rose but okay maybe im just saying that because its my favorite...
Fisher is also kind of too forgiving of sargent when it comes to his preference for 'exotic' models and the resulting painter-model dynamics. Like the whole bit about the gondoliers and also thomas mckeller later feels like "well yes sargent possibly exploited his position of power over them and maybe he objectified them a bit but he also admired them a lot and thought they were human so maybe he was not as bad as his contemporaries❤️" like ok.
Also do editors even exist anymore whats with the repetitions and redundancies....
Paul Fisher's book on John Singer Sargent is an in-depth, fascinating read of this artist, his life, the stories behind his work, and his long-term friendship with Isabella Stewart Gardner. Having lived in the Boston area, I've visited Gardner's home many, many times, and every time I'm there, I'm filled with awe and transported to Venice and immersed in the beauty and lifestyle of a much different time than today. Perhaps this ability to explore this exotic time and place, through Fisher's extensive research, is what I love most about this book.
It's a deep dive into Sargent, his European childhood, his family, being raised in European art schools, his long-term relationship with Henry James, his models (male and female), and homosexuality (not just Sargent, but, during this time how it was regarded among Europeans at this time (especially giving a lot of attention to the gondoliers in Venice.)
Though Fisher does talk about Isabella Stewart Gardner and her relationship with Sargent (given that she was no doubt his foremost collector and a huge supporter of him and his work), I had expected more about Gardner (who is a fascinating character in her own right). In Fisher's book, we don't get a lot of personal information about Gardner, but there are books written about her. Mainly, we see her as a collector and a builder of her magnificent Venice-style palazzo home.
Overall, the book is fascinating and a deep dive into Sargent's growth as an artist and his ascent into worldwide popularity and his relationship and inspiration from other rising post-impressionist artists. The research, facts, and information are excellent, though I found Fisher's writing a bit dry, making this sometimes a tedious read (even though the facts themselves still stand out as fascinating).
The book contains a number of color images that show Sargent, Gardner, and various paintings--essential to understanding the Fisher's stories and Sargent's art. However, I do wish there were more images.
In spite of these two rather small complaints, I found this book to be an excellent biography and examination of Sargent's art and his work during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. No doubt, I'll go back and read it again.
Sargent is certainly an important figure, worthy of a full-length biography. Paul Fisher, though, seems really to be interested primarily in exploring the range of possible explanations of the artist's sexuality. I think he would have been better off writing a shorter, more focused book just on that aspect of Sargent's life. Fisher is admirably careful to seek a middle ground between the Victorian/Edwardian impulse to ignore, minimize, or conceal the then unpalatable homosexuality and our contemporary temptation to read many behaviours through a queer-centred lens. He does ultimately seem to come down firmly on one side.
Although The Grand Affair comes from a large and respected publisher -- Farrar, Straus and Giroux -- Fisher has been poorly served. The text is filled with obvious errors, not just typos but also repetitions of phrases or anecdotes in different chapters, sentences in which the author has revised the structure but retained now superfluous elements and so on. This distracts from the actual text and makes the experience of reading somewhat disappointing.
When I saw this book offered, I decided to request it because I knew Sargent was one of the most important artists in our country's history. I was most curious to find out more about his portraits of Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson based upon my interest in presidential history. I am not an art historian, nor do I study art as a hobby. I enjoy looking at books of masterpieces of art but have not seen any in person.
This book was interesting learning about John Singer Sargent's upbringing in Europe. Once he sets out on his own and truly begins his work as an artist, the book became a study of the art scene in Europe in the late 1800's in minutiae. Every major and minor sketch of Sargent's was described in detail. I was happy to see some of the many sketches and portraits described. When I finally got to the section on the Presidential portraits, it was only a few pages long and did not go into great depth.
And what's up with constantly questioning if Sargent was homosexual or not? Who cares? It doesn't make his work any more or less better. So what if he was? So what if he wasn't? He was an excellent artist. Period.
DNF I was very disappointed by this book. I am interested in Sargent's art and work as an artist and not in reading the author's attempt to make every male friend or acquaintance possible lovers. I did hang on for about 60% but gave up in boredom.
After 2 years of reading this off and on, I'm happy to say that it was worth it! haha Sargent was such a fascinating man and I feel like I would've gotten along with his family just splendidly. They yearned for Europe and I really understand that on a deep level. Sargent, what a guy you were. Scandalous, fabulous, fancy guy.
I have to admit to a great admiration for Sargent's artistic ability and feel he has never been afforded the critical recognition he deserves so I approached this book with a great deal of enthusiasm. I was disappointed. The book, rather than being a serious consideration of the artist's life and work, is completely focused on Sargent's sexual orientation to the exclusion of all most all other aspects of his life. This is problematic because there aren't a lot of documented facts and the book deals in a lot of speculation. Paul Fisher seems to be more concerned with the sexual mores of the later half of the nineteenth century than the artist's actual output. I would posit that the work is the man. It is true that a fair amount of Sargent's artist output were male nudes, paintings and drawings which were never displayed to critical or public appraisal during his lifetime. However, I am much more interested in the artistic and historical context and the relationships which informed his art and his ideas rather than almost four hundred pages of speculation about the specifics of his sexual orientation.
A strangely conservative biography, following the worst structural trends: overly chronological, skimming over the massive changes both psychological, sexual and imperial that followed Sargent throughout his life with asides that suggest the author doesn't really treat concepts like Orientalism (a gay obsession if there ever was one) as fruitful.
Constant attempts to 'out' Sargent become a burden. Maybe he cruised here or there? Maybe because he was friends with so many gay men and women he was gay himself? MAYBE his sisters knew?
It all gets a bit tiring to be honest. The writer should have confidently asserted that Sargent was a homo from the outset—which is really self-evident to any reader—rather than hedge his bets in a tedious and repetitive attempt to prove it. Admit it, fuck the prudes, and move on. Why do we have to constantly have to prove the obvious even to ourselves? The dude was a flamer.
I do find it very strange that Sargent is still considered an American painter though. He was born in Florence, lived all his childhood and adolescence in Europe, and died in London. He hardly ever visited the place it seems!
I always thought that John Singer Sargent was just a socialite’s portrait painter. This book by Paul Fisher beautifully elucidates that Sangent was so so much more. His Portraits captured the essence of those he painted . His watercolors - mainly more informal- are stunning.
Fisher tries to clarify. Sargent’ a queer personality and I found this aspect of the book a bit heavy handed. I would have loved more illustrations to parallel the discussion in the book.
I look forward to going to the current Sargent exhibit at the MFA in the next two weeks to see if my “Eyes” see better after reading this book,.
As a proper Bostonian, I was brought up on the portraits painted by John Singleton Copley and John Singer Sargent, and loved them both. I had the pleasure of working in museums that featured works by one artist or the other. I have always thought that in my next life I want to be reborn with the strawberry blonde elegance and slender form of Gretchen Fiske-Warren who posed in a luxury of pink and silvery-white with her daughter Rachel.
Looking back over the accomplishments of both artists, it strikes me that both are primarily admired for the earlier part of their careers and were dismissed for their later periods, what one might called their London phase. I think that such critique in its simplest terms is unfair; a more nuanced discussion is required.
But on to this book. "The Grand Affair: John Singer Sargent in His World" is an excellent and long overdue summary of the life and artistic arc of that painter. Paul Fisher has done a fine job at providing context, both in family history and the psycho-sexual and social history of the Victorian era that formed Sargent as a person and a painter. Fisher should be complimented for his attentive and informed understanding of homosexuality during this time, and especially the different attitudes evinced by different cultures: the French, Italian and Spanish, the British and the American. His own sense of self and his presentation of self was very much a product of his time and world. There were a lot of gay and lesbian artists, writers and cultural leaders; all of them had to map out individual paths. But the title is a good one: "The Grand Affair: John Singer Sargent IN HIS WORLD." (Emphasis mine.)
At the same time, Fisher is coy, tends to tiptoe around the matter of Sargent's carnal side, hinting, suggesting, speculating but never quite taking a stand on the artist's sexual activity and habits. I think that's unfortunate. I don't think Sargent was an Oscar Wilde by any stretch of the imagination, but I also don't see him as primarily celibate. There are a number of candidates for men with whom Sargent's relations were likely physical if firmly closeted: Albert de Belleroche (aka Albert Milbank), Dennis Miller Bunker; certainly the omnipresent Nicola D'Inverno. And who knows about the dark alleys Sargent haunted for picturesque images of the exotic and impovershed in Italy, in North Africa and elsewhere.
When there are particularly fascinating comparisons, as between the drawing called "Head of a young Man in Profile" (1882-83), probably of his friend de Belleroche, and a small painting "Madame Gautreau Drinking a Toast" from the same year, he shies away from any clear articulation of how images of a woman with a reputation and a young painter with whom Sargent may have been in love could be conflated. (pp. 180-184)
Fisher's language is tentative. His reliance on terms like "exquisite" are part of his careful dance around terms like "effeminate," "effete," "epicene," or "androgynous." The word itself irritates me. Rick Steves uses it incessantly in his descriptions of European wanderings and has thoroughly stripped any useful meaning from it. Fisher also tends to glom on to words and wear them out. One example is the word "turgid." (See chapter 15, "Nadir.")
This is also a book that would have benefitted from a few maps. Sargent's peripatetic inclinations were instilled by his mother, the rather astonishing Mary Sargent, and reinforced by a lifetime in which it is hard to pin down his truly intimate relationships. Certainly his mother, his sisters, his nieces, various inspiring socialites, a few close male friends. But Sargent's on the move so much, most often with an entourage of friends, family and hangers-on, that it gets hard to keep track of him. a few maps with important locations from a few particularly important jaunts, would be helpful. This problem is exacerbated by Fisher's hewing to a fairly tight chronology interspersed with more thematic explorations. It gets very hard to remember what year one is in and whether thus and such a picture has been painted yet or not.
The choice of plates and black-and-white illustrations is pretty good, but not really good enough. There are far too many pictures that Fisher discusses in detail that are excluded from the section of plates. I am used to reading with a cell phone at hand so I can easily look up works and refresh my memory. Still.
Finally--and maybe this is just me--the typos seemed to increase in number and obviousness toward the end of the book. Was he under the publisher's gun? Without adequate proofreading time and assistance?
Overall a good book and a valuable addition to the bibliography of art and culture from the late 19th century to World War I. There was a lot going on that lot is something Fisher brings out.
I first encountered Sargent, perhaps like most people, when drawn into a portrait in a museum that towered over me, when I met the gaze of his subject staring back at me as if demonstrating their worthiness for my attention. I first noted the theatrical pose of the subject (I can't recall which one it was but it almost certainly was female) and their stare back at me. I then noticed - in person of course because no portraits are truly recorded accurately by photography -that the subject, long dead in real time of course, was beckoning me into their world with their eyes. Their stare and their pose, the gloss on their skin based on their exposure to light, the sheen on their Gilded Age clothing that presented itself more like a costume, immediately demanded I know more about them and the world they lived in, their joys and concerns, what life they placed on hold in order to pose for Sargent.
At long last, I have now dug deeper into the life of the artist himself with this splendid biography. All this time, I had avoided looking into the personal life of Sargent, unlike his subjects whose lives are bared in their portraits, because they were the primary focus, not the artist. Fisher digs into Sargent's life, revealing to me that his lifelong bachelorhood of course was due to a surreptitious interest in men. He kept his romantic life private not only because of the danger to his career and freedom, but I also suspect after reading this biography that it was also because his art always came first. There is almost a transactional nature to his private life, because if you ended up being an important part of his life - whether you were a private confidante or friend, an artistic patron or mentor, or even shared a similar interest in the nature of art such as Henry James (who may suit all three descriptions as well as sharing a "lifelong bachelorhood") - you inevitably became a subject of a portrait. Like James, Sargent was a dual continental citizen of the world, equally comfortable in both the Old World and the New, in Sargent's case both France/England and Boston. In the end, of course he was pulled into the circle of Isabella Stewart Gardner, the doyenne of Boston society (and a remarkable museum home that can still be visited today - a must when visiting Boston).
If you have visited a major museum anywhere in the Western world and walked through the 19th century gallery, you have almost certainly encountered Sargent. You have seen Madame X, Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, or the Wyndham Sisters to name a few. After reading this book, you will see Sargent himself, the last titan of traditional titan of portraiture before the emergence of the Modernists and the Cubists, Fauvism, and more abstract depictions of subjects. Reads like a gentle docent guiding you through the life and work of a master of classic pre-twentieth century portraiture in Western Europe.
You’d be hard pressed to ignore the substantial evidence that Paul Fisher provides in “The Grand Affair: John Singer Sargent in His World” that the master artist was indeed a closeted gay man in the Victorian/Edwardian era. Even if the word “gay” had not yet come to be associated with sexual identity, Singer’s same-sex inclinations were clearly there if in a coded manner. Why is Sargent’s sexuality important (or for that matter any artist’s sexuality important)? In this third full biography of Sargent, Fisher shows how Sargent’s sexuality played a critical role in many of his works—in his selection of models and scenarios for his paintings and sketches. While Sargent is known for his remarkable commissioned portraits of the wealthy during the Gilded Age, he produced a number of works of working-class male models, often nude studies, that were not discovered until relatively recently. Fisher views many of Sargent’s famous works through this new understanding of Sargent: “Madame X may not have obviously treated gender fluidity, but it was likewise a violation of gendered rules, which Sargent himself understood not from a personal experience of adultery but from a different set of ‘decadent’ experiences. And what gave Sargent’s art its edge, even or especially his depiction of women, was his own stake in these inflamed questions of gender, his own complexity as rather codedly reflected in his freely painted, exuberant canvases.” Fisher reminds readers of the conservative, often prudish attitudes of the established art world and its public along with the dangers of criminal punishment to gays from the passing of the Labouchere Amendment in England and the restrictive Comstock Laws in the U.S. Sargent’s studio was across the street from Oscar Wilde’s home during Wilde’s trial, though the two were not close friends. Sargent was a good friend of a writer who, like Sargent, was American but spent most of his life in Europe, Henry James. The older James would prove a booster for Sargent and open doors to portrait commissions. Late in his career, Sargent became a British citizen and joined the British army as a “war artist” at the end of WWI. His epic painting “Gassed” remains one of the greatest anti-war paintings ever (and my favorite Singer painting). Fisher has provided readers with a provocative, convincing new look at the life and works of John Singer Sargent with “The Grand Affair.” Recommended.
Wonderful biography of the painter and the context in which he lived in. Fisher goes into great detail to explain how Sargent became Sargent, and why he acted the way he did. This is a fully-fledged biography that focuses on the person -- if this feels like a weird caveat, I only say this to make it clear what this book focuses on.
It doesn't go super in-depth into his famous paintings, so for example, Madame X gets a chapter, but Carnation Lily Lily Rose a few pages, his portrait of Theodore Roosevelt a few pages, El Jaleo barely gets mentioned a handful of times. Nor does it talk about his process (how he paints, what materials, what makes his watercolors so special, etc). There are other books for that, if that's what you're after.
What this book does exceptionally well is guide you through his life -- his upbringing (who his mother and father were, the impact travel had on him, etc), his education, and any relevant episodes, scandals, relationships, and possible lovers, and the persons in his orbit. Why was Sargent so adept at painting dazzling women, and why were his sketchbooks filled with male nudes (and why that was rather unusual), Fisher gets into all of that.
This book is a lot like a Sargent painting -- it's insightful and penetrating, and it stays with you.
Having always been a fan of Sargent, was excited to pick this one up. Fisher writes in a very readable style, without critical theory jargon or other ivory tower pretension. Sargent is a fairly elusive subject and Fisher does his best to paint his subject, physically and historically, with what evidence remains.
The author is very focused on Sargent's sexual orientation, building up a case for it based on the homoeroticism that he sees in Sargent's work. That said, he does admit that isn't any smoking gun to confirm his thesis. Fisher puts forth a number of potential paramours, but outside of the artist's drawings and paintings, there is no firm, reliable proof of any sexual attachments. Sargent was a very private man and deeply focused on maintaining Victorian respectability. I find myself a little surprised that given modern perspectives on sexuality, Fisher does not explore the possibility that Sargent was asexual.
Readers seeking a less sexually-focused biography of Sargent should probably look elsewhere. For me personally, I wish there had been more exploration of Sargent's art and the larger historical currents in his life. More images/photos would also be welcome.
This is one of those grand recounts of a significant artist's life. As biographer Fisher points out, Sargent is currently devalued as an artist when measured against the impressionists and modernists of Sargent's time, but Fisher also argues that it's time for a reevaluation. First, Sargent clearly ruffled a lot of feathers in the same fashion as his more celebrated contemporaries. Second, Sargent privately did an extensive amount of work with male models, some sexually suggestive, some fully nude. Because these works have recently come to light, Fisher argues for a wholesale reevaluation of the "bachelor gentlemen" culture of the late Eighteen and early Nineteen as it relates to gender and homosexuality. It would seem that Sargent was able to successfully navigate two worlds, that of the respectable high society portrait painter while also pushing the boundaries of the role of art in society. You don't need to be a Sargent scholar or lover to give this expansive biography a go, just someone who is interested in the intersection of art and society.
Fisher took ten years to write this comprehensive biography of one of my favorite painters and it is well worth a read. Deeply researched and thoughtfully put together, Fisher places Sargent firmly in the social and political ethos of his time and gives insight into the artists around him and how his art was influenced and shaped by them. In doing so, he states in no uncertain terms that Sargent was homosexual, although deeply closeted by the necessity of the times he lived in. (Other readers that I know feel he overemphasized this but I didn't feel the same, as Fisher's focus on Sargent's models and the paintings, watercolors and sketches that were for the most part not part of his public oeuvre are some of his most fascinating works). I read this when it first came out and have dipped back in several times since and highly recommend it. Tip: Keep your phone or tablet handy; you will want to look up some of the artwork he references!
For a reason I never understood, I was always drawn to the exciting John Singer Sargent portraits as a child. I would search them out whenever we were taken on a museum trip. Today, we even have a copy of Lady Agnew of Lochnaw hanging in our dining room that a friend gifted to me many years ago. After attending the Sargent & Paris show at The Met, and subsequently reading The Grand Affair, I finally understand why I was so drawn to the John Singer Sargent portraits. The epiphany was kind of like when people say “my mother always knew I was gay way before I did.” Somehow John Singer Sargent tapped into it and The Grand Affair beautifully honors the phenomenon of a boys growing awareness of being somehow different from the norm in 1880’s vs the 1980’s. The artist’s sexuality, while fiercely hidden from the world is at the same time dynamically intrinsic to the art that made him so well-known in the first place. John Singer Sargent, the maestro, knew I was gay before my own mother did.
This is a wonderful biography, well-researched, comprehensive, authoritative, and written accessibly and entertainingly, all anyone could want from a cradle-to-grave biography. But….the author seems to be obsessed by seeing every aspect of Sargent’s life through the lens of his probable homosexuality. It’s obviously paramount to the author that he demonstrate this but it’s surely not the most important aspect of the life and work. Intriguing at first, the emphasis soon becomes irritating. Who cares? Does it actually make Sargent a better or worse artist? And that’s what ultimately matters. I wish the editor had reined the author in a bit. Otherwise this would have been a very fine biography indeed. And certainly I (mostly) enjoyed it. And if Sargent chose to be discreet about his private life, then perhaps we should be too.
This is everything you ever wanted to know about John Singer Sargent and then some. Very detailed research, and it makes an excellent reference book. Reading it straight through, however, it is a bit on the dry side. Hence the 3 star rating.
Also, John Sargent was more than likely gay. He liked to draw male nudes, but hid a lot of them away. He also had a number of relationships with other men that were probably homosexual in nature. But in the 19th century, gay men had to be very cagey about it, as homosexuality was for the most part not accepted in polite society and usually illegal. There! I said that in four sentences. This author drones on about this subject for millions of words. You can now skip all those parts.
This was a rather scholarly version of the life of John Singer Sargent, who I find fascinating. I’m always intrigued by books on The Gilded Age, and I’ve always been fascinated by Sargent. A dominant thread throughout this whole book was the speculation on evidence that Sargent was a homosexual. While this is interesting, I got a little tired of the author’s constant harping on the subject. Also, this book had a lot of typos and errors! The editors didn’t even read the book closely, it was so academic. I still enjoyed it and learned a lot, but it took a lot of focus for me to get through the academics to just learning about the life of Sargent, which is what I was interested in.
This is a thorough and splendid examination of Sargent’s life and work, including his techniques, his relationships and the inspiration for much of his work. It investigates fully his sexuality, and its interplay with his art. Individuals who attack the book for this line of inquiry may prefer an airless, neutered, secularized work, but that denies Sargent his humanity, and diminishes attempts to truly apprehend the person and his art. We can all find Sargent’s art in museums to peruse, if we only want to view his work on our own terms. Kudos to the author for producing such a well-written, multi-dimensional biography. Recommended without qualifications.
This is a well written and researched book about the remarkable John Singer Sargent. The subtext (or perhaps supertext) is his sexual orientation--was he homosexual? Probably...his friends, his sketches...however there is no real proof. The author ekes out every same sex friendship and wonders whether there was a physical relationship. However, the story of Sargent's career and friendship keeps the book moving. Paul Fisher does a good job of capturing that period of time--the art and culture.