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Impressionism and the Violet Neurosis: Between Optical Revolution and Retinal Pathology



Paris, at the end of the nineteenth century.


Starting in 1874, the independent exhibitions of a new group of painters shattered academic conventions. They were known as the Intransigents or the Impressionists.


While early criticism focused heavily on the unfinished appearance of the canvases and the lack of "finish," another subject of controversy emerged during the group's sale at the Hôtel Drouot in 1875: the intensive and disturbing use of blue and violet hues.


Landscapes, shadows, waters, and even flesh were adorned with lilac or aubergine nuances, sparking total incomprehension from the public.


The debate then quickly shifted from the aesthetic terrain to the field of medical science. Was the unprecedented use of these colours the result of a scrupulous observation of natural light, or a worrying symptom of visual and nervous degeneration?



The Physiological Foundations of Coloured Shadows



Although the untimely use of the colour violet was associated by critics with the plein air painters of the 1870s, its application stemmed from earlier empirical observations.


Around 1830, the painter Eugène Delacroix noticed by chance, while observing a yellow carriage, that the shadow cast by the vehicle was naturally tinted with violet.


The author Charles Blanc gave a purely physiological explanation for this optical phenomenon: the human eye, designed to perceive white light, invariably seeks to compensate for the absence of a hue by perceiving its complementary colour. Sunlight being predominantly golden-yellow, the shadows of strongly lit elements naturally become enriched with violet reflections, without this implying an anomaly of the retina.


The artist Edgar Degas, moreover, synthesised this relentless rule by stating that orange tones colour, greens neutralise, and violets shadow. Goethe had also sensed these laws.


Yet, despite this scientific basis, the unconventional use of violet by the Impressionists shocked the public and critics alike. One thinks notably of Gustave Caillebotte, Camille Pissarro, Federico Zandomeneghi, or, later, Paul Gauguin, who used it extensively.


Camille Pissarro, Boulevard Montmartre, Effet de nuit, 1897
Camille Pissarro, Boulevard Montmartre, Effet de nuit, 1897

The critics of the time, such as Gygès in 1876, mocked these chromatic choices, ironising about the violet countrysides, black rivers, and blue children of the new school.


In 1880, during the fifth Impressionist exhibition, the critic Charles Ephrussi tolerated the presence of these painters but still denounced the suffocating omnipresence of the colour blue in Pissarro's work, using it as a pejorative argument.



The Pathologisation of the Eye



This chromatic persistence, perceived as aggressive, led an influential portion of literary criticism to interpret these choices no longer as an innovative aesthetic approach, but as the result of a clinical pathology.


And while a writer like Jules Laforgue conceived of Impressionist vision as an advanced stage of human evolution, figures like the critic and writer Joris-Karl Huysmans or the German sociologist and physician Max Nordau saw in it the direct expression of a psychiatric affliction.


In 1883, Joris-Karl Huysmans described the attraction to blue as a true monomania and directly linked the works of the Impressionists to the studies of Dr. Charcot conducted at the Salpêtrière hospital on hysterical patients. The movement's aesthetics were scrutinised through the lens of neurology.


The oculist Galezowski and the scholar Véron considered that the progressive disappearance of the colour green in favour of blue on painters' palettes constituted a warning sign of the atrophy of the eye's nerve fibres.


The physician Gilles de la Tourette specified that blue and yellow are the peripheral colors of the retina that resist the longest in cases of hysterical amblyopia. This theory strangely coincides with the personal preferences of Claude Monet, whose domestic environment at Giverny featured these two nuances abundantly, as evidenced by the Limoges tableware he had ordered.


The absence of sharp outlines and the faltering perspective were then justified by nystagmus, an involuntary and diseased trembling of the eyeball. Similarly, the fragmentation of pictorial matter into small spots, which would give birth to Pointillism, was assimilated to a partial anaesthesia of the retina, forcing the artist to perceive their environment in the form of discontinuous islands. The violent red used by the artist Albert Besnard found a similar explanation, as the perception of this colour sometimes survives that of blue in certain patients.


In 1892, Max Nordau cemented this medical rhetoric by associating violet with a depressive hue, traditionally reserved for mourning. According to him, the canvases of the Monet school reflected no natural truth but translated the profound exhaustion and nervous debility of artists suffering from neurasthenia.



From Visual Anomaly to Global Academic Formula



Over the decades, the initial hostility eroded and the perception of this controversial palette improved.


In 1875, the highly respectable Charles Bigot noted that violet was no longer the exclusive preserve of the independents; he detected the formation of a "school of violet" within the ranks of the so-called academic and recognised painters such as Henri Lévy, Ferdinand Humbert, Eugène Thirion, Fernand Cormon, or Henri Gervex.


Ten years later, in a climate more benevolent toward Impressionists and innovators, the critic Émile Hennequin began to praise the talent of these colourists, while maintaining some reservations regarding the excess of blue in Pissarro's work. He admired the audacity of Armand Guillaumin, who was particularly sensitive to strident harmonies, as seen in the violet clouds clashing with a green sky in his Sunset at Damette.



Nikólaos Gýzis, L'Araignée, 1883
Nikólaos Gýzis, L'Araignée, 1883

The practice of the violet-coloured shadow spread beyond French borders and can be found in Nikólaos Gýzis with The Spider in 1883, or in Joaquín Sorolla and his Niños en la playa in 1910, to name but a few.


This spectacular democratisation of blue and violet colors culminated at the end of the century with the explosion of Art Nouveau. The alleged ophthalmic degeneration had transformed into an essential decorative standard. One journalist thus imagined a "modernist's" house entirely iridescent in violet tones. Innovation had become standard by the turn of the century.


Moreover, on the occasion of his return to art criticism in 1896, the writer Émile Zola observed with horror the omnipresence of these tones in official salons. Landscapes, trees, and female figures were now systematically bathed in Parma-violet iridescence. What was once an exacting optical revolution, wrongly diagnosed as clinical madness, had become a commercial process.


Born from a rigorous observation of the physical laws of light, the use of violet for shadows was first rejected by a conservative society before being adopted as a fashion, independent of any optical justification, sadly confirming Émile Zola's observation on the danger awaiting any aesthetic revolution: that of inexorably ending as an academic formula emptied of its substance.




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