AN INTRODUCTION TO THE WORK OF ALFONS MUCHA AND ART NOUVEAU
[This Liberal Studies lecture by Ian Johnston, Emeritus Professor at Vancouver Island University, was first posted in July 2004 and revised slightly in 2014. This document is in the public domain and may be used by anyone, in whole or in part, without permission and without charge, provided the source is acknowledged. For comments, questions, corrections, and so on, please contact Ian Johnston]
SOME PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS
“If anyone is destined to become an artist and follows this career led by a mysterious and irresistible force, then it is Mucha. . . . He submits without argument, as he himself says, to the commands of this watchful, protective force which propels him through life as if he were sleepwalking, placing before his feet at decisive moments the stops to success.” (Victor Champier, quoted Mucha 95)
There is no doubt that of all modern Czech visual artists Alfons Mucha (1860–1939) enjoyed and continues to enjoy the most international recognition, influence, and popularity (in marked contrast to his reputation within his own Czech homeland). Those factors alone would be sufficient reason to make a study of his work a central part of our studies in this course. However, many details of this artist’s life also offer important insights into some of the more complex issues facing Czech citizens generally, and artists in particular, in the past century and a half, for he was inevitably caught up in and influenced by many of the drastic changes which characterize the recent history of the Czech people. While these details may not be necessary for study of his artistic work (although some of them are extremely relevant), nonetheless they are useful for our purposes, since one of our concerns in this course is to explore as fully as we can in a very short time some of the cultural elements involved in the emergence of the Czech Republic.
EARLY LIFE AND CAREER
The major details of Mucha’s early life can be summarized fairly quickly. He was born in 1860 in Ivancice, a small town in southern Moravia (near Brno), when what is now the Czech Republic was part of the Austrian empire (which became the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1867). His surroundings here were hardly cosmopolitan, for the area was, in many ways, very traditional and, in comparison with large cities like Prague or Vienna, behind the times. Hence, Mucha at an early age was deeply influenced by traditional folk lore in a small community, by eastern religious traditions, and by Slav nationalism (growing in intensity under the determined efforts of the Habsburgs to “Germanize” the Czech people, while at the same time permitting, or at least not repressing, the rising expression of ethnic cultural interests, especially traditional Bohemian and Moravian folklore). This environment helped develop in the young Mucha an intense spirituality which was to mark his character all his life (often in some decidedly unconventional ways), along with an abiding commitment to Slav nationalism. Early on Mucha displayed a talent for music. The fact that he became part of the cathedral choir in Brno indicates his considerable ability as a young boy, at least until his voice broke.
Mucha also clearly had a great natural gift for art, especially for drawing, his interest being aroused primarily by the art works in the local churches. He was, however, rejected by Prague’s Academy of Fine Arts, and so in 1881 he moved to Vienna in order to work professionally as a scene painter in the theatre. Unfortunately his employer went bankrupt soon after that, and Mucha lost his position. He was, however, fortunate enough to attract the attention of a patron, Count Carl Khen, who commissioned Mucha to work on his castle, restoring portraits and decorating rooms with murals. Khen encouraged the young artist to acquire some formal training and provided financial help, one of the first of several truly lucky turns of fortune Mucha experienced in his life.
Mucha’s first formal art training took place in Munich (in the mid-1880’s) and from there he moved on to Paris (in 1887), taking further training and trying to support himself as a working artist producing magazine pictures, designs for costumes in operas and ballets, and book illustrations. Count Khen’s financial help was discontinued (in 1887) and, at 27 years old, Mucha was left penniless in Paris, often with barely enough money to feed himself.
Mucha did, however, manage to survive these lean years on income earned from his art work, none of which at this period was particularly original or remarkable—he was a working artist taking small commissions to support himself as best he could. His reputation was growing very slowly (at least in Paris) and by the early 1890’s he had had some clear indications of success, but there was nothing to indicate that his entire life was about to be transformed by a single fortuitous event. Mucha’s son, Jiri, sums up this period of his father’s life as follows:
The poor, insignificant painter whom Gaugin had known at Madam Charlotte’s in 1891 was safely on the way to success when they met again two years later. He still drew his main income from illustrations for Armand Colin, but he had started on his first lithographs: an 1892 calendar published by Messrs Lorilleux, which consisted of twelve circular representations of children playing with the symbols of the zodiac and twelve figural, richly-decorated frames for the dates. He received 2,500 francs and a considerable amount of publicity, as Lorilleux was an important paint manufacturer and the calendar went to painters, art schools, theatres, and periodicals. There was, however, nothing striking about the work. The technique was traditional, using Renaissance motifs and a profusion of allegorical figures. (54)
THE BERNHARDT CONNECTION
All this changed overnight in December 1894. Around Christmas Mucha happened to drop into a print shop where there was a sudden and unexpected demand for a new poster to advertise a play starring Sarah Bernhardt, the most famous actress in Paris. Mucha volunteered to produce a poster within two weeks, and on January 1, 1895, the advertisement for Gismonda appeared on the streets of the city. It was an overnight sensation and announced that this hitherto largely unknown artist from a remote part of the world had delivered a new artistic style to the citizens of Paris.
Today, when we are much more familiar with designs like this, we may not sense the full impact of Mucha’s poster, an effect heightened by Bernhardt’s shrewd business sense—the work earned her a small fortune (Bernhardt always had a keen eye for business, even though she later refused to sell her amputated leg to
