L'hareng saur 1895

Curator: Allow me to introduce Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec's lithograph from 1895, "L'hareng saur," executed in pencil and graphite. What’s your immediate take? Editor: Solitude, mostly. The sailor, he's got his pipe, the rigging all around him but feels…detached. Curator: Indeed. It's fascinating to consider how Lautrec, though celebrated for his depictions of Parisian nightlife, engaged with maritime subjects, too. His distinctive approach clearly marks this portrait, doesn't it? We see this everyday scene from French maritime culture as yet another piece of the artist's focus on a broader portrait of French contemporary society. Editor: That's interesting, 'cause the lithographic technique and rough graphite—it’s more graphic and stripped-down. Even without color, I see shades of weariness, something rough etched on him like the lines on those sails behind him. Curator: Consider too that Lautrec comes from an aristocratic family but chooses as his subject working-class people; how his family reacted to the political statement conveyed here by focusing on sailors rather than, for instance, their own noble portraits! Editor: There's also that tension between flatness and volume, between the sharp details in the sailor's face and the way the rest kind of dissolves into scribbled lines. Makes you question what parts of the world he values the most. Like his face but not his body. I wonder whether he thought they lacked agency, and just didn't consider that important. Curator: Yes! I see what you're pointing at! And Lautrec did return to that area later in his life; the Normandy coast. Editor: Knowing Lautrec’s life was marked by ill health, and feeling perpetually like an outsider, seeing that seaman is also seeing Lautrec—seeking refuge on the edge of something greater and unknowable, much like this seaman is right now. Curator: I see this drawing now with a renewed set of considerations; many thanks. Editor: It's how things work, isn't it? Perspectives shape what we see and how it feels.