Bang, boom, boom, “load!”
» cataclop and boom again… This is roughly what comes to the ears of the virtuous when faced with a canvas – a cinemascope screen, rather – staged and in color by Horace Vernet (1789-1863).
“I hate this improvised art with the roll of the drum,”
raged Baudelaire, always ready to crucify this
“soldier who paints
. ”
It is true that there is half-pay in this stalwart, completely intoxicated with military presence, to the point of carrying his saber at his side;
and the hussar in pain at this close friend of Géricault, always quick to take up the insane challenges that the latter throws at him, at full speed, with his feet firmly wedged in the stirrups.
Yes, his workshop on the Rue des Martyrs is teeming with veterans of the Empire and liberal officers who can no longer stand a Bourbon Restoration without trophies to its standards.
And, yes, Vernet mingled with the Carbonarists after 1815 for the sole purpose of bringing back the Corsican Ogre or his son to the Tuileries…
Also read: Gilles Aillaud, extraterrestrial of painting
These…
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