Gustave MOREAU (Paris, 1826 - 1898) Goddess with Rock Oil on panel (Restorations) Goddess on the rocks, oil on panel, by G.Moreau 7.28 x 7.09 in. 18.5 x 18.0 cm Provenance: Anonymous sale; Versailles, Paul Martin, 27 November 1961, no. 116 (titled La Reine de Saba) ; Anonymous sale; Paris, Hôtel Drouot, Crait & Müller, 15 December 2023, no. 116 (as Ecole Symboliste, in the style of Gustave Moreau); Private collection, Provence-Alpes-Côtes-d'Azur Bibliography: Pierre-Louis Mathieu, Gustave Moreau, sa vie, son œuvre, catalogue raisonné de l'œuvre achevé, Paris, 1976, p. 354, no. 374, repr. Pierre-Louis Mathieu, Gustave Moreau. Monographie et Nouveau catalogue de l'œuvre achevé, Paris, 1998, p. 405, no. 412, repr. There are subjects that a long meditation is not enough to exhaust, so much so that their simple evocation renews each time our way of approaching them. Gustave Moreau's work is one of these mysterious enigmas. A Symbolist before his time, classical in his choice of subjects but revolutionary in his use of colour, the painter of Salomé wonderfully personifies the transition that took place in the second half of the 19th century, between the world of yesterday and modernity. In the panel presented here, the line honours the painter's academic qualities, but contrasts with a formidable display of tones, applied with characteristic nervousness around a luminous figure of a goddess. It's a customary procedure for a painter who invests equally in the rigour of the drawing and the inventiveness of the palette. The subject's silhouette is gracefully enhanced by the choice of colours, casting a mysterious aura over her in the background. It is interesting to note that the reference to femininity, sometimes invoked with contempt or even disgust by Moreau, is discovered here in an unspeakable charm that has the air of a devoted cult. This work should be compared with the watercolour in the Yokohama Museum of Modern Art (30.2 x 19.7 cm, fig. 1). Their proximity raises a number of questions. While it is acknowledged that the artist produced watercolours throughout his career, often as preparatory work, sometimes with such success that the resulting painting fades into obscurity in the face of the purity of the sketch. Moreover, it is as difficult to estimate the time between them as it is to determine the true destination of the overall project. Was it a first attempt at a more ambitious painting that was never completed? Perhaps we should look for clues in the context in which these two works were created. Around 1890, although he was at the peak of his career, Gustave Moreau was also at the end of his life. At the same time as he was receiving the final tributes of a renowned painter, he was suffering the loss of his dearest companions. In 1880, he exhibited at the last Salon. Four years later, his mother died, followed in 1890 by Alexandrine Dureux, "his best and only friend". In the meantime, in 1888 he was elected to the Académie des Beaux-Arts and in 1891, after a long period of resistance, he agreed to become a professor at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. This last point deserves particular attention, as it forces us to reconsider the solitary atmosphere for which the artist is renowned. His generation of young students, including Rouault and Matisse - to name but the most famous - formed a kind of workshop that he welcomed into his home in the hope of passing on his admiration for the old masters. Impressed by his profound culture and the strong personality of his work, some of them may have taken advantage of this setting to draw inspiration from his work, although no conclusive results are known to date. La Déesse au rocher retains that element of mystery so dear to its creator, and from which he derives the incomparable charm we attribute to genuine extravagance. With this sober title, it is difficult to suggest any identification with any divinity or Cleopatra, but there is a definite presence, that of a magnetic and bewitching woman who seems to have stepped straight out of an enchanted dream, as only Gustave Moreau could have done. Gustave MOREAU (Paris, 1826 - 1898) 18.5 x 18.0 cm There are subjects that a long meditation is not enough to exhaust, so much so that their simple evocation renews each time our way of approaching them. Gustave Moreau's work is one of these mysterious enigmas. A Symbolist before his time, classical in his choice of subjects but revolutionary in his use of colour, the painter of Salomé wonderfully personifies the transition that took place in the second half of the 19th century, between the world of yesterday and modernity. In the panel presented here, the line honours the painter's academic qualities, but contrasts with a formidable display of tones, applied with characteristic nervousness around a luminous figure of a goddess. It's a customary procedure for a painter who invests equally in the rigour of the drawing and the inventiveness of the palette. The subject's silhouette is gracefully enhanced by the choice of colours, casting a mysterious aura over her in the background. It is interesting to note that the reference to femininity, sometimes invoked with contempt or even disgust by Moreau, is discovered here in an unspeakable charm that has the air of a devoted cult. This work should be compared with the watercolour in the Yokohama Museum of Modern Art (30.2 x 19.7 cm, fig. 1). Their proximity raises a number of questions. While it is acknowledged that the artist produced watercolours throughout his career, often as preparatory work, sometimes with such success that the resulting painting fades into obscurity in the face of the purity of the sketch. Moreover, it is as difficult to estimate the time between them as it is to determine the true destination of the overall project. Was it a first attempt at a more ambitious painting that was never completed? Perhaps we should look for clues in the context in which these two works were created. Around 1890, although he was at the peak of his career, Gustave Moreau was also at the end of his life. At the same time as he was receiving the final tributes of a renowned painter, he was suffering the loss of his dearest companions. In 1880, he exhibited at the last Salon. Four years later, his mother died, followed in 1890 by Alexandrine Dureux, "his best and only friend". In the meantime, in 1888 he was elected to the Académie des Beaux-Arts and in 1891, after a long period of resistance, he agreed to become a professor at the Ecole des Beaux-arts. This last point deserves particular attention, as it forces us to reconsider the solitary atmosphere for which the artist is renowned. His generation of young students, including Rouault and Matisse - to name but the most famous - formed a kind of workshop that he welcomed into his home in the hope of passing on his admiration for the old masters. Impressed by his profound culture and the strong personality of his work, some of them may have taken advantage of this setting to draw inspiration from his work, although no conclusive results are known to date. La Déesse au rocher retains that element of mystery so dear to its creator, and from which he derives the incomparable charm we attribute to genuine extravagance. With this sober title, it is difficult to suggest any identification with any divinity or Cleopatra, but there is a definite presence, that of a magnetic, bewitching woman who seems to have stepped straight out of an enchanted dream, as only Gustave Moreau could make them.