Henri RIVIERE (1864 - 1951) The Pardon of Sainte-Anne-la-Palud, 1892 Gouache on five leaves, signed, dated and stamped with the initials lower right, stamped with the initials and annotated with the title and the words maquette pour une gravure sur bois en couleurs Aout 1892 on the back 34.5 x 113 cm Expert : Cabinet Sevestre-Barbe & Louvencourt Original gouache most probably used for the eponymous woodcut (32 x 124.5 cm at sight) of plate n° 38 of the series Paysages bretons, 1892, published between 1892 and 1893 and printed in an edition of 20 copies. The Musée Départemental Breton in Quimper holds a preparatory tracing (inventory no. 1994.39.1). Henri Rivière was a versatile artist whose work bears witness to an insatiable curiosity for imaging techniques. Illustrator, painter-engraver, theatre decorator and amateur photographer, he successively explored etching, wood engraving and lithography, contributing to an artistic revival marked by the development of original prints and the innovative use of colour. innovative use of colour. From 1882, Rivière took a particular interest in wood engraving, a medium he reinvented by drawing inspiration from Japanese prints, which he admired deeply. This dialogue with Japonism, then in vogue, nurtured his style and led him to experiment with subtle chromatic superimpositions and compositions structured by clear, dynamic lines. Through this approach, he became a major figure in xylography, transforming an ancient technique into a modern, poetic language. Paysages Bretons, 1890-1894: consists of forty-four colour xylographs. It is hard to imagine the scale of this exhausting and time-consuming work: for the Pardon de Sainte-Anne-La-Palud alone, Rivière produced no fewer than fifty woodcuts, which took him four months to engrave, plus a further two months for the print run; all this, of course, after having made numerous preparatory drawings and sketches that almost certainly led to the final work, our gouache. Georges Toudouze, in his book Henri Rivière Peintre et Imagier, Henri Floury Editeur, 1907, writes some fine lines and sums up both the artist's work and his artistic and spiritual vision of this Pardon (pp 50 to 52): Sainte-Anne-la-Palud, "a small, humble, grey chapel, with large cemented stones, - and on the last Sunday in August, all the sick, all the infirm, all the wounded of Brittany come to her house to implore the grandmother of Christ, the old queen of the land of Cornwall. It is in this solemn pilgrimage that Rivière saw all the gravity of the race, all the fatalism too, and it is of rare power, this great long engraving that he chiselled in fifty slabs of pear wood, - for the dimensions of this work required that the author cut it into five parts, each with ten woods for the different colours and their gradations. So we don't know what to admire more, either the marvellous work of patience and skill that went into these prints and the precise connection, the mathematical spotting of these five parts, or the moral grandeur of this unique painting. A painter less preoccupied with general ideas would have wanted to capture the shimmering light, the swarming crowd, the picturesque contrast between the tiny chapel by the sea and the immensity of the panorama; He would have painted an amusing picture, an interesting document, but he would not have conveyed that intimate relationship between man and nature that moves us, that grips us invincibly. And for that, what did Rivière need? Very few elements, in fact, and a great simplicity of means. The granite wall of the church, a poor, rugged country chapel built in the sturdy, massive Breton style of the Middle Ages, is heavy and thick, cut halfway up above the windows; it looks like a rock, it is part of the surrounding soil, it is a strange cliff, a little more chiselled, but not much, than the real cliff, and it was certainly born. A few centuries ago, it sprang from the Breton soil like a spontaneous generation. Along this wall, hanging from large nails, a rope is stretched around the church, and this rope is followed by a theory of people who, with their costumes, their rough, tanned faces, their good, clear, frank eyes and their piety of naive fervour, are also part of the country. Is it a Christian festival? I don't see anything that tells me so, - and to tell the truth, I'm not worried about it: because in this slow procession of the faithful, the first of whom I haven't seen yet and the others of whom I can't see yet, but who you can feel on the other side of this big wall, are certainly coming, I not only recognise the Pardon of this day and this place, but I also find, eternal under the changing beliefs, the old festivals of Armor; and if this Pardon were Druidic, it would be just the same". (available by appointment from the expert 8 rue drouot Paris)