Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we're diving
straight into the heart of Belle Epoque Paris,
into the world of Henri de Toulouse -Lautrec.
He's this fascinating figure, isn't he? An aristocrat
by birth, but ultimately the definitive visual
chronicler of Paris's bohemian nightlife. Exactly.
We want to go beyond just those famous Moulin
Rouge posters everyone knows. Right. To really
unpack the paradox of his life, a painter, illustrator,
printmaker, born into this incredibly privileged
world. Yet he dedicated his art to the, well,
the underclass, the performers, the marginalized.
That's the core of it, isn't it? That choice.
He's technically a post -impressionist, you know,
often grouped with Cezanne, Van Gogh. Sure, Gauguin,
Seurat. But his focus was so different, almost
entirely urban, human -centric. Yeah, he wasn't
painting haystacks. He was capturing, as one
source puts it, these enticing, elegant, and
provocative images of that whole bohemian scene.
Provocative is definitely the word. He had this
unblinking gaze, didn't shy away from the gritty
reality, and he elevated commercial art, those
posters, to something more. And the value placed
on that vision today is just astounding. Remember
that auction in 2005? Oh yeah, Christie's. Le
Blanchisseuse. The laundress, an early work.
Sold for over 22 million U .S. dollars. 22 .4
million, yeah. For a painting of a laundress
by a man descended from counts, it says everything
about his unique position. It really does. An
aristocrat, capturing the working class, the
dancers, the prostitutes of Montmartre. Okay,
let's start at the beginning then. His birthright.
It's quite something. His full name alone tells
a story. Henri -Marie Raymond de Toulouse -Lautrec
Monfa, born November 24th, 1864. And not just
anywhere, but at the Chateau de Basque, the family
estate down in Aveyron. Proper aristocracy. We're
talking ancient French lineage here, right? Counts
of Toulouse, vie en pence of Montfort. Oh, the
real deal. If he'd outlived his father, he would
have been the Comte de Toulouse -Lautrec. Hunting,
horses, high society. That was the expectation.
But there's that genetic shadow looming almost
immediately. His parents were first cousins.
Yes, their mothers were sisters. A common practice
among the aristocracy. Then, you know, consolidating
wealth and titles. But with serious potential
consequences. Exactly. Modern medical thinking
points to this history of, well, inbreeding as
a likely contributor to his later health problems,
his congenital health conditions, as the sources
put it. So the very system meant to preserve
his status might have undermined his physical
future. Well, it's a deep irony. But before that
manifested, the artistic spark was already there.
Right. Around age eight, living in Paris with
his mother, he was always sketching. caricatures
in his notebooks. Just constantly drawing. And
he got some early informal Essex from a friend
of his father's, Rene Pristow. Pristow specialized
in horses, didn't he? He did. Very aristocratic
subjects. And you know that early training in
depicting movement, anatomy, it comes back later
in Lautrich's circus paintings. Quite dynamic
stuff. So even that traditional start had an
influence. But then came the turning point, his
teens. Yes, this is where everything changes.
At 13, he breaks his right femur. Okay, a bad
break, but maybe recoverable. But then, just
a year later, age 14, he fractures the left one.
And crucially, the sources all note the breaks
did not heal properly. That's the key phrase.
And the result. Devastating. His legs just stopped
growing. He reached his adult height at 1 .52
meters 5 feet tall. Adult torso, head, but the
legs of a child. And the medical explanation
now. It's thought to be a specific genetic disorder.
Well... The consensus points towards something
genetic, though it wasn't diagnosable then, of
course. Pycnodysostosis is one strong possibility
it causes fragile bones, short stature. It's
even sometimes called Toulouse -Lautrec syndrome.
Because his case fits so well. Precisely. Brittle
bones, the fractures just wouldn't heal right,
stunted growth plate fusion. Other theories mention
conditions like osteopetrosis, achondroplasia,
osteogenesis imperfecta, variations on compromised
bone growth. Whatever the exact cause, the impact
was life -altering. The expected path -hunting
military society just vanished. Completely. And
that physical difference, that exclusion, arguably
became the engine for his art. So the path forward
had to be different. He heads back to Paris in
1882 to study art seriously. Yes, but initially,
the family still hoped for a respectable career.
They steered him towards Leon Bonnat, a well
-known society portrait painter. The goal was
still to be fashionable and respected. fit into
their world. But Benat's academic style. Yeah.
It just didn't click with Lautrec, too rigid.
So when Banat moved on, Lautrec switched to Fernand
Corman's studio. That was 1882 to 87. And Corman
was more relaxed. Much more. Less formal instruction,
more freedom. And Lautrec used that freedom to
explore. To find Montmartre. Exactly. The bohemian
heart of Paris. It became his world for the next
20 years. The cafes, the studios, the nightlife.
And he found his people there, too. Other artists.
Absolutely. At Corman's, he met Emile Bernard,
Vincent Van Gogh. He actually painted Van Gogh's
portrait in 1887. Imagine being in that circle.
Incredible. He starts exhibiting, too, but not
under his aristocratic name initially. No, he
used a pseudonym for a show in Toulouse in 87,
Triclot. Triclot. Latrike backwards, basically.
Using that French slang, Verlan. Exactly. It's
playful, a bit rebellious, like turning his high
society name inside out, fitting for the world
he was entering. His reputation grew quickly
in those avant -garde circles, though. Oh, yes.
By 1888, he's showing 11 works at the Vente exhibition
in Brussels. That was a big deal. Very cutting
edge. And Van Gogh's brother, Theo, bought one
of his pieces there. He did. Pouge de Riz rice
powder for 150 francs. A nice bit of validation
early on. And he was a regular at the Salon des
Indépendants in Paris from 89 to 94. So he's
making his mark professionally. But his personal
life in Montmartre was just as intense. Suzanne
Valadon. Ah, yes. Met her in 1885. She was an
artist, started as a model. They were likely
lovers. He really supported her art, painted
her several times. But that ended badly. Very
badly. Yeah. Sources say she attempted suicide
in 1888 after their relationship ended. It highlights
the volatile emotional landscape of that world.
Definitely. But he also showed fierce loyalty,
didn't he? Especially defending Van Gogh. That
duel story, it's amazing. At that Brussels exhibition
banquet in 1890, some Belgian artist, Henri de
Gruy, starts bad -mathing Van Gogh's work. And
Lautrec, despite his physical challenges, steps
up. Immediately challenges de Gruy to a duel,
can you imagine? And then Paul Signac, another
major painter, offers to fight in his place if
Lautrec gets killed. Wow. That's dedication.
The threat worked. DeGruy backed down, apologized,
duel called off. But it shows Lautrec's spirit.
Fierce. Defiant. And that defiance shows in his
work, too. Even amidst the nightlife, he's still
painting landscapes. Yeah, doing some en plein
air work in Montmartre in Perforet's garden.
That's where he painted Carmen Godin, the model
with the striking red hair. The one from the
laundress. A multi -million dollar painting.
The very same. So you see him blending that traditional
practice with these very modern, non -traditional
subjects. That's pure Lautrec. Okay, let's talk
about the place that really made him famous.
Yeah. The Moulin Rouge. Opened in 1889. A landmark
moment for Paris and for Lautrec. He was commissioned
right away to do their posters. And this was
important for him personally, not just professionally.
Beyond the family money. Very important. The
sources really emphasize this. Having his own
income. earned through his art, even commercial
art, that meant a lot, psychological independence.
And he basically reinvented the poster. Turned
it into art. Absolutely. And the Moulin Rouge
knew what they had. They gave him his own reserved
seat, displayed his paintings. He wasn't just
a contractor. He was their artist in residence
almost. And through those posters, he made the
performers into icons. Icons. Instantly recognizable.
Yvette Gilbert, the singer. With the long black
gloves, he captured her look perfectly. And the
dancers, Louise Weber -Lagoulou. The glutton.
The inventor of the can -can. His posters of
her just explode with energy. The high kicks,
the frills, pure, uninhibited performance. Total
dynamism. But then contrast her with Jane Averill.
Much more subtle. Right. Yeah, he depicts her
differently. More sinuous, elegant lines. Almost
melancholic sometimes. He captured her unique
style perfectly. La Melanite, they called her
that mix of quietness and sudden bursts of energy.
He got it. And his posters were everywhere. Other
venues commissioned him, too. Oh, yes. Café des
Ambassadeurs. That led to the famous poster of
his friend Aristide Bruant in 1892. The black
cape. The red scarf. Unmistakable. He was illustrating
for magazines, too, like Le Rire. Right. In the
mid -90s, he was shaping the visual culture of
Paris nightlife. But even with all that success,
his deepest artistic focus seems to have been
somewhere else. Further down the social ladder.
Yes. The brothels. He was genuinely fascinated,
as the sources say, by the lives of prostitutes,
the whole urban underclass. And this wasn't just
popping in for a quick sketch. He spent real
time there. A lot of time. Lived alongside them
in a way. Stayed frequently at places like the
one on Rue d 'Amboise. He wasn't just an observer,
he was immersed. And the art that came out of
that? It's incredible. Around 100 drawings, 50
paintings. And they're not sensationalized. Often
they show boredom, fatigue, companionship. Like
the Lely series, The Bed. Often just two women
together, resting. Exactly. Quiet moments. Or
the big painting, Salon de la Rue des Moulins,
painted from memory but with such detail. The
women waiting. There's a dignity there. He explained
why he preferred them as subjects, didn't he?
Something about models being stuffed dolls. He
did. He said, a model is always a stuffed doll,
but these women are alive. He felt they were
authentic, no pretense. He liked their lack of
conceit, how they'd just relax like animals.
And then that absolutely heartbreaking quote,
the one that connects it all back to his own
experience. I have found girls of my own size.
Nowhere else do I feel so much at home. It's
devastating, isn't it? That's the key. His fellow
painter VR said Lautrec's reasons were moral
ones. Meaning? Meaning Lautrec, this physical
freak, as VR put it, and a mystocrat cut off
by his appearance, felt a deep kinship with these
women, excluded in their own way. Their moral
penury, their marginalization, it mirrored his
own physical and social isolation. So he wasn't
just painting subjects, he was painting kindred
spirits, granting them artistic permanence. Precisely.
His disability wasn't just a limitation. It was
his entry point, his unique lens onto this hidden
world. It's incredible how much work he produced
in such a short career. Less than 20 years, right?
Yeah, and plagued by health issues and later
alcoholism. But the output is just immense. What
are the numbers again? Over 700 paintings, nearly
300 watercolors, over 350 prints and posters,
and get this, over 5 ,000 drawings. Plus ceramics,
stained glass. 5 ,000 drawings. He must have
had a sketchbook glued to his hand. Just constantly
observing, constantly capturing a visual recording
machine. And stylistically, while he was revolutionary,
he did build on what came before. The Impressionists.
Oh, definitely. You see echoes of Manet and his
bar and club scenes, that sense of modern life,
maybe a touch of alienation. And Degas, for sure,
the dancers, the movement, the behind -the -scenes
glimpses. But the really transformative influence,
especially for the posters, came from Japan.
Absolutely. Ukiyo -e woodblock prints, they were
hugely popular in Paris. Then, Japonism, they
called it. And what did he take from that? The
flat perspectives, the bold outlines, the unusual
cropping, the focus on line over shading, it
fundamentally shaped his approach. You can see
it in his technique. Very linear. Highly linear.
Strong contours defining the figures and the
way he applied paint. often thin washes long
brush strokes letting the cardboard or canvas
show through so they almost look like colored
drawings sometimes exactly that's a great description
from the sources drawings in colored paint it
gave his work speed immediacy A graphic punch.
And he used that style to capture individuals
so effectively. Not just types, but specific
people. Absolutely. Even in a crowded cabaret
scene, his figures are distinct. You could identify
Lagulu or Jane Averill just by their silhouette.
He was a master observer of posture, gesture.
And his attitude towards them. Sometimes sympathetic,
sometimes quite detached. Yes, it varied. You
feel empathy for the women in the brothel pantings,
their vulnerability. But then he could be...
Quite coolly observational, almost clinical when
depicting the less savory aspects of the wealthy
patrons. He just showed it like it was. He also
had connections outside France, particularly
London. His family helped there. His family were
Anglophiles, yeah. And he spoke English reasonably
well, so he traveled to London for work. Got
commissions. He did. J &E Bella Company hired
him for a poster for paper confetti. Apparently,
plaster confetti got banned after a messy Mardi
Gras. Huh. Necessity is the mother of invention
and poster commissions. Seems so. And he did
that great bicycle ad too, Lashane Simpson. Showed
how well his style worked for commercial products.
And in London, he connected with Oscar Wilde.
Yes, became friends. And Lautrec was a strong
supporter when Wilde faced his trials in 1895.
He painted Wilde that same year, didn't he? He
did. Painted his portrait right in the midst
of that scandal. It's another example of Lautrec
standing by someone marginalized, an outcast
from high society, just like he connected with
the outcasts of Montmartre. It ties his art to
the big moral dramas of the time. Okay, before
we get to the sad final chapter, there's this
completely unexpected side to Lautrec we have
to talk about, the gourmet. It seems so out of
character with the usual image, doesn't it? But
yes. Like Monet, he was known as a serious food
lover, one of the most serious gourmets among
the artists. His cousins apparently called him
Henri the Cook before he was famous. That's right.
He don't just like eating. He loved cooking,
planning meals, the whole presentation. It was
another art form for him. Designing menus as
artworks. Hosting these legendary parties. Oh,
the parties. That 1895 bash at the Natanson's
place is famous. 300 guests. Supposedly 2 ,000
cocktails served. And Lautrec was the chef and
bartender for the whole thing. Sole chef and
bartender. Apparently he even dressed the part
white linen jacket, shaved head, no beard. Quite
the performance. And the kicker is, despite all
the booze flowing. He was reportedly the only
one still standing, sober, at the end of the
night. Shows a certain kind of control, at least
when he was orchestrating the event. That control
didn't last, unfortunately. But his food legacy
did. There's a cookbook. There is. His friend,
Maurice Joyant, published his recipes after his
death. La cuisine de Monsieur Momo, célibataire
Mr. Momo's cooking, bachelor style, later revised
as l 'art de la cuisine. With his signature cattle
and salad recipe in there. Among 150 others,
Charles Stuckey, the art historian, called it
the first cookbook published by an artist, posthumously,
of course, a unique footnote to his career. But
that control we mentioned, it clearly slipped.
The alcoholism became overwhelming. It really
did. And biographers often link it back to the
constant mockery he faced about his height, his
appearance, alcohol as an escape from that pain.
And it escalated from beer and wine. The spirits,
especially absinthe, the green fairy. became
his go -to. He even invented a cocktail, didn't
he? The earthquake. The tremblement de terre.
Sounds terrifying. Half absinthe, half cognac
in a wine glass. Good grief. That's not sipping.
That's aiming for oblivion. Pretty much signals
the intent, doesn't it? And he made sure it was
always available. The hollowed out cane? Yeah,
kept it filled with liquor. His addiction literally
built into his walking aid. Constant access.
The inevitable crash came in 1899. February 99.
Collapsed from exhaustion, chronic alcoholism,
his family had him committed fully St. James
sanatorium. How long was he there? Three months.
But even inside, he kept working. Produced those
39 circus drawings, proving his sanity through
his art, essentially. He got out, but the decline
continued. Sadly, yes. The damage was done. Alcoholism,
combined with a syphilis contracted earlier,
his health just fell apart physically and mentally.
And he died so young. 36. Passed away on September
9th, 1901, back at his mother's estate, Chateau
Malromé. Such a short, intense life. Any record
of his final words? Reportedly, Le Vieux Comte,
the old fool. Possibly aimed at his father, who
was present. A bitter end. But his art lived
on, thanks to his mother and Joël. They were
instrumental. Promoted his work, helped fund
the Musée Toulouse -Lautrec in Albi, his hometown.
It now holds the world's largest collection.
His legacy was secured. What a journey we've
traced. The highest aristocracy, the debilitating
disability, cutting him off, finding this new
home, this connection in the lowest rungs of
Montmartre society. And then that hidden talent
for cooking. The contrasts are just staggering.
But his art, it's all about that honest observation.
He didn't judge. He just saw. And he immortalized
people. Le Goulou, Jane Averill, the anonymous
women in the brothels, giving them a permanent
society, denied them. He truly elevated the poster,
the everyday image, into fine art. It really
seems like his difference, his exclusion became
his superpower as an artist. It gave him access
and empathy no one else in his original circle
could have had. I think that's absolutely right.
He was forced outside. And from that vantage
point, he saw things more clearly, perhaps more
truthfully, which leaves us with a thought, doesn't
it, for you, the listener? Yeah. What unique
knowledge, what kind of insight really can only
be gained when you're forced or maybe. choose
to stand completely outside the usual expectations.
When you observe from the margins, Lautrec's
life suggests there's a profound, if difficult,
truth to be found there.