Canvases and Cartridges: The Life and Death of Artists in the First World War

When grenades exploded on the front lines of World War I, many young men, including artists, found themselves caught up in the merciless reality of combat. In the paintings they depicted the greatness and horror of war, but they themselves became its victims, entering the ranks and going to the front line. Their talent and brush faced fire and steel, their studios faced trenches, and their palette faced blood and dirt. For many artists, the war became not only a test of survival, but also a tragic canvas on which they themselves became part of the dark history of mankind.

Color and Blood: Fictional Drama of the First World War

"War is not only horror and destruction, but also a topic that requires research and embodiment in art." - Pablo Picasso

 

 

On August 3, 1914, Germany's declaration of war on France marked the onset of a harrowing countdown for the next four years, meticulously recorded by the Parisian newspaper Le Figaro. As the conflict unfolded, each passing day was grimly tallied. By November 11, 1918, the morning edition of the newspaper somberly announced: "1561st day of the war." Unbeknownst to the newspapers, this day would prove to be the war's final chapter, though Parisians hesitated to celebrate amid the lingering specter of premature rumors.

The war exacted a devastating toll, claiming the lives of one and a half million French citizens and over two million of their adversaries, the Germans and Austrians. Young artists, who had recently challenged the academic artistic tradition, found themselves thrust onto opposing fronts, their swords now turned against each other. Meanwhile, the older generation reluctantly sent their sons off to battle, each of the ensuing four years an agonizing crucible for those touched by the conflict.

"The night prior in Paris witnessed a vanishing act—buses and taxis vanished from the streets as men were mobilized for war. Artillery batteries dotted the Tuileries, and rifle-toting soldiers stood sentinel at Seine-spanning bridges. Theatres shuttered, food prices soared, and queues snaked outside banks. Almost overnight, the city shed its foreign populace. Newspapers fell under the censor's pen. Rumors swirled of swift German advances through Belgium, yet optimism prevailed, with few doubting France's ability to fend off the assault, at least for a month, if not two." - Adapted from Hilary Sperling's "Matisse".

Henri Matisse

 

 

Henri Matisse, aged 45, awaits conscription while residing in a cramped Paris apartment with his wife and three children. The Matisse family home in Issy, strategically situated, now serves as the French army's general headquarters. Within a mere 20 days of the war's declaration, the German army seizes control of northern France, including the city of Boin where Matisse's mother and brother reside. For an agonizing stretch, the artist remains uncertain of their fate, unable to ascertain their well-being until war's end. Despite three attempts, Matisse's bids to volunteer for the army are rebuffed by the medical commission.

When the German army finds itself 50 kilometers from Paris, the Matisses flee to Collioure, where Henri paints his darkest and most eerie painting, “The French Window at Collioure.” Outside this window there is impenetrable darkness and frightening uncertainty.

August Macke

 

August Macke completed his painting "Farewell" before volunteering for the front on August 8. Within a month, on September 11, he assumed the role of company commander, and by September 20, he was honored with the Iron Cross award. Tragically, just six days later, the promising young artist perished in Champagne, his body forever lost and unrecovered. At the tender age of 27, Macke harbored no illusions regarding the redemptive nature of war.

In a letter to his wife, he reflected, "War is an indescribable sorrow. One moment you're here, the next, vanished. People back in Germany, intoxicated by victory, remain oblivious to the war's true horror. But I am well and resolute; I believe my sacrifice will not be in vain if we emerge victorious and expunge the devastation that has befallen France."

In the tumultuous throes of war, the lives of artists like Franz Marc and Claude Monet were irrevocably altered, their brushes and palettes overshadowed by the grim specter of conflict.

For Franz Marc, the transition from the serene world of art to the brutal reality of the cavalry regiment was jarring. The equine companions that once galloped freely across his canvases now bore the burden of military duty, transforming from symbols of beauty to instruments of warfare. Yet, amidst the chaos, Marc sought solace in the spiritual realm, searching for meaning amid the carnage.

He writes to his wife from the front:
“There is something impressive and mystical in artillery battles... I dream of a new Europe, I see in this war a path to our goals as salutary as it is disgusting; the war will cleanse Europe and change it...”

Meanwhile, in the idyllic haven of Giverny, Claude Monet's sanctuary was disrupted by the exodus of his beloved gardeners, called to serve their country. Once teeming with American artists eager to study under his tutelage, Giverny now stood deserted, save for the steadfast presence of sculptor Frederick William McMonnies. Amidst the chaos of war, McMonnies erected a sanctuary for wounded soldiers, offering solace amidst the relentless tide of pain and suffering. And in a gesture of compassion, Monet supplied fresh vegetables from his garden, a small but meaningful contribution to the war effort.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, Monet received steadfast encouragement from friends who implored him to remain in Giverny, guarding his home and artworks against the ravages of war. Despite personal tragedy and a prolonged hiatus from his craft, Monet harbored a grand vision—a testament to his enduring spirit and unwavering dedication to his art.

Ernst Ludwig Kirchner

 

In the shadow of impending conflict, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner grappled with the specter of war, haunted by the looming specter of danger and uncertainty. Determined to evade the front lines, he volunteered as a driver, seeking refuge from the perils of battle. Yet, even in the relative safety of his new role, Kirchner remained ensnared by fear, his mind and body gripped by the relentless anticipation of danger.

A year later, fate spared Kirchner from the horrors of combat as he was demobilized without ever facing the enemy on the battlefield. However, the scars left by war ran deeper than the physical realm, etching a permanent mark on his psyche. Despite returning to civilian life, Kirchner's mental health remained in tatters, a casualty of the trauma he endured.

As the world teetered on the brink of another devastating conflict two decades later, Kirchner found himself unable to withstand the crushing weight of anxiety and despair. Faced with the specter of impending doom, he succumbed to the demons that plagued his mind, tragically choosing to end his own life rather than endure the horrors of yet another war.

In Kirchner's story, we glimpse the profound toll of war on the human spirit—a reminder of the lasting scars inflicted by conflict long after the guns fall silent.

Andre Derain, Maurice de Vlaminck, Fernand Leger, Georges Braque - the young generation of French avant-garde artists finds themselves at the front.

Oskar Kokoschka

 

In the throes of heartbreak, Oskar Kokoschka found solace in the embrace of war, viewing it as a balm for his wounded spirit. With solemn determination, he embarked on a journey of redemption, fueled by a fervent desire to mend the shattered fragments of his soul.

In a poignant gesture of defiance, Kokoschka parted with a cherished masterpiece—crafted for his beloved Alma Mahler—in exchange for the means to outfit himself in military attire. Clad in the regalia of a dragoon, he stood resolute, a symbol of unwavering devotion and unyielding resolve.

Before departing for the front lines, Kokoschka sought to immortalize his transformation, enlisting the aid of a photographer to capture the essence of his newfound purpose. With every click of the shutter, he immortalized the image of a man reborn—a warrior-poet, ready to confront the trials of battle in pursuit of love and redemption.

Thus, armed with courage and conviction, Kokoschka marched forth, his heart aflame with the fervor of a soldier in love. For him, the battlefield became a crucible of transformation—a stage upon which he would prove the depths of his devotion and vanquish the specter of despair, no matter the cost.

Two and a half thousand paintings from the Louvre exhibition are removed from the walls of the museum and sent for storage to Toulouse and Blois, away from Paris.

War in Art: The Tragic Tale of Artists

“Through my paintings, I try to convey the feelings and emotions that I experience when I see the suffering and destruction of war.” - John Singer Sargent

 

 

A transformation unfolds for Lucien-Victor Guirand de Sevola, an artist turned artilleryman, as he finds himself amidst relentless enemy fire. Gazing at his conspicuous military attire, Sevola realizes its role in rendering French soldiers easy targets. Determined to remedy this vulnerability, he conceives a revolutionary solution: camouflage. Employing cubist techniques to thoroughly distort objects, Sevola pioneers a unique pattern that effectively conceals both soldiers and weaponry. This innovation spawns a new role in warfare: camoufleurs. "To fully alter the object, I applied cubist methods, attracting talented artists with their unique perspectives capable of disguising any item," he explained. Throughout the First World War, 3,000 artists served as camoufleurs in the French army, including Georges Braque.

Braque, however, faced a different fate. Suffering severe head injuries during combat, he endured partial blindness, lapsing into a coma and undergoing a craniotomy. Gradually, his vision returned, though it would be two years before he could resume his artistic endeavors. Meanwhile, his close friend Pablo Picasso, exempt from conscription due to his Spanish nationality, embarked on his own trajectory. Despite their unbreakable emotional and creative bond prior to the war, Braque's recovery and reentry into artistic practice found Picasso distant. Before the war's end, Picasso would contribute to the scandalous production of the Russian Ballets' ballet "Parade," attain fame, marry, and transition back to a realistic style of artistry. The profound changes wrought by the war irreversibly altered the dynamic between Braque and Picasso, reshaping their connection in ways they could never have foreseen.

 

While Braque was inventing camouflage patterns using Cubist methods, his opponent Franz Marc was given the task of camouflaging German artillery guns. It was a whole series of grandiose, vast canvases in the pointillist style, as Mark himself will say - “from Monet to Kandinsky.” The artist is confident that camouflage in the style of Kandinsky will best hide weapons from aircraft flying at high altitude.

Henri Matisse sends food parcels to his acquaintances at the front, his wife knits socks and gloves for soldiers. Matisse donates engravings to the Society of Prisoners of War, helps compile lists of prisoners, and negotiates with donors in France and America. And he is constantly trying to earn at least a little money: Parisian galleries are not ready for purchases, much less advances, banking transactions with Russia have been interrupted, and one of Matisse’s main customers, Sergei Shchukin, lives there.

In April, Auguste Renoir's son Jean was wounded in his thigh. The artist’s wife Alin is 56 years old, she has diabetes, it is becoming increasingly difficult for her to move, but she decides to visit her son in the hospital no matter what. She travels 800 kilometers across a war-torn country and reaches the wounded man in time. Jean has gangrene and the surgeon is going to amputate his leg. Aline protests - her son is only 20 years old! This trip undermined Aline Renoir's health; she returned home to Cagnes and died two months later.



The future great director Jean Renoir, with crutches, but still on both legs, moves to a hospital in Paris - here, to his empty Parisian apartment, the widowed Renoir hurries to be closer to his son. The father, confined to a wheelchair, and the son, hobbling on crutches, will spend the most priceless days in this apartment. For the first time, they will talk all day long - these conversations will allow Jean, many years later, to write a book of memories about his father.

“He (Renoir) loved to listen to my stories about the war, at least those in which all its tragic absurdity was revealed. He was especially amused by the following episode: during the retreat in the Arras region, I was sent on reconnaissance with a patrol of dragoons. From some hill we discovered half a dozen German lancers, also sent on reconnaissance. We immediately deployed into battle formation, maintaining the prescribed intervals of twenty meters, tightly gripping the shaft of the pike in our hands, aimed at the enemy; The Germans did exactly the same thing on their hill. We set off at a walk, strictly maintaining formation, then switched to a trot, then to a gallop, and about a hundred meters from the enemy we launched our horses at full speed: each of us was filled with the firm determination to pierce the enemy. We seemed to have returned to the time of Francis I and felt like participants in the Battle of Marignane. The distance gradually decreased: we could already discern the tense faces of the Germans under their shakos, and they probably saw ours under their pulled helmets. The fight lasted only a few seconds. The horses, obviously not too eager to collide, avoided the meeting, despite the bits and spurs. Both patrols missed each other at a frantic pace, demonstrating to the sheep grazing on the side the spectacle of a brilliant, but completely harmless cavalry maneuver. We returned to our own, a little ashamed, while the Germans returned to themselves,” from the book “Renoir” by Jean Renoir.

On June 17, Egon Schiele marries the daughter of a neighbor, locksmith Harms. Judging by the artist’s letters, there was no great love and ardent passion here - after marriage, he did not even intend to break off relations with his long-time mistress Valli, but entered into marriage out of common sense. 3 days after the wedding, the artist is drafted into the army.

Vienna was shocked by an unexpected message: the artist Oskar Kokoschka had died. Obituaries, tears, regrets. Anyone is upset, but not his ex-lover Alma. This year she marries Walter Groppius and has long stopped expecting heroic deeds from her former lover. But Kokoschka did not die - he was wounded in the head, was thrown onto the battlefield - and some French soldier even tried to finish him off with a bayonet, puncturing his lung. Oscar survived even after this, temporarily lost his memory, lay in hospitals as an anonymous wounded man, and appeared before his mother, who had turned gray with grief, several months after he “died.”

Reflecting War: Artists in the Late Period of the First World War

"War is a tragedy that requires expression in art so that we can remember and learn from past mistakes." - Ernst Ludwig Kirchner

 

 

The German government issues a decree and encloses a list of famous artists who must be demobilized in order to ensure their safety. Franz Marc's name is on this list. But he won't know about it. He was killed by a shell fragment on March 4 in one of the longest and most brutal battles of the First World War - the Battle of Verdun. Two days before his death, Mark writes to his wife:

“In the last few days I have seen nothing but the most terrible scenes that the human mind can imagine... But be calm and do not worry: I will return to you - the war will end this year. I need to finish; The transport for the wounded that will pick up this letter is leaving. Be calm as I am calm.”

Little did Wassily Kandinsky know that his painting style helped Franz Marc hide several German guns. With the outbreak of the war, he, a Russian, was forced to leave Germany and flee first to Switzerland and then to Russia. When the news of the death of Franz Marc reaches him, he will say that there will be no more “Blue Rider”, never: “The Blue Rider” was the two of us, me and Franz Marc.”

Egon Schiele initially accompanied captured Russian officers, and later he was transferred to the position of clerk in a prisoner camp (his brilliantly beautiful handwriting helped) and was even given a closet in which the artist set up a workshop. Here he paints portraits of colleagues, Russian officers and desert landscapes without people.

 

Amidst the chaos of war, André Derain found himself entrenched in the thick of battle. He braved the bloodiest conflicts, from the fields of Champagne where Macquet fell, to the ravages of Verdun where Mark met his end. Like Oskar Kokoschka, Derain was symbolically laid to rest in absentia, mourned by comrades, with poems penned in his honor. Yet, death was far from his mind; he still had to face the trials of the Somme and the Battle of the Marne.

Despite his vibrant spirit and role as a pioneering force in Fauvism, Derain's wartime experiences precluded any opportunity for artistic expression. Not a single stroke graced his canvas during those four tumultuous years. In the aftermath of the war, Derain abandoned experimentation, bidding farewell to Cubism and Fauvism. Instead, he embraced a new artistic direction, dedicating the remainder of his life to neoclassicism.

On September 27, Edgar Degas dies - and auctions are held in Paris, where the works of the artist himself and paintings that were in his private collection are sold. Impoverished French collectors and museums cannot afford such purchases - prices for Degas soar to unprecedented levels. Most of the paintings are sent to America.

The painting “Music Lesson” was painted on the eve of farewell.



Matisse's eldest son turned 18 and was drafted into the army. It is he, Jean, smoking in the foreground before leaving for a military training camp. A few months later, Matisse would be able to visit his son: hungry, frightened and frozen soldiers washed themselves once a week in a stream and lived in a camp without toilets. Matisse gives Jean his shirt and manages to buy him an overcoat. The painting “The Music Lesson” was painted on the eve of farewell. Matisse's eldest son turned 18 and was drafted into the army. It is he, Jean, smoking in the foreground before leaving for a military training camp. A few months later, Matisse would be able to visit his son: hungry, frightened and frozen soldiers washed themselves once a week in a stream and lived in a camp without toilets. Matisse gives Jean his shirt and manages to buy him an overcoat.

Otto Dix, Max Ernst, and Fernand Léger endured the entirety of the war, from its inception to its final days.

Just eleven days before the war's end and the signing of the peace treaty, 28-year-old Egon Schiele, poised to become Vienna's premier painter, succumbed to the devastating Spanish flu. The epidemic, exacerbated by the squalor and deprivation of war, coupled with the mass movement of military personnel and refugees, claimed the lives of at least 50 million individuals worldwide. Alongside Egon Schiele, his pregnant wife also perished.



In July, along the route from Arras to Doullens, John Singer Sargent bore witness to a harrowing sight. Blinded French soldiers, victims of mustard gas during an attack, awaited aid as they slowly felt their way toward the hospital.

Henri Matisse emerged as the first civilian to step foot into the liberated city of Bohen. Throughout the war, his mother remained in her home, enduring an arrest at one point, while his brother toiled for twelve grueling hours daily in a prisoner-of-war labor camp. It would take four long years before Matisse could reunite with them.

On November 12, the day following the war's end, Claude Monet penned a letter to his friend Georges Clemenceau: "Dear and esteemed friend, I have nearly completed two decorative works that I wish to sign on Victory Day and, with your assistance, present as a gift to the nation. It may not be much, but it is my humble contribution to the Victory. I envision these two panels displayed at the Museum of Decorative Arts and would be delighted if you could personally select them. I hold you in high regard and send my warmest regards." Eight grand panels featuring water lilies, personally chosen by Clemenceau, the "father of victory," now grace the oval halls of the Orangerie Museum, donated by Claude Monet to commemorate the triumph in the Great War.

In conclusion, the story of artists' involvement in the First World War represents a complex and moving chapter in the history of art and humanity in general. They not only demonstrated their talents in times of peace, but also faced the challenges and fears of war, leaving us with a legacy of works that reflect their experiences, horrors and hopes. Soldier artists contributed to the memory of the war through their paintings, drawings and sculptures, creating images that continue to live and inspire us to this day. Their art is not only an expression of emotions and thoughts, but also a testament to the unbending strength of the spirit of humanity in the darkest times. The memory of these heroic artists should be preserved as a reminder of how war affects every person and how art can be a means of expression and protest in the face of the horrors of war.

Our catalog contains paintings that depict various aspects of the war. These works of art reflect both the grandeur and horror of wartime, conveying to the viewer the emotions and thoughts associated with this period. Our paintings allow you to plunge into the atmosphere of war and feel its reality through the eyes of the artists of that time. They can be either historical documents or works of art, but in either case they are valuable as a source of information and a visual representation of the war.

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