The Anti-Modernist Modernist - Maurice De Vlaminck
(Me with De Vlaminck snowscapes, Soumya Museum, Mexico City, July 2023)
I first encountered a painting by Maurice De Vlaminck during my visit to the incredible Soumya Museum in Mexico City in July 2023. As I walked through the galleries, I was immediately drawn to his work, which depicted a striking snow-covered village. Vlaminck's almost violently expressive lines leave a profound and lasting impression. I stood mesmerised before the painting, transfixed by his intense brushwork.
I was most struck by Vlaminck’s thick, impasto strokes, which create three-dimensional blobs of colour and give the painting an almost sculptural quality. This technique adds depth to the artwork and evokes a unique sense of intensity. The way he renders the snow makes me feel as if I could reach out and touch its cool, crisp surface, freezing my fingers as I’m ensconced in the chilling atmosphere of winter.
(Character on a Snowy Road, Maurice De Vlaminck, 1950)
Vlaminck employs strong contrasts between the pure white snow and the nearly black sky overhead, using bold colours and rough textures that convey an almost violent energy. This juxtaposition generates a powerful sense of motion and turbulence as if a storm is brewing just beyond the canvas. The painting does not merely depict a snowstorm; it captures the raw, chaotic beauty of nature in all its ferocity.
Upon turning to read the placard beside the painting, I was shocked to discover that it was created in 1950. I’m vaguely familiar with Vlaminck’s earlier work but had not realised the vast depth of his portfolio as it isn’t something art historians tend to focus on. I found my first truly modern painting, which I liked. Yes, gird your loins; in this article, I’m discussing a modernist—a former cubist, no less.
Discovering the painting’s 1953 date forced me to re-examine not just Vlaminck’s own evolution but also the wider context from which he emerged. To understand why these later works feel so radical—and why they challenge modern art’s drift away from reality—we must trace his roots back to Fauvism, that wild, early-20th-century movement in which pure colour took the reins from representation.
Fauvist Beginnings
(The Seine at Chatou, Maurice De Vlaminck, 1906)
Fauvism is an early 20th-century movement characterised by its use of bold, vibrant colours and “simplified” forms. Emerging in the early 1900s, it broke away from traditional representational techniques and leaned into expressing emotion through colour. The movement was anchored by artists such as Henri Matisse and André Derain, who sought to capture a sense of feeling rather than depict the natural world realistically.
Fauvism is often seen as a reaction to Impressionism, which focuses on capturing fleeting moments and the effects of light and atmosphere.
Although Impressionism paved the way for Fauvism by breaking away from conventional representation, the Fauves took this further by employing a more experimental approach to brushwork and composition, prioritising expression over realism.
The term "Fauvism" derives from the French word "les fauves," meaning "the wild beasts," which critics applied to these artists as a nod to their shocking and innovative styles. The Fauves’ radical use of colour and form not only distinguished Fauvism from its predecessors but also helped lay the groundwork for future movements, including expressionism and abstract art.
For those interested in Impressionism's origins and techniques, I encourage you to read my essay on the subject to gain a deeper understanding of how this influential movement set the stage for Fauvism's bold explorations.
Vlaminck was a key player in this shift. His early works, such as The Seine at Chatou, burst with bold, non-representational hues.
Fauvism challenged traditional art by using colour to elevate reality’s emotional resonance. This vibra nt, anti-reality approach is evident in paintings such as Derain’s Charing Cross Bridge. For the Fauves, colour wasn’t bound to objects; it was a tool to express their “inner truths.”
(Charing Cross Bridge, London, André Derain, 1906)
What was uniquely innovative about the Fauvists was their approach to colour. Until their time, even post-impressionist painters like Paul Cézanne and Georges Seurat, who were considered radicals in their era, primarily used colour to depict the objects in front of them realistically. In contrast, the Fauvists embraced a highly intensified and imaginative use of colour, often employing entirely unrealistic styles, as seen in the painting by Derain above. This is why I referred to them as "anti-reality."
Later Work: Mimetic Expressionism
(Snowy Landscape, Maurice De Vlaminck, 1950)
Expressionism refers to a range of 20th-century art movements that prioritized the artist’s subjective emotional experience over literal realism. The most famous form, German Expressionism, often explored dark, existential themes (as the Germans do). As the century progressed, expressionism shifted towards abstract art, which sought to eliminate reality entirely and focus purely on non-representational forms.
Maurice de Vlaminck was an anomaly in this trajectory. While he embraced the expressionist principle of prioritising emotional expression over rigid realism, he refused to separate his art from reality. Unlike abstract artists, who abandoned representational forms, Vlaminck retained reality as a foundation, heightening it to a level of dramatic intensity and emotional resonance. I call him a “mimetic expressionist”—a term I use to describe his unique approach to art: a fusion of expressive emotional force with a clear, grounded depiction of the real world. His later landscapes do not distort or obscure nature; instead, they transform it into something profoundly personal and dynamic.
Vlaminck's later work represents the best of the expressionist movement. Unlike other modernist movements, like cubism, which sought to distort or confuse man’s perception of reality, expressionists like Vlaminck portray a mimetic environment in their works, such as the Snowy Landscape here, but they heighten the mundane environment to something much darker, prettier, and stylised. Rather than laser-sharp accuracy, the brush strokes meander along across the canvas. The artist allows his emotions to guide his hand.
Let us walk through some examples of Vlaminck paintings I’ve recently seen in an exhibition in Potsdam.
(Harvest During Approaching Thunderstorm, Maurice De Vlaminck, 1950)
From the beginning of his artistic career, Vlaminck was inspired by Vincent Van Gogh, painting his own take on Van Gogh’s recurring wheat field motif. Also, the influence of Van Gogh’s expressive brushstroke style is quite obvious. Vlaminck was notably influenced by Van Gogh’s expressive brushwork and liked the idea of using thick, aggressive strokes to add his personal character into the painting as if each stroke were an embroidery of his initials. One could be easily stabbed by the wheat in the above painting if it flowed into one’s face during the impending thunderstorm.
In the centre, between the haystacks and the field, we can see two human characters. If you look closely, you’ll notice how the wheat forms circular shapes around the two figures, hinting at the chaos that the storm might soon cause.
Vlaminck’s approach to capturing the sky is distinctly different from his approach to wheat fields and haystacks. He uses a smooth texture, creating a striking contrast against the lower half of the painting. The composition is divided between a smooth, dark blue and white sky at the top and a rough, spiky mix of orange and yellow at the bottom. Vlaminck mastered the use of contrast throughout his artwork. The painting is almost evenly divided into two sections: the upper and lower halves. The colours are highly contrasting, and the textures differ significantly; the sky is smooth, while the lower section is rough.
One controversial technique that Vlaminck employed was avoiding mixing colours directly from the paint tube, at times even pouring the paint directly onto the canvas. This method, also utilised by Van Gogh, enhanced the vividness of the colours and the intensity of the textures.
This profound understanding of contrast is what makes Vlaminck’s work so explosive. It immediately captures one’s attention and arouses curiosity. Let us look at another example.
(View of Saint-Maurice-les-Charencey in the Snow, Maurice De Vlaminck, 1950)
In View of Saint-Maurice-les-Charencey in the Snow, pitch-black darkness erupts from behind snow-covered village houses. A solitary figure trudges past the barren tree, gazing into the void. The road is stained with the same oppressive blackness that looms above, yet it leads towards a luminous white. Barring the utility pole beside the house on the left, this scene could easily belong to the 17th century.
The chill of the night air is palpable. The interplay of stark whites, earthy browns, and muted blues heightens the frigid atmosphere, evoking unease and austerity. The thick, sweeping brush strokes on the left freely skim over the dark obstacles at the centre, introducing a dynamic rhythm. When the road brightens, there is a glimmer of hope, but the small, skeletal tree on the horizon suggests a more uncertain fate.
It is such a simple setting, yet it brims with tension. The painting’s contrasts masterfully evoke ambiguity and intrigue. It’s a strikingly original composition—a direct repudiation of the avant-garde. While other artists veer into abstraction and distance themselves from reality, Vlaminck offers a bold counterpoint. He doesn’t merely depict reality; he elevates it. A humble village scene becomes a powerful vessel for dramatic expression. Vlaminck’s art is intense yet accessible. It upholds the true essence of art during a period when so many sought to strip it away.
(Houses with Thatched Roofs, Maurice De Vlaminck, 1933)
In this lighter setting, we can see how Vlamnick managed to generate visual interest through his use of perspective, contrasting colours and textures, and composition.
Unfortunately, Vlamnick’s later pieces are rare, and it’s difficult to find more information about them. Most art historians focus on his earlier phases, which they see as more important. They’re wrong.
Vlaminck is the only painter I’m aware of who started as an arch Avant-gardeist and then rejected it to create expresso-realistic landscapes. His paintings are truly striking, and it’s been a joy and honour to witness so many great examples of his later work in the Museum Barberini in Potsdam.
This discovery makes me wonder if there are other interesting, pro-reality modernist painters whose work has been lost due to art historians' disinterest.
Quite possibly. Please let me know if you have any information about other such examples. I’d love to learn more about such painters. The main lesson is that not everything that’s “modern art” is rubbish. The vast majority of it, unfortunately, is, but there might still be some hidden treasures, such as Vlaminck’s later works, lurking around.
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