Henri Matisse: Finding Light in Collioure
The seacoast village that sparked an artistic revolution
Terroir/ter’wa/noun (Cambridge English Dictionary)
1. Derived from the Latin word ‘terra,’ meaning dirt, and in particular, referring to the locale of specific grapes.
2. The unique character of the wine is made from the same grapes grown within a football field of another vineyard.
Summer, 1905
“The light here is different.”― Henri Matisse
There is an ancient Occitan folktale about a fisherman who, time after time, fails to bring anything to eat. His wife taunts him mercilessly, but undeterred, he makes a final attempt. To his credit, he lands a magical red fish, a symbol of hope and promise. Soon their family welcomes the birth of a young boy. The young lad goes on a heroic journey to fight a menacing seven-headed beast that plagued the village. He emerges victorious and earns the hand of a princess.
And so it was, in the early days of summer in 1905, that a long-ago tale unfolded before the eyes of a young Henri Matisse, in the Occitan seaport of Collioure. As he watched a band of strong-armed fishermen centuries later, still arguing over a meager anchovy catch, he imagined the expression on the wives’ faces when they returned home, and wondered whether their little boys would grow up to be conquering heroes.
In truth, Matisse was sensitized to all the sights and sounds since he decamped to Collioure. From his bedroom window, he sketched the view — a flotilla of more than a hundred boats bringing back anchovies and sardines. 3 His Collioure sketchbooks chronicled the timeless rituals of a people deeply connected to the sea since ancient times, and for Matisse, it nurtured a more profound connection, but to what, he did not quite know. Each stroke of Matisse’s brush in Open Window is so precise that a seasoned fisherman could discern the hour at which it was painted.
Matisse found himself intrigued by the fisherman’s melodic rhythm of Old Occitan, a language nearly forgotten, leans more towards Italian than French. A profound sense of joy settled over him that he could not explain in words. He saw their feet clad in “espardenya,” the peasant footwear harking back to the 13th-century Occitania, still thriving seven centuries later. Today we call them espadrilles, thanks to Yves Saint Laurent, whose encounter with Basque culture and bohemian chic in the 1970s led to the iconic footwear we now know by their French name, espadrilles.
He noticed their feet adorned with “espardenya,” peasant footwear with origins tracing back to 13th-century Occitania. Interestingly, seven centuries later, Yves Saint Laurent’s encounter with Basque culture and bohemian chic led to the creation of the iconic footwear known today by its French name, espadrilles.
Captivated by the fisherman’s melodic rhythm of Old Occitan, a language nearly forgotten leans more towards Italian than French, Matisse was fascinated by such stark differences until a profound sense of joy settled over him that he could not explain in words. He saw their feet were clad in “espardenya,” the peasant footwear harking back to the 13th-century Occitania. Today, seven centuries later, thanks to Yves Saint Laurent, whose encounter with Basque culture and bohemian chic in the 1970s, we have the iconic footwear known by their French name, espadrilles.
Matisse’s immersion into heritage’s timeless stream uplifted him. He sensed a resilient spirit within Collioure’s culture, one that had weathered the tides of time and needed to be preserved, he believed, for a purpose yet untold.
“I desire pleasure. I am not a revolutionary by principle.”
— Henri Matisse
On that sun-drenched day, Matisse felt moved while elegant Parisians strolled about disregarding the fish guts spilled by the roadside. After a morning in front of a canvas, hunger gripped him; he also craved a moment of contemplation and the warmth of companionship. As he made his way through the open-air market with its baskets of cherries, tumbled apricots, and fiery red tomatoes, he barely had time to settle at a cafe before he savored the metallic tang of citrus and grape of a local Picpoul de Pinet.
A waiter with a touch of Gallic indifference informed him that Bourride, a local fish stew reminiscent of the bouillabaisse from Marseilles, was the day’s special. In Collioure, the dish typically features tender mullet or sea bass filets infused with the delicate flavors of leek, onion, and carrot. Still, there is a difference he would enjoy, the waiter added with a hint of mystery.
When the Bourride arrived, Matisse tore off a warm chunk of baguette and dipped it into the fish-laden broth. The flavors melded in a satisfying bite, and he marveled at the subtle nuance in flavor and character. The sensation overwhelmed Matisse as he struggled to put his pleasure into words. What was different here, he asked himself?
In this village of Languedoc-Roussillon, a generous dollop of aioli is added — a blend of garlic, olive oil, and egg yolk is spooned into the broth. It is why the dish differs from the same one in a village fifty miles away. It is the same phenomenon that makes a great wine from one plot of land different from an ordinary wine of the same grape grown a football field away. Matisse wondered if there was a parallel in art. Could great art be similarly inspired by a place?
Or was it the wine talking?
Matisse wondered if there was more meaning than a fine meal here. Was he the struggling fisherman or the boy destined to marry a princess, as the ancient Occitan tale foretold? Old voices whispered in a language he could only dimly understand.
Thanks to his father’s constant lectures at the time he abandoned his legal career, Matisse had a history of harangues about flights of fancy. He was told too many times that they could lure men into reckless spending, like the time he bought a Cézanne painting he could ill afford, or they might stimulate an illicit love affair. Score another point for Père Matisse. After a torrid love affair with a studio model, Henri was presented with a baby daughter, Marguerite, that became his responsibility. It could also result in art that was painted for the artist but not the buyer. Such indulgence would strain the budget and might lead to sending one’s wife in search of cheaper lodgings as far away as from the popular destination of St. Tropez, even to the unknown village of Collioure.
It sounds a bit too familiar. But Matisse was an artist by nature, not a bureaucrat. Collioure would prove to be a muse, not a vacation.
As midday approached, a handsome youthful companion, André Derain, walked over to greet Matisse. He had arrived in the village just in time to celebrate his 25th birthday, wearing a red beret which his hotelier said made him look like a carnival clown. She was unsure she wanted him as a lodger until he swept off his beret and bowed, announcing he was an artist. Tout comprendre c’est tout pardonner — To understand all is to forgive all!
Matisse had invited Derain to Collioure with a simple postcard that read — “Venez “ — Come immediately! Together they would capture each other’s essence on canvas and draw inspiration from the surroundings. Yet, the Mediterranean village was not a mere backdrop. As Derain pointed out, its influence seeped into Matisse’s artistic expression, imbuing his brushstrokes with a newfound freshness, boldness, and vibrancy.
Matisse mused, sometimes to himself, as his eyes fell quietly upon the worn streets and sunlit shores. Could it be the afternoon sun’s gentle descent into the sea that stirred such feelings? The hazy sunlight is not just his imagination either. In all of lovely France, Languedoc-Roussillon has the only east-facing coast. It is where the majestic Pyrenees descend dramatically into the Mediterranean, allowing the sun to rise over deep blue depths. There is tranquil calm and scarcely a trace of surf, leaving the impression of a mirror gazing at a flawless sky. It is a reflection that would make narcissists of us all, and Matisse’s discerning eye is intuitive.
He raised his glass, offering the artist’s highest praise, “Because the light here is different.”
Derain pulled him back from his reverie, responding, “And it casts no shadows.”
And so it is here in the sun-drenched village of Collioure in Languedoc-Roussillon, against the aroma of grapes and the soothing sound of gurgling carafes, where soft breezes gently usher the clouds off to the sidelines, that the story of the remarkable transformation of Henri Matisse begins to unfold.
Matisse arrived penniless and depressed, and the family was forced to lodge in Collioure’s single-rooming house, the Hotel de Templiers. At the same time, he rented a studio overlooking one of the beaches. In this modest setting, Matisse’s instincts led him to experiment with vivid, vibrant colors, applied with meticulous, small brushstrokes. Critics would call this approach “Fauvism,” meaning ‘wild beast’ and branding it a heresy to Impressionism. It foreshadowed the trials ahead that only a wild beast could brave.
Since he came here, problems that frustrated his art vanished into a world where time stopped, and he felt himself watching events in slow motion. Everything here was different, and even a noontime meal took on profound importance. Although he struggled to understand the experience, it was as if a mystical force took hold and gradually and imperceptibly altered the course of his life.
Collioure was not just an inspiration; it was a transformation.
Little did he know that this charming coastal village would indelibly mark his life, surpassing the influences of Normandy, Paris, North Africa, Asia, and all the cherished places he had journeyed. In a single summer, Matisse produced fifty remarkable canvases, solidifying his position as one of the greatest artists of the 20th century. Over four years, he will paint six of his ten greatest paintings.
In Collioure, Matisse experiences an artistic awakening, a metamorphosis unlike anything he had ever known. He was a good artist in Paris, but in Collioure, he became a great artist, on the brink of immortality as one of the great artists of the 20th century and the spiritual leader of Modernism. This artistic movement changed the art world. Although at the time, it seemed mystical, like a freak paranormal experience, 19th-century jargon for a nervous breakdown.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
Terroir Map
“There are always flowers for those who want to see them.” — Henri Matisse
Imagine you are a struggling artist, both in form and fame, hoping to find your muse in a remote, tranquil oasis. But where do you start? No GPS has coordinates; no guidebooks or road signs point “your future this way.” But in fact, that is exactly the case.
In our lives, there are different places for different spaces. The personal kind is decorated with cherished relationships, college diplomas, and paychecks, hence, we can think of them as furniture, and not to be confused with the home itself. That is a place which acts as a setting for all that happens to us. Occasionally, some fulfill their purpose, or they can outlive their useful life.
You are probably getting the metaphor of terroir by now.
A proper foundation keeps our lives flowing, providing the backdrop for sound decision-making and better choices that liberates our spirits and instill confidence. It serves a distinct purpose beyond merely guiding us. The challenge lies in identifying and maintaining this place in our lives, which can be elusive and easily lost. This is where Matisse offers us a valuable lesson.
Matisse was one of many artists to have traveled south for the stifling summer months. Albert Marquet, Charles Camoin, and Henri Manguin followed his lead, seeking inspiration in the remote coastal towns. The Cubist André Lhote would also later spend time in the South, but none of their names have the same familiar ring for a valid reason.
While they were every bit admired, their experience didn't transform their lives as it did Matisse's. Though skilled, they found the South a pleasant escape but not transformative. While their artworks no longer command the same recognition today, their stories do as they shed light on the unique phenomenon that Matisse encountered.
Collioure was the fulcrum of Matisse’s life. That is, everything before was preparation for the moment he arrived; everything that came after was influenced and inspired by the quaint seacoast village. These 'islands' of transformation are pivotal, sometimes only in hindsight, but they change everything. The alt-history is a proof that you'll become familiar with — if it is removed, like a Jenga block, and the tower falls, then that is a foundational stage of a person's life.
If it can be removed without effect, then it's furniture. If it is a permanent influence, then it's a terroir.
Backstory
“From the moment I held the box of colors in my hands, I knew this was my life. I threw myself into it like a beast that plunges towards the thing it loves.”
If Matisse had sought to escape to the South of France, it might have been because he had been running all his life.
Born on December 31, 1869, on the outskirts of the cold northern town of Bohain, France, Henri Matisse's early years were shaped by the ironic pairing of beauty with a dreary industrial landscape. The town's mainstays were textiles and sugar beets refined into sugar and a kind of wine drink. Streets were slippery with chemical refuse in the fall, and the air was toxic all winter with the stench of rotting beets. The town was drab and treeless. Matisse commented, "Where I come from, if there is a tree in the way, they root it out because it puts four beets in the shade."
Social pathologies were well-known and tolerated. Wives would collect the worker's paycheck at the end of the week, counting out precisely how much they needed to get blind drunk. The people contended with overwork, sickness, and poverty. Almost one-fifth of the inhabitants were epileptic, and 35 percent of army conscripts were turned away as alcoholics.
The young Matisse was starved for what we call culture—a modest proposal to fund a library met with stiff opposition. There were no museums, no art galleries, and the single church and town hall did not have a single painting on the walls.
But there were colorful textiles. Matisse grew up in a village in which his neighbors spent their day loading colored bobbins, plying over the looms not unlike a painter at his easel. He surrounded himself with scraps of the most beautiful pieces. They eventually made their way into his paintings. They billowed across his canvases, whether flowered, spotted, or striped. Later in life, he brought his grandson to Bohain, and the child was shocked not to find any of the conventional decorations of a church interior, that "I come from the North. You can't imagine how I hated those dark churches."
Skilled weavers in Bohain crafted exquisite velvets, silks, cashmere, and tweeds, sought after by clients like the House of Chanel and European royalty. However, it was an exacting discipline, "taught in Bohain much as they teach Latin and Greek elsewhere." (Matisse: Spurling) Behind the scenes, weavers toiled in harsh conditions, sacrificing their eyesight for their craft.
This juxtaposition of splendor and unindulgent self-discipline made a lasting impression on Matisse; beauty could only coexist with discipline and duty, instilling a punishing sense of responsibility in him. (Chasing Matisse, James Morgan)
His father, a wealthy merchant, envisioned a prosperous career as a lawyer for Matisse and sent him to Paris in 1887. But fate had other plans. He began taking morning classes in drawing and persuaded his parents to let him study art. "From the moment I held a box of colors in my hand, I knew this was my life." (Chasing Matisse, James Morgan). During this period, he had a passionate affair with a studio model, and the birth of his daughter Marguerite in 1891 led him to rediscover his true calling.
Painters Paint
He clashed with his father. Both men were highly subject to the same stubbornness. When he became deathly ill with appendicitis, a disease far more virulent than today, Matisse noticed the man in the hospital bed beside him was painting Swiss landscapes. "Seeing that I was becoming a burden to myself, my friend advised me to try the same distraction. The idea didn't please my father, but my mother bought me a paint box with two images in the lid, one showing a watermill and the other an entrance to a Hamlet."
The impact was remarkable, "Before I had no interest in anything. I knew this was my life from the moment I held the box of colors. It was a Paradise Found. I was completely free…"
After recovering, Matisse went to work for a lawyer near the town hall of St. Quentin. The job was a minor inconvenience, and he enrolled in free art classes without his father's knowledge. Classes were conveniently held before and after work.
It was not a land where art was appreciated, much less encouraged. On the advice of a colleague in his law office, Matisse traveled to visit and convene with the leading artist of the time, whom Matisse saw, Philibert Couturier, who told him that after the post-war economic boom, he had moved here for the rich pickings of bourgeoisie portraits, only to find to his chagrin they preferred paintings of chickens.
None of this news warmed his father's heart. As Matisse would say, "There were not paints in my family or in my region." Without their backing, he was an unsupported art student in Paris. Now the total weight of his family heritage was invoked against his decision. Any form of art was considered decoration at best and shameful and clownish work more likely. Henri was sickly, a failure who could not even take over his father's successful business. The announcement of his departure from Paris and the art world was a scandal for his parents. It brought shame to the whole family. Their culture was pride and hard work, reinforced by public ridicule and private humiliation. People who broke ranks were brought back in line by pointed fingers. The violent, bullying responses were second nature to the cold northerners who had the readiness to take offense at the slightest provocation. But his mother intervened, saying 'give him a year."
Ultimately, his father would write, "All I can say is that I regret with all my heart, my poor child, having tormented you, even with the best intentions, for so many years."
He was jeered and ridiculed for the next decade and didn't sell a painting, so he thought about giving it all up. He couldn't persuade his younger brother, Auguste, to buy a canvas for one hundred francs. Auguste bought a bicycle instead, as Henri would helpfully remind him in later years. He was paralyzed creatively. The world he inhabited, and grew up in, was drab. Everyone wore black suits, including women, and drove black automobiles. It was an industrialized chromatic.
A significant turning point came in 1896 when Matisse visited the Australian painter John Russell on the island of Belle Île. Introduced to Impressionism and the works of Vincent van Gogh, Matisse experienced a transformative epiphany, "I noticed more luminosity from primary colors than I could get with my Old Master palette," he told the editor Teriade in 1951." I returned to Paris free of the Louvre's influence and headed towards color." He abandoned his previous earth-colored palette in favor of vibrant and bright colors. Art was reunited with his childhood world of color and texture. It was a bold departure from traditional art that was not always welcomed.
During the crucial phase of his career leading up to the First World War, Matisse sought to liberate painting from the confines of the classical tradition. Textiles served as a strategic ally, inspiring him to approach his canvases as one would dress a beautiful woman or an elegant salon, infusing his art with a new sense of vibrancy and life.
As Matisse embarked on an artist's journey, he faced financial hardships and had to endure enormous challenges to pursue his creative vision. But with each brush stroke, he brought color, texture, and brilliance to life on canvas. He is starting to be an artist, which means he is beginning to starve as he is determined to break free from the constraints of the past and embrace the brilliance of color.
Adversity
“It has bothered me all my life that I do not paint like everybody else.”― Henri Matisse
But by 1898, Matisse faced severe financial challenges. He immersed himself in the works of other artists, acquiring pieces by painters he admired. Notable in his collection included a plaster bust by Rodin, a painting by Gauguin, a drawing by Van Gogh, and Cézanne's "Three Bathers." Intriguingly, in dire financial straits, Matisse offered the artwork for sale at 10,000 francs but with no bidders. Much later, it will sell for an astonishing $138 million at Christie's.
Nonetheless, at the time, the acquisition spree put a definite strain on the artist's lifestyle, leading him to seek cheaper lodgings. That was embarrassing enough, if not for a second problem.
That same year, Matisse married Amélie Noellie Parayre, and the couple agreed to raise Marguerite as their own. They also welcomed two sons, Jean (born 1899) and Pierre (born 1900). While their unconventional family setup may not have adhered to societal norms, it allowed Matisse to utilize his wife and children as models. However, the financial turmoil continued to plague Matisse's life.
Then, in May 1902, Amélie's parents became entangled in the Humbert Affair, a major financial scandal. Unjustly targeted, her family faced threats from victims of the fraud. This unexpected turn of events forced Matisse to become the sole breadwinner for his extended family of seven, including Marguerite. He became deeply concerned about the condition of his finances and the damage to his family's reputation. It was hardly a good time to embark on a new artistic transformation.
The strain pushed Matisse into introspection, resulting in a comparatively somber style focused on form, possibly motivated by the need to create sellable works during this challenging time. But the impoverished lifestyle had a benefit. Even so, the critics were only sometimes impressed. French abstract artist Paul Sérusier said, "When a boy scrawls shit on a wall, he may be expressing the state of his soul, but it's not art."
In 1904, Matisse spent the summer in St. Tropez to escape the Parisian heat. During that time, in search of cheaper lodging, his wife, Amelie, took the train westwards to visit her sister and recognized that the closer she got to the Spanish border, the cheaper the rents. She stopped just short of the border at a village called Collioure.
Following the late spring of 1905, the Matisse family lodged at Collioure's solitary hotel in this unassuming and little-visited coastal enclave. And it is here, dazzled by the light and colors of the Mediterranean, that he does something ingenious, sparking a radical transformation and a revolution on canvas.
He looked through the window.
Although the mystique of Collioure remained a mystery, it was undeniable. Most likely, he arrived from Bordeaux by the canal boat but perhaps by steam locomotive from Marseilles or Avignon. It hardly matters, only that he disembarked at a place that became the promised land, although it wasn't paradise.
In 1905, the stunning beauty had given way to the agony of modern struggles. By the time Matisse arrived on the scene, the village had all. Still, it collapsed after the deterioration of the anchovy fishing trade, and the wine industry barely recovered from the devastation of Phylloxera. The local vignerons tried breeding chickens, hoping they would peck the lice to death. Finally, they gave up all hope and poured fresh urine on the vines — the impact on flavor has been lost to history, malheureusement. It seemed as though the region was doomed to suffer an endless string of misfortunes, and the winemaker's cries of anguish were, shall we say, fruitless.
What transpired in the enigmatic realm of Collioure was a strange and wondrous phenomenon. It did more than change Matisse; it mended him. As Hemingway aptly said, "The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places."
“Don’t wait for inspiration. It comes while one is working.”
― Henri Matisse
Terroir
Looking back at the end of his life, Matisse compared painting to the growth of a seed, "Art is like a plant that takes off once it is firmly rooted. The root presupposes everything." (Spurling) That is the first clue that we have found the right terroir, a feeling of authenticity combined with a sensation of embrace.
Collioure would play the roles of patron, muse, and gallery throughout Matisse's astonishing life and career. He learned that a place could be pivotal in shaping who we are to become. Matisse didn't become a great artist solely because of talent, though it was undeniable; he had spent two decades in poverty and obscurity before he came here.
The terroir effect transcends boundaries and elevates the senses. In the vineyard, the terroir effect enables grapes to transcend their earthly roots through the profound interplay of soil and soul. But the effect is not exclusively limited to vineyards, nor does it have to be French.
Like wine, discovering the right terroir that liberates our essence elevates us to prestigious heights, commands greater value, and leads to a more refined existence.
Triumph
“What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter, an art which could be for every worker, for the businessman as well as the man of letters, for example, a soothing, calming influence on the mind, something like a good armchair which provides relaxation.”
With his growing family in tow, Matisse swiftly settled into the town's rhythm, securing a studio with a mesmerizing view of the beaches. Later, Matisse expanded to a house on Plage Boramar. It was from this vantage point that Collioure inspired Matisse's unorthodox perspective. He opts for a beach-level rather than the familiar upstairs studio window, blending the surrounding landscape with the bustling fishing community. In 1905, the beach teemed with over a hundred boats, returning with bountiful catches of anchovies and sardines — a sight that Matisse masterfully captures the heartbeat of Collioure, intimately connecting his art to the ebb and flow of daily life.
This began a pattern of movement between the North and South of France that ended with Matisse's permanent relocation to Nice in 1917, where he spent the last four decades of his life.
“A painter who cannot liberate himself from the influence of past generations is digging his own grave.”
― Henri Matisse
In the early 20th century, he witnessed a wave of artistic and cultural revolutions, with France as the epicenter and Henri Matisse as one of its most prominent figures. He would encounter some detour signs along the way.
In the fall of 1905, Matisse and a group of artists known as the "Fauves" exhibited their paintings at the Salon d'Automne. He displayed Woman with a Hat at the Salon, but unfortunately, the paintings received harsh criticism from the art establishment. One critic said the picture reminded him of "a pot of paint flung in the face of the public." Paris was not only hot that summer but cold to the senses as well.
While touring the exhibit, Gertrude and Leo Stein, the great art and art collectors who discovered Picasso and Miro, initially called Woman with a Hat the "nastiest smear of paint" ever seen. However, time changed their perception after five weeks of repeated visits. Matisse had grown on them. The Steins succumbed to the painting's charm, paying Matisse 500 francs, equivalent to approximately $100 at the time, after first making an offer of 300, which Madame Matisse rejected.
The purchase proved to be a turning point, establishing the Steins as his collectors, helping Matisse financially, and leading to his growing fame as an artist.
Through the Steins, Matisse also met Pablo Picasso, who later said, "No one has ever looked at Matisse's painting more carefully than I and no one has looked at mine more carefully than he."
He added, "All things considered, there is only Matisse."
The pivotal change that unfolded in Matisse's art and life was not driven by conventional courage, as Matisse acknowledged, "I desire pleasure. I am not a revolutionary by principle." He was inspired by a place that infused his life with vibrant color, becoming the catalyst for his most significant works and fulfilling his creative ambitions.
One of Matisse's notable works, "Blue Nude (Souvenir of Biskra)," a village in Algeria Matisse visited in 1906 and where he was inspired by the sensuality of North African art, depicting a reclining nude figure with blue skin against a vibrant yellow background.
It immediately evoked controversy when exhibited at the 1907 Société des Artistes Indépendants. Several years later, now on loan from the Paris collection of Leo Stein and his sister Gertrude, the tremors could still be felt as the painting was exhibited at the Chicago Armory Show of 1913.
Known formally as the International Exhibition of Modern Art, the headline from the Chicago Daily Tribune story on April 17, 1913, resonates with howls of derision. The day before, art students led by their teacher, Charles Francis Browne, a nationally renowned landscape painter and a teacher at the Art Institute, put Matisse on (mock) trial and burned the painting in effigy.
In front of a packed lecture hall, Browne suggested Blue Nude was an accident: Matisse's son must have haphazardly daubed paint on his father's canvas. "Was the child punished?" asked Browne. "No. Matisse surveyed the work and exclaimed, 'That's it!' and a new school of art was founded." The painting was deemed so ugly that art students burned it in effigy.
"Ten or twenty years from now," noted one of the exhibit's organizers, "some of these students will be eating crow."
Bon appétit, les etudiants.
“Don’t wait for inspiration. It comes while one is working.”
The Power of Place
Artists like Matisse are prone to recognize unique places because of their acute sensitivity to visual elements. These locations can vary from breathtakingly stunning to some that may not appear very pretty.
He was neither the first nor the last artist to have drawn creative inspiration from a specific place. Vincent van Gogh found vibrancy in Arles, creating "The Starry Night" and "Sunflowers." Georgia O'Keeffe was captivated by New Mexico's vast desert landscapes. Claude Monet's Giverny inspired his renowned water lily series. Frida Kahlo drew from the cultural heritage of Mexican folk traditions. Paul Gauguin sought refuge in Tahiti, while J.M.W. Turner connected deeply with the English countryside. Jackson Pollock found freedom in East Hampton, and Pablo Picasso's spark ignited in Barcelona, Spain.
Although Collioure did not welcome strangers and made few concessions to the modern world, it embraced Matisse. When he visited, women wore black, and everyone wore a hat. Matisse wrote, "It is a place where people don't expect too many strangers. So it's important not to make difficulties." But it engulfed him, granting a profound sense of liberation unlike anything he had experienced before — a revelation that only a map of his entire life could have predicted.
When Henri Matisse found Collioure, he discovered his terroir.
Coda
What makes Henri Matisse such as exceptional subject and demanding of our attention is that despite his troubles and turmoils, he never gave up creating art. He was relentless, finding new ways to express the human condition on canvas, filling voids with insight and nuance of life-affirming art. At age eighty-five, he lost his eyesight, and arthritis crippled his hands and began cutting shapes of brightly painted paper and pinning them onto a canvas, sitting in his wheelchair. Something inspired him never to give up, and he found a way to repay the debt. (Chasing Matisse, James Morgan)
On November 3, 1954, Matisse bid farewell to the world in Nice, France, leaving behind not only a legacy of extraordinary art but also profound insights into his revolt against the familiar and his acknowledgment that his future was to be the oracle of a new artistic movement. We trace his transformation back to the summer of 1905 when Collioure changed Matisse, and he changed the world. Thus we had the definition of terroir.
The Terroir Effect
The word Languedoc is derived from “langue d’Oc,” in the local ancient dialect of Occitan it means “the language of yes.”
What did Henri Matisse discover in Collioure?
Was it merely a scenic backdrop for his paintings? Or was there something more — nourishment for the senses and insight into the depths of desire? Undoubtedly, it was all of the above.
Even today, as the sun sets over Languedoc, one can peer through empty picture frames and witness the same captivating views that enthralled Matisse a century ago. What were once humble fishing villages, dependent on the anchovy trade for survival, have now transformed into rich repositories of history. From ancient Roman ruins to medieval castles and cathedrals, the passage of time has seen the vineyards flourish and evolve. However, this transformation was not a mere accident or the whims of nature; it resulted from the toil of countless individuals, the courage of many, and the fiery passion of one.
The phenomenon, however, extends far beyond the vineyards or the boundaries of southern France. It can be life-changing and transformative for all people, just as it is for grapes that yield exquisite wines lining the shelves of your local wine merchant. This is the revelation that Matisse unearthed — the realization that the power of place holds the key to unlocking full potential and enhancing our existence.
The Languedoc-Roussillon is one of those mystical places shaped by a collision of human experiences over the centuries. As Matisse explained, it is a place where light permeates without casting shadows. But there were shadows before he arrived.
The region has been a center of the distinctive civilization of southern France since the 13th century, with a language and culture (Occitan) different from the rest of the country. It was once a battleground for ancient rivals from the Romans to the Cathars, and the scars of those conflicts remain visible in the fortified towns and castles that dot the landscape.
In the 16th century, Languedoc became a center for French Protestants or the Huguenots. The government's attempt to impose Catholicism gave rise to the peasant insurrection of the Protestant Camisards in the early 18th century. It was neither the first nor last revolution to overtake this quaint terroir.
With the wisdom of a few and the work of many, Languedoc stands as a testament to resilience, creativity, and a nurturing kind of intelligence that seeks to create a habitat where tradition coexists happily with change. Even its name reflects the spirit of affirmation. The word Languedoc is derived from "langue d'Oc," in the local ancient dialect of Occitan, it means "the language of yes."
Yet, amid the chaos, a group of visionary artists led by Matisse saw something worth preserving. They recognized the region's charm and envisioned a different future — a place of culture, prosperity, and tranquility. As they captured the beauty of Languedoc-Roussillon on canvas, they unintentionally revived tourism in the area.
Even today, as the sun sets over the enchanting landscape of Languedoc, one can peer through empty picture frames and witness the same captivating views that fascinated Matisse a century ago. The once humble fishing villages have evolved into repositories of rich history, with ancient Roman ruins, medieval castles, and cathedrals standing as testaments to the passage of time and the region's transformation.
These remarkable places result from tireless labor, bravery, and unwavering dedication. The journey is marked by setbacks and retreats, interspersed with small victories and fleeting celebrations. Still, ultimately, leading to something greater than exceptionally scenic villages — it shapes the stories of successful lives.
“I am unable to make any distinction between the feeling I get from life and the way I translate that feeling into painting.” ― Henri Matisse
When Matisse returned to the art world of Paris in the early 19th century, the Belle Epoch period of the early 19th century in which critics call his art the work of a 'wild beast,' Collioure inspired a mindset that sustained his vision. It shifted his artistic expression and gave him the courage to exhibit paintings that he knew would be too radical for current tastes. It also gave him the resilience to surmount criticism and wait for his time to come.
“And it casts no shadows.” — André Derain
Terroirs profoundly influence artists and people in general, molding perspectives, guiding creative processes, and influencing the themes in their work.
Remarkably, they can transcend the physical realm and become a state of mind, capturing the hearts and minds of individuals who connect with them and serving as a boundless wellspring of inspiration. The palpable effect of terroirs extends its embrace to all of us, leaving a lasting impact on how we perceive our place in the world.
- Creative Inspiration: Terroirs spark imagination and creativity.
- Sense of Belonging: Terroirs inspire a profound sense of belonging and an intimate connection to its history, people, and traditions.
- Cultural Influence: Terroirs embody the rich cultural heritage that profoundly impacts our work.
- Emotional Resonance: Terroirs evoke powerful emotions leading us to explore and express our innermost feelings.
- Spiritual Connection: Some terroirs offer a sense of transcendence and a connection to something greater than ourselves.
- Artistic Growth: Discovering a new terroir can challenge us to explore different ideas and experiment with novel approaches to life.
- Long-Term Impact: The influence of terroir can become a defining element of our legacy.
In essence, terroirs serve as powerful sources of inspiration and transformation for the artist in all of us. Whether it's the natural beauty, cultural richness, emotional depth, or spiritual significance of a place, the connection between us and our terroir can profoundly shape our lives.
If artists can achieve greatness after discovering their unique terroirs, why should this privilege not extend to all? Collioure's embrace unlocked Matisse's creativity and excellence in the same way we hope to show others how to unlock their potential and flourish by seeking and celebrating seek their terroirs.
So, dear readers, let us raise our glasses to Henri Matisse. He did for our understanding of the needs of the human soul what generations of vignerons did for great wine.
