Bébé
Christian Bérard
“If I had to choose only one among the many impressions of Christian Bérard that spring to mind, it would be one that soon became for him a profession of faith: the joy of living, to the extent of perishing from that joy” — Jean-Louis Barrault
Christian Bérard (1902-1949) was prodigiously talented, with a terrific aptitude for working across varying fields. Paris’ most fashionable artist, his status as the darling of café society in the 1930s and 40s undermined his reputation as a serious painter. A sack-bodied man, unpredictable, depressive, tramp-like in his dress, he wore his jackets soiled and kept his trousers up with string; yet lyrical in his talent, he had only to ask “Isn’t pink a lovely colour?” to send designers running to their shelves. His partner of twenty years, Boris Kochno (1904-1990) a Russian poet, dancer and librettist, recounts long walks through Paris at night — Bérard constantly noticing and pointing out glimpses of magical scenes, almost like a conjurer. To some extent, Bérard’s remarkably diverse oeuvre confused critics, because, existing outside traditional theories of art, it could not easily be classified. Bérard was a central figure in the pre-war Parisian set of genius, style and dissipation and his ground-breaking set and costume designs, fashion and book illustrations, murals, decorative screens and interior designs (a close friend of Dior, he advised him on the interior decoration of his first salon at 30 Avenue Montaigne) all demonstrated the ingenuity and elegant line of Paris haute couture. Bérard’s paintings, which were primarily portraits or self-portraits, add an entirely new dimension to his talent as an artist. Painted in a neo-romantic style, he executed his figures with an insight and poetic skill that exhibits a deeply-felt humanism; the fluidity and elegant lines recalling the stylized forms that appear in his work as a fashion illustrator. Kochno remarked that when he was painting, Bérard’s usual childlike exuberance would vanish, and he would work with great concentration and intensity, seeming to take instruction from an unseen third party.
Christian Bérard (1947), photograph by Boris Lipnitzki
Molière’s “Dom Juan” (1947) directed and designed by Bérard, photo by Lipinsky
Born in Paris in 1902, Bérard was the son of the official architect of the city. Even from a very young age he exhibited exceptional artistic talent; he was captivated by the theatre and ballet and filled sketchbooks with drawings of the performances he attended with his parents. He would also copy the couture gowns in his mother’s fashion magazines, which at the time were heavily influenced by the Orientalism of Léon Bakst’s sets for Diaghilev’s ballets. The young Bérard had adored his mother, and his childhood was marred by her suffering and early death from tuberculosis which he found to he an extremely traumatic experience. His father would go on to marry his secretary, who joined him in the constant disparaging and belittling of his son’s talents, friendships and spending habits. Bérard’s life-long desire to please and give pleasure, and his susceptibility to flattery, were quite possibly a reaction to the intense hostility of his family life. In 1920, Bérard enrolled at the Académie Ranson in Paris, where he received instruction from artists Édouard Vuillard (1868-1940) and Maurice Denis (1870-1943). The influence of these Nabis artists is evident in Bérard’s rich coloration and flat swaths of vivid color. He first exhibited in 1925, along with Leonid Berman and Pavel Tchelitchew, at the Galerie Drouet. Described by critics as “neo-humanist”, his early work was collected, notably, by the American novelist, poet, playwright and collector Gertrude Stein (1874-1946).
Horst P. Horst, oil on canvas, (1933-1934) by Christian Bérard, Private collection, New York
Although painting may have been his first love, in the 1930s, so as to earn an income, Bérard produced illustrations for fashion and interior design magazines such as Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Art et Style, Formes et Coleurs and Style en France. Eschewing the Watteau or Fragonard sensibility for women’s fashion that was prevalent at the time, Bérard embraced all that was modern and the cutting edge styles of the 1930s and 40s. The sensitivity and fluidity of his figures elevated the art of fashion illustration; his work, instantly recognizable for its free, elliptical style, indicating elegant shape and form without severe delineation, often inspired the couture collections of many of the leading designers, including Christian Dior, Elsa Schiaparelli and Nina Ricci. Bérard was forever creating, and even while dining with friends he would constantly be drawing on table cloths, napkins, menus — caricatures, stage sets, costumes — which often, eagerly, waiters would whisk away, keen to sell on to collectors.
In the early 1930s, in collaboration with Jean Cocteau (1889-1963), Bérard designed his first theatre set, for La Voix Humaine (1930) at the Comédie-Française. In 1931, he joined the company of the Ballet Russes in Monte Carlo, working with choreographer George Balanchine (1904-1983) on the ballet Cotillon. Balanchine had taken over for ballet impresario and founder of the Ballet Russes, Sergei Diaghilev (1872-1929). Balanchine continued in Diaghilev’s tradition of scouring the garrets of Montparnasse and Montmartre to find unknown choreographers, set designers or musicians to collaborate with. At first Balanchine declined to work with Bérard because he thought him too well-known as an artist and illustrator; it was the sheer quality of his work caused Balanchine to change his mind.
Bérard believed the function of a stage set was serve and enhance the production, and not to draw attention away from it; accordingly, he was always subtracting, leaving only those elements he considered essential. His set for Léonid Massine’s ballet set to the music of Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique, was a masterpiece of delicate, weightless friezes. Other than the judicious use of deep red, he refrained from using bright colours, believing pale, soft hues better served the performances. Bérard’s early twentieth century designs for stage sets were revolutionary and changed the architecture and art of theatre design forever; his set for a production of Molière’s L'école des femmes (1936) at the Théàtre de l’Athenée, for example, consisted simply of a small garden, two flowerbeds and five chandeliers. In 1973, at the age of twelve, Yves Saint Laurent saw Bérard’s sets for L'école des femmes in a production that was playing at the Oran theatre, on tour from Paris. Saint Laurent’s mother Lucienne later described it as “a revelation for Yves”, to the extent that “Theatre was all he could think or talk about”. Saint Laurent was strongly influenced by Bérard’s style, both his fashion illustration as well his set design and costumes, and would imitate his drawing style for many years to come.
In the early 1930s Bérard turned his hand to interiors, worked with storied French designer Jean-Michel Frank (1895-1941), painting screens, wood-work and drawing projects for carpets. In 1939, Frank hired him to paint the now iconic trompe-l’oeil panelling for the Institut Guerlain in Paris. Sadly, the war put an end to their collaboration, when Frank, plagued by depression, homophobic taunts and persecution by an anti-Semitic government, threw himself from the upper floors of a Manhattan apartment building and ended his life.
Nelson Rockefeller’s salon by Jean-Michel Frank with a carpet by Christian Bérard
In the summer of 1944, shortly after the liberation of Paris, Haute Couture was almost dead. Cloth, thread and other sewing materials were in short supply and so the designer Lucien Lelong (1889-1958), president of the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture, together with Robert Ricci (1905-1988), son of designer Nina Ricci, persuaded some 60 Paris couturiers to dress miniature wire mannequins, one-third of human size, for a touring exhibition. The clothes were exquisitely detailed miniature couture designs by the likes of Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972), Madame Grès (1903-1993), Jeanne Lanvin (1867-1946) and Elsa Schiaparelli (1890-1973), all desperate to revive their pre-war fortunes. Bérard designed a set Le Théâtre that showed Paris in its former splendour. To promote the exhibit abroad, a French government official wrote to the Ambassador of France in Britain: “France has little, alas to export, but she has her appreciation of beautiful things and the skill of her couture houses.” Opening at the Louvre in Paris on 28 March 1945, le petit Théâtre de la Mode, or miniature theatre of fashion, was enormously popular, attracting over a 100,000 visitors. At the end of the year it toured Europe and the United States, to great acclaim; Bérard’s sets were one of the reasons for its success, and helped revive the art of Haute Couture in Paris.
In 1949, Bérard was working on the costumes and sets for Les Fourberies de Scapin at the Théàtre Marigny, with friends, the director Louis Jouvet (1887-1951) and actors Jean-Louis Barrault (1910-1944) and Madeleine Renaud (1900-1994). After giving some final instructions, Bérard stood up and said: “Well, that’s that,” and collapsed. He was taken by a heart attack at just 47-years-old. Bérard was one of the great Bohemian characters of Paris, a central figure of the artistic demi-monde. Together, Bérard and Kochno were one of the most noted openly gay couples in Paris during the 1930s and 1940s. The prince of Parisian nightlife, he was celebrated for his kindness and his chubby physique. Photographed by Man Ray (1890-1976), Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908-2004) and Richard Avedon (1923-2004); his death inspired the composer Francis Poulenc (1899-1963) to write and dedicate his Stabat Mater (1950) to Bérard, and Cocteau dedicated Orphée (1950) to this influential, eccentric artist. Gertrude Stein’s poem Christian Bérard is included in her collection Portraits And Prayers (1934).
The work for which Bérard is perhaps best remembered are his enchanting set and costume designs for Cocteau’s film masterpiece, La Belle et la Bête (1946). After Bérard’s death, Cocteau said of working with his friend: “Christian Bérard was my right hand. Since he was left-handed, I had a special, clever, gracious, light right hand: a magical hand. You may imagine the emptiness left by an artist who guessed all, and with the diligence of an archaeologist, conjured up naked beauty from the thin air where she resides. Bérard is dead, but that is no reason to stop following his instructions. I know what he would say about anything, in any circumstances. I listen to him and carry out his orders.” Barrault wrote: “If I had to choose only one among the many impressions of Christian Bérard that spring to mind, it would be one that soon became for him a profession of faith: the joy of living, to the extent of perishing from that joy…It is as if, while I think intensely of him, all of the Bérards leaping about me reply: ‘Love of life is based on suffering, anguish, nostalgia, sorrow and sadness…that’s true, but all that is the source of joy.’”