Mary Cassatt - what's missing?

"Women should be someone and not something." Mary Cassatt

I've been looking at this painting by Mary Cassatt - the American Impressionist painter - or rather the detail - on the right - of the full painting on the right. It's this week's Met picture in my desk diary. Because a cup of tea is involved - the painting is in fact called A cup of tea - I thought I really ought to be able to use it in some way for a blog. But I know I have done bits and pieces - indeed entire pieces - on tea drinking over time. So what more is there to be said?

Then I got excited by philosophical musing around the notion of what was missing from the original painting in the detail in my diary. Missing from the portrait, and therefore altering the intent of the artist which might be able to lead into other areas of musing on 'missing' with respect to food.

However, I had thought that quite a lot had been cut out of the painting as it truly was. Now I see that in fact, hardly anything has gone - really just a bit of the backrest of the armchair, and a tiny bit under it's arm. Maybe a touch of extra luxury and comfort has gone- particularly with the back of the chair, but I think this is probably me being fanciful. Nevertheless Mary Cassatt did include it in her painting, and she didn't have to. An artist can include or leave out whatever they want. It's not a like a photograph. Although these days you can also do all sorts of things to original photographs. And, of course, that technical possibility has meant that paintings can be cropped and colourised as well. As this one has been by others. There are many such examples in Google Images - mostly focusing on the lady's head and hands:

The Met obviously made the cuts for their diary so that it would fit the page. And there may have been various reasons for the above cuts as well - some for commercial reasons, some perhaps as somebody wanted to focus on a particular aspect of the painting. The one missing the lady's head seems particularly brutal and pointless, but the one on the left and the round one, do perhaps capture the essence of the sitter, with the tranquillity of the flowers, but not the luxury of the surroundings. Does it matter? The sitter, by the way is apparently the artist's sister Lydia. And I don't think the ctiic J. K Huysman's dea that the picture conveys "the joyful peace, the tranquil friendliness of the domestic interior" is right. To me the lady looks thoughtful, pensive even.

Mary Cassatt - an American from a rich Pennsylvanian family - spent much of her painting life in France, particularly in the company of Degas who greatly influenced the style of her earlier works. In her own words: "The first sight of Degas' pictures was the turning point of my artistic life."

And this painting - A little girl in a blue armchair was one of the first she made under his influence. Indeed he collaborated with her on it. The general opinion is that they were not lovers, but great friends, until Degas let her down over a proposed grand collection of prints, over which she had worked long and hard until he suddenly discarded the idea and also over the Dreyfus affair. After this her style began to change:

"It is as well not to have too great an admiration for your master's work. You will be in less danger of imitating him." Mary Cassatt

But the relationship continued and Degas painted several portraits of her - including this one, which in later life she came to dislike intensely. She does not seem to have painted him, but the self-portrait below, some think, was painted at the same time as Degas' of her, as she was wearing the same hat and dress. Interesting that she did not like the Degas portrait as her self-portrait is no more flattering.

And what did she really look like - well below a couple of photographs - though, naturally enough taken later in life.

A strong lady I think.

Her father did not approve of her chosen career and passion for female independence, but her mother did and so, in spite of the lack of paternal support she was able to create a successful career and, eventually, complete independence.

I get the impression that she spent most of the later part of her life in America, but she certainly visited France frequently - indeed at one point the entire family lived there for some time. Her style became somewhat more realistic and her subject matter much more restricted - so many mother and child paintings at this point in her life. Indeed this is how I first became aware of Mary Cassatt, when looking for illustrations for my other website - which I have not touched for ages - on our family history. Having no photographs of ancestors I searched for pictures that I thought might represent the various people I talked about. And Mary Cassatt cropped up time and time again when I searched for nineteenth century pictures of mothers and their children.

At one point she also became hugely influenced - like many of the artists of the time - by Japanese prints which resulted in a somewhat more flattened approach - the left in particular is more Gauguin than Degas:

But enough of Mary Cassatt, fascinating and admirable though she might be. How can I relate any of this to food? After all apart from several paintings of ladies drinking tea, food does not feature much in her paintings. So I shall return to the notion of the missing - the bits that are sometimes cropped out to suit their intended place in our or some publisher's work.

When cooking from a recipe we often leave something out - sometimes it's just a mistake, an oversight. Sometimes it's just that we do not have, and/or cannot find a particular ingredient and so we leave it out - or maybe the worse alternative - substitute. In doing so we certainly alter the intent of the recipe writer, but we might also destroy his or her idea. The omitted ingredient may have been vital to the finished dish, however insignificant it might seem. An apple pie flavoured with cloves is a totally different dish to one flavoured with cinnamon. That touch of lemon juice which might seem trivial might be the thing that really lifts the dish from ordinary to sublime. Or just maybe - our substitution improves it.

But an artist cuts his painting, sketch or print just where he wants to. This is last week's print from the Met - La patisserie by Edouard Vuillard, who is becoming one of my favourite impressionists. His works are so mysterious. He has decided he wants all that pink and grey decoration at the top for some reason - it takes up a third of the picture. He has cut off the word patisserie and the people who no doubt spill out to the left are mere blobs, and also cut off. The focus is on the white feathers in the hats of the ladies and their coloured clothes - a tiny splash of colour in the whole - together with the yellow liquid in the jars and the blue sign in the background. The artist has already decided to crop it. Should we crop it more? What would it be if we just focussed on the ladies - or the bottles and glasses on the table in front? The meaning would be quite different would it not?

I will leave the art world with this bit of information. On the left is Leonardo's portrait Ginevra da Benci, which various experts think was radically cut down - possible because the hands were damaged or unfinished - a sketch exists of those hands. The picture on the left is speculation of what it may have been meant to look like - well sort of. Now there is something missing to contemplate. Improved or desecrated?

So when confronted with Noor Murad's wonderful book Lugma which has so many recipes which I want to try but hesitate about because (a) some of them include chilli - which David does not like - and (b) many of them include black limes which I currently cannot source. If I make those things without those ingredients it will obviously be something quite different. Will it matter? I think so - particularly in the case of the black limes. So do I try without or try harder to find the black limes? If I don't know what black limes taste like will I miss them? Like Ginevra de Benci's hands. Although that said - sometimes I leave saffron out of a recipe because I don't have any at the time - and I'm not sure - from the occasions when I have included it - that I would notice the difference. And, of course, we have never seen Ginevra with her hands.

A pizza bianca is not the same as pizza margherita, but they are both pretty delicious.

YEARS GONE BY

February 26

2025 - Home brands - the controversy

2024 - Bay leaves

2023 - Nothing

2022 - Why don't we cook more with grapes?

2021 - Missing

2020 - Nougat - French, Italian ...?

2019 - A Chinese wedding tea ceremony

2018 - Nothing

2017 - A word from Michelangelo