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Saturday, 12 May 1883
# Samedi 12 mai 1883
I spend the morning at the studio chatting with the ladies, and catch Julian for a moment to ask him to come and see the urchins. You understand — I don't want advice; only the impression of the public. Now Julian represents the right-thinking majority.
Je passe la matinée à l'atelier à causer avec ces dames et j'attrape un instant Julian pour le prier de venir voir les gamins. Vous comprenez je ne veux pas de conseils, mais seulement l'impression du public, or Julian représente la majorité bien-pensante.
He came, he looked, and he pronounced. Six figures: the tallest boy showing something to five others grouped around him; a street in the distance, two or three little girls walking away. Julian said to remove the lamp-post from the left corner — he is right about that. He found it original, amusing, nearly certain of success; he liked the principal child particularly, that quality of a gavroche tipping into adolescence, the moment just before the street swallows him.
For the Saintes femmes I explained what I am doing — the twilight hour, blurred contours, the retreat into obscurity and grief. The Magdalene in profile, elbow on knee, staring at the tomb; the other Mary standing but collapsed upon herself, that explosion of exhaustion and tears and despair all at once. Is it possible to paint a woman's stupor, her revolt, her utter devastation? Julian thinks so. He predicts an honourable mention as a certainty. The Saintes femmes is already whole in my head — entirely composed, entirely felt, from the moment I first conceived it.
For the Saintes femmes I explained what I am doing — the twilight hour, blurred contours, the retreat into obscurity and grief. The Magdalene in profile, elbow on knee, staring at the tomb; the other Mary standing but collapsed upon herself, that explosion of exhaustion and tears and despair all at once. Is it possible to paint a woman's stupor, her revolt, her utter devastation? Julian thinks so. He predicts an honourable mention as a certainty. The Saintes femmes is already whole in my head — entirely composed, entirely felt, from the moment I first conceived it.