In western art history the act of reading used to be a male prerogative. It was St Augustine or St Jerome, the authors of works which defined the Early Church (City of God and the Vulgate translation of the Bible respectively), surrounded by books in their studies, and accompanied in Jerome’s case by a lion, which provided the template for images of scholarly activity. Morisot, with subtle subversiveness, gives the book to a woman sitting outside on the grass. The model was her sister, Edma, who was also a painter before she gave it up to raise a family. She dominates the composition but, interestingly, her face appears almost veiled. The emphasis is on what she’s doing not who she is or was.
Morisot painted in what was then a radically modern manner. The Impressionist style was criticised for not being properly finished; interestingly its lack of precise drawing was characterised at the time as a feminine trait. What Morisot has done here is to establish the main elements of the image in thinned almost aqueous washes of colour, placing thicker, unblended strokes of stronger colour on top: the black choker, the green sash on her hat, the foreground flowers, the lilac book cover (repeated on the hem of her dress and the fan to her side). There’s a deft energy to these touches which contrasts with what appears to be a leisurely activity, in turn contrasted with the world of work hinted at by the agricultural cart in the background.
Morisot was one of a handful of women who exhibited with the Impressionists in late 19th century Paris, a decision that would have been incredibly audacious. This work was shown at their first ever show in 1874. She was married to the brother of Edouard Manet, the leading modern artist of his day, who encouraged her to paint, which she continued to practise even after having children herself. At the time women were not allowed to undergo a formal art training, were not permitted to draw from nude models, could copy other artists’ works in museums but only if accompanied by a chaperone. In other words their artistic talents were treated as an accomplishment but not a professional option. Given all these restrictions, it’s probably no accident that Morisot’s figure is herself unaccompanied here. The umbrella, to shield her skin from the sun, and the fan, to protect her face from the male gaze, have both been lain aside in a quiet assertion of independence. As Morisot herself said of her male Impressionist colleagues: ‘I know I am worth as much as they are’.
