Toulouse Lautrec and the Moulin Rouge

By Mia Hart

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the eccentric figure standing at four-foot with an unerring taste for absinthe, which he kept hidden in his cane, experienced success throughout his decade-long career through his portrayals of the hazy underworld of Parisian cabarets and concerts. His lithograph poster, Moulin Rouge: La Goulue is perhaps one of the most recognizable images within art history but alongside the vivid effervescence of this theatrical world of performance, Lautrec did not forget the fragile side of the characters of the ‘demi-monde’, portraying the dancers of the cabaret and brothels through an intimately psychological lens.  

Montmartre in the late nineteenth century was a crux of impressionist discussions, bohemia, and entertainment, enticing a swarm of artists, musicians, and writers alike. It harbored a collection of cabarets, most notably the Moulin Rouge whose glitzy atmosphere gave impetus to Lautrec’s subject matter. Founded at the base of the Montmartre district in 1889, the Moulin Rouge’s raucous, irreverent forms of entertainment lured a menagerie of people from across different ways of life, all seeking out decadence and debauchery.  This obfuscation of class boundaries, between that of aristocratic men and working-class women consolidated Montmartre’s reputation as a locus of escape and transgression. Its combination of sex and spectacle through the culmination of flashing lights and colors stimulated and satiated Lautrec’s visual appetite.

Henri De Toulouse Lautrec, Moulin Rouge: La Gouloue, 1891

Lautrec was commissioned to create the circulatory advertisement poster for the club in 1891. Standing at six foot tall, its flattened planes of yellow and orange, bold contours and silhouettes echo Japanese ukiyo-e woodblock prints depicting scenes from urban districts.  We see the glowing yellow lamps in the background illuminating the black silhouettes of the anticipatory crowd, gazing upon the caricatures of La Gouloue and Valentin-le-Dosse caught in mid-motion. In the foreground, the slinky figure of Valentin is cropped and superimposed in a shimmery silhouette, slightly obscuring the spinning, dynamic form of La Gouloue. This achieves a sensually decorative effect as bodies are reduced to forms and curves, which inject a rhythm that pulsates through the print. Lautrec further manipulates the perspectival depth amongst these stylized, flattened forms through the receding floorboard lines and the combination of figures of differing size. As a result. this lithographic experimentation rewarded Lautrec with overnight fame, and subverted previously accepted concepts of ‘art’, elevating the poster form which was easily circulated.

Alongside the commercial posters celebrating the dizzying performances for an audience, Lautrec produced pictures of the interior, unseen world behind the prostitutes of the cabaret. Despite his aristocratic heritage, Lautrec occupied a similar position to these women on the fringes of the demi-monde due to his stature. As a result of his incestuous ancestry, Lautrec was born with a rare congenital bone disease. This meant that after breaking both his legs at the age of thirteen, he never fully recovered and was left at a stunted height for the rest of his life, spending time in various sanatoriums. Ostracized from participating in any physical outdoor activities, Lautrec turned to artwork as a pastime. Although this provided a creative motivation for his art, it didn’t erase the fact he was mocked for his physical appearance and marginalized from society. This sense of isolation afforded him with a mutuality with the dancers of the cabaret, and as a result he spent lots of time within private spaces with them.

This manifests itself within his faithful representations of women in their most private, quotidian moments, which avoid the prying eyes of the bourgeoise visitors and instead afford them with a sensitive appreciation. The subject matter of the prostitute had been explored before within the artistic canon, take Manet’s Olympia for example, yet it was still considered a somewhat risqué topic. In Woman before a mirror, we see a moment of vulnerable confrontation as the figure faces her own reflection, wearing black stockings and clasping a white shirt she has just removed. The crumpled bedsheets in the background suggest her work has been completed and she is caught in a moment of self-reflection. The dark, loose brushstrokes reinforce the visceral privacy of the space, we are watching this potently intimate moment. Lautrec renders her bodily form in an unstylised manner, committing to the stark appraisal of herself.

Henri De Toulouse Lautrec, Woman before a mirror, 1897

The delicate sensuality of this work makes it tempting to compare it to the tender nudes of Degas, yet it is important to consider the wounded soul of Lautrec from which this image originates. This is a woman confronted with the concept of her body as her work and her body as an exploited vessel, echoing Jean Cocteau’s words that ‘Every day when I look in the mirror, I see death going about its business.’

Lautrec’s role as a compassionate observer in place of an astute voyeur is perceptible in The Sofa, an honest depiction of two prostitutes engaged in a conversation with one another. In the brothels, where women were ostracized from permanent relationships within this exploitative heterosexual environment, lesbian relationships offered a kind of liberation. Their comfortable languid position resists any suggestion of a performance for an audience, as they are unposed and solely focused on each other. The figure on the left’s red hair spirals out of shape, unapologetically messy. The crumpled pastel dresses bear a textural roughness, hanging baggily on their bodies and illuminating rolls of flesh. These loose brushstrokes are echoed in the material of the sofa and the walls, evoking an energetic spontaneity and naturalness that leaves the piece feeling somewhat unfinished, offering suggestive opportunities which are denied by the accuracy of realism.

Henri de Toulouse Lautrec, The Sofa, 1894-96

Indeed, Henri de Toulouse Lautrec did indulge in the nocturnal fantasy and spectacle of the Moulin Rouge, but was dedicated to an honest appreciation for the private lives of the prostitutes and dancers of the cabaret, drawing us into their secluded world, uninhibited by convention and the voyeurism of the male gaze.  

Notes:

Arnold, Matthias. Henri de Toulouse -Lautrec 1864-1901: The Theatre of Life. (Cologne: Taschen, 2000)

Myers, Nicole. “The Lure of Montmartre, 1880-1900.” Department of European Paintings, The Metropolitan Museum of Art (October 2007)