Lucien Clergue by Valerie Gladstone

Clergue Captures Cocteau
By Valerie Gladstone
Lucien Clergue, Yul Brynner and Jean Cocteau,
“Testament of Orpheus,” Les Baux de Provence,
1959. Lucien Clergue: Jean Cocteau, The
Testament of Orpheus 1959. Curated by James
Cavello. Nov. 18–Dec. 31, 2011. Westwood Gallery
NYC. © 1959 Lucien Clergue. Courtesy Westwood
Gallery NYC.
Nov 29, 2011
Lucien Clergue: Jean Cocteau, The Testament of Orpheus 1959
Through Dec. 30, WESTWOOD GALLERY, 568 Broadway,
212-925-5700, www.westwoodgallery.com.
Jean Cocteau only directed six films, spending far more energy on
his poetry, painting, sculpture and novels. But from The Blood of a
Poet (1930) to the great Beauty and the Beast (1946) and his final
Testament of Orpheus (1959), he brought poetry, ideas and fantasy
into his film work.
In Testament of Orpheus, he chronicled his own search for the
meaning of art and life, disguising himself as an 18th-century poet.
Wanting company on this project, he invited old friends and
luminaries to be part of the production, which was shot in Les Bauxde-Provence. A glittery bunch, they included actors from his
previous films, like Jean Marais, Maria Casares, Edouard Dermit and
Henri Cremieux, as well as Pablo Picasso, Jean-Pierre Leaud,
François Truffaut, Yul Brynner, Roger Vadim, Brigitte Bardot and
Françoise Sagan.
As one can imagine, what went on behind the scenes was often as
interesting as what made it to the screen. Fortunately, now-famed
photographer Lucien Clergue, who was then only 25, was there to
capture much of it.
The first New York exhibit of his exquisite gelatin silver prints
(Lucien Clergue: Jean Cocteau, The Testament of Orpheus 1959,
curated by James Cavello at Westwood Gallery) includes marvelous
portraits, such as the poetic “Jean Cocteau at Milly-la-Forêt” (1959), with the great man elegantly dressed in an
overcoat and scarf, standing in front of one of his drawings, his eyes closed as if dreaming of something beautiful.
There’s another of Cocteau and Brynner, both debonair men in moody silhouette, the actor dashing in a tuxedo, a
cigarette at his lips. A group shot dominated by the ebullient Picasso shows him surrounded by his soon-to-be wife
Jacqueline Rocque, bullfighter Luis Dominguez, Cocteau, Serge Lifar and Lucia Bose. They are a happy, animated
band of players, all great characters of the time.
At least two photos of Cocteau and the Sphinx give some idea of the eccentricity of Cocteau’s vision as he stands
against a wall with what look like wings sprouting from his shoulders and bulbous glass eyes. Clergue even shot
the bulbous glass eyes affixed to Cocteau’s face.
Looking at these photos, one can’t help but think, like the character in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris, that those
were halcyon days. Perhaps not, but it’s entertaining and enlightening to have Clergue’s images, which allow us to
feel that way.
An especially artistic photographer, Clergue went on to have a 30-year association with Picasso as well as
friendships with artists like Max Ernst, Salvador Dali, Jean Renoir, Roman Polanski, Robert Rauschenberg and
Christian Lacroix. He also made art-related films, such as Picasso, War, Love and Peace (1968). Widely exhibited
and collected, his works can be found in The Museum of Modern Art, The Boston Museum and The Fogg Museum
at Harvard University, among others. Fittingly, the photographs in this show will become part of the permanent
collection of a new museum dedicated to Cocteau in Menton, France, not far from where they were shot.
LIGHT BULB ARMOND WHITE 11.30.2011
Nov 29, 2011
By Armond White
Who is the Cocteau of our era? Every generation throws a hero
up the pop charts, but two decades into the new millennium we
haven’t yet spotted an artistic multitasker to equal Jean Cocteau,
Orson Welles or Melvin Van Peebles.
That’s why the Lucien Clergue exhibit that Valerie Gladstone
writes about in this issue of CityArts is both timely and haunting.
These days, artists scatter to their specialized fields, fearing to
cross over into others and face the fresh regard of new
audiences. But Cocteau, Welles and Van Peebles—polymaths
who could write, direct, draw, perform and provoke—leapt at
opportunities to try out new strategies, discover new gifts and
encounter new, different audiences.
Showing off was how these artists expanded the arts. Their
multidisciplinary approach is what CityArts constantly looks for—
especially by bringing the traditional arts into the same pages as
the pop arts. This issue matches Jay Nordlinger’s assessment of
Wagner’s Ring to Howard Mandel’s Baedeker on improvisatory
jazz orchestras. Joel Lobenthal’s observation of Merce
Cunningham’s dance legacy juxtaposes Kyle Abrahams’ new
movements at The Kitchen, while Robert Battle (subject of The
CityArts Interview) brings Alvin Ailey’s legacy into a new era.
Lucien Clergue, “Jean Cocteau on the set of Testament
of Orpheus, Nice, 1959” (1959, printed 2001), gelatin
silver print, edition of 30 signed, numbered, titled by
the artist, 16 x 12 inches. Nov. 18–Dec. 31. Westwood
Gallery NYC. @ 1959 Lucien Clergue, courtesy Westwood Gallery NYC.
As Cocteau understood, mixing keeps the arts and the artist from going stale. CityArts takes on the mission of
keeping arts culture and those who care about it excited about different approaches to self-expression. A review of
culture is always on the lookout for what’s new. If there is a new Cocteau on the horizon, that artist might have to
be as interested in dance and theater as in fine arts and digital play. When the new Cocteau appears, CityArts
promises to take notice.
The On Gaming column by Steve Haske premieres in recognition of new forms of image-making and storytelling.
Why? Because, as Cocteau demonstrated, multidisciplinary is the art world’s article of faith.
About the cover: Lucien Clergue was only 25 when he photographed Cocteau on the set of his last film The
Testament of Orpheus—a brave assertion of artistic ambition. The young devotee captured the old master in stylish
profile with actor Yul Brynner as if posing a multileveled tribute: The King and I.