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Stéphane Mallarmé
Portrait of Mallarmé, by Nadar, 1896

Today is the birthday of Stéphane Mallarmé (Paris; 18 March 1842 – 9 September 1898 Vulaines-sur-Seine), whose real name was Étienne Mallarme; poet and critic. He was a symbolist poet, and his work anticipated and inspired several revolutionary artistic schools of the early 20th century, such as Cubism, Futurism, Dadaism, and Surrealism.

On 10 August 1863, he married Maria Christina Gerhard.

In my opinion, Mallarmé is one of the French poets most difficult to translate into English. The difficulty is due in part to the complex, multilayered nature of much of his work, but also to the important role that the sound of the words, rather than their meaning, plays in his poetry. When recited in French, his poems allow alternative meanings which are not evident on reading the work on the page. For example, Mallarmé’s Sonnet en ‘-yx’ opens with the phrase ses purs ongles (‘her pure nails’), whose first syllables when spoken aloud sound very similar to the words c’est pur son (‘it’s pure sound’). The ‘pure sound’ aspect of his poetry has been the subject of musical analysis and has inspired musical compositions. These phonetic ambiguities are difficult to reproduce in a translation which must be faithful to the meaning of the words.

Mallarmé’s poetry has been the inspiration for several musical pieces, notably Claude Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune (1894), a free interpretation of Mallarmé’s poem L’après-midi d’un faune (1876), which creates powerful impressions by the use of striking but isolated phrases. Maurice Ravel set Mallarmé’s poetry to music in Trois poèmes de Stéphane Mallarmé (1913). Other composers to use his poetry in song include Darius Milhaud (Chansons bas de Stéphane Mallarmé, 1917) and Pierre Boulez (Pli selon pli, 1957–62).

Un poème est un mystère dont le lecteur doit chercher la clef.

Le monde est fait pour aboutir à un beau livre.

Ecrire, c’est déjà mettre du noir sur du blanc.

Cette foule hagarde ! Elle annonce : Nous sommes la triste opacité de nos spectres futurs.

Sait-on ce que c’est qu’écrire ? Une ancienne et très vague mais jalouse pratique dont gît le sens au mystère du Coeur.

Peindre non la chose mais son effet.

Oh ! Pour faire, Seigneur, un seul de tes sourires, Combien faut-il donc de nos pleurs ?

Dire au peintre qu’il faut prendre la nature comme elle est, vaut de dire au virtuose qu’il peut s’asseoir sur le piano.

De blancs sanglots glissant sur l’azur des corolles
– C’était le jour béni de ton premier baiser.

La chair est triste, hélas! et j’ai lu tous les livres.

Si tu veux nous nous aimerons
Avec tes lèvres sans le dire
Cette rose ne l’interromps
Qu’à verser un silence pire

Eugène Jansson

Today is the birthday of Eugène Fredrik Jansson (18 March 1862, Stockholm – 15 June 1915, Skara); painter known for his night-time land- and cityscapes dominated by shades of blue. Towards the end of his life, from about 1904, he mainly painted male nudes. The earlier of these phases has caused him to sometimes be referred to as blåmålaren, “the blue-painter”.

Gallery

al crepuscolo

Dawn over Riddarfjärden 1899

In the twilight

Le Bal des marins

Sunrise over the rooftops, 1903 (Nationalmuseum, Stockholm (image is cropped)

Pushing Weights with Two Arms, II, 1913–14 (in a private collection)