Portrait of Misia Sert by unknown photographer; Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1904

Recently we were introduced to Misia Sert by a romantic Vogue Germany editorial featuring Codie Young photographed by Giampaolo Sgura. Intrigued, we were determined to find pictures of her, as well as learn more about the exciting bohemian life she led. Clive James wrote a detailed essay on her, describing her as someone who “knew just about everybody who counted in artistic Paris.”:

Her taste was original, penetrating and in most cases definitive. Without directly creating anything, she was some kind of artist herself… For most of her life she was too rich to be a true bohemian, and too passionate about art to be a true representative of high society. Instead, she was, for her time, the incarnation of that special energy released when talent and privilege meet.

Although I don’t agree that being artistic and being rich are strictly mutually exclusive, I understand what he meant. Much creative work is borne out of pain and struggle, and while the rich aren’t immune to sorrow, the starving artists have the additional pressure of destitution to grapple with. This doesn’t mean that rich people can’t be truly artistic— it just means that they have so many more pleasurable distractions within reach. Misia Sert certainly had plenty of those— the parties she hosted were legendary, and she was well-off enough to house her artist friends in country villas. I think it’s wonderful that she supported and nourished the creative community around her, giving these important artists resources and opportunities to further their work.

Misia Natanson en Robe Noire circa 1896-97 by unknown photographer, Archives Vuillard, Paris; Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, 1895

La Revue Blanche was an art and literary publication during the period of aesthetes and decadents at the turn of the century, and its pages featured the most prominent creatives. Misia Sert graced its cover more than once, and Clive James wrote of the key role she played at the magazine:

Being published in the Revue Blanche was like getting into a party: you had to know Misia. But this condition was only mildly pernicious, because you had to be gifted before Misia wanted to know you.

Madame Misian Nathanson by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1897

Modern and timeless, imperious and vulnerable, vivacious and enigmatic, but more charismatic than beautiful, she was one of the most prolifically painted women of her time.

So writes Tracy McNicoll, introducing Misia Sert for the Misia, Queen of Paris exhibit at the Musée d’Orsay, describing her as the “kingmaker” of the French art world:

Patron of the arts, matchmaker, tastemaker, collector, muse… At a time when Paris was truly the brash, beating heart of the art world, she was a kingmaker, holding court… her magnetic allure moved others to create near her, or for her, or about her, through heady eras—from the Belle Époque 1890s through the 1930s—and across disciplines: art, music, literature, dance, theater, fashion… A gifted pianist, she had a keen ear for avant-garde talent, rescuing masterpieces from anonymity, fiercely boosting her favorites.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1897; Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, 1895

For everyone involved in creative work, taste is of paramount importance. It is escapes definition and measure, yet it is there all the same— as visceral and intangible as any strong emotion. Successful curators and experienced artists know it when they see it; others must simply learn it by osmosis. Misia Sert was not only a trendsetter, she also served as a guardian of cultural heritage, preserving for posterity some masterpieces that may not have been noticed otherwise. Yet, despite being such a central figure in the art scene, she did not become as famous or well-remembered in history as her contemporaries. We all know of Chanel, Renoir, and Debussy, but I personally did hear about Sert until now. Those interested in recording her story only began doing so when most of the people who knew her personally were very old or dead. Clive James wrote about her partially obscured legacy, describing how the art that surrounded her outlived her:

In a way that no artist can ever quite understand but nearly all of them find irresistibly attractive, she did nothing with her capacity for beauty except live. Yet the human personality, which dies with the memory of individuals, and the work of art, which lives on in the collective consciousness, are different forms of the same thing — a truth made acutely visible by Misia’s portraits, which, if they do not capture her, certainly capture uncapturability. She gave the artists the gift of her sublime ephemerality and they made it last. That true sacred monster the Comtesse Anna de Noailles wrote herself an epitaph which would have done much better for Misia: “I shall have been useless but irreplaceable.”

Perhaps Misia Sert herself, as a lover of the arts, would have preferred it this way— her life story transformed into a beautifully illustrated legend. ~ Feanne