Selected Letters 1926–1955

Available in English for the first time, these letters are taken from the several hundred letters anthologised by French art historian Germain Viatte, published in 2014 by Le bruit du temps. As well as an intriguing investigation of one of the great 20th-century painters, these are also the letters of a writer. From his adolescence onwards, Nicolas de Staël developed an incisive style of his own, capturing – as in his paintings – the reality of what he saw with the intensity of pure simplicity. 'Nicolas de Staël’s letters are imbued with that mixture of absolute certitude and profound doubt which is the mark of a great artist. His belief in his destiny – which arises from faith – places the bar so high that it will always be impossible to clear. … He had the premonition that the path would be long and winding before it ever broke onto a clearing. Staël is not, like Raphaël, Géricault or Seurat, a precocious genius. If he must be compared to one of his predecessors, it is impossible not to think of Van Gogh.’ – Jean Frémon‘Thisselectionoflettersbegins in 1926 when de Staël was12yearsoldandends with the last letter he wrote on the day he died. DeStaëlwrote thousands of letters– to his adoptive parents, his wives and lovers, his children, gallery owners and dealers, poets, fellowpaintersand those who bought his work.They describe thecourse of his life from youngman eagerly awaiting a cheque from a family member at a post office in Cadiz so hecan buy his daily kilo of tomatoes,his wine,hisnewspaper, paints,canvases and sketchbooks, tothefinalmonths, when black gulls began to gather on his canvasses, bringing a darker, inky sense of foreboding to work that until then had been characterised by a boundless sense of colour and light. Thelettersalso show theevolution of his understanding of painting,ofwhat painting actually is,ofthe human cost–what part of the self must be sacrificed to it.And always he is aware of the complementary roles of language and painting.De Staël’s work, though it bears traces of figuration,is never illustrative; the writingis his illustrative tool, and his own wordsprovide adazzlingcommentary on the paintings.’– Helen Stevenson