CANVASES, CARATS AND CURIOSITIES

First off, thank you for chatting with us after your Met visit, Rebecca! I can’t wait to hear all about it. Sargent is such a giant in the art world. I'm curious—after seeing all those paintings gathered together, what was your biggest takeaway about his place in art history? Did anything surprise you?

Rebecca: Walking through the Met's exhibition, I was struck by how Sargent defies simple categorization. While he's often remembered primarily as a portraitist to society's elite, what resonated with me was his absolute mastery of light. There's this controlled manipulation of chiaroscuro that feels almost Baroque in its precision, yet he pairs it with these impressionistic brushstrokes that somehow capture movement with photographic accuracy.

What's fascinating is how he was such an exceptionally skilled classical draftsman at his core. His technical foundation was impeccable. Yet he managed to explore virtually all the 19th-century artistic tropes—romanticism, orientalism, vedute—while somehow feeling both of his time and completely timeless.

You’re so right, he really does seem to redefine all genres. Let me build on that with the next question. I noticed A Gust of Wind (Judith Gautier) has that spontaneous quality that is similar to our portrait of Carmencita. Both women seem to embody a progressive spirit of their time. How do you think these magnetic personalities influenced Sargent's approach to his female subjects?

Rebecca: I think what's striking about both Judith Gautier and La Carmencita is how Sargent seems genuinely captivated by these women who possessed exceptional talents and expressiveness. There's something about their creative energy that he's determined to translate onto canvas.

When you compare these works to his portraits of figures like Madame X or Dr. Pozzi—both visually arresting subjects—you notice a fundamental difference in approach. While those portraits are masterful character studies, they remain relatively static.

With Gautier and Carmencita, Sargent appears driven to capture something more ephemeral—their gifts in action. It feels almost as if he's attempting to preserve their essence for future viewers who would never have the opportunity to witness Carmencita dance or experience Gautier's creative force in person.

Speaking of La Carmencita, The Met describes the full-length Carmencita portrait as "audacious.” What elements make it so bold for its time?

Rebecca: I think it comes down to her chin-up engagement with the viewer. La Carmencita is completely unabashed and fearless in a way that would have been challenging for a late 19th-century audience to process.

I have to admit, though, I'm particularly drawn to the brushwork in our version. It reminds me so much of Frans Hals, who's one of my all-time favorite painters. Sargent uses these energetic, almost gestural brushstrokes that perfectly capture her dynamism. When you stand before our portrait, the technique creates this incredible sense that you're present at one of her performances. You can almost hear her singing through her slightly parted lips.

The exhibition notes that the Musée du Luxembourg's acquisition of La Carmencita essentially confirmed Sargent as a master of his age. Can you think of any contemporary artists following a similar trajectory? What defines a "modern master" in today's art world?

Rebecca: What makes Sargent's mastery so fascinating is how he manages to be very clearly of his time yet so thoroughly timeless. I think that's largely because he had such command of traditional techniques while simultaneously moving the aesthetic conversation forward in a way that was uniquely his own. He absorbed all the teachings of Carolus-Duran and then ran with them, very quickly outperforming his highly skilled teacher.

When I consider what defines a "modern master" today, it's that same quality—that ability to honor tradition while transforming it. Artists who achieve this rare balance of technical excellence and innovative vision create work that feels both contemporary and enduring. The difference is that our art world has expanded dramatically beyond the salon system that validated Sargent, making the path to recognized mastery more diverse but perhaps less clearly defined than in his era.

That’s such a great point. Were there works that particularly stood out to you in the exhibition? What made them compelling?

Rebecca: One work that absolutely captivated me was Smoke of Ambergris, which Sargent painted during his time in Morocco. It's such a delightful study of form, shape, geometry and color. The white-on-white technique he employs is notoriously challenging to achieve, yet he handles it with such apparent ease. What struck me most was how impressively modern the composition feels. I could easily imagine something similar being featured in a travel journalist's Instagram grid today, despite it being painted in 1880. It's truly sublime.

Were there any innovative or experiential elements in the exhibition design that enhanced your understanding of Sargent's work?

Rebecca: I really appreciated the digital projection of other Salon artworks that would have been exhibited alongside Madame X. That contextual framing was brilliant. It's actually quite amusing to think that Madame X was considered SO scandalizing when you see her displayed alongside the mythological nudes by Bouguereau and others that dominated the Salon of that era.

My only wish? That the Tate should have lent Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose. It's my absolute favorite. Next time, Met, next time.

Thanks so much for sharing your expertise, Rebecca!