Chaïm Soutine: The Passion and Precision of a Modern Master

In the first book written about the Expressionist painter Chaïm Soutine, art critic Waldemar George described the artist's work as looking "like a hemorrhage. Before giving up the ghost, the painter spits out all his blood."

George was likely thinking of a specific painting from 1925. In Carcass of Beef, a slaughtered ox is suspended by its ankles, its blood forming a deep crimson stain against the blue walls of the studio. This was one of many visceral still lifes by Soutine that prominently featured animal carcasses. The painting is an Expressionist tribute to the art of the Baroque period, specifically to Rembrandt van Rijn, who painted his own version of a slaughtered ox in 1655. The bold, textured style of the Expressionists might seem radically different from the detailed, somber work of Dutch Masters like Rembrandt. However, as the philosopher Walter Benjamin observed in 1925, both Expressionism and the Baroque were artistic eras driven by a powerful and urgent creative will. Soutine, a profoundly determined artist, sought to bridge these two distinct periods through his ambitious painting.

Soutine was born in 1893 in Smilavichy, a village near Minsk in what was then the Russian Empire. He came from a poor family. Later biographers frequently emphasized his difficult beginnings, often portraying the young Jewish artist as a refugee in need of French culture and financial support. At age seventeen, he left for art school in Vilnius, approximately 300 kilometers away. Three years later, he continued his journey to Paris with two companions.

In Paris during the period between the World Wars, Soutine discovered an art scene bursting with creative energy. He soon moved into La Ruche, a famous and inexpensive artists' residence in the Montparnasse district, originally constructed for impoverished painters. The neighborhood's cafes buzzed with new artistic ideas, many introduced by artists from outside France. Life at La Ruche was notoriously chaotic. The Swiss-French poet Blaise Cendrars wrote of "Disorder, total disorder" there in 1913, the very year Soutine arrived.

The collective of artists centered around La Ruche, many of whom were Jewish, later became known as the "School of Paris." This group included renowned figures like Marc Chagall. Soutine quickly formed a close friendship with the Italian painter Amedeo Modigliani, who created several portraits of Soutine.

The young Soutine spent countless hours in the Louvre museum, meticulously studying the works of the Old Masters. A friend later recalled that when Soutine attempted to explain the profound magic of a Rembrandt painting, he would become intensely excited, his passion bordering on an angry outburst. His own paintings were bold, heavily textured, and unmistakably modern, yet they simultaneously demonstrated a deep and scholarly knowledge of art history. He paid homage to and reinterpreted painters like Jean-Baptiste-Siméon Chardin and Eugène Delacroix. After learning French, he read works by authors Honoré de Balzac and Charles Baudelaire, in addition to the Russian novels he had cherished in his youth.

Following Modigliani's untimely death in 1920, Soutine began taking extended trips away from Paris. He spent time in the village of Céret in the French Pyrenees but returned to the capital frequently. In 1923, he achieved his first major commercial success: the sale of sixty paintings to the influential American collector Albert C. Barnes. The purchase price was relatively modest, but the transaction suddenly propelled Soutine to fame and provided him with a degree of financial independence. According to the well-known story, he immediately ran from his art dealer's apartment, hailed a taxi, and traveled to the French Riviera to celebrate.

Two years later, Soutine was back in Paris. He rented a studio at 8 Rue Saint Gothard, not far from a large park. He would make trips to the slaughterhouses at La Villette and transport carcasses back to his studio: chickens, turkeys, rabbits, and on one notable occasion, a large ox, which he hung from his studio ceiling. His model, Paulette Jourdain, told biographers that he would spend hours at the market selecting the perfect subjects. She was given the task of purchasing additional blood, which Soutine would splash onto the bodies to make the colors appear fresh and vibrant. The neighbors reportedly complained about the powerful odor, leading to a visit from health inspectors. Jourdain pleaded with them, and they ultimately permitted Soutine to keep the carcasses, but only under the condition that he regularly inject them with ammonia to control the rapid decay.

He produced dozens of these powerful still lifes. The French term for still life, nature morte, translates literally to "dead nature." These works served as a critical bridge between the artistic traditions of the Old Masters and the innovations of modern artists. For instance, he created his own dynamic version of Chardin's 1728 painting The Ray. Scholar Chiara Palermo argues that Soutine did not merely copy these older masterpieces; he "reenacted" them. He painted from real, decomposing subjects, immersing himself in the visceral experience of blood, internal organs, and death—an experience his artistic heroes likely knew intimately. While he is also celebrated for his portraits, it is in his still lifes that his formidable technical skill, profound knowledge of art history, and raw, physical engagement with the themes of life and death converge most powerfully.

Critics such as Waldemar George often portrayed Soutine as a primitive, purely emotional painter, driven by creative frenzy. When Soutine once told him his work represented "the implementation of a conception of art," George laughed it off, preferring the dramatic image of the untamed, instinctual artist.

Even after his death, Soutine became a subject for others' interpretations. He died in 1943 while in hiding from the Nazi occupation of France. He was buried in Montparnasse Cemetery under a cross, a symbol chosen by his last companion, Marie-Berthe Aurenche. Soutine had never formally converted to Christianity, but Aurenche later claimed, "we had sometimes talked about the Christian religion, and I had the impression that Soutine wanted to know it better."