Henri Rousseau's Lush Landscapes
Self-taught post-impressionist homeboy painted intriguing jungle scenes, even though he never left France
Born in Laval, France, Rousseau came from modest beginnings. His father was a tinsmith and young Henri was obligated to assist in his father’s workshop. The elder Rousseau was often in debt and frequently moved the family to avoid collections. This itinerant lifestyle resulted in Henri’s enrolling in boarding school, where he did not distinguish himself in academic study but he did show an aptitude for the arts, winning a few awards: one in vocal music and one in drawing. He left secondary school before completing his studies.
After leaving school, Henri took employment with a lawyer and began studies in law. However in 1863, at the age of 19, he was implicated in a petty theft from the attorney’s office and also found guilty of an associated perjury charge. To avoid a lengthy jail sentence, he volunteered for army service. While his service record was unremarkable, it was consequential, for it was there that he met other soldiers that had served in Mexico. These colleagues would tell stories of far-flung locales that would inflame Rousseau’s imagination, beginning a lifelong visualization of exotic places he would hope to recreate through canvas and paint.
Rousseau was granted a compassionate release from military service in 1868 in order to financially support his recently-widowed mother as a government servant and he settled in Paris. A year later he would marry the 15-year-old (!) daughter of his cabinetmaker landlord. It was in Paris where Rousseau would take employment as a government bureaucrat, eventually landing a job in 1871 as a tax collector on goods coming into the city; a job that earned him the enduring nickname of le Douanier (“the Customs Officer”) despite the position having nothing to do with custom’s duties.
As someone with a talent and passion for art, it is probable that Rousseau painted throughout his life as his spare time allowed. However, his first public exhibition was not until 1886 at the Salon de Independents. This venue was less prestigious than the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture’s annual Salon for recognized professionals; nonetheless Rousseau’s first entry, “Carnival Evening” attracted a bit of positive public notice for its dreamy quality and detailed rendering of the background, although an equal number of critics were confused by the subject and the composition. Several found fault in the painting’s technical failings, with the figures in the foreground flat and seemingly cut-out of the arrangement. However, this initial showing also corresponded with a new direction in the Parisian artist community, desiring a break from what they believed to be the rigid stuffiness of traditional western Neoclassicism and Romanticism that had dominated the previous century. Rousseau’s naive approach was refreshingly well-outside of the bounds of traditional art, and the avant-gardists were intregued. The non-traditionalists intentionally sought venues outside of the formal Salon, and in this showing for the Independents, Rousseau began to consider himself a member of that cutting-edge community of artists and their equal in abilities.
Thereafter, Rousseau continued to show annually at Salon de Independents, each year attracting greater interest, both positive and negative. His first wife and six of his seven children had died by 1889, and he sent his only remaining daughter to live with relatives (he would remarry in 1899, his second wife dying in 1903). This personal turmoil would drive a desire for escapism. Rousseau frequently visited the marvels of the Paris World’s Fair and was particularly intrigued with the exhibits of foreign lands, which he hoped to portray in his art. In 1891, his first jungle-themed piece, “Tiger in a Tropical Storm (Surprised!)” received a positive review as “the alpha and omega of painting” and “not to be missed” despite some obvious (albeit charming) technical inconsistency and problems of perspective. Still, he would not return to jungle settings for another decade.
In 1893, Rousseau retired from the toll house and threw himself into painting full-time. He moved to a studio in Montparnasse where he remained for the rest of his life. In 1897 he created one of his most famous works, “The Sleeping Gypsy”—it is a dreamy, mysterious work that depicts a stark desert landscape dominated by a smiling woman in a striped tunic sleeping stiffly and somewhat unnaturally on the ground while a wide-eyed lion, stylistic mane rendered in great detail, seems to sniff the air, poetically evoking opposing senses of peace and danger. Rousseau proudly wrote to the mayor of Laval with an offer to let him purchase this piece as a tribute to the town (the mayor declined), such was his confidence in his own abilities as a great artist.
Refusing to compromise his own artistic vision and ignoring derision about his technical skills, Rousseau slowly developed a following in the turbulent turn-of-the-century Parisian art scene. Letting his fantastic imagination drive his work, he gravitated back to painting exotic landscapes. By 1905, he was attracting interest of quite a number of younger non-traditional artists exploring new formats. His jungle scene “The Hungry Lion Throws Itself on the Antelope” was exhibited at the Salon des Indépendants near works by younger leading avant-garde artists such as Henri Matisse. This milestone show is now considered the first showing of The Fauves, Rousseau’s painting perhaps itself influencing this artistic movement. The notable appearance would result in better sales of his work, but not much financial success. He supplemented his income as a street musician and with other art-related odd jobs.
One up-and-coming artist that recognized Rousseau’s brilliance was a young Pablo Picasso. After seeing one of Henri’s canvasses being sold on the street for repainting, Picasso determined to meet him and established a friendship. In 1908, Picasso invited the older man to his studio at Le Bateau-Lavoir for a banquet in his honor and to present him with an award. A joyous, somewhat-intoxicated group of Picasso’s famous Parisian artist and intellectual friends were on hand, declaring Rousseau the greatest living artist, as Picasso presented him with a “medal,” a large circle of decorated cardboard that he hung around Rousseau’s neck. Perhaps ignoring the playfully-sarcastic intent or oblivious to it, Rousseau put his arm around Picasso’s shoulders and charitably granted that they both were the two greatest living artists.
In the last years of his life, Rousseau’s creative focus was largely consumed by jungle scenes and exotic landscapes. Although stories circulated (perhaps started by Rousseau himself) that he had visited these far-flung locales during his years in the army, in fact Henri never stepped foot outside of France. The scenes were entirely fabricated in his expansive imagination, supplemented by scenes from picture book and modeled after plants and animals he’d studied at Parisian zoos and botanical gardens. The magical, dream-like qualities of his paintings reflect Rousseau’s rich inner vision set to canvas.
On the summer of 1910, desperate for money and brooding over an unrequited love, Rousseau accidentally cut his leg. He ignored the injury as it worsened into blood poisoning, forcing him to bedrest where he lacked even the energy to chase flies from his face. Nearly comatose, he was finally taken to the hospital, but they were unable to save him. He died alone and was buried in a pauper’s grave. The following year, a small group of friends contributed to a buy a cemetery plot, and Rousseau was reburied with a small tombstone inset with a bronze plaque and poetic inscription. In 1947, his hometown of Laval reclaimed the remains along with the tombstone: Henri Rousseau’s final resting place is at a public park in city center. While not as replete of tropical plants as Rousseau’s beloved Jardin des Plantes in Paris, I like to imagine Henri walking through the Leval English-style gardens dreaming of ways to incorporate the flowers in his exotic on-canvas scenery.
Often derided during his life, Henri Rousseau leaves an impressive legacy. He was an influence on early 20th century avant-gardists like Picasso, Jean Hugo and Max Beckmann. In addition to igniting an interest in naive art in the 20th century, he is also thought to have influenced the dreamscapes favored by Surrealist artists such as Paul Delvaux and Max Ernst. Sylvia Plath was an admirer and drew inspiration from his works for some of her poems. And I think Rousseau would be particularly pleased that his color schemes and layout organization from his jungle paintings influenced the jungle scenery staging for the successful 2005 animated film “Madagascar.”
Daily Art: "Let’s Ride a Tiger! Escape into the Tropics with Henri Rousseau" by Sarah Mills, 9/4/23
National Gallery of Art: Henri Rousseau: Jungles in Paris
LA Times: “ A jungle’s classic roots” by Lisa Rosen 5/8/05
Perspective: How Self-Taught Rousseau Rose To Fame Painting Paris Zoo (video), 5/13/23
I don't remember when I saw my first Rousseau in a book but it was the Sleeping Gypsy and I loved everything about it. The first one I saw in real life was Tiger in a Tropical Storm at the National Gallery in London. Stood in front of it forever because I couldn't take my eyes away. Finally saw the Sleeping Gypsy at the Musee d'Orsay in Paris as well as the Snake Charmer and The Dream. Again stood mesmerized forever. Thanks for the memories, Martini. Ain't artwork grand?