[Catherine Tufariello]

Madame Poupoule at her Dressing Table
……………H. d. Toulouse Lautrec

The model is the artist of her place
but must compose herself within his pool
of ranging reds and blues, on which her face
floats pale and doughy as an unbaked boule.

She gazes at the mirror on her stand
and has the paint to paint herself a mask,
though underneath the master’s practiced hand,
she feels, one feels, unequal to the task.

His eye, so good at unseen faults in others
and at his own, picks out in her its kin,
then sets it so no flame or aqua smothers
this moment that’s reflected from within.

We see what’s yet more intimately there,
the deep regard of an unsparing stare.

[Catherine Tufariello]

I waited until I’d had a few days to absorb and jot down responses to this sonnet before looking up an image of the painting, which was unfamiliar to me. Though both poem and painting gain something from the juxtaposition, this is an ekphrastic poem that stands perfectly well on its own, as the best ones do. In the first quatrain, the play on “compose herself” conveys the model’s unsettled emotions and her dual role as artist and object, of the artist’s gaze and her own. The tension between the verb “floats” and the doughy heaviness of the “unbaked boule” is similarly effective. Unpainted and pale, the painted woman is vulnerable. As she gazes at herself and is simultaneously gazed at by the painter, the poet, the painting’s viewers and the poet’s readers, I was reminded a little of the infinite regression one sees in holding up a mirror to another mirror.

In the strong second quatrain, I especially admire the plainness of the repetitions, “paint to paint herself” and “she feels, one feels.” The phrasing fits beautifully with all the mirroring in the poem. I had some difficulty with the telescoped syntax of the third quatrain. Unpacked, it seems to mean “His eye, so good at [perceiving] unseen faults in others and at [perceiving] his own, picks out in her its kin.” Paradoxically, the artist’s eye (and his “practiced hand”) can render visible what is normally invisible. I puzzled over the antecedent of “it” in “then sets it.” Are we to think of a jewel being set? And why does the flame or aqua (paint) threaten to smother Madame Poupoule’s “moment”? This imagery goes back, perhaps, to the “pool” of color at the beginning, against which the woman must compose herself (or drown). I’m curious to hear others’ thoughts.

Like the ending of “To the Mother of a Dead Marine,” the final couplet of this sonnet provides a strong sense of closure. Even as he exposes Madame Poupoule’s faults, the artist offers her his “deep regard.” And like the artist’s, the poet’s gaze is at once unsparing and compassionate.

[David Rosenthal]

Well-crafted, to be sure, and I also found the repetitions in the second stanza effective. But, in the end, I have to admit the poem didn't do much for me. I don't know the painting, but that shouldn't really matter, right? I get the idea with the couplet, and saw at as Catherine did, and I think the the whole thing serves the point well, I guess I just didn't find it terribly revelatory. I think Catherine is right to suspect the third stanza -- mybe it not only "telescopes" but "telegraphs" too much. If I think of the poem without that quatrain, it seems stronger.

David R.

[Kevin Cutrer]

Perhaps the antecedent of "it" is literally Madame Poupoule's eye, and Lautrec "sets" its discerning, uninterruptable gaze on the mirror? Regarding the painting apart from the poem, the eye does indeed have some real weight to it. I like the conclusion in the couplet, suggesting a psychological depth to the picture that plumbs deeper than the "ranging reds and blues." I also found the second stanza's reptitions effective--the best phrasing in the poem.

[Susan McLean]

Like Catherine, I like the different kinds of "reflection" that are at work in this poem. I love the metaphor of the face as an unbaked boule. I do find the syntax demanding in the third stanza, but I read it as saying that his eye recognizes his own gaze in her gaze, and he does not allow the strong colors around her face to distract the viewer from what is going on in her character. Some paintings are about color and composition; this one, I think, is about psychological insight, satire, and empathy in a complex combination.

Susan

[Dmitri Semenov]

The poem reads as well, if not better, without S1.

Lines

His eye, so good at unseen faults in others

this moment that’s reflected from within.

are so good one wishes an improvement on

and at his own, picks out in her its kin,
then sets it so no flame or aqua smothers

that connects them.

The last two lines are a good conclusion for this sonnet.

The only wish is to replace "see" with something less direct, like "guess."

[R. Nemo Hill]

Well, I seem to be somewhat at odds with others here, for it is the stanza others don't like, S3, that I think is the meat of the poem. Without that stanza and the couplet that resolves it, I wouldn't have much time for the opening of the poem which seems, on its own, a bit precious to me. I do agree that the syntax is screwed up, mostly because of the use of the word at.

His eye, so good at unseen faults in others
and at his own, picks out in her its kin,

To be good at unseen faults in others or good at his own faults doesn't really make sense. The lines could so easily be rearranged to be clearer.

His eye, which sees the unseen faults in others,
and in himself, picks out in her its kin

Nemo

[Chris Childers]

I'm with those who say this one fails to take off for them. The first two stanzas are well and neatly-phrased. Nemo's suggestion vastly improves that quality in the third stanza. Overall I'm with David, Michael & Quincy, who find themselves underwhelmed by the whole, its competence notwithstanding.

[Kate Benedict]

What a great thread. I feel the critiques are spot on. The poem is not as ambitious as it might be and rather coldly analytic in its tone; yet it I do think it works on its own terms and is well-crafted overall.

The "problem line" invites an even easier fix:

His eye, so keen to unseen faults in others
and to his own . . .

[Catherine Chandler]

Although this sonnet shows attention to detail and competent craftsmanship, it fails to move me, or even to google the painting. It needs another angle. As it sits now, it is merely description.