[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."

[Michael Cantor]

This is well written and competently executed, but I'm afraid that it doesn't do anything for me that the painting doesn't do better, doesn't bring a new sense or dimension to what exists. It's a faithful description of the painting - but doesn't reflect the intensity of Lautrec's work (this is one of his less flamboyant paintings, but still the poem seems more subdued) - doesn't create an atmosphere or emotion for me. (In other words, what David Rosenthal said.)

[Quincy Lehr]

Indeed, this poem can be taken as illustrative of both the strengths and weaknesses of the Contemporary American Sonnet. While it's not too cloying about it, the piece is set in another time period (and fair enough on that) around a high-art motif (again, no foul per se). But it tells you not only what the painting is, but what Lautrec is reckoned to do. It states it quite plainly so that there's no ambiguity, and likewise with the couplet, which does what couplets are supposed to do and illustrates why couplets are so dangerous (and not always in a good way).

To put what David R. and others have put another way, I want the painting to lift off the canvas in an ekphrastic poem somehow, rather than remaining something in the Museum of Western Civilization, to touch this time, possibly others, rather than serving as a sort of commemorative plaque or plaque at a museum explaining what's going on.

[Kevin Cutrer]

I think that's a fair assessment, Quincy. I do like some of the finer points of the language in this one, but in the end they don't add up to anything too stunning. I think the problem with this poem is that it tries too hard to recreate the specific visual elements of the painting rather than engage it. The challenge of ekphrastic poetry is to give a clear sense of the visual while using the peculiar gifts of the language medium to take the reader beyond the art object. This one only goes halfway there.

[Rick Mullin]

I don't think this is particularly effective as an ekphrastic poem. The first two stanzas really describe the picture and its narrative--this is why we don't need the painting in front of us to understand the sonnet. But it isn't a good reason for something...that doesn't necessarily have to happen. I think an ekphrastic that stands on its own should send me looking for the art at the end, if I am not already familiar with it. If I am familiar with it, I want to see it differently. This poem fails in that regard, I'm afraid.

The line "floats pale and doughy as an unbaked boule." is a little too clever for the use of the word "boule", which is standard fare bread in French still life paintings. And "underneath the master’s practiced hand" reminded me of a line in Don McClean's Starry Starry Night song about Van Gogh. It also opens the door to what I think really needs to be kept out, and that is the part that gets into the painter's process. That is almost always, as it is here, fraught with knowledge or understanding the writer brings to the painting.

So, yes. I think this is too thought-out. The writer picks up on an interesting hook--the painter painting a woman who is painting herself, and thus painting himself as all portraits are to some degree self portraits (his regard for her parallels self regard, thus model and painter are before the “canvas” looking into their own faces). But the writer wastes precious sonnet space by imposing and to some extend describing this interpretation rather than showing an affect the painting has on the viewer.

On a technical point,

so good at unseen faults in others
and at his own,

is grammatically too compressed. It is not demanding syntax--I think it’s just wrong.

RM