Toulouse-Lautrec and the Art Nouveau Poster
Until October 22; City Art Centre, Edinburgh

A brand new phenomenon gripped Paris in the 1880s and 1890s. It was a time of increased industrial production, of breakthroughs in colour lithography, and of unprecedented artistic freedom. This was “l’age de l’affiche” – the age of the poster.

Postermania was quick to take hold. Established artists were keen to try their hand at poster design, and avid collectors stole posters from city walls almost as fast as advertisers could paste them up. Newspapers and magazines ran regular reviews of new posters, and politically aware critics celebrated the democratic nature of the new art form. In a few years, the walls of Paris had been transformed into “a salon for the poor”.

This revolution was more or less down to one man. Jules Chéret had opened his own printing press in 1866 and quickly transformed the world of colour lithography. His poster designs incorporated lettering into the image in ways never before imagined. Compared with their staid predecessors, Chéret’s posters positively exploded onto the streets.

And then there was the famous “chérette”. For gratuitous use of sexy young ladies in advertising, we have Chéret to thank. His seductive female figure, tresses and dresses lifting in the bohemian breeze, sold everything from lightbulbs to liqueurs. Critics noted their lust for this “hysterical, insane, delightful woman”, they wrote poems for her, and some even invented a life story for this girl of their dreams.

The efforts of other poster-designers to imitate the success of the chérette were not always appreciated. Many posters were decried as obscene; sexually charged images of women were welcomed on the rarefied walls of the salons, but censored from the exterior walls of Paris. As the 1890s wore on, posters became increasingly distanced from their original audience, and were traded by connoisseurs in special artists’ editions.

It was half way through the era of postermania, in 1891, when Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec was inspired to join the fray. His unique style of painting – and his subject matter – fitted perfectly with the new ethos. Like many other painters of his time, Toulouse-Lautrec learned from Japanese prints to flatten out his compositions. To this he added vertiginous perspectives, creating a dynamism which was perfect for high-impact posters.

The artist was notorious for his debauched lifestyle, frequenting the drinking dens, music halls and brothels of Montmartre, depicting the prostitutes and their lecherous admirers. With postermania had come a celebration of this theatrical, licentious world, and Toulouse-Lautrec was perfectly placed to advertise it. La Goulue kicks up her skirts at the Moulin Rouge while the top-hatted “Boneless Wonder” looks on. Cabaret singer Aristide Bruant dominates his poster, just as he did his café audiences.

Toulouse-Lautrec made 28 posters in his life-time, and 15 of these are the show. Their sinuous, sketchy, almost nervous lines set them apart from the rest, many of which fit more comfortably into the category of Art Nouveau. In fact, the City Art Centre’s title for the show, Toulouse-Lautrec And The Art Nouveau Poster, doesn’t tell the whole story.

The 140 posters in this show divide, loosely speaking, into two styles. The first, very Parisian, is rooted in the work of Chéret and of Toulouse-Lautrec; sinuous women exude sexual confidence, their rouged faces contorted and caricatured.

The second style is classic Art Nouveau, spearheaded by the Czech-born Alphonse Mucha – as well as five famous posters of his, the show features many stunning Belgian examples. This style is more controlled and decorative, its women more classically sensual, and in the case of the Belgians, fully clothed.

Filling two floors, the exhibition ricochets between the raunchy Parisian women and their chaste, decorative counterparts. But aside from a reference to the politicisation of Belgian art, there is little attempt to explore the relationship between the two co-existing schools. And while Belgium and Barcelona get special sections to themselves, there is sadly no mention of the influential Glasgow Style.

Any disappointments are soon forgotten though, in the midst of this riotous jungle of colour and life. A critic said of the poster in 1889 that it “makes the walls tremble in the cities’ stupefying racket”. He was right. At the City Art Centre, they’re still trembling.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 20.08.06