Born on this day in 1593, in the Duchy of Lorraine, was the painter Georges De La Tour, a somewhat mysterious figure of whom little is known, and who was quite forgotten until his work was rediscovered in the early 20th century. He's generally classified as a follower of Caravaggio, but that influence came indirectly, most likely by way of the Dutch Caravaggists. Personally, I've always preferred followers of Caravaggio to the man himself, most of whose work is too flashy and melodramatic for my taste. De La Tour, by contrast, tended towards something stiller and plainer. His chiaroscuro paintings – mostly genre scenes and nativities – are more serene than dramatic, and his drawing is simple and unshowy.
I owe to De La Tour one of the most memorable surprises of my gallery-going life. In the small, out-of-the-way town of Bergues in northern France, near the Belgian border, there is an art gallery called, oddly, the Mont de Piété (the French name for a state-controlled pawnshop – which it once was). I went in with no great expectation – French provincial art galleries can be dispiriting places – but, entering one of the rooms, I was stopped in my tracks by a large, arresting painting of a hurdy-gurdy player and his dog, a monumental work, with a commanding presence and an air of mystery about it. It was a De La Tour, one of several treatments of the same theme, but by far the largest and, I think, the best. For some while I couldn't take my eyes off it...
And it turned out that this out-of-the-way gallery had another fascinating masterpiece – the more fascinating for being by an unknown artist: a wonderfully accomplished and expressive Portrait of a Young Man (below). How I miss my French journeys – though I live in hope of making more, and, as it happens, have just renewed my passport.
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