I have yet to finish twining threads (busy) but the one Fauvist gallery they give us does a really good job at not only portraying what I think is the most common flaw in the works of Fauvist students but how Émile Benoît subverts this by, to be succinct, Giving A Shit
(long and a bit image-heavy below)
It's been established time and time again that, culturally, Fauvists—if they want to be successful in portraying "fauve"—need to lean into the aesthetics of one singular animal. The animal that they connect most closely with on a personal level—though, I presume this is because of the passion that forms from that connection rather than anything thematic that goes into the works, considering how Fauvism is more a celebration of the animal than a representation of the piece's creator.
However, the passives of the Students paint, to me, a strikingly different picture. Their tendency toward concepts more divorced from the animals they choose as ingredients leaves their works feeling only superficially beastly.
A focus on the self in relation to an animal is closed-off: what best represents you while making a piece you are, by the standards of Fauvism, not connected to. Chasing "ferity" is closer, but to dilute the presence of any individual creature misses what makes them significant enough to survive.
Both of these ideals lead to a passive consumption of animal aesthetics. They are fauve because of their star power: massive claws, elongated teeth, imposing stature. Only the most surface-level beastliness—that which makes them different from us—is portrayed in their works.
This consumption is seen in the pieces themselves, such as the bear's leg with arbitrary feathers or the quadrupedal creature on the far left, constructed with enough parts to obscure most of its original form. Even if these pieces display technical skill—the capability to stitch together at least five different creatures in a manner that stays together is impressive—what do they say about the animals themselves and, how they interact with the world around them that makes the uniquely fauve?
Rodion is able to, partially, subvert this. She displays a more thorough understanding of her chosen animal's behavior, allowing her to use more diverse imagery in her portrayal of the wolf:
Looking at some of her other lines, though, she's still following conventions. She understands subversion enough to land her the role of Docent, but doesn't value the creation of art enough to go truly in-depth.
This is where Émile differs from every other Fauvist shown: she purposefully, frequently explores the intricacies of different creatures enough to seemingly dedicate every (or near every) piece to something different. Both how the Docent in Rodion's uptie story speaks about her and her design indicate that her interests span widely—her boa, from the hides that can be identified, uses at least mammalian and avian ingredients—yet, despite this, she is a Maestro.
With the above context, it becomes clear what has allowed her to create works influential enough to give her this position: a genuine care for the animals she uses. Judging by her serpent example, she has not only identified the underlying flaw in the Students' works but put effort into subverting it. Even in one example there has been a more acute demonstration of anatomical understanding than what is seen in any other explanation of Fauvist works (that I know of, I could be wrong here. Maybe Rufo says something profound).
This all makes the choice to give Meursault a Fauvist identity very interesting. He is very obviously an identity of the Impulsive Fauvist Student—they're near indistinguishable when he's masked—yet "impulsive" is far from how Meursault could be described.
His voice lines and uptie story largely support this. He follows an instruction manual, perfecting technique in an art form where the replication of something technically competent without deeper meaning is quick to become stale—see Corporism—and going as far as saying his subjective interpretations do not matter.
Though, the end of his uptie story implies something much more bleak: he does possess this "impulsivity" of sorts, but actively suppresses it in favor of something that is more surface-level palatable.
My character analysis is certainly limited by having yet to read The Stranger, though. This is all rather easy stuff to point out, how he's entirely opposite to the philosophy Émile has. I will read it soon!
in conclusion... I LOVE THE RING!!! pleeaase tell us about Cubits KJH! I'll pick apart their students too! Show us artworks from every school!
