Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic At the heart of Bonnard-Matisse: Amitiés, this summer’s exhibition at the Fondation Maeght in the south of France, there is a room of self-portraits. Pierre Bonnard’s likenesses — some made in liquid paint, others in soft pencil — appear to have emerged gradually, in a profusion of marks. His posture is slightly stooped, his expression is a little mournful, his features are left hazy. Henri Matisse, on the other hand, has drawn himself without hesitation. Using only a few essential ink lines, his self-portraits stare straight back at us, a steady, wry expression on his bespectacled face.The images illustrate a description of the two artists given by their close friend Aimé Maeght, the printer and dealer who opened the Fondation with his wife Marguerite in 1964. Growing to know them both in their later years, he observed that Matisse had “a spirit that was the counterpart” to Bonnard. “He knew how to explain, how to give reasons for his creation. Bonnard, on the other hand, didn’t know that; he just let his intuition carry him along.”The exhibition untangles a knot of friendships: first, between each artist and the Maeghts, and then between the two artists themselves, who first seem to have met in late 1905 and maintained a steady camaraderie until Bonnard’s death in 1947. Alongside the artworks, the Maeght family archives offer plenty more compelling glimpses into the artists’ contrasting characters.It is hard not be charmed, for instance, by shaky video footage of slender, elderly Bonnard, wearing a bucket hat, awkwardly squished between various jolly Maeght family members on their sailing boat somewhere off the Côte d’Azur; or fascinated by the film a teenage Adrien Maeght made of his mother, Marguerite, posing for Matisse. Sitting so close to his model that their knees must surely touch, Matisse scarcely looks at the paper as he sketches a fluid portrait, all the while smiling and chatting away.Despite their differing temperaments, Bonnard and Matisse had much in common. They were born in northern France two years apart, in 1867 and 1869 respectively, to affluent families. Both felt family pressure to study the law before they pursued their calling; both took classes at the Académie Julian in Paris. Both navigated successful careers in the dusk of Impressionism and the dawn of Modernism; both became enchanted by the southern coastline of France, choosing to live out their days not far from where the Fondation Maeght is today.It is these parallels that allow the exhibition to explore beyond the fact of the friendship, beyond its generative gifts of mutual insight, support and inspiration, to probe more deeply into what the relationship might reveal about the individuals. “Since all undertake the same things, encounter the same difficulties, use the same media,” Bonnard once said, “the differences must come from within.’’ Yet the clarity of the show sometimes suffers in pursuit of its layered ambitions, and it is missing some key works. Not long after they first met, for example, each acquired the other’s work through their shared gallery, Bernheim-Jeune. Matisse bought Bonnard’s “Soirée de salon’’ (1907), which is exhibited: a dusky, murky-coloured interior, showing a family grouped around softly glowing lamps, its flat design reflecting his earlier allegiance to the Nabis.‘‘La Fenêtre ouverte’’ (1911), the painting by Matisse that Bonnard acquired, is sadly not on view: it would have been good to see in the flesh this clear, airy painting, dating from the artist’s formative time in the sunny seaside town of Collioure. Not just for the sake of comparison, but for its foreshadowing of Bonnard’s own, later preoccupation with windows opened on to sun-drenched landscapes, of the world outside viewed from rooms within. Despite this, theming the work by subject matter (“streets and boulevards”, “the painter and his model”, “Japonisme”) is an effective and intriguing way of bringing the two artists’ “differences . . . within” to light, as well as illuminating lesser-known sides to their work. Though best known for interiors and scenes of domesticity, Bonnard was, in his early career, drawn to the energy of the city. Living in Paris at the turn of the century, he would sit on café terraces sketching, before returning to his studio to work them into vivid larger paintings — incorporating different perspectives, something he called “mobile vision”. Matisse, meanwhile, was not so taken with the drama of the street, instead preferring to use his studio as the stage. While Bonnard allowed objects such as vases and jugs to enter scenes organically, depicting their use in daily life, Matisse likened favourite pieces to “a good actor: a good actor can have a part in 10 different plays; an object can play a different role in 10 different paintings”. They had a similarly contrasting approach to their models. Bonnard became focused on depicting his wife Marthe in their home, enfolding her form within the greater composition. But to Matisse, who frequently posed his models in north African dress, his models were “never like extras in an interior”, he said. “They are the principal theme of my work.” His interest in physical dynamism — the body’s unique modes of expression — ensured that an early interest in dancing forms only deepened over his career, represented here by an assured, two-metre-high study for one of the dancers in the mural he completed for Albert Barnes in Pennsylvania in 1933. In the 1940s, both artists found themselves living close to each other: Bonnard in Le Bosquet, his villa in the hills above Cannes; Matisse in a hotel in Nice and later in Vence. Their correspondence became more frequent, and their desire to see each other rose. “I need to see a painting other than my own,” Bonnard wrote to Matisse in February 1940. “I need to see someone, and you are the one I would like to see,” Matisse told Bonnard in November that year. They confessed to each other the difficulty of being able to work freely in bleak, uncertain times, and confided their fears of losing their eyesight. And as with all solid friendships, they also moaned amiably about smaller things: poor weather, dodgy oysters, the bore of paperwork and the distraction of visitors. Throughout their lives, they shared — and respected greatly in each other — an obstinate need to work; both believed in painting with an almost religious fervour. Bonnard would have agreed with Matisse’s maxim that “art is a daily activity, like prayer.” This did not fade. Despite advancing years and ailing health, they maintained drive and curiosity. It is telling that when, in 1946, Matisse loaned Bonnard a painting, Bonnard’s letter of thanks revealed that it was not only “pleasure” that he took from the work, but “instruction” too. “What an intense life the colours have and how they change with the light! I notice something new every day.”After Bonnard’s death the following year, Matisse continued to champion and support his friend. When an unsympathetic article was published in Cahiers d’Art, asking “Is [Bonnard] a great painter?”, Matisse wrote in large letters on his copy “Oui!”, signing and dating it. In a letter to its author he elaborated his defence, describing his old friend as “rare and courageous”. “In my opinion, he produced works of the highest quality that will endure.” He concluded, touchingly, in praise of difference: “All good fruits are equal.”June 29-October 6, fondation-maeght.comFind out about our latest stories first — follow FT Weekend on Instagram and X, and subscribe to our podcast Life & Art wherever you listen
