« It is through his creation that the artist translates most certainly the man. Elegance of line, subtlety of colour, freshness of inspiration, modesty of feelings without ever falling into mushiness, Peynet is the antidote of all that pollutes our spirits today. He offers to us the key, key to the enchanted world where he catches in his nets that which we strive to destroy. » — Max Favalelli
Hello again! I’d been considering devoting a post to Raymond Peynet (1908-1999) for some time, but I realised at some point that this was another textbook case of ‘The tip of the iceberg‘; sure, I’d seen his Les amoureux cartoons in most of my newer issues of Le rire — which is to say issues in the merely sixty to eighty years old range — but the tiniest modicum of research revealed an impressively sustained worldview, some rather breathtaking bits of mass-marketing, and, most significantly, consistent quality and conceptual integrity.
This topic, obviously, would have made for an ideal Valentine’s Day post, but since I was out of town on family business on that day, and, more pointedly, we don’t really feel the need to mark that random occasion, it didn’t happen. And yet here we are… one month later to the day.
Having done my homework, I now present to you Mr. Peynet and his ‘amoureux’, immortalised through some six thousand drawings, but also four (!) museums — two in France, and two in Japan, a a life-size bronze statue in Hiroshima’s Peace Memorial Park, some 250 distinct models of latex dolls, several postage stamps, posters, champagne bottle labels… you name it.
Obviously, I’m just scratching the surface. But since Peynet-mania seems to have largely skipped over North America, this might prove a useful, if belated, introduction.
« I will give you my flu, you will give me your bronchitis… we will share the medication. » A lithograph created between 1970 and 1986 for Éditions Les Maîtres contemporains.The Unfinished Symphony: « Don’t worry, you may leave, I’ll finish it by myself. » (Limited edition litograph, 1943). This is how it all began for Peynet. Here’s the whole story of the time and place, clumsily — but charmingly — translated.The Marriage Ad: « Pretty young lady seeks marriage with athletic young man, photo required. » I doubt that Richard Sala ever encountered Peynet’s work, but I can’t help but find that this particular piece prefigures his style somewhat.« –– For Us Two, You and I, My Dream… » « — I beg your pardon, darling? » « These are names of villas to burgle. »« — Be very careful, there’s a mean dog! » « — Don’t worry, my love, I’m wearing my oldest pair of pants. » (Limited edition litograph, 1943)« The Artistic coiffeur ». From Le rireno. 22 (nouvelle série), July, 1953. Shades of the influential Saul Steinberg, which I *will* have to write about at some point.The Little Ship: « Darling! You must have erred in your calculations… we aren’t on the Red Sea, but rather in a field of poppies! » (Limited edition litograph, 1943).« — You’re not accompanying him through his dreams? » « — Never on Sundays, I’ve too much to do around the house. » « — No other lovers love each other as much as we do. » « — Well… take a look at these two below… » Lithograph created between 1970 and 1986 for Éditions Les Maîtres contemporains.« Dearest, don’t you think that there are times when one must set aside things of the heart and be more down to earth? » From Le rireno. 26 (nouvelle série), Feb. 1948. Even back in the 1940s, it wasn’t all chaste naïveté.Lithograph, Éditions Arnaud de Vesgre, 1970. Without being derivative in the least, this piece pleasantly reminds me of Francisco Botero‘s work. Okay, this one’s fairly subtle. I’ll give you a hint: the kids are named Romulus and Remus. Originally published in the collection Per le strade, per le nuvole (“Through the streets, through the clouds”) (Edizioni Elmo, Milan, 1953). Likely another cartoon from Le Rire (Peynet rarely skipped a number), but I don’t own that particular issue.In 1974, out of Italy, came an animated feature (there had been a French short film in 1961), featuring — most appropriately — a gorgeous waltz composed by Ennio Morricone at his peak. The feature is available to watch here. Lithograph from Alphonse Daudet‘s Lettres de mon moulin (« Letters From my Windmill »), Éditions Arnaud de Vesgre, 1985.
Peynet and his amoureux were twice honoured by the French post office with a clutch of different stamps. Here are some samples.
First day cover from Valentine’s Day 1985.First day cover from November 11, 2000, posthumously this time, Peynet having gone to his glory the previous year, joining his wife of sixty-six years, Denise, who’d passed away in 1996. Here’s a lovely obituary from The Guardian.
To see you off musically, here’s a classic song that Peynet’s best friend, Georges Brassens, wrote about the illustrator’s petits amoureux.
Who's Out There? 