OVER THE YEARS (about eight) that I have been writing this book, a number of people have asked me why I chose Balthus as my topic. Some could not imagine why I picked a subject so patently troublesome. Others wondered why I had willingly entered into a relationship that had me perpetually agonized and excited (emotions by no means incompatible).
The reason is that Victoria Wilson asked me to. The editor of my previous book, she probably had many reasons for proposing Balthus as my topic. But initially she had no idea that I had been fascinated by his work from the time when, at age sixteen, I first began to look at art seriously and there were two Balthuses in the local museum. Nor did she realize that, over twenty years ago, my future wife and I were so enthralled by Balthus’s art that only months after we met, we acquired a drawing by him (the first object we owned together—at a time when we could scarcely pay the rent). Having added a watercolor a few years later, we regarded Balthus’s vision as part of the fabric of our everyday lives.
Not only did Vicky instinctively recognize a good match, but she nurtured it patiently, generously, and wisely. Once I realized I might be years late in delivering the manuscript, she simply told me to take my time.
Like a wise parent, she was encouraging and tough at the same time. She cautioned against being too conclusive or smug, and led me to realize the importance of being true to my ambivalence. For all these reasons Vicky Wilson is the rarest of editors; it is to her that I owe my first expression of gratitude.
No job description is adequate for Lee Buttala, who works with Vicky at Knopf. He is a master of details, and a paragon of friendliness and support: precisely the qualities one craves when working through complex, and occasionally tense, situations. His apparent unflappability and phenomenal proficiency have, on numerous occasions, been a source of salvation. His enthusiasm has been invaluable.
As is evident in the text of this book, my feelings about Balthus and his family members are complex, but I am extremely grateful to each of them. Would that everyone in the world, whatever his or her nature or motives, could be as gracious and charming, as warm and welcoming, as Balthus himself. Above all—if I may dare to put myself in the same camp as Rilke and Artaud, and as some of the painters who have benefited immeasurably from the artist’s integrity and skill at his work—I thank him for being Balthus. To Setsuko I have deep appreciation for her true kindness and generosity as a hostess and as organizer of her husband’s complex existence. Harumi and Stanislas treated me with trust and friendship. And I thank all of them for granting me the permission necessary to reproduce Balthus’s art.
Maria Gaetana Matisse has been the most splendid help. She is a person of rare and instinctive insight, and an efficient and effective diplomat. I thank her for her assistance in innumerable ways.
When I met Angela Flowers in the rural reaches of Ireland, I would never have dreamed that her aunt had been one of the first people ever to pose for Balthus. That fact led to my meeting Betty and Pierre Leyris, an encounter that influenced this book substantially, and for which I owe Angela deep thanks.
I also want to express profound gratitude to R. W. B. Lewis for his wise counsel and longtime support; Nancy Lewis for her ceaseless generosity with ideas and friendship; Natalie Charkow for her verve and kindness; John Hollander for the originality of his perceptions; John Eastman for his great intellectual grasp of so many central issues; Phyllis Fitzgerald for her patience and perseverance; John Ryden for his guidance and camaraderie; Barbara Ryden for her unfailing warmth; Stark Canning Whitely for his diligent research on the complex issues of Polish titles and nobility; Julie Agoos for her ever refreshing viewpoint; Brenda Danilowitz for her energy and helpfulness; Sanford Schwartz for his humor and brilliance; Albert J. Solnit for his wisdom and insight; Daphne Astor for her incredible astuteness and compassion; Louis Begley for both questions and answers; Susan Newhouse for her graciousness and thoughtfulness; Pearl A. Weber for her prescience and unique qualities of understanding; and Jackie Ivy for being there in so many ways. Particular thanks go to Nicholas Ohly for his extraordinary gift of friendship as well as his perspicacity.
Additionally, there are the people whose vital testimony informs the text of this book: individuals who not only gave generously of their time but helped mightily in my attempt to understand Balthus. For their thoughtfulness, intelligence, and graciousness, I thank Linda Fairstein, Judith Jones, Claus von Bülow, Pierre Leyris, Jean Leyris, John Russell, Jan Krugier, Hilton Kramer, Serge Klarsfeld, Gae Aulenti, James Lord, Basil Goulandris, Elise Goulandris, Bernard Minoret, Francine du Plessix Gray, Cleve Gray, Eugene Victor Thaw, Ned Rorem, Dolores Miró, John Richardson, Jean Leymarie, Michael Peppiatt, Marie-Pierre Colle, Sylvia Colle Lorant, Béatrice Colle Saalburg, Beatrice Cazac, and Pauline Roux. I am also grateful to the following people, no longer alive, with whom I was fortunate enough to have the chance to discuss Balthus: Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Betty Leyris, James Thrall Soby, Jane Cooley Allen, Dominique Bozo, Leland Bell, and Iris Murdoch.
Gloria Loomis has been incredible. As agent for this book, she has functioned like the ideal godparent: protective, perceptive, encouraging, realistic, deeply caring. As a friend she has been profoundly wise and generous.
In researching photos and helping with some extremely complicated logistics, Gwen Smith has been wonderfully capable, tenacious, and imaginative; it is hard to imagine how the project could have been completed without her.
And Suzanne Gray Kelly has been angelic and inordinately helpful in her assistance with some very complex stages of manuscript preparation. I cannot thank her enough for her diligence and support.
For their unstinting helpfulness I also thank Jacqueline Monnier, Janet Malcolm, Rona Roob, Leslie Waddington, Michael Brenson, Eberhard Kornfeld, Kenneth Marcus, R. B. Kitaj, Ziona Kaplan Weber, David Michaelis, Ruth Lord, Terry Tabaka, George Gibson, Micky Astor, Philip Rylands, Carl Leonardson, Sorrel Danilowitz, Laurence Murphy, Paul Overy, Katharine Faucett, Michael Anderson, Florence Giry, Judith Thurman, Martin Filler, Carlotta Hadley, John Banville, Carol Marks, Claudia Kalitan, Ted Van Dyke, Phyllis Rose, Louise Kennedy, Andrea Warburg Kaufman, Steven Marans, Flora Samuels, Corinne Zimmermann, Maegan Pussilano, Barry Svigals, Sidney Shiff, Kelly Feeney, John Bayley, Clare Edwards, Jonathan Galassi, Camilla Lyon, Aaron Hamburger, Charles Kingsley, and Tamerlane Greggs.
The role of Richard Howard in this book is immeasurable. In translating texts by Rilke, Artaud, Jouve, Baladine Klossowska, and others, he managed to evoke their poetry and spark with complete fidelity to the individual idiosyncracies of each of those brilliant minds. Moreover, Richard always made it seem like fun, and he bolstered my spirits in the homestretch of this project more than he can imagine. He is a rare and wonderful and exceptionally generous person.
For what they gave me long ago, my parents, too, have been central to this project. First of all, they had Soby’s MoMA catalog at home, where I found it soon after my discovery of Balthus. My father, Saul Weber, provided a special slant on the artist—even before I knew his work—by often referring to two dour, fascinating daughters of friends of his as “the Balthus girls.” My mother, Caroline Fox Weber, a painter, kept me ever aware that paints and canvas, not psychological concepts, were the starting point of art. My mother and father also made me realize that no two people are Jewish in the same way, and they deplored judgmentalism on this issue.
Nancy Weber, my sister, has always been the least rivalrous of siblings, and I trust that by now she knows the value I place on her kindness, her spiritual adventurousness, and her mix of passion and intelligence.
WITH HER INCREDIBLY ORIGINAL mind and passion both for the human comedy and for writing about it, Katharine Weber has, as usual, been the truest of partners. There is, in fact, no adequate way of expressing my fascination with, and love for, this extraordinary woman who is my wife.
As for our daughters Lucy Swift Weber and Charlotte Fox Weber: they have participated in this project from their girlhood into their womanhood. Time and again, each of these wonderful people has provided insight and candor about Balthus as a person and about his work. Charlotte, as always, has had a particular feeling for personal quirkiness and the most subtle nuances of human behavior. Lucy, so remarkably visual, has repeatedly pointed out much in the art that might otherwise have eluded me. Their sketches and journals pertaining to Balthus are among my favorite documents in the world.
Moreover, they have been loving and supportive, funny, intrepid, and alive to the hilt. Each is an inspiration. I dedicate this book to them both with admiration and with love.