The Day the Mountains Caught Fire
Andre Derain didn't go to Collioure to relax. He and Matisse went to the Mediterranean coast in 1905 because they were tired of the gray haze of the past. They wanted to see if they could make a painting vibrate with enough intensity to blind a critic. The result was Mountains at Collioure. It is not a landscape in the traditional sense. It’s an explosion of heat and raw pigment.
Derain stopped bothering with a palette. He took his tubes of oil paint and squeezed them directly onto the canvas. He didn't want to blend the truth away. He left patches of the white canvas bare and let the gaps breathe. That raw white became the brightest light in the room. It was aggressive and honest. It looked like someone had set the mountains on fire with primary colors.
When this work hit Room VII at the Salon d'Automne that year, the world blinked. People were used to soft edges and polite shadows. Instead, they found a room full of what one critic called wild beasts. The term Fauves stuck. It was meant as an insult, but for Derain, it was a badge of honor. He wasn't trying to capture a mountain. He was trying to capture the feeling of the sun hitting your retinas until everything turns to gold and blue fire. It was 1905 and the old ways of seeing were dead. Derain was just the guy holding the match.
References
Derain, Andre. Mountains at Collioure. 1905. Oil on canvas. National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.
Elderfield, John. Fauvism and its Affinities. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1976.
Girard, Xavier. The Fauves. Paris: Editions de la Reunion des musees nationaux, 1999.