
With his milky skin and sleepy eyes, Amedeo Modigliani was one of modern art’s fabled beauties. His life was box-office gold, a classic mortal tale of squalor and salvation. An artist-genius sinks under the weight of poverty, illness and addiction, dies at 35, leaving behind ruined lives — his distraught mistress kills herself and their unborn child — and a body of hugely popular art.
Is the story true? Only up to a point, and it’s what lies beyond that point that interests Meryle Secrest in her new biography,“Modigliani: A Life.” She lets basic facts stand — privation, illness, chemicals — but recasts the artist’s character from dissolute victim to active performer, one who controlled the way his life would be viewed by his contemporaries, and by history.
Modigliani was born in 1884 in Livorno, Italy, to a Sephardic Jewish line of intellectual aristocrats — they traced their lineage to Spinoza — and fiscal bunglers. Although by the time he came along family fortunes had long since evaporated, he tended to carry himself like a prince. And the experience of having survived a series of childhood health crises, including tuberculosis, only increased his sense of exceptionalism.
Unsurprisingly, he viewed artists as privileged beings. At 17, he wrote that as a species they had “different rights, different values than do normal, ordinary people because we have different needs which put us — it has to be said and you must believe it — above their moral standards.” Many adolescents play with such ideas. Modigliani went on to live them.
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