Monet’s Blind Devotion: A Contextual Analysis

Welcome back, wandering soul! The Ink-stained Archivist welcomes you to the Library of the Lost—where, for each lost soul, a story might be found. 

Shall we resume our meandering exploration of my makeshift gallery? 

Last we left off, I was describing Claude Monet’s glorious Giverny garden. Alas, the serenity that once reigned within its boundaries soon shattered. I’ll explain further. Walk with me now, if you please. 

The Great War

World War I, then known as “the Great War,” exploded across Europe, bleeding over into Monet’s quiet village of Giverny, Normandy. From his tranquil home, Monet was able to discern the ongoing combat whilst painting in his tiny studio. His farmhouse was a mere fifty kilometers from the frontlines of the war in Normandy. Many villagers abandoned their homes, but Monet refused to forsake his garden and his art studio. The horrors of the Great War inspired an all-consuming, urgent obsession in Monet to paint his beloved water lilies (Banijay Documentaries). 

Monet’s “Great Decorations”

Openly patriotic, Monet took great pride in his home country of France (Banijay Documentaries). Jean-Pierre, Monet’s stepson, and Michel, his son from his first marriage, both fought in the Great War, admirably serving their country. Monet was deeply moved by the weight that the Great War bore upon his motherland at large, as well as the burden it levied upon his own family.

Naturally, Monet transmuted his anger and agony toward the unfairness of the Great War into the creation of his eight “great decorations.” On November 12, 1918, a day after the Great War concluded, Monet declared that he would donate his eight panels to the citizens of France. Through his artistic efforts, Monet sought to inspire a notion of peace in the French people and to commemorate French sacrifices to the war effort; his panels were a sort of memorial to those lost or grieving, a celebration of triumph over adversity (Banijay Documentaries). Beautiful creations, of course, can bloom from desolation, and the negative emotions associated with it often inspire civilization’s most resilient minds. Monet intended to give his beloved France a glorious monument to commemorate a hard-won victory. 

Grief: Monet’s Love Lost

Regrettably, the Great War was not Claude Monet’s only source of grief. In 1911, Monet’s serene seclusion was shattered by the death of his second wife, Alice. Understandably, he was utterly devastated. In the wake of Alice’s death, Monet found that his passion for painting had waned, so overwhelmed was he by his despair, born of burying a second spouse. 

Grief: Monet’s Sight Stolen

Afterward, when Monet had finally returned to his craft, he was confronted with the deterioration of his sight; cataracts had developed in his eyes. This would alter Monet’s perception of his subject matter and destabilize how he created his most famous works (Banijay Documentaries). Monet feared this deterioration of his sight would steal from him his ability to paint, a passion which had consumed his daily life for decades. 

Grief: A Father’s Greatest Fear

Not long after the death of Monet’s second wife, his eldest son, Jean, died in 1914. This latest loss once more smothered his spark for painting. At age seventy-three, Monet was resigned to never create art again. His compounding losses in recent years rendered him depressed and indifferent to the beauty of nature (Banijay Documentaries). Grief, like passion, inspires art and artists. It can, unfortunately, also rob artists of their will to create, in general.

Creating His “Great Decorations” 

By 1914, Monet decided to focus his attention upon producing his “great decorations.” These eight massive panels were, at first, created in the haven of Monet’s garden, as his studio on his Giverny property was far too cramped to accommodate their intimidating size. Eventually, Monet ordered that a new studio be constructed with the express purpose of temporarily housing his most ambitious masterpieces yet. Within this studio, the eight canvases were set upon wheels so that Monet could more efficiently maneuver around them, view them from all possible angles, and ensure organic continuity between them. Compared to Monet’s previous depictions of his beloved water lilies, these panels feature more intense colors, and the brushstrokes are far less restrained. Monet wanted those who behold his eight panels to feel as though they were poised at the edge of the water lily pond, a serene paradise bursting with vitality and ethereal beauty, a mere breath away (Banijay Documentaries). 

Monet’s War with Perfectionism  

Though he intended to donate the panels to France in 1922, Monet was reluctant to do so when the moment finally arrived. Ever-doubting his own vision, Monet continually recreated the eight canvases—even destroying a few early iterations (“History of the Water Lilies Cycle.”). Perfectionism plagues artistic geniuses and the common man alike, and Monet bore that burden more heavily than most of his peers. Self-criticism tormented him throughout his impressive decades-long career, haunting him with each brushstroke and layer of paint laid upon these canvases. 

Displaying Monet’s “Grand Decorations” 

Despite his efforts, this monumental final project never struck Monet as fully complete (Banijay Documentaries). His ”Water Lilies” series engrossed him for the remaining three decades of his life, consuming his focus until his death at age eighty-six (“History of the Water Lilies Cycle.”). After Monet’s death, his eight panels were installed at the Musée de l’Orangerie in accordance with his meticulous specifications. In his final instructions, Monet dictated to the installment’s architects every minuscule element he deemed necessary to the space in which his creations would be displayed, from the panels’ positioning, the rhythm and flow of their placement in relation to each other, and the appropriate distances allowed between each of the eight panels. 

Observing Monet’s “Grand Decorations” 

Along the curved walls of two interlocked rooms, his eight panels were installed in harmony with the flow of the space, to invite the viewer into his mystical waterscape across the rhythm of time (Banijay Documentaries). Evident in their elliptical design, observers were encouraged to meander throughout the two rooms and follow the natural flow and rhythm of time as it transforms the serene landscape of Monet’s beloved Giverny. He intentionally instructed the designers to install the panels cast in hues reminiscent of a sunrise to the east and those cast in hues reminiscent of a sunset to the west. As natural light streams down from skylights and into the elliptical space, the appearance of Monet’s eight panels evolves, each as dynamic and mesmerizing as nature itself. Weather from beyond the museum‘s walls impacts the observer’s perception of Monet’s mesmerizing panels as well. Day or night, overcast skies or unobstructed sun—all affect how Monet’s artworks are perceived, transforming paint on canvas into a changeable, enchanting viewing experience.  

An Admirer’s Perspective  

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the Library is liberally decorated with some of the more celebrated artistic masterpieces from across time—all replicas, of course…Countless acclaimed artists, before their days in the sun, wandered through those very doors and into the shadowy halls of my cloistered domain. I am a great lover of landscapes, and Claude Monet’s “Water Lilies” series has always struck me as especially enchanting. Tragedy and tranquility were balanced in equal measure throughout his life, and it is that potent paradoxical dichotomy that I believe elevated his creative genius from masterful to transcendent. 

These opposing influences—the ethereal serenity of his garden in Giverny and the tempest of grief engulfing his spirit—each consumed his inner world, leaving Monet with only his paints and a desire to bestow a feat of bewitching beauty onto the people of France. These two influences combined resulted in the creation of eight panels, Monet’s “Great Decorations.” The loss of his sight, in particular, has always captured my attention.  His grief, resignation, and reignited passion for his craft is inspiring to those of us who, though disabled, yearn to carve for themselves a sense of meaning amidst the tumult. His determination to craft a poignant monument to resilience in the face of grief and pain harkens back to a longing in many marginalized artists. Monet’s final eight canvases in his “Water Lilies” series honor not only what was lost in the fury of the first World War, but also what Monet himself lost to time. These canvases celebrate all that was sacrificed and reclaimed by Monet: his passion for art, his belief in himself to create such works, and his love of his beloved France. 

You’re leaving so soon? A shame. Thank you for humoring my fanatical ramblings. I adore Monet. 

If you’ve enjoyed this moment of artistic mischief, please consider subscribing. Each time we publish a new article, a crafty, technologically crafty wizard will swiftly notify you. I beg of you, do not ask me to explain how his arcane magic operates. I’m no wizard, but merely a lowly archivist who barely comprehends the knobs and buttons required in the publication of these posts. 

Your Ink-stained Archivist bids you farewell. 

Works Cited 

“A Phenomenology of Display: Monet’s L’Orangerie, The Panorama Rotunda, and the History of Proto-Installation Art” by Anthony Portulese – Rutgers Art Review. (n.d.). 

Banijay Documentaries. “Monet’s Water Lilies – World’s Greatest Paintings – S01 EP05 – Art Documentary.” YouTube, 26 Feb. 2024.

“History of the Water Lilies Cycle.” Musée De L’Orangerie, www.musee-orangerie.fr/en/node/33.

LIVING IN MONET’S GIVERNY — LESLIE PARKE. (2025, January 30). LESLIE PARKE. 

Monet, Claude. Water Lilies. 1914-1926. Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris. Musée de l’Orangerie. fr,.