During the terrible autumn of 1870, Camille Pissarro began packing up his family’s belongings and boarding up their residence in Louveciennes, a village near Paris. The Prussian Army was marching on the French capital. It would be safer to move away than to stay.
He could hear the rumble of heavy artillery off in the distance. Meanwhile, a popular trade magazine warned artists not to sketch or paint outdoors:
We think it is our duty to warn artists that it is dangerous to make any drawings, sketches, or studies after nature in any part of France. The local people fancy they see Prussian spies everywhere.
His painting The Conversation, Louveciennes, captures a brief moment during those harrowing weeks. Pissarro’s wife—the woman wearing a blue ribbon in her hair—is on the porch talking with a neighbor. Are they talking about the siege of Paris? Planning a temporary move to England?
Little Jeanne-Rachel Pissarro watches her father paint but remains safely by her mother’s side. The dirt road in front of their house is deserted, except for a young family enjoying the calm that often precedes a storm.
Within weeks, enemy troops will break into and occupy the Pissarro home. When the artist reaches out from England to inquire about the condition of his house, the landlord replies:
You ask for information concerning your house. I can assure you the word “house” is poorly chosen. “Stable” would be more accurate.
Horses are being kept in the small room beside the living room. The kitchen and pantry are being used as a sheepfold. We have some of your paintings well taken care of, however, those “gentlemen” are using a few of your paintings as carpets.
How Louveciennes inspired Pissarro
A socialist at heart, Pissarro had little interest in the grandiose historical and mythological themes favored by the French Academy of Fine Arts in Paris. He preferred to portray his neighbors in Louveciennes exactly as he saw them: as unassuming yet integral parts of the French landscape.
The focal point of The Conversation, Louveciennes is Pissarro’s pregnant wife, who stands with her back completely turned away from us. This bold choice directly challenges the ultra-conservative norms of the French Academy. As does the wagon wheel leaning against a shed—which contemporary critics said was like painting trash on the side of the road.
In his paintings, Pissarro uses quick, visible brushstrokes. Several areas of The Conversation, Louveciennes give the impression of being unfinished, particularly on the far right side of the canvas where everything dissolves into sunlight and air. You don’t see door knobs, panes of glass, or any other fine architectural details. Nor do you see buttons, freckles, or any other fine figural details. The artist is focusing on shapes and textures.
Sunlight streams in from the left side of the picture and reflects off the row of white buildings across the street. This warm light produces colorful shadows—green on the road, blue on the wooden fence—a technique rooted in science that will soon become a defining feature of French Impressionism. (See the Third Impressionist Exhibition)
Is Pissarro the father of Impressionism?
Despite the chaos brought on by the Franco-Prussian War, the years 1870 and 1871 were remarkably productive for Pissarro. Comfortably settled in the London suburb of Norwood, he painted constantly—easily turning out a painting a week, if not more.
At the same time, he encouraged Monet, CĂ©zanne, and the other young Impressionists not to shy away from color. “Apply paint generously and unhesitatingly,” he advised, “for it’s best not to lose the first impression.”
Pissarro was the dean of Impressionist painters, not only because of his age, but also by virtue of his wisdom and his warmhearted personality.
He was aware, perhaps more acutely than the others, that their endeavors were in keeping with the new tendencies of artistic, literary, philosophical, and even social progress in France.
Art historian John Rewald, “Pissarro,” 1989
Country roads and changing landscapes
One of Pissarro’s favorite motifs was a path or dirt road—a setting he used often to illustrate leisurely strolls and rural labor. He also used roads to express his personal response to the constantly evolving French landscape and the effects of modernization.
Importantly, in The Conversation, Louveciennes, the dirt road in front of the Pissarro home leads directly to the Palace of Versailles, the residence of Emperor Napoleon III. The French ruler would soon be captured by the Prussian Army on September 2, 1870.
Yet for now, the road outside the Pissarro home located at No. 22 Route de Versailles remains quiet and covered with evanescent patterns of light and shadow. The leaves of a young tree are turning orange. An older tree bends in the breeze.
True to the spirit of Impressionism, Pissarro captures a fleeting moment: the calm before the storm.
Epilogue: “Minette”
Before sailing for England, Pissarro and his family took refuge at the home of Adèle and Ludovic Piette, dear friends who lived in Montfoucault, France. The Piettes developed a special affection for Pissarro’s daughter, Jeanne-Rachel, whom they nicknamed “Minette.”
After the Franco-Prussian War, Pissarro gave them this portrait of his now seven-year-old daughter as a token of his gratitude.
One year later, Jeanne-Rachel died due to a respiratory infection. The Piettes kindly returned the portrait to her grieving parents.
During World War II, this precious work of art was one of thousands stolen by the Nazis. Remarkably, it was recovered by the Allies from a German train in 1944. Through this reclaimed painting, may Minette’s memory continue to be a blessing.
Postscript: If you happen to be in Austin…
Explore “The European Avant-Garde: From Monet to Picasso” at the Blanton Museum of Art from September 27, 2026 thru August 5, 2029. This special exhibition features works by Pissarro, Monet, Gauguin, Kandinsky, Picasso, and more.