M. Degas Steps Out
In the autumn of 2011, I went to see Degas and the Ballet, an exhibition which had recently opened at the Royal Academy in London’s Piccadilly. Long an admirer of Degas’s art, I cherished this opportunity to see so many of his works – not far short of one hundred paintings, sculptures, pastels, drawings, and prints, as well as a number of the photographs he had taken in his later years. Although the exhibition was everything I could have hoped for, and more, my most vivid memory is not of the works on display, but of a grainy sequence of black and white film which was being shown in the exhibition’s last room. The sequence was very short, running for a mere nine seconds, but it was being played on a continuous loop, and I sat and watched it again and again, totally mesmerized. A notice to one side explained that the central figure in the sequence – a bowler-hatted man walking along a busy Parisian street, accompanied by a much younger woman – was the artist whose exhibition we had just visited. I don’t recall if it said anything else.
Thus begins M. Degas Steps Out, Philip Hoy’s painstakingly researched, engagingly written, and thought-provoking essay, an essay in which he not only tells us how this fugitive bit of film came to be made but also seeks to correct mistakes about it which have entered the accounts of earlier commentators – biographers, art historians, even the film-maker himself. Then, in a fine postscript, Hoy addresses himself to the question of what it is about this film that is so captivating, enticing us to watch it not just once or twice, but repeatedly.
M. Degas Steps Out
A fascinating forensic essay, and a scholarly tour de force. — Julian Barnes
Philip Hoy’s writing is excellent, his sleuthing persuasive, and his conclusion packs a punch. M. Degas Steps Out is likely to be of no little interest to Degas scholars and aficionados.— Neil Berry
Philip Hoy’s protracted examination of a mere nine seconds of film of the aged Edgar Degas walking towards us down a Paris street has the effect of waking us up to the utter strangeness of human life and of the mysterious power of photography and film. Haunting. — Gabriel Josipovici, Emeritus Professor of English, University of Sussex
A truly remarkable piece of work, this beautifully written essay proves to be as affecting as it is enthralling. Hoy is best known as a publisher and editor, but in these pages he steps out as an equally brilliant author. M. Degas Steps Out deserves to find a wide readership. — Jonathan Post, Distinguished Research Professor of English, University of California, Los Angeles
Philip Hoy fully justifies spending so many pages on a mere 9 seconds of historical event. An exemplary piece of forensic research becomes, through his handling of it, an utterly absorbing story. — Christopher Reid
I haven’t read a stranger, more original book in a very long time. It’s a wonder. I suspect that M. Degas, lover of privacy that he was, would have been delighted by the book, which it’s an understatement to call an ‘essay’. — Sherod Santos, Emeritus Professor of English, University of Missouri
An engrossing treat: Philip Hoy’s M. Degas Steps Out examines a short illicit film of Degas in his old age and turns it into an absorbing quest. — Miranda Seymour
What a superb essay — a thrilling page turner and a powerfully moving memento mori. I love Hoy’s patient attention to detail, the way he looks, then looks again, and in describing what he sees dramatizes as vitally as possible the pastness of the past, its vanishing immediacy. A fabulous and riveting piece. — Alan Shapiro, William R. Kenan, Jr. Distinguished Professor of English and Creative Writing, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
M. Degas Steps Out is a triumph of patience and perseverance, observation and speculation, research and imagination, in an ekphrastic genre that as far as I know Philip Hoy has invented. His profound meditation involves exegeses of stills from a nine-second silent, black-and-white film of an aging Edgar Degas taking the air on a Parisian Boulevard. Hoy’s animation of these stills conjures another dimension altogether from that of the ‘movie.’ It makes one think now of Sebald, now of Proust. — Stephen Yenser, Distinguished Research Professor of English, University of California, Los Angeles