Gauguin was magnetic, intelligent and an utter bastard. He wanted to be seen as living the erotic life that was the envy of all other men, which is why Professor Nancy Mowll Matthews titled her extensive biography Paul Gauguin: An Erotic Life (Yale University Press; 2001.)
This is a large, heavy book with very small print and lots of endnotes. I hate endnotes. I realize that footnotes are essential for establishing and embellishing facts presented in the text, but this gets out of hand. Some people may like flipping back and forth from the text to the notes, but in this case it got to be ridiculous. Why not just add the endnote information in the damn text? Because that's not the way biographies are properly done, apparently.
I have to admit, I do not like most of Gauguin's work. Yes, I realize he was pushing boundaries, breaking new ground and championed working from imagination rather than just from life, but his stuff creeps me out more than H. R. Geiger's stuff (and he designed the Alien for Alien (1979.)
Despite the title, the book does not have much about Gauguin's sex life or imaginary sex life but does talk to great length about how much he hated women. It also describes the cruelties Gauguin would casually inflict on anyone he encountered. He also left his wife and five children high and dry while he went and lived the high life as one of the most famous artists of his day.
The book also hints that Gauguin was somehow responsible for Vincent's final breakdown which lead to his suicide but does not follow up on these hints. I have to admit, I couldn't wait for Gauguin to die because he was such scum. Yes, many of his works are considered masterpieces, but Now I know why most of his subjects have such evil expressions on their faces.
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