Tracing a grand family’s aspirations through its art

August 29, 2010|Richard Eder, Globe Correspondent

“Be careful of the unwarranted gesture,’’ the distinguished ceramicist Edmund de Waal was told by Bernard Leach, his master and mentor. The art of throwing a pot is an action both exercised and curtailed; and in this rich and chastened family memoir de Waal questions his project even as he glowingly carries it out.

“The Hare with Amber Eyes’’ covers five generations of the Ephrussi family, of which de Waal is a descendant. It starts with Charles Joachim Ephrussi, who founded a vast grain trading enterprise in Odessa, in southern Russia, in the early 19th century, and sent a son to Paris and another to Vienna to expand operations into the financing of railroads, bridges, banks and, like the Rothschilds, the governments of Europe. What de Waal is after, though, is not the rise and fall of enterprise but of time, memory, and art, not as what is permanent but as what recedes.

It is not the Ephrussi empires he focuses on, not the making of great fortunes, but on their spending. At one level he writes in vivid detail of how the fortunes were used to establish the Ephrussis’ lavish lives and high positions in Paris and Vienna society. And, as Jews, of their vulnerability: the Paris family shaken by turn-of-the century anti-Semitism surging out of the Dreyfus affair; the Vienna branch utterly destroyed in Hitler’s 1937 Anschluss.

At a deeper level, though, “Hare’’ is about something more, just as Marcel Proust’s masterpiece was about something more than the trappings of high society. As with “Remembrance of Things Past,’’ it uses the grandeur to light up interior matters: aspirations, passions, their passing; all in a duel, and a duet, of elegy and irony.

For de Waal, art is the purest expression of these interiors. As a ceramicist, his art has lodged in the making of objects to be collected. So to say that de Waal explores the collections of three of his forebears — his great-great-uncle Viktor in Vienna, Viktor’s son Iggie, a wanderer who settled in Japan, and Viktor’s cousin Charles in Paris — is to speak of something besides things; rather, of Virgil’s the tears in things.

De Waal’s is search more than research, though he does indeed ransack libraries, family diaries, and collections of letters. The two years he spent have the quality of a pilgrimage. And he is possessed of a talisman resembling the scallop shells borne by the medieval religious processions to Santiago de Compostela: 264 ancient netsuke, tiny figurines exquisitely carved by Japanese artists. They were originally purchased by Charles Ephrussi in the 1860s, then presented as a wedding present from him to Viktor in 1899, and then left to Iggie, who shortly before his death gave them to Edmund.

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