Pierre Bonnard was a part time law student and a part time painter. A man of diverse interests and little focus, he also considered a career as an interior decorator, or possibly a set designer. But mostly he enjoyed an active social life, spending much of his time at the theatre or chatting at the cafés with friends.
Then one day Pierre saw a striking young woman getting off a trolley. He followed her to a small shop where she worked stringing beads on wreaths. Friends later described Marthe de Moligny as a "washed out Ophelia type...unstable and eccentric and morose." But Bonnard saw something special in her and persuaded her to leave the shop to become his model, his mistress, and later his wife.
Pierre and Marthe were very different. They quarreled bitterly at first. Pierre was unfaithful to Marthe. Marthe was melancholy, a reclusive hypochondriac and often a scold. When Pierre invited friends over, Marthe would slam the door in their faces. And yet, Pierre and Marthe held on, gradually working out their differences. Each surrendered the things that were less important to them. Bonnard gave up his mistress and his social life for the reclusive Marthe. They made a home together in a small apartment with almost no furniture. There, they retreated to their inner sanctum, the tiny bathroom where Marthe loved to take long baths every day while Pierre watched and painted her again and again.
In the cramped space, sometimes Pierre's own hand or leg ended up in the picture:
But it didn't matter. Pierre had found his focus, and was on his way to becoming a great painter.
The couple shed friends, entertainment and other outside distractions as they went deeper and deeper. Pierre worked on one painting of Marthe in the bath for two years. As Norman MacLean observed, Everything gets smaller on its way to becoming eternal. Altogether Pierre is reported to have made 384 pictures of his wife. The couple stayed together for 50 years, and when Marthe died Pierre was disconsolate.
Marthe never cared much about material possessions, but she did covet a grand bathroom, one with windows and running hot water so she wouldn't have to heat water in a pan on the kitchen stove. For most of her life, her bathroom had a simple iron bathtub, cracked plaster and raw wooden floors. So I find it revealing that Pierre painted her bathroom as very large, with shimmering rainbows of color and beautiful tiles, mirrors, luxuriant towels and sunlight streaming through big windows.
I suspect that's what he saw, and that's what he gave her.