The strawberry picker whose title changed

A little girl stands before a landscape, with strawberries that make the scene immediately recognisable. Mariette with Strawberries seems to offer a simple encounter: a child, a harvest and a rural setting. Yet Albert Anker organises several times within this presence. There is that of the posing model, that of a scene wishing to appear caught from life and that of a title that became familiar after the painting. Distinguishing them takes nothing away from the image’s gentleness. It allows us to recover a precise object behind a name we might believe transparent.

The canvas dates from 1884. According to the Musée cantonal des Beaux-Arts in Lausanne, Anker described it in his sales book as a little girl with strawberries. The name Mariette subsequently refers to the title of a story by Jeremias Gotthelf published in 1852. The museum specifies that Anker’s illustrations for this text do not resemble the painting. It would therefore be misleading to tell the image as a direct illustration of an identified literary episode. The name contributed to its reception, but does not replace the history of its making.

The model is Rosa Zesiger, a ten-year-old girl from Anker’s village. This identity constitutes a documentary reference point; it does not give us access to all the child’s thoughts during the sittings. Her face may seem dreamy or distant, but a painted expression is not enough to reconstruct an inner state. The visitor can retain the intimacy of the first name and observe the choices of pose. The portrait remains an encounter constructed by the artist, capable of giving an impression of a lived moment without being a recording of that moment.

The colour red offers a discreet route. It draws us towards the strawberries, then can bring attention back to the headscarf and face. The gaze thus circulates between the activity evoked and the person represented. A small amount of colour organises a large part of the model’s presence. The painter does not need to multiply actions to make the scene alive. He can make a fruit and a garment converse, give their association intensity and maintain the face in a precise relationship with the objects accompanying it.

Clothes and containers also participate in constructing the place. They give the figure a material belonging, that of a world of textiles, utensils and everyday gestures. These elements may seem secondary beside the face, but they contribute to the credibility of the whole. The visitor does not encounter an abstract childhood placed against an interchangeable background. We see materials and uses, making the scene close while recalling the historical distance separating us from its making and its first public.

The landscape opens this encounter towards a wider expanse. The museum identifies Lake Biel and the heights of the Jura. The girl’s silhouette and the distant space are not received in the same way: one presents itself clearly, the other provides a horizon. This difference can make the work of composition felt. The painting brings together a close presence and an environment that locates without overwhelming. We need not think that Anker painted every element in the same place and at the same moment to experience the coherence of their union.

The literary name adds a history of reception to this assemblage. One public can recognise Gotthelf, remember a reading and look at the girl through that memory. Another public can enter through the strawberries or the landscape. The same painting supports these different paths. Documentation helps us keep them distinct: the association with a story is a cultural reality, while the choice of model and entry in the sales book belong to the making. Their coexistence is part of the work’s richness, without authorising us to confuse them.

The painting entered the museum in 1939 through a donation by Bertha Bovon in memory of her sister Elisa Spühler. A new memory then accompanied the previous one. Visitors can know it, then simply return to the girl and the strawberries. The scene retains its power of closeness despite changes in name and context. Mariette with Strawberries thus tells of several transmissions without becoming several paintings: a model lends her presence, a literature lends a title, and a gift gives the work a place where that presence can continue to meet other gazes.