A half century later, a full look at Matisse

In another respect, his personal appearance often resembled that of an insurance salesman - bespectacled and sober-suited - and was so different from his art that some unperceptive people (notably in the English "Bloomsbury" literary set) failed to see beyond the mask and thought him bourgeois and pompous. Spurling's testimony frequently shows him to have been neither.

This biography presents much more than a glimpse behind the scenes. It discloses a ruthlessly dedicated career, a massive determination, and, by giving flesh to the hidden shadows of the man, it provokes a stimulatingly fresh look at his art. The vagaries and traumas of his life and times, however idealistic and protective might be the hermetic nature of his working practice, are nevertheless shown to have had a surprisingly direct bearing on its mood and character. Paintings made during World War I in particular can now be seen to have a stringent, grim stature somehow not evident before.

In his lifetime, France was invaded three times by the Germans. War horrified Matisse and he was deeply tortured by his incapacity to fight. Sometimes he managed to pull up his drawbridge and contribute to the war effort by simply continuing to work. Spurling settles not a few myths about him, one of which was that in World War II he indulged himself in the fleshpots of Nice. This absolute myth is not unconnected with another - that he sexually exploited his many models. Spurling presents evidence that suggests that instead he was scrupulous in observing the propriety of the artist-model relationship. His models often expressed appreciation.

This book is not only about Matisse, but also looks penetratingly into the lives of his family, friends, and assistants - notably his wife, his daughter, and his last assistant, Lydia Delectorskaya. These three women, whose lives were overwhelmed in their fierce dedication to the artist, were heroic. After many years, the first two apparently needed to distance themselves from the domination; Matisse was no exception to the tendency of "great" artists to be overweeningly egocentric - making the most impossible demands on others because they also never hesitate to make impossible demands on themselves.

Yet Matisse also had a counterbalancing generosity and sensitivity toward others. Spurling, writing about the exactions he imposed on his assistants as the Vence chapel exhaustingly took shape, observes: "Even those who most bitterly resented his exactions at the time agreed afterwards that Matisse took much but gave more." And the reader never doubts that what he gave to posterity in his art was incalculably rich.

• Christopher Andreae has been writing for the Monitor since the 1960s. He lives in Glasgow, Scotland.

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