Robert Frederick Blum was born in Cincinnati, Ohio in 1857. Blum studied first with Frank Duveneck and then between 1876 and 1877, at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in Philadelphia. In his studies and early in his career, Blum drew stylistic inspiration from the work of the Spanish artist Mariano Fortuny, leading his friends to affectionately call him “Blumtuny.” Blum settled in New York City, where he began his career working for Scribner’s as an illustrator. His first trip overseas came soon after, in 1880, when he traveled with his friend and fellow artist William Merritt Chase to Venice. Described as the “preeminent exponents” of the pastel technique in America, Blum and Chase later came together to found the Society of Painters in Pastels. This voyage further proved a watershed moment for Blum by igniting in him a love for Venice; he would return to the city six times throughout the subsequent decade.

In Venice, Blum found his subject matter in the less frequented corners of the city, depicting scenes and people, such as Venice’s lace makers and bead stringers, which were not given attention by his contemporaries. Italy proved to be a place of growth for Blum; his style matured and truly became his own amidst the winding Venetian canals and alleyways, while still retaining the coloristic and compositional prowess of Fortuny. Another influence surfaced while Blum was in Venice, through his introduction to James McNeill Whistler.

Although Whistler was widely known to be a difficult man, the personable Blum seems to have charmed him. “Whistler is here, and I know him well,” Blum wrote, “he seems very much interested in me and though I am sometimes dissatisfied with my work, he always encourages me.” Whistler’s works were rich deposits of Japanese artistic influence. The somewhat abstracted use of color and the flattened perspective central to Japanese art and design, and to many of Whistler’s compositions, in turn inspired Blum and he readily applied these principles to his Venetian paintings. Bruce Weber writes that “like Whistler and the Japanese, Blum created an asymmetrical design, and sought to achieve a tension between an empty or blank area of ground, and the contrasting figures or motifs.” (112). Blum’s aim was to create a balanced and unified impression of a scene, and to not be concerned with a rational or “realistic” conception of space.

In The Libreria, Venice, Blum uses a frontal view of the libreria in order to emphasize the flatness of the Venetian scene, demonstrating his indifference towards spatial realism. Blum also creates a tension between the empty, still water and the striking buildings and gondolas, resulting in the sort of balanced scene which hints towards Blum’s Whistlerian influence. Furthermore, the elaborate structure of the libreria sits centrally in the composition, the brilliant turquoise sky and the shimmering, reflective water surrounding it in equal proportion. Indeed, the scale and ornateness of the libreria are somewhat toned down in favor of the jewel-toned sky, which seems as vast as a sea. The figures who mill around the libreria and the column seem even less significant, as small and missable as insects. In doing so, Blum informs his viewers that the most impressive part of Venice is not necessarily the human architecture and infrastructure, but the city’s natural, exotic beauty. Much as in Blum’s other Venice scenes, such as Entrance to the Grand Canal, Venice, The Libreria evokes the slightly otherworldly quality of a daydream. It is at once familiar and unfamiliar, simple and detailed, as suggestive of a real Venetian time and place as an imaginary one. Regardless, Blum’s fluid handling of the paint enables this work to extend beyond the canvas and come to life, bringing the viewer with it as well.