Camille Claudel 1915 Page #3

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It cries, it bellows...

it whines, it laughs, it is

unbearable!

These are creatures that even

parents do not support.

Why am I here?

Take me.

Take me from here.

They tried to poison me.

Camille!

What do you think, Camille?

What do we do, Mum, Louise and I?

We do everything for you to get better

You have the best care when

there's a war.

You're wrong.

I'll never cease to be wrong,

only cease to be sincere.

Yes...

I learned you had sent...

a nice amount of money

to Mr. director.

You're right, because

he's someone who...

has a great reputation.

Who has benevolence...

like the sisters elsewhere.

You try to comfort me...

you're burden's extraordinary...

you make an effort for me.

You're raising four kids.

You go to the hotels, you have

terrible burdens.

I do not know how you do it.

I am unable to.

But you know, here,

it is very difficult...

to live.

You know, Paul?

There are rules, ways adapted to live.

This is very difficult, to change

these things.

There's too much noise.

You know, I...

I would like to return to Villeneuve.

I want to live with Mum.

I do not understand why you will

not take me.

Here in first, it is unbearable.

I'd rather be in third class.

You see, I saw my diet.

I do not need much money.

It's no use at all.

I ll...

Talk to the director. Ask him to

deliver me or...

It's cold here.

There's the wind.

You should tell Mum to come and see me.

I'd like it to be reviewed again.

You'll say?

Paul?

Going quickly is not so tiring.

She could do it.

Your wife does not want me, nor

the others...

but hoped more again

You do manipulate, Paul.

This is Berthelot.

You know, your friend Berthelot

who took all my works.

It seems that my little workshop,

my poor furniture...

my little household and my tools...

excite their lust.

This is beautiful...

these millionaires who throw

themselves on a helpless artist.

They are 40 times more millionaires.

Imagination.

The feeling, the new...

the unforeseen that comes from a

developed spirit.

The thing being closed to them...

heads, mouthfuls...

nervous, obtuse

the light closed forever...

They need someone to provide for them

They said:

"We use a hallucination to find our

subjects."

They are those who have had

fundamental recognition...

and do not give some compensation...

to the poor woman they deprived of

her genius.

Paul...

Paul...

This is the exploitation of the woman.

They want to make me sweat blood.

And Rodin.

The diabolical mind of Rodin...

thinks one thing: steal.

Afraid that I become more than him...

during life, and without doubt

after death.

He wanted them to take me in their

claws.

He wanted me to be unhappy.

Oh, there, I am.

This might not disturb you, but it

does me, Paul.

I miss much of this slavery.

I'd like to be home and close the door.

So you say:
"God...

"God is good.

God pities the afflicted."

Let's talk, your God who

let me rot in an asylum.

God allows experience, Camille.

He withdrew his hand.

He left us in sin to check the

secrets of His wisdom.

His secrets do our due hesitance

because.

we had not enough to convince us.

There is nothing on earth that is like

the translation.

Meaning He who is in heaven.

God is everywhere.

In all natural phenomena...

all of which signifies something

of Him.

In all human feelings, Camille.

All human acts.

There is no-one in which he has

no interest

Who he doesn't see

Who has no connection with him.

Both the good and the bad.

Everything is parable, Camille.

All signifies infinite complexity.

The connections of creatures with

their creator.

In reality, Paul...

it would force me to make sculptures.

Seeing we cannot do it, it gives me

trouble.

But not decide that...

instead.

Promise me...

you'll hold me and you will

not abandon me.

I promise you, Camille.

For 20 years

every night, every morning, pray

for you.

I'm still sick, poisoned in the blood.

My body burns, Paul.

This Huguenot Rodin

makes me dispense the dose...

because he hoped to inherit

my workshop.

I'll leave you.

Yes.

Can it be that when the war ends,

I can go with you?

I'll sit in the light.

lam peaceful.

Hello. How is it going?

What a terrible sadness.

There is no worse job than art.

The genius pays.

What a tragedy! What a life!

The artistic vocation is a very

dangerous one...

and one which few people

can resist.

Art addresses faculties of the mind

that are very dangerous...

imagination and sensitivity...

which can easily make the equilibrium

go haywire...

and lead a life

with little aplomb.

At 30...

my sister thought that Rodin

would not marry.

Everything collapsed around her...

and reason did not resist.

That was the end of her conscious life.

Yes.

Miss... your sister

remains very persecuted.

Always the fear of being poisoned.

With all the genius, life was

full of disappointments.

Yes, but...

Miss Claudel is now calm and docile...

she misses a lot...

she wants very strongly...

to be closer to Paris

wanting to live alone in the country.

And think

it might be time...

to try to satisfy that.

Camille spent the last 29 years

of her life in the asylum

and died on 19 October 1943,

age 79 years.

Buried in a communal grave,

her body will never be found.

Dying on 23 February 1955, Paul visited

his sister until the end of her life.

He did not attend her funeral

at Montdevergues.

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