Fighting the Octopus for Art's Sake

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 980, 24 May 1930, Page 18

Fighting the Octopus for Art's Sake

HRILLING adventures have become almost commonplace to Monsieur Elie Cheverlange, marine artist, while pursuing his lifework of

exploring the fantastic ocean floors around the South Sea islands, so that lie can study first-hand the loveliest undersea creatures in their native haunts off (he romantic coral reefs. In his quest for beauty and charm in the remote corners of the globe, the famous painter has grappled again and again with giant octopuses and has successfully put to rout many other weird and dangerous creatures of the tropical seas. Vet the fearless Frenchman is loath to discuss his daring experiences (writes If. O. Todd in the "San Francisco Chronicle”), preferring rather to emphasise what he modestly regards as his most notable contribution to (lie world —the development of a unique device that enables him to remain under water for half-hours, at a time while perfecting a technique of painting submerged many feet below the surface. Wearing especially devised sea goggles, and with 15-pound weights attached to his feet, he descends with a long rubber tube in his mouth. He must train himself in inhale and exhale air through the same tube. So be takes a long breath, expels the air through the entire length of the tube, waits until it is clear, and then takes another breath. By painstak ing practice he has reached the point where he can remain under water in perfect comfort. Mme. Cheverlange, the artist’s charming wife, has likewise mastered this technique. • The artist actually has been able to make oil paintings under water by using paint of a certain consistency and having the canvas stretched on a heavy metal plate. He also sketches on slate, steel and copper, later transferring the work to paper. Some of M. Cheverlange’s fascinating experiences are described graphically in his own words:

“It's really hard to say when I first acquired the urge to paint fish. It might have been in the neighbourhood of 15 years ago when, without funds, I took on a temporary job in a British Columbia salmon fishery, thus gaining quite an intimate acquaintance with at least one species of the finny tribe. More probably, my interest was whipped into enthusiasm by the iovely creative work of the Japanese artists, who are prone to emphasise the elfland which we call the sea bot tom. But it was in China, in Saigon, in the French section, that I first wore a diver's suit. I had been fascinated while watching the almost uncanny skill of the professional divers employed in construction work along the rivers there. "However, my actual undersea painting did not begin until 1920. While in the South Sea Islands my friend, Monsieur Herve, a high-ranking French official, urged me to try to feint some of the undersea beauties for which the islands are worldrenowned. "Very soon I borrowed regulation heavy diving equipment and was amazed at the colourful undersea

scenery, which I would describe as strange, silent gardens bathed in a weird green fog and filled with fluttering colours through which loom the orange, rose-red and yellow towers of fairy cities. “Of course, I tried to do a bit of painting while I was underneath the surface and was pleased to find that certain heavy pigments could be transferred to canvas very satisfactorily. Yet the cumbersome diving suit interfered so seriously with my free movements that I soon resolved to develop a device of n.y own. “After many failures I achieved success in this respect, devising a light tube, entirely watertight, that is held between the teeth of the wearer, goes underneath the arms and up to the surface, beiug passed through a float made of wood, so as to achieve constant buoyancy. So as to protect my nose I wore a clothespin and over my eyes a pair of sea goggles tied tightly behind the head to keep the water out. “The main beauty of this apparatus was that I needed not a stitch of clothing, save a loincloth. However, I did find it necessary, in order to stay down, to wear the regulation diving shoes, which weigh about 151bs. “After considerable practice. 1 trained myself to remain on the ocean’s bottom, at depths around ten feet, for periods of half an hour. No discomfort was suffered, so that now and then I persuaded my wife, also an enthusiastic naturalist, to go below for short intervals.

"Many of my distinguished friends smile when I tell them that instead of a paint brush, which, of course, is too light to use to advantage under the water, I employ half of an old pair of scissors. This works very well with the thick colour pigments which I found necessary to employ. "In addition to all this painting equipment, I always follow the practice of descending with a harpoon in one hand. It is the only adequate defence against the weird octopuses that abound in the coral coverns. While most of them are small, I have personally met and grappled with quite

a few giants of about five feet in circumference. "Some little-known facts about tire devilfish, as he sometimes is called, are these—he doesn’t do a great deal of swimming, though he can if he so chooses. Usually he prefers to crawl about on the ocean bottom on three or four of his eight arms. Each of these arms is covered with a double row of suckers, which are used in capturing crustaceans, his chief food, after being paralysed previously by a poison secreted by the octopus’s salivary glands.’’’ M. Cheverlange is probably the first a.rtist to study the octopus in its native haunts. He has watched it change colour from second to second, almost too rapidly for the human eye to follow; from dark sepia through flesh colour, pink and white, according to the coral over which it passed. The strange creature proceeds swiftly through the sea like a folded umbrella, the webs between its tentacles a lovely green, matching the colour of the green coral sand. Usually it hides in holes in the coral and always travels alone. As a result of many extremely intimate experience with giant octopuses, M. Cheverlange has had to develop his own technique of protection. First he explains, he tries to harpoon it, and then as quickly as possible endeavours to turn it upside down. In that position its powerful arms are almost helpless, enabling a human being actually to grasp the creature and strangle it to death. "The most prominent feature of the undersea landscape,” M. Cheverlange explains, "is the floating, translucent green fog which envelopes everything. Al! the living creatures and objects in the landscape seem to be emerging out of this fog, as if they- were bits of the mist itself, meanwhile assuming weird shapes. The whole landscape is such as one hardly would expect to find here on earth, but is one we might read about in an imaginary description of the scenery on the moon or on another planet. It is indeed like discovering a new world.’;.