“The pain passes, but the beauty remains.” In the early 1890s, famed French painter Pierre-August Renoir developed severe rheumatoid arthritis. Only in his 50s, recently married to his model Aline Charigot, with one son born and another on the way (he would ultimately have three), he was told to seek warmer climates in the south of France. He ultimately settled here, in a small town just outside of Nice called Cagnes-Sur-Mer, building a home on a farm in the hills with a view down to the sea on one side and to a 14th century castle on another. And he would continue to paint.

“The pain passes but the beauty remains.” Over the next couple of decades, before his death in 1919, Renoir would see his health deteriorate to the point that he was wheelchair bound. Assistants would have to hand him his brushes, and canvases would be moved in front of him since he couldn’t move in front of them. His hands developed deformities, and were often wrapped in bandages to help prevent skin irritation. His fine motor skills deteriorated to the point that his art style changed, brush strokes widening. But still, he continued to paint.

“The pain passes but the beauty remains.” Desiring to see the outside despite not being able to move in his later years, he had a glass studio constructed between trees on the grounds of his home. Assistants and family members would carry him there and back in a sedan chair, and models would pose outside the glass so that he could paint them outside while he remained warmer, in his wheelchair inside the glass. And even when his hands failed him almost completely, he began to work with clay, with a young sculptor helping him to continue his work of creation.

“The pain passes, but the beauty remains.” These words, perhaps more than any others – and certainly more so than any I could use – sum up the spirit of Pierre-August Renoir, a man dedicated to art, to beauty, to creation despite circumstances that would make so many others choose comfort instead.

The house here at “Les Collettes,” Renoir’s farm and home in Cagnes-Sur-Mer, is not huge, although it would house the artist, his family (one son remained through his father’s death and a second cottage on the property was built for him), and assistants, as well as guests. Paul Cezanne was a regular, apparently. Today, it houses the Musee Renoir, a small glimpse into the later years of the man’s life and art. It was built in 1907, and between groves of orange and olive, sea vistas, and a remarkable view of the old town, it would have been peaceful, perfectly attuned for an artist.

As far as a Renoir collection goes, it is minimal. There are probably two dozen paintings here, most of which he did during those last couple decades of his life. A blonde child reading. A woman in yellow. The view through the olive trees here at Les Collettes, or the house itself.

Looking closely, one can see the brush strokes change, as pain and limited mobility would take their course. A view of Nice, nudes in a garden, a woman washing clothes. They are unmissable as Renoir canvases, but different, more abstract, as fine motor skills evaded the artist late in life.

But what the museum lacks in actual canvases by the artist, it makes up for in photographs of his life and his family, and in paintings of Renoir by others who came to stay at Les Collettes. One of those especially, Albert Andre, captured the man at work so vividly.

And here in the house you can visit Pierre-August Renoir’s two inside studios (the larger of which has his easel and wheelchair set up, brushes to the side, facing a chaise for a model, as though he just stepped out for a moment) as well as a reconstruction of the glass studio on the grounds.

The easy highlight, though, is the series of sculptures that Renoir would work on in the final years of his life. Working with Richard Gino, a young sculptor in his 20s, he would bring family photos to life, as well as some of his paintings. Portraits of his (then late) wife are common, as are explorations of his woman washing clothes.

I am unclear as to who did what in these collaborations. But I choose to imagine an old man smiling through his thick white beard as the younger sculptor helps to move his hands through the clay, creating together as one.

(A bit of practical information. Musee Renoir is about a twenty minute walk from the Cagnes-Sur-Mer train station, which itself is only a few stops from Nice. It closes for lunch, so be there either before or after, and you’ll want about an hour and a half minimum to not feel rushed. If you want to see the old town of Cagnes, it is about a half hour from the station the other direction, either a steep walk uphill or a bus, to get to Chateau Grimaldi, built in 1309 by by Rainier I.

And don’t miss the cool installations all over the old city (and even at Musee Renoir) of artists’ works depicted where they would have been painted.)

“The pain passes, but the beauty remains.” I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to be an aging Pierre-August Renoir here in Cagnes-Sur-Mer. To be in constant pain, to lose the ability to move around, but to still have such a positive attitude on life, and on creation. Even more than his art itself, I can think of no better tribute.

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