Welcome back to my virtual art gallery, where I like to highlight painters, particularly Paris-inspired artists, that I’ve never heard of. When speaking of early 20th-century art in Paris, the usual household names like Picasso, Matisse, or Modigliani often spring to mind, yet within that lively milieu, there thrived another remarkable painter that has long-evaded my radar, whose work captured the winding streets and hidden corners of Montmartre like few others: Maurice Utrillo (1883–1955). And it turns out, my taste in art is not entirely random. After coming across a painting of his for the first time, a quick google search revealed that Utrillo just so happened to be the son of one of my favourite 20th century women artists, Suzanne Valadon (Renoir’s art model who was a prolific painter in her own right and currently – finally – has a major exhibition at the Pompidou). But back to Maurice. His name is not forgotten by specialists, but for many art enthusiasts, Utrillo remains a lesser-known figure. Far from a peripheral character, however, he was once hailed for his poignant cityscapes that offered an unvarnished glimpse into the bohemian heart of Paris.
Born in Montmartre to Suzanne Valadon and an unknown father, Utrillo effectively grew up in an artist’s studio — absorbing techniques and ideas through an informal yet immersive education. Valadon raised him as a single mother. His paternity was somewhat in question—one of Valadon’s patrons, Miguel Utrillo, acknowledged him legally, lending the family name “Utrillo” even though he was not the confirmed biological father. Despite (or perhaps because of) struggles with alcoholism and mental health, he found solace in painting, encouraged by his mother Suzanne.
She was his mentor, his emotional anchor, and to some extent his creative catalyst. Painting proved not only to be a means of self-expression but also a stabilizing force in his life. This devotion produced works that reflected his inner turbulence while capturing an evolving Montmartre. In many canvases, the steep staircases, café-lined streets, and characterful facades seem bathed in a stark, dreamlike quiet — an homage to the neighborhood’s shifting spirit.
One of his most distinctive contributions to modern art was his “White Period,” roughly spanning from 1908 to 1914, when Utrillo’s palette became dominated by pale hues, achieving a chalky texture reminiscent of the plaster walls he so often portrayed. Through these subdued tones, he conjured a haunting sense of stillness, depicting ordinary Parisian streetscapes with the reverence typically reserved for grand historical or religious subjects.
Although his fame was considerable during his lifetime — he became a Chevalier de la Légion d’honneur in 1928 — his reputation later receded, overshadowed by more flamboyant figures of the era.
Utrillo’s paintings occasionally appear at Christie’s, Sotheby’s, and Bonhams nowadays, where they can fetch a wide range of prices. Smaller or later works may sell in the $10,000–$50,000, whereas iconic pieces—particularly from his celebrated “White Period” (1908–1914)—can soar into the mid- to high-six figures and, in exceptional cases, beyond. But for those who enjoy the thrill of the hunt, the mere possibility—however small—of discovering such a treasure adds to the romance of rummaging through the art world’s hidden corners.
Many of his paintings were purchased by collectors who kept decent records however, so it’s less likely that a signed, quality canvas would be casually discarded or wholly forgotten. Utrillo was prolific, producing thousands of works. In theory, this larger body of work could increase the odds of a stray canvas appearing in an unexpected place. However, heightened market interest has led to concerted efforts at cataloging and authenticating his paintings—shrinking the pool of undiscovered gems. Occasional stories of notable discoveries emerge from estate sales, country auctions, or attic clear-outs. Families sometimes inherit artworks without knowing their significance. In Europe, especially around Paris or Montmartre (where Utrillo lived and painted), an elderly owner might be unaware of the painting’s true value. He typically signed “Maurice Utrillo” or “Maurice Utrillo V.” (the “V” for Valadon).
While his star may have dimmed compared to some of his contemporaries, for collectors, historians, and curious art lovers, rediscovering Utrillo’s cityscapes offers a chance to wander through a moment in Parisian history where the bohemian and the everyday intermingled. Whether acquired through auction houses, reputable galleries, or (in the rare but enticing scenario) stumbled upon in a hidden corner of a flea market, Utrillo’s canvases reveal a poet’s perspective on life, light, and the gentle beauty of ordinary streets.
