Forget watching the Kentucky Derby on TV. If you’re looking for a daring view, go ahead and stand in front of Edouard Manet’s The Races at Longchamp to get the blood pumping.

The Races at Longchamp focuses on a specific moment of the race, an intense, frenzied moment when the horses are stampeding past the finish line (indicated by the pole with the circular hole). The jockeys are intent on their goal, and the crowd is going wild. Never had there been a painting showing the horses racing towards you, the viewer. Indeed, The Races at Longchamp was the first to show this perspective. It's better than any televised viewing today.

It was all thanks to Edgar Degas that Manet showed any interest in horse racing. Degas was busy executing his own racecourse paintings at the time. The two Impressionists were bffs by 1866, and attended the races together. There’s a good chance they were betting on horses and drinking flutes of champagne alongside French and English spectators. Not to mention wearing those fabulous outfits. The races were attended by the upper-class of society, often including the Parisian males who were friends and associates of the artist and his racetrack buddy, Degas. Manet’s depiction of this upper-class pastime piqued the interest of English composer Frederick Delius. The Races at Longchamp was bought by the composer, who had an interest in Manet’s depiction of contemporary, upper-class society. It pays to hang out with horsies. 

At the time, Paris was moving just as fast as the horses across the track. The industrial revolution was rapidly changing Paris. The races were but one source of entertainment among others that distracted the men of Paris. This was the scene to be seen at and to socialize in. While the spectators were ignoring the horses and opting to gossip with their friends, Manet honed in and took note of the surrounding scene. As a result, Manet completed several watercolors and oil paintings of the Longchamp races. It's almost as if the races were made to be painted by an Impressionist like Manet, whose blurry, visible brushstrokes exquisitely capture the motion and intensity of the moment.