Thrive Zones Part I: Henri Matisse in Collioure, France
The Vital Spaces Where People Flourish, Prosper, and Succeed
What Matisse found in Collioure wasn’t merely an inspirational technique — it was a shift in his approach to life and art. In Collioure, he was no longer bound by the expectations of Parisian society, no longer trapped by the weight of public opinion.
Matisse’s story exemplifies a universal truth: the right environment can unlock potential in ways that talent or ambition alone cannot. It is the fusion of place, purpose, and opportunity that creates the conditions for extraordinary success.
I. Escape: Flight from Paris
“It has bothered me all my life that I do not paint like everybody else.”
On the first Monday of summer, June 5, 1905, Gare de Lyon was bustling with fastidiously dressed Parisians preparing to depart for the south of France. They preferred — Côte d’Azur — as if it were a club with an admissions committee and a waiting list. It was, as some might call it, their happy place, a perfect, familiar world with an unbroken routine of privilege.
Soon, they imagined strolling arm-in-arm down sun-drenched promenades, exchanging knowing smiles with others who just happened to look, dress, and speak like them. Seated at seaside cafés, sipping Picpoul de Pinet, certain of their rightful place — equally certain that, beyond their polished circle, little else mattered. And yet, among them was a man who had once belonged to this world but now been irrevocably cast out.
In the rearmost car sat thirty-six-year-old Henri Matisse, a man not chasing the sun but fleeing ruin. His rumpled corduroy suit, faded to a tired reddish-brown, blended into the threadbare seat beneath him. He might have passed for a weary vineyard laborer — save for the paintbox and collapsible easel. His face, etched with lines from sleepless nights and financial strain, reflected the uncertainty and despair that had followed him for the past three years. But HEnri Matisse hardly seemed like the artist who would one day shake the art world to its core.
His wife, Amélie, sat next to him. Her expression was tense with quiet concern, and this was no leisurely getaway to the Riviera. The couple wasn’t bound for seaside promenades or lounging in cafés serenaded by Mediterranean breezes. They had no home and no friends there, and in fact were escaping a life that had unraveled, fleeing to a place that might offer at least a reprieve from despair.
Matisse’s fall from grace had been sharp. The Parisian art world, which had once welcomed him with cautious optimism, now turned its back. His friends were gone, his patrons closed their wallets, and a once-promising career had stalled. Rumors of a financial scandal hovered around him like a thick fog, deepening his isolation. Once a successful lawyer, Matisse had abandoned that career to follow his passion for painting, but now even that seemed out of reach.
Paris had drained Matisse. The galleries, once buzzing with ambition, had grown stale — sour as week-old bread under the weight of l’art officiel. He renounced any desire to join the clique that had made him acutely aware of his limitations while ignoring his possibilities.
Matisse’s half-hearted attempts to ingratiate himself with the Académie left him stranded in a kind of artistic purgatory. Rejected by the establishment, impoverished in his new career, he was confined to the fringes of the art as well as the social world.
Then came the sting of scandal — an accusation of financial fraud! Mon Dieu! Paris, with its unique blend of ennui and condescension, cast him aside, relegating him to the status of a failed experiment.
It was time for a change.
As the train pulled away from the station, leaving behind the familiar smells of crusty baguettes, pungent cheeses, and steaming bowls of oxtail soup, Matisse cast a final glance at what was his former home. He was leaving behind more than Paris; he was abandoning a world that had once seemed so full of possibility, now reduced to broken dreams. Yet, as the train chugged along the tracks, his mood began to lift. Amid the despair, a quiet resolve took root. The storm within him began to recede as Matisse made a vow to himself — he would find his voice, silence the doubts, and reclaim his life on his own terms. No matter how long it took.
Little did Matisse realize that in just 100 days, this journey south would not only transform his career but reshape the entire art world, leading to one of the most revolutionary periods in the history of painting.
Paris would never look at a canvas the same way again.
But what was about to happen wasn’t a miracle. It was something deeper. Henri Matisse was about to discover his Thrive Zone — a place where the spirit is liberated, creativity reignited, and the soul fully restored.
This is the story of how one summer in a small fishing village in the south of France set the stage for a transformation that would forever alter Matisse — and leave an indelible mark on the world of art.
II. Dichotomy: To Be or Not To Be Rich
“There are flowers everywhere for those who want to see them.”
A cynic would say every form of refuge has its a price. For Henri Matisse, his career suffered from entrapment in the bleak industrial landscape of Normandy. As a young boy growing up there, life was marked by the unrelenting grayness, suffocated by coal dust. He believed the world was colored in sodden skies, and monotony was the color of choice. Matisse would later recall, “Women wore black, and everyone wore a hat. It is a place where people don’t expect too many strangers.”
Even Art historian Hilary Spurling noted this was true, his early works were “restrained and traditional,” lacking the spark that would later come to define his painting. Only the public wasn’t interested in somber landscapes — it craved beauty, spectacle, and illusion.
Desperate for cash, Matisse even offered one of his canvases to his brother Auguste for 100 francs. The reply was as frigid as the Norman winter: “I’d rather have a new bicycle.” But the struggle was about more than selling paintings. Matisse was caught in a larger battle, a fight to find his place in a world that seemed hopelessly duplicitous and divided. He valued integrity in expression more than wealth, but now he was bereft of both.
Born in 1869 during the twilight of the Victorian era, Matisse’s formative years spanned the Belle Époque — a time of shimmering contradictions. Paris, the “City of Light,” was both a beacon of modernity and a place of deep inequality as well as rigid social structure. The elite lived in the glow of freshly minted francs, while the working classes toiled in the shadows. The surface gleamed, but underneath, resentment simmered.
It was into this paradoxical cauldron, where new industrial fortunes clashed with the remnants of old-world aristocracy, that Matisse and his wife Amélie found themselves thrust — while the working classes — barely literate, and so barely counted — were left to their laughter, tobacco pipes, and homemade plum wine. The glittering surface of society masked deep divisions — while the elite flaunted their wealth, resentment simmered among the lower classes.
It was how the Matisse’s became collateral damage in one of the most infamous financial scandals of their time — the Humbert Affair. A master manipulator named Thérèse Humbert had defrauded thousands through an audacious Ponzi scheme, borrowing nearly 100 million francs based on the collateral of a fictitious inheritance. By sheer misfortune, the Matisse family became entangled.
Matisse’s father in law was arrested, and the artist, a former lawyer, came to his defense. He wasn’t a conspirator, but the scandal stained his reputation and he became swept up in the deluge. And as the Humbert empire crumbled, so too did the Matisse's stature. He found himself facing public outrage and financial ruin.
Stripped of dignity and resources, the couple with their in laws had to flee Paris, no longer sure of their place in the world. Yet, what they sought in the south wasn’t luxury — it was something else, renewal it would turn out. Matisse was no longer simply searching for a place to escape; he was searching for a space to thrive.
III. Deception: The Fall from Grace
“We ought to view ourselves with the same curiosity and openness with which we study a tree, the sky or a thought.”
Thérèse Humbert was the architect of one of the most notorious frauds in French history. Her rise to the top of Parisian society had been built on audacious lies, and equally fake noble lineage. To bolster her imagined wealth, she concocted an elaborate story about saving the life of a fictional American millionaire, Robert Crawford, who, according to her story, had gratefully left her a vast fortune. For over two decades, Humbert borrowed millions against this supposed inheritance, living a life of luxury while her lenders, many of them ordinary citizens, were left in the dark.
Through a web of deceit that had gone undetected for years — protected by her father-in-law, a Minister of Justice — Humbert finally acquired a newspaper owned by Armand Parayre, Henri Matisse’s father-in-law. This tangled connection dragged the Matisse family into the scandal’s orbit, even though they were unwitting victims themselves. But when the supposed inheritance was revealed to be nothing but a single red brick, the scandal erupted and scapegoats were needed.
France was outraged. The Humberts fled, leaving ruin in their wake. And while Matisse and his family although not accomplices, were tainted by their association. It took very little time before they found themselves swept up in the aftermath of one of the country’s largest Ponzi schemes.
The financial ruin, public scandal, and professional rejection that surrounded Matisse pushed him further toward collapse. No longer able to support his family or continue his art with any hope of stability, Matisse felt crushed by the weight of his failures. The Parisian society that had once nurtured his ambition now seemed intent on devouring him.
Yet, in the face of this disaster, the fall became the prelude to something greater.
The seeds of transformation were planted.
IV. The Unknown: Leaving Paris
André Gide once wrote, “Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
Nonetheless, the choice was stark: madness or mediocrity. Matisse had little money, no home, and was still a relatively unknown artist, struggling to find a patron. Standing at a crossroads, he chose to leave for a place where he had nothing to lose. In the same way that an individual votes to change his government, Matisse packed his bags in order to change his community.
Leaving behind the familiar, the first step in the process of finding a personal Thrive Zone — a journey into The Unknown, requires a fundamental shift in perspective, a willingness to view life not as a series of failures but as an ongoing experiment in search of meaning and fulfillment.
It is a universal story as old as humanity. We are driven by an innate need to explore, to seek new landscapes that offer us the chance to grow. As Yuval Noah Harari writes in Sapiens, the “Cognitive Revolution” sparked humanity’s first migration 70,000 years ago. Our ancestors, facing a harsh environment in East Africa, didn’t surrender to a failing ecosystem. They took the greatest risk in the history of humanity and ventured into terra incognita, unlocking human ingenuity and cooperation along the way.
Much like those early human migrations, Matisse’s departure from Paris was a risk. But without it, he would never have unlocked the depths of his artistic genius. The right space allowed him to explore new ideas, take creative risks, and ultimately, find his true voice.
For Matisse, this shift was deeply personal. He was searching for a place where his potential could finally unfold, and no longer was mere survival the goal; he longed to produce art that provided serenity and pleasure — not only for himself but for others.
And time, as it often does, also played a dominant role in the desire for change. At 36 years old, he had already lived the half life of great painters — Monet lived to 86, Degas to 83, Renoir to 78, and poor Manet had tragically died at just 51 from syphilis. The time to create great art was slipping through his fingers.
Gathering his family and meager belongings, Matisse departed from the city that had once captivated him. As André Gide wrote, “Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” For Matisse, this departure was not just physical — it was an emotional and artistic leap, a decision to abandon the false security of a city that had stifled his creativity.
“What I dream of,” Matisse would later reflect, “is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter… something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.” This desire for pleasure and tranquility became central to his artistic vision, driving him to seek not only a place to create but a space that nurtured these qualities within him.
And that search for pleasure in life — and art — is what led him to Collioure.
V. Discovery: The Light of Collioure
“I am unable to distinguish between the feeling I have for life and my way of expressing it.”
The Discovery is the third stage, that moment we see ourselves in a new light, and for Matisse, this transformation was both literal and emotional. Collioure was a bustling fishing village, a world apart from the Paris Matisse had known. Sun-drenched ramshackle houses stood in unapologetic sea-washed hues. Rough-armed fishermen, dressed in salt-weathered espardenyes — footwear dating back to 13th-century Occitania — roamed the docks, the pungent smell of fish guts filling the air. The place literally reeked of authenticity. The rhythmic hum of the Occitan language, a melodic blend of French and Italian, echoed across the port, harmonizing with the spray of saltwater and sunbaked stone.
Sometimes, utter rejection is the precursor, for without it, there is no catalyst, no inspiration for renewal. For Matisse, this state of affairs forced him to seek refuge not just from scandal and poverty, but from the creative limitations he had unknowingly imposed on himself. Desperate and exhausted, Matisse and his wife Amélie left Paris for a small fishing village near the Spanish border.
Collioure wasn’t St. Tropez in more ways than one — they couldn’t afford the luxuries of the French Riviera that Paris’s elite were accustomed to. Instead, they found themselves in a fishing village hit hard by economic ruin and the collapse of its anchovy trade and vineyards, ravaged by the Phylloxera plague. The town, at first glance, appeared worn, scarred by decline and poverty.
It wasn’t Paris either, and that was most important of all. Collioure was a world away from the salons of the elite. Sun-drenched houses along the port were painted in unapologetic hues of blue, orange, and pink. The rhythmic hum of the Occitan language filled the air, blending with the sound of the Mediterranean waves. Rough-armed fishermen, wearing espardenyes — footwear dating back to the 13th century we call espadrilles today — roamed the docks, their days marked by the pungent smell of fish and the sing song chatter of village life.
Yet to Matisse, it held something far more precious than wealth.
“The light here is different,” Matisse would later say.
It wasn’t just an illusion either. His description of the experience — the only East facing coastline in France where the Pyrenees majestically seem to dive into the water is why Collioure had unfiltered Mediterranean light that revealed colors that Matisse had never seen before. The reflections of the sea, the interplay of light and shadow, the vivid hues that soaked into the village streets — all of it spoke to him in a way that Paris never could.
Where others saw a town in decline, Matisse saw a world bursting with possibility. The decay of the fishing industry and the blighted vineyards faded into the background. For the first time in years, Matisse felt a spark of creative energy return. His focus shifted away from survival and toward the rediscovery of beauty.
Far removed from the Parisian salons, Collioure offered Matisse the space to rediscover himself and to accept himself as he was — an artist driven by color, joy, and beauty. This acceptance sparked a revolution that soon transformed the art world. Fauvism, the bold movement he created, may have been exhibited in the Paris salons — but it was born here, in the unpolished, sun-drenched streets of Collioure, where Matisse finally thrived.
The transition was profound. In Paris, Matisse had been trapped in a world of muted tones, of compromise and caution. But in Collioure, he began to embrace boldness, color, and exuberance. The sun-drenched hues of the Mediterranean landscape — lavenders, blues, deep reds, and oranges — burst into his work, freeing him from the restraint that had shackled his earlier paintings.
But Matisse’s story is about more than geography; it’s about finding a place where we have the freedom to fail, learn, and redefine the boundaries of our lives.
Today, we call those places Thrive Zones.
Much like early human migrations, Matisse’s departure from Paris was a risk. But without it, he would never have unlocked the depths of his artistic genius. The right space allowed him to explore new ideas, take creative risks, and ultimately, find his true voice.
A Thrive Zone isn’t just a place to live or work; it’s a place where one’s potential is not only nurtured but liberated. It’s an environment where time takes on a different momentum, allowing creativity, growth, and transformation to flourish.
In Collioure, Matisse found exactly that — a space where the constraints of his old life could no longer bind him, where his art could breathe and expand beyond anything he had imagined in Paris.
V. The Transformation: Open Window
“What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter, something like a good armchair.”
Thrive Zones are not mythical Camelots or magical Shangri-Las. They are real spaces — whether organizations, communities, or even belief systems — where our potential is allowed and encouraged to unfold. Just as ecosystems sustain life through the interaction of sunlight, water, and soil, a Thrive Zone supports growth and flourishing through the right combination of people, resources, and opportunities.
They are places where the fourth and final stage, The Transformation, is able to blossom.
In Paris, Matisse had been constrained by the rigid expectations of the establishment art world. In Collioure, he found an environment that he could explore, fail, and ultimately succeed on his own terms. The colors of the village, the light of the Mediterranean, and the rhythms of daily life gave him the freedom to become the artist he was meant to be.
The pinnacle of this transformation came in the form of one of Matisse’s first works of the summer of 1905 appropriately titled, Open Window, Collioure. It wasn’t just a painting — it was a declaration of freedom that overcame him as he gazed from his hotel window.
In this work, Matisse blurred the boundaries between interior and exterior, between the familiar and the unknown. The colors — vivid and alive — reflected his internal transformation. Where traditional art sought to mimic life, Matisse’s work was life, vibrating with the energy of the Mediterranean.
Gone were the muted tones and tight brushstrokes that had once defined his work. In Collioure, Matisse embraced a radical new approach to color and form. His brushstrokes were loose, unrestrained, and alive. This work wasn’t just a product of technique, he was the same artist he had been in Paris just a week earlier — it was the product of an environment.
The vibrant colors of Collioure found their way into the depth of Matisse’s discouragement, and for the first time in his life, he felt free to paint in a way that was entirely his own. The shift was so dramatic that it left the Parisian art world stunned. Open Window and the thirty other paintings Matisse completed that summer heralded the birth of Fauvism, a revolutionary movement that would redefine modern art.
In one summer in 1905 he would paint over 50 pieces, and three of the ten greatest works of his life. Of course, the critics in Paris, accustomed to the soft realism of the old masters, were appalled. Matisse’s use of color was too wild, his forms too chaotic. His work was dubbed “Fauvism,” meaning “wild beasts,” a derogatory term meant to criticize the audacity of the movement.
But Matisse, like the light of Collioure, was undeterred. He had found his Thrive Zone, and he would never again return to the constraints of his old life.
VI. Environment: Shaping the Artist
“You can’t help getting old, but you can help becoming old.”
What Matisse found in Collioure wasn’t merely an inspirational technique — it was a shift in his approach to life and art. In Collioure, he was no longer bound by the expectations of Parisian society, no longer trapped by the weight of public opinion.
They also explain why equally talented people have vastly different outcomes.
When we are starved of admiration, just as when we are starved of food, we become needy and submissive, accepting our fate and stunned into submission, unwilling to entertain our imagination’s impulse to change the future.
When we see people in circumstances far from satisfying, we know intuitively that what has led them is the imprint of principles devoted to being part of the status quo. The desire for more compassionate environments — where our surroundings challenge, encourage, inspire, and instruct — is where we find hope for the spirit. When we find the right place — that’s when the magic happens.
As for Matisse, he didn’t change to fit the world. He found a world that fit him.
And that made all the difference.
Matisse’s story exemplifies a universal truth: the right environment can unlock potential in ways that talent or ambition alone cannot. It is the fusion of place, purpose, and opportunity that creates the conditions for extraordinary success. But finding them is only part of the job, liberating oneself from the constraints of our current life and environment is more often the biggest challenge. To do so is an act of stunning independence and personal leadership, but the outcome, as we will show, makes it a supremely important duty to ourselves.
Matisse left Paris at age 36 a failed artist. He returned three months later as one of the most famous and admired painters all over the world.
