Johannes Vermeer

Johannes Vermeer

Girl in Red Hat

circa 1665

     This girl assumes a role within a role. Like a puppet she is placed in a space and made to play a character according to the rules. Through her composure she must express the étiquette of her day, and in her masquerade of props she must camouflage her personality. But is this a convincing performance?

     Her true self - hidden beneath the veneer of her slightly haunting anonymity and her theatrical clothing - is but a curious introverted youth whose eyes, strong and steady, hold one's attention with a refreshingly honest stare. Even if her adolescent frame is muted by the magnificence of her costume she still exudes the qualities of a child, and it is with these that she masters control of her unfamiliar grounds. Her open moist mouth and her flush cheeks resonate an innocence that contradicts the posh hat and the fancy earrings, and her posture - however controlled - suggests an awkward uneasiness. The lighting accentuates her porcelain skin and destroys her superficial mask of sophistication, and it is now we see that she naïvely plays the role of an imposter. We catch this girl in the moment her mask falls, and perhaps we recognise her act of "dressing up" as evading or hiding the truth. So is she really as anonymous as she appears? Does she, in fact, represent the strange stage between childhood and adulthood (a stage that adults no longer understand)? Or is she simply a face without a name?

Sir William Nicholson

Sir William Nicholson

Still-life with Statuettes and Rodin Bronze

circa 1920

     Though they are frozen in time, the strained, squirming figures in bronze release an energy of movement that manages to upset the entire meditative mood of this still-life. Not only do their bodies seem to be struggling against the confines of their own stiff medium, but they are also trying to overcome their inevitably flat two-dimensionality. Juxtaposed with solemn fellow sages they strive to keep alive a playful sense of mischievous, rule-breaking freedom. Their lively gestures resist the genre of the painting itself (as they embody anything but stillness) and they never cease to spite the disapproving air of their contemplative, almost lifeless neighbours. However, there is a sense of harmony derived from the apparent discord between the figurines. One can imagine that the large crème-coloured backdrop behaves like a sheet of rain that aims to cleanse and calm the scenery below, and as a result its vast pure blankness merges with the ceramic sages and becomes a single force of its own. It slowly wells around the bronze so as to pacify the figures' restless natures but also to beautify their stark pyramidal shape, as well as allows the three statuettes to maintain a diginified presence within their rather limited spaces so that they may happily pursue their three-way tiff. 

Paul Sérusier

Paul Sérusier

Breton Woman with a Hayfield

circa 1890

     In this scene a sense of repressed disorder emerges from the colours and shapes of the nature. The trees’ trunks and branches seem to be awaking from an intense sleep, but they only pretend to twist and stretch their limbs in attempt to lean closer to one another - almost as if to share a secret that they wish to keep from the lone woman. The tendrils of the rose bush also suggest a strange, questionable behaviour: as they slowly unfurl the budding stems remain visible against the dark mass of background foliage, implying a wandering promiscuity behind their intentions. They want to be seen; they crave the limelight. So are they really as innocent and absent-minded as their supple, new-borne blossoms suggest, or do more sinister, threatening thoughts underlie their playful dance? Mirroring this thought is the field of hay. The sticks of golden yellows appear to impatiently thrust themselves in unison beyond the border that keeps them from disrupting the peace of the small pasture and of the woman’s pensive state. They form a fiery crest that visually overpowers the shy greenery and attempts to curve outwards into the plane of the viewer. Like an aggressive wall of fire daring to spill over its boundaries this crest gives an ominous air to the painting. It reminds one of the fine line that divides humanity from nature - whether the two entities are one in the same (could the tree be growing out of the woman’s shoulder?) or whether they are growing farther apart over time – as well as sheds doubt on whether the viewer is part of the wilderness or not.

Maurice de Vlaminck

Maurice de Vlaminck

Le Cirque

circa 1906

     This is a painting of raw emotion. Each streak of colour is charged with a fervour that seems to agitate the surface of the canvas, almost like an unreachable itch that causes a pleasurable uncertainty as to whether it is welcome or not. Put together, the paint strokes behave like an army of beautifully-scaled fish which swarms across the scene with no particular destination but with the need to prove its mad love of life. But it is a current that threatens to implode on itself, unable to break free of the painting’s four constricting sides which maliciously mock it for its crazed, deranged perception of a life made simply from a few blotches of artificial pigment. Thus the army is forced to revolve inside the constraints of its own reality – one that embodies the painting’s original honesty in which Vlaminck infused his turbulent feelings, and one that echoes the shallowness of its own synthetic medium. It is fighting a visual war with itself in attempt to stabilise the two opposing qualities responsible for its very existence, and as a result the painting’s true voice breaks through. The dancing irregular shapes, the fiery colours and the sloping waves of perspective all roar in chaotic chorus a song about living life without rules or regrets, and most importantly about accepting true beauty – however uncommon – in the most unlikely places and things.