Irises
circa 1889
Another picture aching
with movement. It portrays the high point of a play, a dramatic one, where the
irises and roses (or are they poppies?) cram themselves onto the stage with
little-to-no space in which to move, all in awe of this particular white flower.
Their leaves and petals twirl like flying skirts around their stalks and their
heads, heavy with shades of purple, red and blue, bob up and down in a frenzy. The
iris' whiteness behaves like a magnet, and for this the limited space seems
even smaller. It motivates its suitors to express their energy inwardly; to be
united by their 'blushing' colours and by the flow of restlessness that rushes through
them like a gust of air. They are chattering nervously; they are living and
breathing even though they are made with just a few flicks of flat paint. Soon
will the white iris make its final speech? Will this tale end on a romantic
note?
We, the audience, are
placed above the scene as if in a balcony. The perspective looks downwards,
slightly from the right, so that we assume a bird's-eye-view onto the 'stage'.
Confronted with the surge of deep purples and blues, and with the stark
contrast of the white dab, we seem to fall into the scene - or at least hover
perilously over it - risking to upset the rhythm. Do we not hold the same
position as that of a suitor? Do we not wonder how such a strange but confident
pose, placed so asymmetrically to the left, can render the composition balanced,
even controlled? However, with respect to van Gogh (who based much of his work
on impulse) these questions probably matter very little: we are meant to see
what we see and feel what we feel, without doubt.
