Pilze (Still-life with Chanterelles and Bottle)
circa 1909
Freshly-picked and
plump - their umbrella heads still shine with the water they were washed in. Specks
of dirt litter the grey ground; the conical glass piece stands like a lone spire,
towering over the nearby canopy of dense, autumn-sticken 'trees'. The
surrounding grounds, already frost-bitten with the season's dropping
temperatures, form a slick, icey rink on which one small chanterelle has
already ventured out - its not-so-daring siblings (with their heads
resembling little brown grapes) still hugging the skirts of their parents. In
the near distance the cloudy skies are soaked in sunrise, their bright complexion
casting strong shadows throughout the huddling mushrooms.
Indifferent to the youngsters, the adults cluster
together as if to discuss something private, away from our prying ears. Their
heads seem to bob into one another, each occasionally turning around to see
whether anything is creeping by too closely. Are they planning to escape
the imminent saucepan, already heated and gurgling with a splash of olive oil?
Or are they deciding how to best woo some stubborn oregano leaves into a
savoury harmony? Whatever it is, they are undoubtedly mishchievous. Unlike any pile of mushrooms we
have seen, this one is soft and velvety on the outside - but also deliciously devilish on the inside.
