Konstantin Korovin
On a Seashore
circa 1910
The cherries - or are they grapes? - look plump and crisp, their translucent skins slowly baking in the coastal light. They sit together in the dish as if it were a boat, its belly gliding lazily through a body of calm white water. Ahead of them is a pair of glass islands, one of which is seen boasting of its sole inhabitant: a great lolling tree with spectacular blossoms, heavy and sweet, which throws out behind itself a blue bay of shade. From its facing side, the tree extends a single leafy branch in a gesture of welcome to the boating fruit. Tired and rather parched, the travelling foursome take comfort in the idea of escaping the relentless beat of the sun, to soon find themselves cooling underneath the scented canopy of late summer roses. They look ahead with more vigour; they can nearly taste the swollen blue air of the bay, bobbing up and down ahead of them like a skilled siren. But they are disillusioned: their hope is but a mirage, the heat having stifled and deluded their minds into forgetting the recent fates of their fellow brethren - brethren who were in the same boat, just as bloated and as blind, and who also did not suspect the second, more sinister bay of shade looming in from the right behind them, foreshadowing their imminent, sticky ends.
