A boating party

Now for another summery work – one of the loveliest, in my (oh so humble) opinion.

August Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party (Le dejeuner des canotiers), 1880-81, is of course a well-known work, and especially when seen like this (in print, on the web, or in a slide) I don’t think the full impact of the work is felt.

When I lived in Washington, DC, I used to trot off to the Phillips Collection once a week (when they were open late on Thursdays ) to gawk at this painting, and of course the rest of their wonderful collection (like the Rothko room I mention in this post).

Two things surprised me about this work when I first saw it in person: its size, and its range of color. It is a large painting, at least three feet wide by two and a half feet high, and it makes the characters painted seem almost life-size. I wanted to tip right in to the painting – the open foreground adds to that sensation, allowing the viewer to stand at the edge of the table as if you’re invited to the party.

The colors, especially the bright flowery orange used as an accent throughout the work, also made me peer in closer to explore the painting’s details. The oranges and blues feel almost neon, seen up close in accenting lines on hats, flowers, and shirts.

But it’s the sightlines in this painting (just as easily seen above as in person at the Phillips Collection) that electrify the work. Man looks at woman, who looks at dog in foreground of the piece, over half-empty wine bottles. You must stare through his sight line as you look past and see the next couple: the lovely young woman in blue on the right, facing us, who is definitely having a nice time with that coy dark haired man in his dapper white suit. Their hands almost touch as she turns to flirt with him, fingers so close that if you kept watching you might see that electric touch. Past them, a rakish bowler hat faces a woman leaning on the rail, engaged in conversation. This one, to me, looks like it isn’t going quite as well – she may be bored. Or perhaps just overheated.

I do wonder what (or who) that man at the rail is looking at, in the white sleeveless shirt. A lover who has denied him, across the party? And I also love to count the seemingly different classes in this party, if identified by dress – two men without sleeves, all the way to the man at the back in his shining top hat. According to Wikipedia this is Renoir’s group of friends, and the woman with the dog is his future wife (I’m no longer a scholar, I don’t have time to go to the library, forgive me for citing Wikipedia).

With all that going on, its easy to get lost in the painting. Renoir beautifully organizes it for the viewer so that we’re able to take it all in delightfully, without feeling overwhelmed. The circle of white, anchored by the tablecloth, is a constant for the eye to return to while it flits around from face to face. The open space he’s preserved in the top left/middle of the piece is also a sort of anchor, a restful place for the eye to go. I like to look there, peering through the foliage onto the river just as one might do if you were standing a bit further down the rail yourself.

Enjoy your own boating parties! It's almost August!

Summertime art, if there ever was such a thing...

Janet Fish is a contemporary American artist who seems to like the same things in art that I do: color, and unexpected composition. And more color.

I was just reading up on Ms. Fish and found out that she grew up in Bermuda. It got me thinking about something that I’ve always loved about studying art: how a sense of place comes out in an artist’s work. Studying the history of art is really just like studying history, but with nice pictures in the text books and fewer battles to remember.

In the case of Janet Fish’s work, her time in Bermuda seems to me to have an impact in most of her work. This piece, Tropical Still Life, is the most obvious example (my school had a print of it, and for three years every time I walked by it I smiled, especially on those cloudy, bleak days that seem to be the only weather in winter in southeast Michigan). I love the use of color, first and foremost. You can’t ignore the color. I once wrote an article for that same school’s newspaper about this print, but it was printed in black and white and hardly anyone even recognized the piece.

But the composition is also interesting. She places a lot of weight directly in the foreground with the halved fruit, and the orange in the center of the work is also the darkest spot which makes the eye perceive that spot as receding. Finally she places palm fronds in the top corner of the work, so that it seems you’re peeking underneath the branch to look at the little fruit spread. And with the endless squiggles, even appearing under the orange glass dish, you almost miss the happy little bird in the top right corner. The eye sort of circles around and around the work, following the curve of the bananas, and she doesn’t really let you rest on anything.

That activity of the eye is an accomplishment for a still life painter – and I think its what makes her paintings and prints so appealing.

That, and the skill she has in painting glass. Take a look at the work below. You really cannot debate the skill here – reflection upon reflection, behind and in front of layers of glass. Have you ever tried painting glass? Even drawing it? I find it next to impossible to get it to look remotely realistic. But even in this work which is so much about reflections on glass, her use of color is still so striking, so vibrant.

Interested in buying yourself a print? I believe this is her dealer.