https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/438015
(In Public Domain)
Fourth Sister – 07/14/21
…and the painting itself, well, yes, she could see what it was, a small excursion boat somewhere on the Seine, it appeared, but with the art the particulars are not always the reality, or at least distinct from the reality of the art, but here… Well, darn it, the painting just brought to the surface, her surface, impatience, and impatience with a vengeance, for, so sorry, that was just her way. For why so many little stupid dots, why not a stroke of paint, a stroke of red perhaps – for the tile across the river, whatever river this was – was not red, but just a color of dull, faded, inoffensive, muted orange, like a color distorted and barely there, as if humidity or haze of some sort and origin was…was…making a difference to…the day…sunlight… And in her mind, and by golly in her gut, pardon her French, this was all too much to tolerate, too much of a waste of time and she turned in disgust and walked away to the right, her eyes ablaze with contempt and impatience and then she stopped…and abruptly turned back to the painting to curse it with another withering artistic sneer and…and…she stopped expressionless and her mouth would have dropped open if she did not always possess absolute command of all her emotions and their expression on the canvas of her face for…suddenly…she saw the painting from the side and now she was on the path leading to the scene and…all of the sudden, there was clarity, and light, and meaning, and even beauty, and she was calm and at peace and humbled, though she would never use that word, for perhaps not every painting has its full meaning observed from the front, for art is art, and good art, full of new ways of seeing…
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