In earlier sketches of Georges Seurat‘s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte” , the man leaning against the tree just to the right of the central vanishing point was seen approaching the woman with the red parasol; as if to inquire about keeping her company. In the final painting, we see the woman accompanied by a young girl in white, and the man is alone.
Who’s to say that the child might actually be her sister, or that perhaps the once inquisitive bachelor was actually supposed to meet the young woman with the red parasol and change both their destinies forever?
What is it about a work of art that leaves us pondering our own existence?
Is it that we somehow feel insignificant when basking in the greatness of others?
Or is it rather that some paint the truth more blatantly than reality?
That nothing is truly what is seems.
Or possibly that some things are worth being admired from afar, and the second we involve ourselves beyond meek appreciation, we endanger our own emotions, and we are let down.
What seems like a perfect portrait, is nothing more than a million neurotic specks; brilliantly composed to give the admirer the illusion of fine detail, different than perceived. It will forever be the hope of the admirer to seek the beauty of individuality, of deceived perfection, and will always give him the desire to look closer than he needs.
- Masters Study – Georges Seurat A Sunday on la Grande Jatte crop (bethparkerart.wordpress.com)
- What Is a Good Life? (nybooks.com)
- Peter Greenaway furthers his reach into pure visual art (latimes.com)
- Women with Monkeys (neatorama.com)