JUST AN ORANGE

Ben, my husband, took this picture on a visit we took to the Musee d’Orsay. Museums often abound with students of art scattered throughout, pencils or pastels in hand, sketchbooks or large drawing boards on their laps. But this was the first time I’d ever seen anyone there with their easel and paints copying someone else’s work.

Each time I come across this photograph I’m curious: who is this man? He is obviously an artist, and a very decent one at that. He’s from an older, more formal generation. He wears a blazer (what a funny word) over what is certainly a button down shirt that looks pink in my original photograph. He is wearing it to paint, with oils, I assume.

Why has he chosen to make a copy of this particular painting? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but also the best way to learn about, or become like, what one is imitating. He is still interested in learning, in perfecting his own techniques, in creating something beautiful.

I wonder, when did he start painting? Is it his life’s work? Is is something he did on the side while supporting a family with a more conventional job? Is he content with his art? Or is he rushing to fill an unrealized dream before it’s too late?

But whatever his reasons, I like that when I look at this photograph he’s there, standing before the easel, paintbrush held delicately in his right hand, placing a dot of paint carefully on the canvas, every single time.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS