Issue #46

Sister, This One's For You

Years ago, as we were strolling around a Delaware beach town, my sister Josie asked what I wanted to do with my life. It was a funny question to ask a middle-aged person who was mostly done raising children and had no career to speak of. But that’s the kind of question Josie would ask: hopeful, dreamy, nothing-is-impossible.

I told her I wanted to write more and she asked what about and I said I wanted to be the Sister Wendy of something. That is, I wanted to be a writer who held up a subject/object/idea/creation for others to see and show them why it’s beautiful or interesting so they can enter into the wonder of it as well. What that something would be was less important than the sharing of it.

In case you don’t remember Sister Wendy or never heard of her, here’s a short bio: Sister Wendy was a cloistered Carmelite nun who late in life became an art ambassador. She made art documentaries for BBC which were re-broadcast on PBS. She spoke with a lisp, wore voluminous black robes and a wimple that covered all but her cheerful bespectacled face. She lived as a hermit in a blue caravan in the woods, praying most of the day and writing her many books during a two-hour break. She died in 2018 at age 88.

The charm of Sister Wendy is not her expertise but her enthusiasm. She is moved and delighted and curious by what she encounters. The mismatch between her garrulous enthusiasm—especially for sexual subjects—and her simple life of chastity and silence makes her screen persona all the more magnetic.

Today I’m fulfilling the wish I made to Josie—in the most literal way I can. I polled a few art lovers I know and asked them what their favorite painting is and why. I’m sharing the results so you can perchance love what they love. Or see something new in a piece of art you thought you knew well. Or take interest where you once had none.

I was delighted by the variety of selections, and glad to be introduced to some paintings I’ve never seen before. But the best part of this project was the glimpse into the private yearnings and dreams of the respondents. Aren’t people a wonder! What beautiful treasures they hold in their hearts!

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Sharon, Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh

While I hesitate to choose such a well-known painting — I have loved this one for a long time and have never tired of it.

Although the dark tree in the foreground feels vaguely foreboding, the quaint village with its church steeple seems to bely any fear. The swirling wind of the illuminated night sky feels like hope and spirit — something joyful coming in to start the day.

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Molly, The House Opposite by Leonora Carrington

I’ve been studying dreamwork for the past two years, and recently I’ve really fallen in love with Leonora Carrington’s paintings. They’re full of dream imagery and surreal symbolism, but feel distinctly more feminine than much of the Surrealist work we usually see or study. Working with dreams has made me especially curious about what our inner worlds look like (a lot going on!), and I’m fascinated by attempts to express that through painting. The House Opposite was the first of her works that caught my attention, and led me to exploring more of her life and practice.

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Mary K., a memory of a painting by an unknown artist

Actually, my favorite painting is by a no-name that I saw in a gallery years ago in the building where my doctor’s office was. Whenever I had an appointment, I would go in and just absorb it for as long as I could. It was a large, vertical painting of storm clouds, many layers, with an area that was lightening up. I love clouds. I love storm clouds. And I love when the sun comes out—

Painting was similar to:

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Joan, Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel

I love the image of God touching Adam’s finger —creation, so touching. No bad pun intended! Also, it’s astoundingly beautiful and to think Michelangelo painted it lying on his back on a scaffolding is incredible. I’m hardly an art connoisseur but we were lucky enough to have a semi-private, after-hours tour of the Sistine Chapel—and as many times as I’ve seen it, I’ve always found it completely awesome and humbling too.

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Sarah, Burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons by J.M.W. Turner

I think my favorite artist is J.M.W. Turner, especially for his more abstract paintings. The thing that draws me to them the most is the colors, especially his ones of sunsets or fires. I love how they all mix together to create the dream-like atmospheres. I like how it feels like a modern take on classic world settings/landscapes.

. . . I originally looked into Turner because I love the song “The Art Teacher” by Rufus Wainwright. [See below for more on that song.]

The Ten Largest No. 1 Childhood by Hilma af Klint

Also, I really like Hilma af Klint. I saw an exhibit of her paintings at the Guggenheim when I first moved to New York. It’s my favorite museum. The colors in her paintings are also amazing and use a lot of pink, which is probably my favorite color. The designs just seem fun, but then when I found out they relate to esoteric teachings, I was obsessed. Obviously, I’m attracted to anything a little bit Swedish and a little bit mystic. I know she used to participate in seances.

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Kathy, The Japanese Footbridge by Claude Monet

The Monet paintings always come to mind as some of my absolute life-long favorites. Having visited his home and garden in Giverny outside of Paris a few times, along with seeing his works in many world-famous museums and with a large assortment of his incredible works at Musee D’Orsay, I love the green Japanese bridge as an iconic representation of his works, the colors and the patterns.

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Trish, The White Cat by Pierre Bonnard

[Edited for length—wish I could include it all—Trish is a fantastic writer!]

Here’s one of my faves, The White Cat by Pierre Bonnard. It reminds me of the cat fights, rather cat encounters, that I’ve seen over the years, a memorable one in the early ’70’s.

[Trish goes on to describe a street scene she witnessed from an upper window in a house in Annapolis. A cat she named Ivan the Terrible traded growls and yowls with a black cat.]

Ivan paused and his body began morphing, assuming this faux-menacing, ruffled-fur, arched-back, stiff-legged, twisted stance that, if it had never actually vanquished an enemy had surely baffled at least a few of them to death. The black cat began doing the same thing.

[Eventually they both back down.]

All fights should end like this, I remember thinking, with paw-grooming and yawning over nothing.

I look at Bonnard’s cat in that spirit, and in that spirit I wish I could have that idyllic day back again, down to its infernal heat, hairy legs, and in-name-only adversaries. Put me back there with Ivan and the world can go about its risky business and the sky collapse over us like popped gum. I won’t care. I’ll have Ivan in my lap.

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Lisa M., Thirty Years or La Vie en Rose by Raoul Dufy

I was introduced to this painting during a trip to Paris, only within the last 5 -6 years. It drew me in initially because of the brilliance of color. Pink will get me every time. But more than that, it was the feeling of optimism that came over me, which I had not felt in years. The kind of innocent optimism that came in childhood. The feeling of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, something I used to be accused of but sadly no longer applies.

Anyway, I keep a photo of this painting in my room to remind me of the girl who always thought of brighter days ahead.

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Joseph, The Wedding at Cana, by Paolo Veronese

[Edited for length. FYI Joseph and his brothers are fantastic musicians—their band Hathway is on Spotify and all other music outlets. “Keeper of Time”is one of my favorites and features their sister Mary Grace on vocals. Give it a listen!]

I love this gargantuan painting for its bursting color, relentless detail, and historical significance.

It is the largest painting in the Louvre at a whopping 7x10 meters. Hard to imagine the level of focus required to complete this, yet Veronese balanced an extensive palette and breathed life into over 130 figures within 18 months.

. . . Today it’s displayed directly opposite the Mona Lisa, so Veronese’s masterpiece is often overlooked. Yet it caught Napoleons’ attention in 1798; he plundered it during his Italian campaign and brought it to France for his personal collection. I can’t quite blame him—The Wedding at Cana would tempt me too.

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Michelle, Sitting Woman with Legs Drawn Up by Egon Schiele

My fav because I love the expressive linework and the unfinished quality —hints at the mystery of the piece and who she is! I’ve always loved figure drawings since usually the identity of the person remains unknown. Just cool to see his interpretation of her and I want to know more!!!

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Shemaiah, Mulberry Tree by Vincent Van Gogh

[Edited for length but you can link to the full essay. Shemaiah is a wonderful writer and art-appreciator. She has a book out, Undaunted Joy.

The story of her favorite painting begins with her first-ever trip to a museum as a high school student in LA. She comes upon a Van Gogh painting and stops in her tracks.]

The painting was simply a picture of a tree. The branches and leaves twisted in yellow, gold, and orange. The colors were nearly violent in the way the yellows of the tree contrasted against the cobalt blue of the sky. The tree moved. It pulsated. It vibrated. There were no figures in the painting. No story to engage. Not even a dog squatting by the tree. And yet I felt that the painting told me a secret about its artist, whose name I didn’t know at the time, and that the painting knew secrets about me too, secrets it found beautiful and lovely.

I wanted to sob—deep guttural sobs of relief and knowing. But I was in a public place, a quiet place. So instead, I took in a deep breath and let it out very slowly to control my reaction. I didn’t expect such a visceral response to art. It felt like an assault but at the same time, the sweetest pain.

. . . A closer look at the painting revealed thick, dense brushstrokes. In some places, Van Gogh globbed paint directly on the canvas, using a technique called “impasto.” Without thinning or diluting it, he pushed the paint around with his brush or, in this case, the handle of his brush. Even after 130 years, there is a wet quality to the painting.

The result is exuberant. The tree appears as if it is on fire. The tree trembles as if it represents Van Gogh’s own state of mind, shuddering with the lack of control he had of his own tremors.

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Lizzie, Dance by Henri Matisse

I love the grandeur and size of the painting [over 8’ x 12’], how the top dancers are almost smushed into the canvas, it’s almost like a gesture painting quick and simple and naked and unpretentious. . . how one dancer appears to have lost balance and is pulled along in the circle, there’s so much movement and it’s evocative of my idea of heaven on earth.

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Anne Marie, The Nut-Gatherers by William-Adolphe Bouguereau

[Edited for length and excessive flattery to me!]

I have many favorite paintings, but none are tied to a memory as clearly as “The Nut Gatherers”—a painting my mom pointed out years ago when she took my best friend Alex and me to the DIA [Detroit Institute of the Arts]. “You two look just like them!” she said, before having us lie on the museum floor to recreate the girls in the painting above us. At the time, we probably thought that was the end of it.

Until the day I was leaving for college. This time, Alex and I dressed the part— long skirts, ribbons, and (of course) nuts in hand—lying in our neighbor’s yard. . . .

. . . That photograph of Alex and me always reminds me of my mom’s way of leaning into life—leaning into ideas and pushing them into reality. I’m grateful for how many memories of mine were made possible simply because she insisted on making them real.

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Lisa G., Sixteenth Century Renaissance Painting by an unknown Italian artist

I remember seeing this painting during an Art History class while in college. I was immediately taken aback by the way the artist depicted the clouds. Aside from that there is something about the people that seemed so familiar…. It was almost as though I was back in time and knew them.

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Michele, The Light of the World by William Holman Hunt

I like this painting. There is no doorknob on Jesus’ side because we have to open the door.

[Interesting factoid: Poet Christina Rossetti, a favorite of mine, was one of the models for the Christ figure. This from an essay on Rossetti in Acton Institute

As the Pre-Raphaelite painter William Holman Hunt was working on The Light of the World (1851–1854), his portrayal of Jesus knocking on a vine-covered door, he found perhaps an unlikely model for the face of Christ: Christina Rossetti, the sister of his fellow Pre-Raphaelite artist Dante Gabriel. Hunt admired her “gravity and sweetness of expression,” and thus thought this young woman perfect to convey the Savior’s gentle persistence on the door of the human heart.]

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Rosemary, Morning on the Seine, by Claude Monet

I remember seeing this painting at The Met for the first time and my soul swooned. I loved the purple sunrise, the quiet beauty and promise of a new day. In the midst of New York City, I stayed in that stillness as long as I could.

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Colleen, Mother and Child by Gloria Vanderbilt

I’m a huge history buff and particularly love Gilded Age, Downton Abbey-style history and the Vanderbilts. My oldest daughter Devin is aware of this and has purchased books about and by Gloria V and her son Anderson Cooper for me.

On Devin’s wedding day she presented me with a numbered copy of Gloria Vanderbilt’s painting Mother and Child (although it’s said to actually be her with her beloved nanny). I love this painting so much, it signifies the love between the mother (nanny) and child and my interest in the artist’s history. It’s hanging in my bedroom where I can see it every day.

[Had no idea Gloria Vanderbilt was an artist!]

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Maureen, Paris by Alexis Bruchon

I was drawn to the tall terrace windows showcasing a fantasy of Paris and New York, side by side, at a gallery in my neighborhood a few years ago. The mid-century cartoon-like style brings together two worlds, and reminds me we can create the spaces we occupy.

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My own: Nocturne in Black and Gold, the Falling Rocket by James Whistler

Nocturne is at the Detroit Institute of Arts, so I see it every couple years. I can be a little thick with the obvious, so at first I didn’t understand it was a painting of fireworks. I just took it in, transfixed by the beauty, the deep blue-blacks, the shivers of gold drifting down the canvas, the red specks here and there. Was it abstract? I didn’t categorize, I just loved it and felt full of emotion in front of it.

Later, when I understood the painting depicted a firework’s aftermath (must have finally read the full title), I was drawn to it in a different way. Now I appreciate the quiet of the scene. It’s those seconds after the boom and pop of a big firework and before the next explosion comes. I sense the soft crackling of embers just before they disappear into the night. For me it’s a painting of a moment in between, a moment to collect yourself and breathe in the near-silence.

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Sarah Gives a Song Rec

from Sarah, fan of Turner and Klint:

I’m a sucker for a song that tells a story. It’s good for daydreaming and drinking wine. If you don’t know “The Art Teacher” by Rufus Wainwright, it’s about a schoolgirl in a uniform who is in love with her young art teacher. He takes them on a field trip to The Met, and he tells her his favorite painter is Turner. Then years later when she’s in a loveless but financially advantageous marriage, she buys a Turner and thinks about him. I listen to this song a lot and so to get even more visual with my daydreams, I looked into what Turner paintings look like. I really recommend the song if you haven’t heard it!

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I’d love to hear about your favorite paintings—please share in the comments below.

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