Woman's Cape c. 1936

Helen E. Gilman made this little painting of a woman's cape, but when? I like to imagine Helen carefully mixing her blues, that deep indigo shade, and that almost-grayish periwinkle—layering them, wet on wet maybe, to give it that soft, almost fuzzy texture. You can almost feel the wool, can’t you? See how the edges of the cape sort of dissolve into the background? It gives the whole thing a dreamy, kind of hazy feel. I wonder what Helen was thinking about while she painted this cape? Was it a beloved garment, a memento of someone special? Or was she just drawn to the way the light played on its folds and curves? The eyelets have this cool, satisfying symmetry, but there’s something subtly off about the way they’re placed, which makes it more human. Painters are always chatting with each other, across time and space, and this reminds me of the quiet, unassuming beauty that someone like Fairfield Porter found in everyday scenes. It’s in that same spirit, finding something profound in the ordinary. And that’s the magic of painting, isn’t it?