Stair Case c. 1936

Natalie Simon, sometime between 1855 and 1995, made this small watercolor on paper. What I love is that she zooms in and crops this staircase so it becomes abstract and a little vertiginous; these balusters become columns and the stairs flatten into near oblivion. I can imagine her, brush in hand, carefully layering and modulating the tones of brown, ochre, and blue. The grain of the wood comes alive under her touch. I feel a connection to other painters who lose themselves in a similar patient act of close looking and feeling, such as the still life paintings of Giorgio Morandi. I wonder if Natalie was like him: quiet, contemplative and dedicated to the pursuit of subtle observation. Each stroke seems to carry a weight of its own, building up the image with delicate care. The light catches the edges of the spindles in her painting, creating a sense of depth and volume. Maybe the stairs are a metaphor for the way that the best painting invites us to climb toward something we can't quite see.