Bare Trees 1885

Editor: So, here we have Paul Gauguin’s "Bare Trees," painted in 1885. It's an oil painting, and I’m struck by how the stark trees create a sense of almost haunting beauty. It feels so different from the bright Tahitian scenes he's known for. What's your take on this, what do you see here? Curator: It sings to me of solitude. There’s a melancholic melody woven into the brushstrokes. Notice the way the light filters through the branches – not with optimism, but with a quiet pensiveness. It reminds me of a stanza by Emily Dickinson. She wrote: "There's a certain Slant of light, / Winter Afternoons – / That oppresses, like the Heft / Of Cathedral Tunes –." I wonder, can you feel that heft here too? Editor: I think I do! It’s interesting because the colours aren’t necessarily dark or gloomy, but the overall effect is definitely contemplative. What about Gauguin's later move away from Impressionism – do you see hints of that here? Curator: Absolutely! While the influence of Impressionism lingers in the broken brushwork, we already see Gauguin forging his path towards simplification of form and a heightened emotionality. Those tree trunks, almost stark in their verticality, aren’t just trees; they're vessels of feeling. They whisper of a spiritual connection with nature. It's like he's trying to capture the very essence of being, distilled into the simplest of forms. What is really "bare" about these trees? Editor: So, less about capturing a literal scene, and more about expressing an inner world. It’s amazing to see this shift happening right before our eyes in this work. Curator: Precisely! And for me, that makes it such a moving piece. I leave it asking what parts of me I keep bare, in nature or with my relations? Editor: This has definitely given me a fresh perspective, that even within nature there's always something going on below the surface.