The Louvre 1907

Maurice Prendergast made this watercolor, "The Louvre," and right away I'm wondering about all those layers of pale washes and dabs of color; the way they almost float on the paper. The pinks and blues give it such a light and airy feeling. I imagine Prendergast, maybe standing in the gardens, trying to capture the scene, the light, and the movement. You know? He's working quickly, trying to get the essence of the moment before it disappears. I think of the blobs of paint, how they make up these little figures with their bonnets and parasols and the way they feel like a memory of a crowd more than any specific rendering of one. Prendergast's paintings always make me think about the work of Bonnard, and Vuillard, all those guys who were trying to pin down what it felt like to be alive, to be looking and feeling at the same time. It's like they were all in conversation, helping each other figure out how to see the world in a new way. And that's what painting is, right? A way of trying to understand what it all means, even if we never quite get there.