Rue a Ennery 1912

Gustave Loiseau must have stood right there, painting Rue a Ennery with short, dab-like strokes of the brush. I love to think about how the painting came to be, layer by layer. I mean, what was it like for Loiseau to spend that time, deciding where to put each mark? Did he work on the sky first and then move to the buildings, or did he jump around, led by his eye and his mood? It’s like he's slowly building up the image out of pure color and touch. I can imagine him thinking about the impression he's making, the feeling he's getting down. All of these brushstrokes coming together, like a kind of dance. And in the end, it all adds up to something that feels so solid, but is, of course, an illusion.