Le grand cirque 1984

Marc Chagall made “Le grand cirque” using paint, and probably a brush, but who knows what else? It’s like he’s juggling colors here, smearing and daubing them across the canvas with a childlike glee, as if painting is a big game. The texture’s all over the place – thick swipes crashing against wispy glazes. Take a look at the horse; the surface is alive with a confetti of marks, each dab a tiny burst of energy. Is it a horse, a dream of a horse, or just a joyous excuse to sling more paint? And then there's the acrobat balanced on top, a swirl of greens and reds, as if the colors themselves are performing. It reminds me a little of Joan Miró, that same playful spirit, but Chagall’s got this yearning quality, a homesickness for a world that's just a little bit out of reach. The piece seems less concerned with making sense and more about capturing a feeling, a mood, a memory. And that, I think, is something worth celebrating.