Cigar Store Indian c. 1946

Albert Ryder painted this ‘Cigar Store Indian’ sometime in the 20th century, and looking at it now I imagine him carefully building up the figure's form with layers of watercolor. You can almost see him working intuitively, shifting and adjusting the colors, the red of the figure’s cloak bleeding into the white of the ground. I think Ryder must have been fascinated by the object itself, the way the carved wood translated into something both familiar and strange. I can relate, spending hours trying to capture the essence of a thing. The red, white, and blue feathers atop the figure's head really catch your eye. They're rendered with such delicate brushstrokes, a kind of quiet reverence. It reminds me of the watercolors of Charles Burchfield, or even Marsden Hartley, those early American modernists who found beauty in unexpected places. Painting is a constant conversation, an ongoing exchange of ideas across time. We artists are always inspiring one another, aren't we? Always chasing that elusive feeling, trying to make sense of the world, one brushstroke at a time.