Way to the Marquayrol 

Curator: Standing before us is "Way to the Marquayrol" by Henri Martin. Editor: It has this beautiful shimmering surface. A symphony of dabs and dots conjuring, for me at least, a radiant autumn afternoon. Curator: Yes, it exemplifies Martin's engagement with divisionism. He meticulously applied small strokes of pure colour to create a vibrating landscape. Look at how he uses impasto, the raised texture adding to the luminosity. Editor: I can't help thinking about how each dab represents a moment, a feeling perhaps. The overall structure appears rather organized, although I'm not sure it succeeds as well when examined too closely. Does that make sense? Curator: It does! And the subject—a path winding through cliffs, forest, and trees. His interpretation renders it almost dreamlike; quite unlike that of, say, a landscape realist of the Barbizon School. And yet, it’s still utterly of that place. The use of colour seems very modern while its inspiration draws upon long standing traditions. Editor: Tradition disrupted though, I think. It almost denies our expectation that one might physically be able to walk such a road as depicted in such a painting as this. What remains are impressions; traces, echoes, light… all held in a delicate suspension between form and abstraction. Curator: Indeed. We feel its materiality but, as you mention, the impression takes hold in memory perhaps stronger than how one would process actual experience in person. Editor: Right. Almost like a feeling of someplace real slipping, transforming, melting— into the abstract memory of someplace one merely dreamt. Curator: Which ultimately takes hold of reality, if even for only ourselves. Well, for me personally, considering it alongside your remarks, I think the landscape suddenly turned a corner into something more compelling and nuanced than when I first noticed it. Editor: Agreed. Something previously taken for granted perhaps came more alive when seen a bit askew from where it stood before our gaze.