Crouching Tahitian woman 1902

Paul Gauguin painted this crouched figure of a Tahitian woman, and he seemed to work reductively, as if paring the image back to basics. There’s something so tactile about it; the ochre and earth tones, softly muted, giving the whole image a bodily feel. You can almost sense the roughness of the woven cloth and the weight of the woman’s body through Gauguin’s application of chalky pigment. The way he’s built up the textures, particularly in the lower section, is really interesting. It’s like he’s allowing the materiality of the paint to mimic the texture of the fabric. And notice how the edges of the figure bleed into the background, blurring the boundary between her body and her environment. I’m reminded a little of Pierre Bonnard, another painter with a deep interest in the intimate portrayal of domestic life, and like Bonnard, Gauguin really invites us to share a private moment. It's the kind of piece that leaves you with more questions than answers and embraces the ambiguity, which is something I appreciate.