Autumn in Cagnes 1918

Henri Matisse made this painting, Autumn in Cagnes, with oil on canvas. Look at that foreground, the field is this flurry of strokes. It's like Matisse is saying, "Hey, this is paint, this is a field, let's not get them confused, okay?" Up close, you can see how thin the paint is, how the weave of the canvas breathes through. The color is muted, autumnal, as you might expect, yet somehow everything still vibrates. See the way he stacks up the planes, the field, then those dark green trees, then the buildings, all set against this almost glowering sky? It reminds me a little of Cezanne, this business of building form with color, but looser, somehow more playful. Art is never a solo act, is it? It’s like a big, ongoing conversation.