Nature morte c. 1918

This still life by Henri Matisse is a delicious little world of colour and form. I can imagine him dabbing the paint onto the canvas, shifting the objects around, trying this and that, until it felt just right. Look at that juicy red peach, sitting next to a glass of water with turquoise shadows! The paint is thick and luscious, like frosting. And the way he’s rendered that yellow lamp— it's not about perfection, but about the joy of seeing. What was he thinking as he laid down each brushstroke? Probably not much. He was likely just following his eye and his gut. It reminds me of Cezanne’s still lives, the way he was always searching for something just beyond the surface. It's a testament to how artists are in constant dialogue, riffing off each other's ideas across time. Painting is this embodied conversation which embraces ambiguity and uncertainty.