Wallet c. 1936

Thomas Holloway made this lovely watercolour on paper, called Wallet, sometime between the late 18th and early 19th century. Looking at it, I can almost feel him delicately building up the tones and textures of the leather, coaxing out the form with thin washes, one over the other. He wasn't trying to be flashy. I bet he was a pretty quiet person. It's kind of an unassuming painting, but there’s something so tender and intimate about the way he renders the worn surface of the wallet, the subtle gradations of color, and the way the light catches on the buckle. The color palette is restrained, mostly blacks and reds, but it's all about the tiny variations he finds. Painters are always in conversation, and I see echoes of Chardin in Holloway's meticulous observation. The way he elevates the everyday object into something worthy of contemplation. It reminds me that painting, even something as simple as rendering a wallet, is a way of seeing the world, a way of knowing, and a way of feeling. It is about slowing down, looking closely, and finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.