Bullfight 1910

Pyotr Konchalovsky's 'Bullfight' is a riot of earthy reds, ochres, and blacks, all fighting it out on the canvas. Imagine the artist, wrestling with the scene, trying to capture the energy of the bullring, the drama, and the sheer terror. He's laying down thick strokes, smearing the paint, maybe even attacking the canvas like the bull attacks the matador. Look at that fallen figure, legs akimbo, a swirl of blue and pink. Did Konchalovsky feel sympathy, or was he caught up in the spectacle? There's something raw about the way he's handled the paint. It's not refined. It's visceral. It reminds me of Soutine, that same urgency, that need to get the feeling down, no matter what. I can imagine him looking at Goya's bullfighting scenes and thinking, "Yeah, but what if it was more… messy?" Artists are always in conversation, riffing off each other, pushing things further. That’s what Konchalovsky is doing here, throwing himself into the ring. And when you stand here, you're in the ring too.