Madonna Laboris 1931

Nicholas Roerich painted Madonna Laboris with tempera on canvas. The layers of blues and purples feel very thin and washy. The whole surface hums with subtle variations of tone. I can imagine Roerich layering these colours, like veils of translucent light and shadow. It's as if the architectural forms of the buildings and mountains have been built up through a process of accretion, a slow, meditative act of mark-making. I wonder if he was thinking about ancient Byzantine frescoes? Maybe he was trying to evoke a sense of timelessness and spiritual depth? Look at the way the figure of the Madonna is positioned, almost as if she's suspended between the earthly realm and the celestial heavens. The halo glows, yet she is not floating but supporting herself on the structure. What is she working on? Roerich's paintings remind me that artists are always in conversation, riffing off each other's ideas across time and space, and through this exchange they keep the creative spirit alive. It's a reminder that painting is an ongoing process of inquiry and discovery, where meaning is never fixed.