Woman Putting on a Stocking 1895 - 1910

Editor: So here we have Degas’ “Woman Putting on a Stocking,” created somewhere between 1895 and 1910. It’s a bronze sculpture and is currently at The Met. It’s surprisingly small. It gives me this feeling of voyeurism…like catching a glimpse of a private moment. What strikes you about this piece? Curator: Well, isn’t that the thrill, catching these fleeting glimpses? I see Degas capturing a truly unposed, naturalistic form, a study in awkward elegance. The way the light catches the rough texture of the bronze gives her a raw, almost vulnerable quality. I wonder if it's also Degas showing us how, even in what we think of as "ideal" forms, there is an awkward humanness to the everyday gesture? What do you think of the almost unsettling, unsettlingly graceful posture? Editor: It’s a very odd pose! The balance seems precarious, but yes, there's a strange grace to it as well. It definitely challenges traditional notions of beauty. The lack of polish is also striking; the raw texture emphasizes the physicality of the form. Curator: Exactly! Degas was never one for sugarcoating reality, was he? It's like he grabbed a moment right out of real life. He doesn't smooth anything over. The texture seems almost alive. This, of course, begs the question: What would *we* do with a glimpse behind closed doors, yes? Editor: That’s a really great question, and it's interesting to consider how much of the impact comes from it being frozen in bronze forever, rather than being an everyday passing moment. It makes me rethink how I see modern sculpture. Curator: Wonderful! To me, it is art being not merely mimetic, but… provocative and suggestive, don’t you think? Art that dances with shadows in the room.