The Walchensee, New Snow 1922

Lovis Corinth made this painting of the Walchensee with, what looks like, pure instinct. Look at how the brushstrokes build up this almost violently alive surface, a flurry of color responding to the raw energy of nature. Corinth lays the paint on so thick, that it’s practically sculpture. This isn't about calm reflection, it's about the act of seeing, the raw, unfiltered response to the world. The way he uses the purplish-red for the mountain range, for example, isn’t just descriptive, it’s visceral. It’s like he’s not just painting what he sees, but what he *feels*. See those short, stabbing strokes in the foreground? They're almost frantic, full of urgency. It’s as if he's trying to capture the essence of the scene before it disappears. It reminds me a bit of some of Courbet’s landscapes. But with an added layer of psychological intensity. Painting is always a dialogue, artists build on what came before, but always with their own particular twist. Corinth isn’t trying to give us answers, he's embracing the glorious mess of it all.