The Man at the Crossroads 1924

Dean Cornwell made this painting, The Man at the Crossroads, and right away, what grabs me is the way he's built up these scenes within scenes. It's all done with such deft touches of the brush. Looking closely, you can almost feel the texture of the plaster wall and the weight of the red clay pot. The way the paint's applied, it’s not trying to hide anything; it’s all about the immediacy, the here-and-now of the making. The brushstrokes are confident, almost like he’s sculpting the scene as much as painting it. There's a spot where the blue from the window peeks through, just near the man with the parasol - that tiny splash of color really vibrates against the muted tones around it. For me, it feels like a moment of pure visual poetry. Cornwell's work reminds me of a slightly earlier painter, John Singer Sargent, in the way he captures light and form. It feels like a conversation across time, a continuous exploration of what paint can do.