Ballet Scene c. 1907

Edgar Degas made this pastel drawing of a ballet scene sometime in the late 19th century, and right away, I can imagine him drawing and redrawing, smudging and layering those sticks of pure pigment. There's something so intimate about this hazy view of dancers in their tutus, clustered on the stage, with their arms up like they are reaching for something just out of grasp. You know, Degas was so into the ballet—obsessed, even. It makes me wonder, what did he see when he looked at these dancers? What kind of movement or emotion was he chasing with those pastels? Look at the way he's built up the color on their skirts—those soft marks create such a sense of volume and texture, you can almost feel the weight of the fabric. I've always felt that the dancers by Degas, and the paintings of bathers by Bonnard, or the interiors by Vuillard, were all somehow in conversation. They inspire my own work, as if Degas is whispering, "Keep going, keep searching, don't be afraid to get lost in the process."