Balaklava. The balcony. 1929

Pyotr Konchalovsky’s Balaklava. The balcony. is alive with feeling. It’s full of these generous brushstrokes, light and dark, like the sun on a wall. I can imagine Konchalovsky setting up his easel on that very balcony, squinting in the sun. He probably squeezed out a big dollop of ultramarine for the sea and sky, maybe a little viridian to make it sing, painting those little white buildings across the water with such care. Each dab of paint feels so deliberate, capturing the intensity of the midday heat and the cool shadows underneath the grapes on the table. That little round table! It’s such a simple, mundane thing, but he makes it so present. You can almost feel the rough texture of the wood. I bet Konchalovsky was thinking about Cezanne while he was painting this, trying to capture the essence of a place and a moment. It feels honest, unpretentious, and full of life. You can feel how much he loves being a painter.