Jar c. 1936

Charles Caseau made this lovely watercolor painting of a jar at some point during his long life. I can just imagine him hunched over the paper, patiently layering the transparent washes of brown and ochre to build up the form. I think the slight imperfections are what make this work so appealing. See that barely-there, tremulous line defining the curve of the jar, and the subtle striations suggesting its rough surface? There's so much care here, a real tenderness toward the subject. I feel like I can see Charles thinking about this jar, the way it sits in space, the feeling of holding it. The blue flourishes and the maker's mark become little abstract paintings in their own right. The act of painting, right? It’s an attempt to grasp something, to hold it still for a moment. I think there’s a connection to other artists too, a kind of call and response across time. It’s like one artist whispers a question, and another answers back with a brushstroke.