Bouquet of Flowers 1915

Pierre-Auguste Renoir made this oil painting of a bouquet of flowers at some point in his career. It’s a party of pinks and oranges and yellows that somehow manages to float. The blooms are built from buttery strokes of paint, generous daubs laid on top of each other. The canvas peeks through in places, a kind of breath between the petals. You can almost smell them, right? I get lost in the lower left corner where there are these two flowers that seem to be collapsing in on themselves, like a tired dancer at the end of the night. Renoir’s process is so visible here, it reminds me of someone like Bonnard, where the act of painting is as much the subject as the flowers themselves. It’s like he's saying, "Look at how I made this! Isn't it amazing we can turn goo into feelings?" I find that pretty amazing, don’t you?