Dedinčanka 1937 - 1938

Mikuláš Galanda made 'Dedinčanka' with paint, probably gouache or tempera, that lovely matte stuff. Look at those soft, chalky colors - pinks, greens, blues - like an Easter egg that's been left out in the sun. I can imagine Galanda working quickly, intuitively; the painting feels immediate. There is something touchingly naive in the way he has painted it. A woman sits in front of a village scene. She's lost in thought; her fingers are pressed to her cheek. Is she sad, or just daydreaming? We can only guess at what he, himself, was thinking. I’m drawn to the directness of the marks, the slightly awkward perspective. Notice the hand, how it becomes a stylized form, a shape that serves the composition more than anatomical correctness. Maybe Galanda was looking at folk art, or maybe he was just being himself. Either way, it makes me want to pick up a brush and get painting. It reminds me that art is a conversation, a back-and-forth across time and space.