Lorette with Cup of Coffee 1917

Editor: So, this is Henri Matisse's "Lorette with Cup of Coffee," painted in 1917, oil on canvas. It's got this really languid, almost drowsy mood to it. She looks like she's contemplating something heavy with that coffee. What do you see in this piece that maybe I'm missing? Curator: Ah, Lorette. For me, she's the embodiment of a certain ennui, wouldn't you agree? She reminds me of those long afternoons as a student when the light seemed to stretch on forever, promising nothing but more reading. Notice how Matisse uses colour – that honeyed light and the sharp black accents of her gloves. It's a visual contradiction. Are you picking up that tension, too? Editor: Definitely a contrast! It's like a casual, sleepy morning clashing with…well, those opera gloves suggest something far fancier! I feel the drowsy mornings as an undergrad too. Was this perhaps Matisse playing with societal roles or expectations during that time, or am I reading too much into morning-wear? Curator: You are onto something very special, I think. The First World War cast its shadow. Everything felt like a rehearsal, life became fragmented, almost staged. Is her apparent melancholy the shadow of the Great War? Does she anticipate a grand performance or just the morning news? You could certainly imagine it. Perhaps it is Matisse showing that the boundaries between private, sleepy existence and dramatic external life, between casual dress and opera attire, are much more fluid than we assume? What do you feel? Editor: That resonates a lot; It brings her so much closer to reality. Now I see much more in that pause...in that drowsy state of awareness. I guess even opera gloves couldn't shut out a world at war. Curator: Absolutely! It all starts with observing what is close at hand, and finding worlds inside what others discard. That's what art should awaken, don’t you think? Editor: I think you just blew my mind, in a good way. Thanks!