Anemones 1916

This is Renoir’s ‘Anemones’, at the Pompidou Center, made with oil paint, sometime in the late 19th century. Look at the painting closely and you can almost see Renoir in action. I imagine him, eyes squinted, dabbing at the canvas, building up these luscious layers of red, white, and brown. These aren’t just flowers; they’re explosions of color and feeling. The paint is applied so freely, so generously, that it feels like he’s not just painting what he sees, but also what he feels. The way he handles the paint, thick in some places, thin in others, creates a surface that vibrates with life. That little flick of red in the top right corner? That's where Renoir reveals himself. I feel as though I’m in a studio with him; breathing in turpentine. There’s something so intimate and immediate about it. Painters are always riffing off each other, you know? From Manet to Monet, it’s like they’re all having this big conversation across time, inspiring each other to see the world in new ways. And here, Renoir is saying something about beauty, pleasure, and the sheer joy of painting.