Pomegranates in the Wind 1951

Curator: Looking at Andre Masson's 1951 mixed-media print, "Pomegranates in the Wind," I immediately sense a kind of ecstatic, chaotic dance. Editor: Chaotic, certainly, but in a beautifully structured way. The composition, with its layered brushstrokes and overlapping forms, adheres to a sort of dynamic symmetry. Curator: Symmetry, maybe, if the wind itself were symmetrical! To me, it feels more like catching glimpses of fleeting impressions—the curve of a branch, the burst of a pomegranate, all swallowed by the breeze. Does it not stir something primal in you? Editor: Primality perhaps, but filtered through a distinctly modernist lens. Notice how Masson reduces natural forms to their barest essence—strokes of color, fragmented shapes. It’s as if he's deconstructing the very idea of a botanical print. Curator: Deconstructing, yes, but also re-enchanting! It's like he's taking these traditional symbols of abundance and fertility—pomegranates and flowers—and unleashing them from the garden, into the unruly elements. Editor: Precisely, it's a disruption! Take the interplay of color. The earthy browns and greens are juxtaposed with sudden flashes of red. A visual articulation, wouldn't you say, of the push-and-pull between nature's groundedness and its potential for wildness. Curator: It’s as though Masson were attempting to capture not just the look of a garden but the very *feeling* of it, the dizzying sensation of being surrounded by life and growth. You can practically feel the sun and the wind. Editor: Indeed. The "feeling," as you say, is evoked precisely by the artist’s mastery of form and the subversion of artistic convention. To me, the beauty lies in the way Masson uses abstraction to enhance rather than diminish our perception of nature. Curator: For me, it resides in its evocative nature. This is Masson in full bloom. A storm in a garden—isn't it glorious? Editor: I must concede, there is indeed a captivating wildness embedded within this highly structured canvas.