The Winter's Festival 1913

Willard Metcalf conjured “The Winter’s Festival” with oil on canvas, and it feels like he mixed the snow right into the paint. I wonder if he was shivering while he painted? Look at the way he applied these dreamy blues and whites, almost like he’s frosting a cake. You can see each stroke, how the brush met the canvas, dragged and lifted, leaving behind these little peaks and valleys of pure color. It’s not just a landscape, but a record of the artist’s movements, his breath on a cold day turned into paint. I’m reminded of Monet and Pissarro but Metcalf has his own take. Painters, you know, we’re all in conversation with each other, across time, across styles. We absorb, we react, we push back, and then we add our own voice to the mix. It's embodied expression - so much is possible when mark-making embraces ambiguity. Metcalf created his own language for the snow. It is a space of imagination.