The Small Taormin 1904

Tivadar Kosztka Csontvary made The Small Taormin with paint, sometime in the late 19th or early 20th century. I love how the orangey-red hues of the ancient ruins practically vibrate against the muted greens and grays in the landscape. It feels like a symphony of opposites playing out before our eyes. Looking closely, I notice the artist's application of paint is pretty direct, you can almost trace his every move, yet there are no signs of reworking. See how each brick and stone is rendered with swift, deliberate strokes. You can tell it’s a process of layering color upon color until the architecture starts to take shape. There's a real sense of immediacy here, like Csontvary was trying to capture a fleeting moment in time. Artists like Van Gogh come to mind when I look at Csontvary’s paintings. Both of them were deeply committed to expressing their inner visions through their art. For me, this painting isn’t just a picture of some old ruins. It’s a window into the mind of an artist wrestling with the big questions of life, death, and everything in between.