I love still life. My love of painting is not what it once was, in that not only do I love it less, but I also love different styles. Yet my love of the Dutch masters remains. The heightened naturalism is something impressive, but something about the quiet stillness speaks volumes to me. I find it interesting that the genre was originally intended to act as a paradox. The ownership of the painting, the quality thereof, and the contents therein all indicate wealth, but then there would be moralizing message. A skull, or a butterfly, or a candle, or a watch, or rotting fruit would remind the patron that for all his worldly possessions, he was mortal (and riches cannot leave the earthly realm). But the fact remains that the painting was a possession, and an expensive one at that. It is as if Protestant Dutch society publicly condemned wealth, but privately lived it. Well, that is, actually, exactly how things were. I learned a lot, researching Rembrandt over the years. . .
Anyway, this piece was originally intended for an assignment, but I am not going to use it. It was enjoyable as a technical exercise, for lighting and mirror play, but it wasn't meant to have a particularly pithy message. I also doubt it would be well-received. People in the print media program tend to like to think of themselves as something like communists — they think prints are all about democracy for the poor, or that everything has to be radical and antiestablishment. I'm of modest means, but that only makes me more fascinated with the good life. You'll never see me pull one of those ridiculous, mocking faces, saying, 'well, la ti da.' The point is that I think this empty display of luxuriance would be offensive.
Photographed February 11, 2014.
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