We are searching data for your request:
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.
Turner is a British artist, impressionist and partly a novelist, whose paintings often trace the theme of man’s impotence and imperfection, written without bitterness or contempt, but, on the contrary, with sincere love or crafty irony.
A man in the middle of the world is small, a man can do almost nothing when the winds of change carry him, like a feather, from event to event. But he remains a man, a thing in himself, a personality, in the end. Turner gave preference to the historical genre, landscapes and rare genre scenes.
“Salon” is one of his rare paintings, which depicts people not in nature, but in the world that they created for themselves. This explains the somewhat uncharacteristic style of painting - compared to the crystal clear, quivering landscapes, "Salon" is written deliberately crudely, vaguely, so that it is impossible not to make out a single face, you can only guess vague shadows in a vague environment. A woman, spread out in an armchair, with a face like a sheep's face. Someone reminiscent of a walrus, spread out over the sofa.
Three more women at the small round table, all without faces, all vague and fuzzy. People indulge in rest and talking about nothing - and in this they seem to blur, becoming boring and empty, without distinguishing features and memorable features. All of them, with their hairstyles, with their restless hands, with their lack of meaning, are tired of empty talk and stupid twittering. All of them themselves do not understand why they came here, but they diligently hide this misunderstanding and pretend that they are absorbed in the evening.
The "Salon" makes fun of idlers and talkers, while sympathizing with them - their life is so empty that even their faces cannot be distinguished. And those who leave the salon tomorrow will not remember what they talked about, what they wanted, whom they discussed. All this is unimportant and discussed just so as to at least somehow pretend that life makes sense.
Painting New Moscow Pimenov