Pauca Verba is Latin for A Few Words.

Friday, March 31, 2017

Golden Autumn 1895



How much Levitan was influenced by the French Impressionists is still debated, but it is clear that despite that influence, Levitan always went his own way. I like that. "You don't keep a seagull in a cage," Mother Placid would say. 

Not only did Levitan go his own stylistic way, but he also painted Russia, which had its own unique landscapes full of spiritual energies. 

"He closed his eyes to the gladness and glory of the world, selecting in preference the sternest and most melancholy aspects of Russian scenery: grey days, autumn moods, rain-washed skies, all seen with a deeply poetic vision and painted with a breadth and boldness that aroused the hostile criticism of old-fashioned critics who spoke of his pictures as "unfinished sketches" or accused them of being pasty." The Russian Arts, Rosa Newmarch 1917

Here, the white-bark birch trees are like flame. Late blooming plants tumble down the incline to the stream and even a couple of branched plants reach out over the edge of the water. Maybe they are Michaelmas Asters which bloom in late September for the Archangel's feast day.


Fall-blooming Michaelmas Asters


There is an opening in the trees beyond which we see a farmer's field that has already been plowed  for the winter rest. The stream twists, but we don't know if it has come around the bend from left of right. This is how my science-consultant friend describes Levitan's clouds:
These are Cumulus clouds, specifically Cumulus Humilis. The are found in separate puffy piles and indicate fair weather, usually developing in moderate tempertures. In this case, they get the name humilis because they are relatively small and non thretening cumulus type clouds. Other forms of cumulus, with more vertical development, indicate possible thunder storms.
Four years before Golden Autumn was painted, art critic Alexander Benois wrote about a large exhibition he'd gone to see which featured some of Levitan paintings.  Levitan was thirty-one at the time. Benois wrote in the Tretyakov Magazine:
"It felt as if windows were un-shuttered and flung wide open, and a stream of fresh, sweet smelling air rushed into the stuffy exhibition room filled with the stench of too many sheepskins and oiled boots."
"A stream of fresh, sweet-smelling air" - can you sense it?