This painting, Laundress on the Banks of the River is early Pissarro painted in 1854, when he returned to his boyhood, island-home for a short time.
One art critic wrote that Pissarro is not interested in telling the viewer a story. He isn't interested in whether you feel anything or not? The only way I'd agree with that comment is that Pissarro might not be consciously telling us a story. I would say a painting like this is a kind of daydream. We can learn a great deal about ourselves by looking in on daydreams. Carl Jung says that our daydreams are more important than our night dreams.
Camille Pissarro loves the outdoors: the dense clouds, the morning atmosphere, the water, the great rocks, the green things, the ground itself. Look at how small the woman is in this landscape. No matter how people may fill a stadium for a sport event or rally, we are each still only a tiny piece of creation.
She is washing clothes - alone. Is that wet laundry bleaching in the sun on the grassy slope to the left? We know nothing of who she is. Is she a mother with a husband and children? Is she perhaps the oldest daughter who has this family responsibility?
What is she thinking about while she works? Perhaps she's singing to herself. Or maybe she's quiet and just listening to the sounds of water, birds and breeze. She might be grumbling about her deary and monotonous life, but that's not really the feeling of the painting, is it? Maybe she's gratefully counting her blessings.
Could the painting be a personal invitation to guarantee myself some silence and alone-ness this Lent? It's not always easy. Many people are surrounded by other people and noise from morning til night.
I was visiting a woman in a Catholic nursing home one afternoon. When I got off the elevator I stepped into a large community room where one nurse was distributing medications to a large number of patients. I asked her, "Are there any sisters still working in this place?" She said, "Yes, a few, but they're over in the convent now for their quiet time." I asked, "When do you get quiet time?" She said, "When I get home after work." Then, after thinking a moment, she added, "No, on second thought, in the car on the way home after work."
So the Lenten question might be, "Do I have some "Shh" time? "Be still and know that I am God" Psalm 46:10 says. That doesn't necessarily mean I need more church time, but it might be a call to find some bit of solitude - like this washer women. Some people have the empty space and time but they fill it with media noise. Solitude and silence makes them nervous. What's that about?
This woman is working nestled in the rocks, like an ancient monk. And what might I do with my own Lenten solitude of even a few minutes each day? I don't need it to think about how to solve my many problems. I could just be present to the moments, which are a precious gift. "You created my inmost self, knit me together in my mother's womb. For so many marvels I thank you; a wonder am I, and all your works are wonders. You knew me through and through, my being held no secrets from you.Psalm 139:14-15.
