This painting, "Autumn in Abramtsevo" is of a geographical place (the artist's colony) but it is all the more a state of mind. It is an interior place—a perfect image for these early weeks of Lent. Polenov has taken us to a backwater. Nothing seems to happen in a backwater — a part of the river which isn't reached by the current or tide, where the water is stagnant, where water plants float undisturbed. It is an isolated, peaceful place. The artist hasn't introduced any human figures. We are alone here, standing on the patch of green grass in the lower left corner, with the breeze, the autumn sun, the frogs and birdsong.
Thoreau calls autumn, nature's ripening. It is the time of nuts and berries, when the leaves turn color, fall to the ground, decay and restore the forest soil. It is not a time of death, but of preparation — as each leaf lets go and falls, next spring's bud is already set, albeit tight, small and protected. Not only that, but each tiny bud is covered with many thousands of microscopic sensors that, when the sun and warmth are just right, and the buds begin to open and leaf out, a message is sent to the roots down below to start sending up liquid food! What a wonder!
The tall conifer in the painting's center is a kind of dividing line. It's an old tree, the bottom half is full of lichen. To the left side there are deeper shadows and darker trees. On the right side there are brightly colored leaves and white bark, thinner shadow and an illumined grassy bank.
Polenov's use of color in this painting is said to be "resonant." Resonant is French, meaning, expressive of something with an intense force. Resonant means deep, full-bodied, vibrant, rich and clear. But resonant also means the thing is evocative, suggestive, expressive and moving. The light and shadow, the colors of light, earth and sky, are created to call forth something from inside ourselves.
Polenov often includes "romantic corners" in his paintings. These are not places where lovers can tuck themselves out of sight, but mysterious, undisturbed places where the viewer can turn things over deeply from within. He is also called the master of planes — the layering of spaces. If we take the risk and leave our safe place on the grassy bank, and paddle up and into the dark turn (the romantic corner), we may eventually come to the bright space beyond. Do you see it?
There's Lent — the invitation to take a turn up and away from past thinking. The nation could do with that kind of Lent. Not a few people are stuck in old, small, damaged, fearful, fanciful, useless thinking. The only thing Lent really asks us to "give up" is old thinking. So, Lent is risky, but I'd suggest Polenov knows, there's a bright beyond.
