RACHEL RUYSCH, Nosegay on a Marble Plinth, 1695,
Norton Simon Museum.
From a distance, there are bright, sensuous forms emerging from darkness, like a body laid out in a bedroom at night, limbs dangling.
Upon approach, the forms resolve into flowers lit brightly.
The light source comes from where we ourselves stand, and it seems that the painting depends us on being close to it.
As if by stepping away we will cause a curtain to fall upon the scene.
The flowers are on a diagonal, supported by an invisible force.
The top of the bouquet fades to nothing in the enclosing shadows.
Closer still—another step—and we can see that the flowers are alive with crawling insects.
A large bumblebee hides in the shadow of the roses' petals. A grasshopper perches with tiny feet atop the snapdragon.
A butterfly sits quietly, its wings faded as if they have rubbed against something, causing the delicate powder to smear.
And finally, a dragonfly, the thin line of his body silhouetted in an "S" shape against the black.
The dragonfly is suspended impossibly in the air with unmoving wings, staring directly at us with tiny, beady eyes.
Everything in the painting is an expression of summer, but there is no sunlight here.
The artist transports these bright plants and ephemeral creatures from a sunlit world into the darkness.
The fact that they are here, severed from the bright outdoors, means they will soon die.
Their death is imminent and inevitable, but by painting them the artist freezes them for an eternity between life and death.
They are suspended, looking out at us forever, asking if we will join them soon. ❧
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