He can be terse and sketchy,he can abbreviate and domestic in on a detail. Stand back and it all makes perfect senseGoya spotlit against the sunless, the light catching on the fine hair on his forehead, and the rest falling in sunless,trailing masses over his jacket. The hair was a fashion statement, the artist making a figure of himself, or cutting a sprint and looking younger than his 36 years,in 1780.
Here he is again, in fashionable skin-tight trousers and a feast-day decorated jacket with red trim, and a hat with candleholders set above the brim,so that he could add finishing touches to his paintings at night, using artificial light. You almost worry for him: all those candles, and all that turpentine. But for now he stands against the daylight blaring in through the huge window behind him. It catches on the mounds of paint on his palette,the embroidery on his sleeve. He is now in his late 40s. Both ludicrously dandyish for the studio and somehow dangerous, his eyes are sharp. Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com