November had me on the other side of the globe again. This time I packed a couple of recent paintings to give as gifts for family. Lucky for me, framing in Beijing is much cheaper than in the States. I can afford to elevate my paintings a bit, which definitely makes the presentation better and adds to my confidence. Here are some of the paintings I gifted:
During my last long stay in Beijing, I decided to make the most of the situation by practicing watercolor. Oil wasn’t an option and watercolor stuff barely takes up any room. I am happy to report that I’ve actually stuck with the plan. My current goal in practice is trying to keep the colors clean. Small steps, but still moving forward.
Gallery-wise, I saw Liu Jude’s 刘巨德 solo show at the Today Art Museum: Hearts Aflame for the Firmament. Liu studied at the Central Academy of Craft Art in 1965 and later worked under Pang Xunqin 庞薰琹 (1906 – 1985) in 1978, researching the comparison between traditional Chinese decorative art and Western modern art. He believes that painting should imitate the Tao that births all things: using the invisible Tao to paint visible objects, and using visible objects to paint the invisible Tao. His art isn’t constrained by the classification of genre or technique; he adheres to the traditions of Chinese decorative art but modernizes that formal beauty, making him unique in the Chinese art world. The exhibition featured over 200 new pieces by Liu and more than 100 ceramic debuts. Divided into “Ode to Peace” and “Ode to Hometown,” the show presented a kind of “chaotic beauty” and deep emotions for his roots.
In his artist statement, Liu mentioned: “Every time I paint, on the clean Xuan paper, I always put down thick black ink first, trying to occupy, grasp, and stabilize the whole space. As for what object that ink block, dot, or line represents, it is ambiguous, and I am not entirely clear. It is precisely this uncertain relationship of abstract points and lines that triggers me, pulling me to wander with it.”
In comparison, the National Still Life Exhibition hosted by the Chinese Academy of Oil Painting felt … fine. Technically solid, just not particularly exciting.
Finally, on one perfectly sunny mid-November day, I took this photo of a path covered in golden ginkgo leaves, a staple scene in Beijing’s autumn. Doubao, ByteDance’s (owner of TikTok) AI app, turned it into a watercolor painting. Love it or hate it, AI art will be a staple of the art world.
If you’re driving from Boston westward—say, toward Ithaca like I was—take a detour to New Salem, Massachusetts. Nestled in the vibrant fall foliage of a classic New England town, the New Salem Museum and Academy of Fine Art (NSMA) is a treat for anyone who loves realist art.
The NSMA sits on 2 acres, surrounded by a vegetable and rose garden and a serene pond. The three-story 19th-century building was once part of the New Salem Academy. In 2023, Laura and Vincent Barletta purchased it, turning their passion for art into a public treasure. Their journey as collectors began 20 years ago when they fell in love with Michael Klein’s painting “Leaving Home” in a New York gallery. Two decades later, Klein, a leading artist in the revival of representational painting in America, was enlisted to curate and direct the museum and its academy. Their mission is to create a stronghold for contemporary realist art.
The museum, housed on the first two floors, showcases a collection of contemporary realist masterpieces, primarily from living artists, such as Jeffrey T. Larson, Jordan Sokol, Jeremy Lipking, Colleen Barry, Michael Klein, Kate Lehman, Oliver Czarnetta, Daniel Sprick and more. It also features historical gems by John Singer Sargent and Andrew Wyeth, connecting the past and present. The Barlettas’ commitment to sharing their private collection with the public sets NSMA apart. Many artworks, once acquired by private collectors, end up hidden in storage. By opening their collection, the Barlettas ensure these works remain vibrant and accessible.
Justin CoburnJamie CorethDaniel SprickMichael Klein Antonio CazorlaMark PughMiriam HoffmanBrad KunkleCindy ProciousMichael Klein
The museum represent the Barlettas’, especially Laura’s taste in art, but it also embodies Michael Klein’s curatorial vision. Like his paintings, the display is a thoughtful and gentle invitation to experience truth and beauty. It is intimate but not small. Strolling from one gallery to another, you enjoy a natural flow of richness in substance and dynamic cohesion. The value of the art and the quality of the setting are in perfect harmony.
The collection is rotated and expanded regularly. I watched YouTube walkthroughs of past exhibitions, and the displays were different from what I saw, making NSMA a destination worth multiple trips.
The third floor houses the NSMA Academy, a hub for aspiring artists. It offers workshops and classes led by professionals like Rachel Li for painting and Stephen Saxenian for sculpting. The academy fosters creativity and skill development, creating a space for artists to grow and connect. NSMA also hosts an annual International Painting Competition with a sizable award, welcoming all subject matters in representational art. You can view the 2025 finalists on their website or watch a video review by artist David Kassan.
AcademyVegetable Garden
Following a tip from NSMA’s website, I visited the nearby New Salem General Store, a charming spot that’s part convenience shop, post office, and bakery. I grabbed a couple of freshly baked energy cookies and a hot apple cider, then picnicked in NSMA’s back garden. The view of the pond, paired with the treats, was unforgettable, a perfect complement to the museum visit.
The Pond
Michael Klein once said, “Painting is a luxury that brings joy to our lives; it allows us time to sit in front of nature and be awed by the beauty that exists.” (“Art, God, and Beauty”, Realism Today) NSMA is the perfect manifestation of that. Whether you’re an art enthusiast or just looking for a unique stop, NSMA delivers inspiration and beauty.
The freedom I enjoyed while painting the last sketch in August encouraged me to keep experimenting along the same path. I began September by completely abandoning human references. My logic was simple: if I didn’t have a photo to lean on, I could concentrate on artistic expression. Too often, when I started a portrait, I had ideas beyond likeness and accuracy, but as the work progressed, those ideas got lost in the pursuit of a “correct” painting.
I began with two portraits of traditional Japanese women, aiming for an atmosphere of softness and antiquity. Next came two modern women, with a focus on expressiveness. Here are the paintings:
To some extent, I think I achieved what I set out to do—especially in the paintings of the modern women. Looseness has always been difficult for me when a photo sits in front of me. But these exercises also revealed a problem: without a reference to a real person, my “inventions” tend to drift toward the generic and idealized. If I kept going this way, the future paintings might all start looking alike.
So in the next piece, I returned to reworking an actual photo reference. While I liked the result, the painting tightened up compared to those done without references.
from Earthsworld
Then I tried something in between. I didn’t use a photo, but I did use a face I know very well. Instead of inventing features from scratch, I largely followed what I thought was me (with plenty of upgrades, of course). The result was also somewhere in between. It’s not as loose as the invented portraits, but more relaxed than those painted from a photo. And to be honest, I really like my new look.
One more thing delighted me in these experiments: I’ve been thinking and tried in recent years about returning watercolor (without abandoning oil). In some of these works, I managed—at least partly—to capture the fluidity of watercolor I’ve missed so much. It’s not perfect, but it’s got me excited to keep playing around.
August was a busy month for everything except art. I only managed a few portrait sketches. It’s been a while since I focused on this genre, so for inspiration, I turned to my beloved photographer, Earthsworld, whose work I referenced in a small series called “Turquoise in Earth’s World.”
Unlike those turquoise painting, this time I spent at most 2 to 3 hours on each piece. I started every one with a Zorn palette, but sometimes deviated from it later on for convenience. Some sketches are on paper, others on canvas board. In most of them, I aimed for a resemblance to the reference, and only simplified the backgrounds or clothing patterns for aesthetics and to save time. The exception is the last one, where I attempted something creative – I used Earthsworld’s photo only as an inspiration to reinvent a character in my mind. As you can see, the neck area doesn’t make much sense anatomically, and if this becomes a full painting, I need to and will spend more time figuring it out. Enjoy:
July kept the floral theme in my studio, with petals and my learning progressing.
First up, I tried my hand at a peony. As I have mentioned before, Michael Klein is a big influence to me in the floral adventure, and peonies are featured in many of his creations. Those fluffy blooms look dreamy, but they’re a nightmare to paint and arrange. Petals were numerous and messy, dropping faster than I could arrange them in any manageable shape — whether in vase or on canvas. Soon I gave up my grand vision of a complex still life, and managed a simple single flower sketch.
Peony, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, July 2025
To comfort myself afterwards, I moved back to roses, a familiar subject. I thought a Trompe l’oeil (French: deceive the eye) would make the painting of a single rose more challenging and fun. The idea was basically a hyper realistic painting. Getting the shadows and texture just right was trickier than I expected. My rose still looks like a painting. Here I have a better understanding of why people always say you don’t paint exactly what you see, even in a realistic painting. I used ambient room light in my setting, and the rose was largely in a unified color. To make it “pop”, I need to accentuate the value contrast, vary the saturation, and better define the edges. To make it look real, I need to invent the reality – how ironic! As you can see, I didn’t go through these steps. I am not entirely sure I have the skill to reach the final goal, and honestly, I like the painting as is now. Sometimes you call it done and move on.
Yellow Rose, oil on canvas board, 9 x 12, July 2025
Next came a colorful bouquet, and my strong desire to paint something vibrant. In setting up the reference, my first thought was a dark, solid background for contrast. It worked, but it felt too safe. Leaning into the chaos, I draped a multicolored scarf behind the bouquet. I painted the scarf and surface in an abstract style, playing with saturation and value to keep things lively but balanced.
Colorful, oil on canvas board, 18 x 18in, July 2025
Between these floral adventures, I did a partial study of a Bouguereau painting. I’ve always admired his delicate and subtle handling of human faces, and this is also a study of handling backlighting. The softness is achieved through close value and gentle brushwork. When the entire face is away from light, the values are further condensed – something I still need to work on. I also painted a “selfie” as an alternate character—don’t ask. I was hoping for a Morandi-ish low-chroma tranquility… or, a quirky experiment in calm tones.
Bouguereau StudyBouguereau’s OriginalSelfie, oil on canvas board, 8×10 in, July 2025
Lastly, MidJourney has pushed out video generation in recent months, and now you can upload your own image for animation (see the painting for the first video here). Like these:
Don’t laugh. The bizarreness comes from my own skill issues – both in painting and in prompting. Look at the shadows in the second video, that wisdom wasn’t from me. There are millions of fantastic generative videos out there for us to see the potential of extending and alternating the life of our paintings. Always more things to experience and explore!
Floral still life painting, though a major genre, never quite resonated with me. An early teacher once said that flowers were boring— it’s just petal after petal, repetitive work. The elaborate Dutch master bouquets, which I never loved, seemed to confirm his view. Over time, I discovered artists like Shirley Trevena, with her vibrant, stylized designs, and Richard Schmid, with his fresh, organic blooms. Their work—whether bold or subtle—was far from dull. My perspective began to shift.
While taking online courses at Watts Atelier, I followed Jeff Watts’ still life exercises (more here) and realized flowers are a great way to practice color mixing. I’ve created a few floral paintings with varying success (eg 1, eg 2), but even with the setup in front of me, I often relied too much on photos. Photos help capture the ever-changing shapes of the fresh flowers, but lose the subtle hues and shades in the petals, especially in shadow areas. Recently, I watched some videos of Michael Klein and Ashwini Bharathula painting, and their skillful, thoughtful process captivated me. There’s no tedious repetition; each stroke results from careful evaluation and beautiful execution. Inspired, I embraced florals and decided to focus on them for a while. I deliberately avoided taking photos of the setup this time to train my eyes.
Here are my recent paintings:
Roses in Green Vase, oil on canvas board, 12 x 16, 04/2025Roses in Glass Vase, oil on canvas board, 14 x 18, 06/2025Warmth, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, 06/2025Red, oil on paper, 9 x 12, 06/2025Yellow Roses, oil on canvas board, 14 x 18, 06/2025
The two with whitish roses were the most challenging. Reflecting on it, white is such a difficult color—catching every bit of light—that I probably should’ve tackled it later with more experience. In the green vase painting, I struggled to make the flowers stand out. Up close, they look fine, but from afar, they’re flat. I had to darken the petal shadows more than I thought I saw to give them depth. The glass vase piece, with its scattered, broken petal pattern, was hard to unify. In the end, I leaned into the chaos, using short strokes to disrupt the background and table too, hoping this fragmented style would tie everything together.
Overwhelmed by the whites, I turned to a warm-colored flower next. The background in the setup had neutral tones and the lighting was plain daylight, but I warmed the surroundings up to match the flower’s glow.
The red rose bud painting brought me the most joy—a small piece I finished in one sitting. Aiming for a quick study, I used bold, decisive strokes to lay down contrasting color blocks. Pleased with the result, I carried this approach into the yellow roses painting, giving it a slightly stylized feel.
That’s my June wrapped up! With summer just beginning and flowers in full bloom, I’m excited to keep exploring.
I don’t know what sparks the initial idea for a painting in other artists. For me, oftentimes, it has nothing to do with art. As someone genetically at high risk for diabetes, the only way I could justify buying a bag of cookies was to tell myself, “I’m going to use them in a painting!”
And so it began. Adding a few related items – a cookie cutter, a mug, a wooden table -I threw the ingredients into the AI pot of MidJourney. Among the results it generated, one caught my eyes.
MidJourney v6.1
Using it as a guide, I set up my own reference: a small plate to hold the cookies, the new mug I just acquired from a craft show, and a potted plant I picked up from Home Depot. However, I didn’t care much about the background I devised. Why didn’t I just borrow MidJourney’s! I liked the idea of a painting hanging behind the objects, but I didn’t want it to feel generic. One of my cookie cutters was cat-shaped, so to add some fun, I featured a wooden mouse in the painting. The mouse is my zodiac sign, and the little wood carving was a gift from my daughter. This is how a still life became a self-portrait!
Photo of my setup
When mixing reality with “fantasy,” lighting is the tricky part. I placed a light source on the right, but whether it replicated the effect in the AI-generated image is a question mark. Whether the lighting in the AI generation was accurate to begin with is an even bigger question mark. I decided to make the painting less about light and shadow!
After the plant’s leaves grew bigger and shifted positions, and after the cookies were replaced several times, I finally completed the painting.
Cookies, oil on canvas, 14 x 18 in, April 2025
The cookies were actually durable enough, but how else could I nibble an entire bag away without guilt? Though the painting is not strictly realistic, its atmosphere and staging accurately reflects my mood during the process. The objects were dear to my heart and the whimsical dynamism is quintessentially me. I’m grateful to live in a time with more tools to find inspiration and support in creating art.
PS:
MidJourney has come a long way since I first used it, and I recently ran another comparison test by revisiting some old prompts. (Please see my first and second tests. )
For “oil painting, still life, bronze vase, light pink roses, curtain, table, realism, expressive strokes, zorn palette,” now I got these:
For “kandinsky with expressive bold strokes, fish, abstract colors:”
For “André Masson drawing, colored pencil, street musicians, metro, gloomy:”
This isn’t entirely a fair comparison because, as the model becomes more sophisticated, there are more ways to manipulate prompts for varied results. If you are willing to spend some time rating images, MidJourney builds a profile of your preferences, so the results start reflecting your taste, to some extent, regardless of the prompt.
with my profile added
You can also add style references to prompt for more control over the generated style:
Style: Persian Nouveau BloomStyle: Tapestry Synthesia
You can even edit the result to your liking – not quite Photoshop yet, but the result can be wild.
replaced the vase with a glass one using MidJourney Editor
What’s interesting is that, when comparing the Kandinsky and Masson results, it’s not always clear that the newer models are better.
Two things have become a common practice for me. One: after a break from art making, I get back into the practice with some quick portrait sketches. Two: when I’m stumped for ideas, I turn the brush on myself and paint a self-portrait. Back in January, after a string of trips, I followed this pattern. I painted a series of head sketches. One of them was me – live model with a fresh hair cut, why not?
Each time I painted myself, the likeness never feels right, and limited by the using of a mirror, the expression and posture often come out stiff and uninspired. So, did this sketch have the potential to be developed into a real painting? What could I do to make it better and more engaging?
In a more serious attempt, I envisioned a flatter and more stylized approach. I picked warm tones close to my skin color for the background – partly for harmony, partly to pop against my blue hoodie. I used abstract shapes to balance the realistic face. To lean into the flat design, I outlined everything with a Sharpie first, and then filled in the colors, letting some of the black lines show through. The collage-like result is a step up from the sketch. I wanted the face to stay more stylized and almost blend into the fragmented background, but the more I worked on it the more it slid back into a standard realistic portrait. Eventually, I just stopped.
Me, oil on board, 11 x 14 in, Feb. 2025
That got me thinking: Is aesthetic the only thing I could work on? What else could I do to make the painting a bit more meaningful? I recalled a self-portrait I did years ago in a class. The teacher told us to paint ourselves in a different role. I went with a witch – surrounded by classic witchy themes with my own spin: a frog brewing potions and a black cat reading the Malleus Maleficarum (often considered the first major anti-witchcraft document). While the painting was crude in execution, but dreaming it up and piecing it together was a blast.
Me, acrylic on board, 30 x 24i in, April 2020
So why not give it some character? Pick a costume I’d never wear in real life (I’m a muted-hoodie kind of person), or visualize some thoughts I usually keep under wraps? I went for a bolder color and more dynamic palette. I still wanted the face to feel like part of the design, but this time, I let it be drowned by the unsettling shapes, vibrant colors and swirling energy. I kept the ideas of black outlines but used the paint instead of Sharpie this time, allowing more varied and expressive marks. That hint of punk—is it just wild imagination, or a quiet piece of me sneaking out?
Me, oil on canvas board, 12 x 16 in, March 2025
In retrospect, neither of my paintings addressed the likeness or posture issues that bothered me in the first place. In the process of further creation, they became irrelevant. Painting’s at its best when it’s a journey—when it’s messy, exploratory, and forces you to reckon with yourself.
Most of the time when I paint, I listen to audiobooks and podcasts on a variety of topics—philosophy, technology, economics, even geopolitics—the majority of which aren’t art-related. I find music distracting, as if the two art forms are vying for my attention. The eclectic mix of subjects I explore keeps me engaged, and even when I don’t fully grasp the discussion, the thrill of learning something new oddly fuels my creativity and deepens my focus on painting.
That said, I do follow a handful of art podcasts from time to time. My initiation to this experience was The Draftsmen Podcast, hosted by artists and instructors Stan Prokopenko and Marshall Vandruff. They dive into the craft of drawing, painting, and image-making, offering practical advice for aspiring artists—especially those skipping art school—on finding resources, building a self-learning system, and promoting their work. The podcast ran for three seasons before pausing due to the hosts’ busy schedules, but all episodes are still available on YouTube. Even if you don’t listen to the old talks, check out their channel for the episode covers—hilarious parodies of famous paintings featuring the duo. It’s a clever, arty touch.
The Week in Art from The Art Newspaperis my go-to for global art news. It delivers insider insights into exhibitions, museums, and auctions. Sometimes it also covering major copyright lawsuits and policy changes that ripple through the art world—content I’d otherwise overlook. It’s the one podcast I can truly “listen” to without needing visuals.
My favorite and the most relevant is The Undraped Artist, hosted by Jeff Hein, a master realist painter himself. His guests are some of the world’s most accomplished traditional artists—like Jeffrey T. Larson,Michael Klein, Scott Christensen, Alex Venezia, and Mario A. Robinson. Interviews typically begin with the artist’s early days in art, trace their career paths, and explore insights on painting techniques and professional growth. Jeff often examines the guest’s work on air, offering comments and asking questions. For this reason, watching on YouTube—especially during these segments—is ideal, though the audio alone is still rich with inspiration.
A fresh addition to my list is Idiosyncratic Nightmare, where hosts Michael Klein and Stephen Bauman—both highly accomplished realist artists—interview a guest while creating their portrait. In the first two episodes, Bauman sketches with graphite, and Klein paints in oil. It’s like watching two master demos unfold simultaneously, paired with a thoughtful conversation. The candid interview with Tania Rivilis taps into the struggles almost all artists experienced. It is a comfort and encouragement at the same time. This one’s a must-watch on YouTube, and do stay till the end of each episode where the duo speed painting their portrait to a more finished stage. I’m rooting for this podcast to take off.
Finally, there’s Talk Art, recommended by my pal Grok3. Hosted by actor Russell Tovey and gallerist Robert Diament, it’s possibly the longest-running art podcast around, now in its 24th season. I haven’t tuned in yet, but I’m excited to explore its extensive interviews with artists of various caliber—also not just realists, but a broader mix of voices from the art scene. With so many back episodes, it’s a goldmine for anyone needing something to listen to while painting.
Share your favorite and happy listening—and watching!
Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco recently offered a fascinating opportunity to view the works of two remarkable women artists: American Impressionist Mary Cassatt (1844-1926) at the Legion of Honor and Art Deco icon Tamara de Lempicka (1898-1980) at the de Young. Mary Cassatt at Work is the first major U.S. presentation of Cassatt’s work in over 25 years. With more than 100 pieces, the exhibition surveys Cassatt’s materials and processes across 50 years of art-making. Tamara de Lempicka, meanwhile, with more than 120 drawings and paintings, marks her first full museum retrospective in the United States. While both navigated the challenges of working in a male-dominated art world, their approaches to subject matter, artistic expression, public persona, and ultimate position in art history reveal contrasting yet equally compelling perspectives on the complexities of modernity.
Maternity, oil on canvas, 1906Maternity, details
Mary Cassatt was born in Pennsylvania, USA, into a well-to-do family and defied societal norms to pursue a career as a professional artist. She trained in Philadelphia before moving to Paris in 1866, where she would become one of the few American artists to join the Impressionist movement. Cassatt is celebrated for her paintings of women and children, but the exhibition sheds light on many aspects of her artistic exploration in both techniques and subject matters. In her oil and pastel painting, the airy and light infused brushwork, while typical of the impressionists, was also energetic and abstract, in sharp contrast with the delicate linework of her drypoint prints. Her composition, the use of big shapes and patterns, was influenced by Japanese woodblock prints, a craft she herself attempted.
Mother Marie Dressing Her Baby after its Bath, drypoint, 1890The Letter, color drypoint, 1890-91
Apart from her technical versatility, the most interesting aspect to me was her choice of subject matter. Her earlier works often featured people around her. She chronicled her immediate surroundings, capturing her parents reading, her sister sewing, and domestic employees doing house work and taking care of children. Her later works narrowed in more and more on the mother-child theme. The composition was more staged, the brushwork more polished.
Cassatt didn’t have children. Her focus on domesticity could be seen as a way to compensate for this lack in her own life. It could also have been a calculated choice to manufacture a narrative or a niche presence for her art. Many of her paintings, while seemingly catching an intimate moment, were created using paid models in carefully crafted studio fictions. Her own mother called her a woman who was “intent on fame and money.” This single-minded focus rendered her commercial success, but in comparison, her later art was less intriguing and experimental. In a time when woman had less opportunity to make a name in art, a woman artist must be more conscious about how she’s perceived by her peers and the public. The trade-off might have been necessary for a woman to succeed in this field.
A Goodnight Hug, pastel on brown paper, 1880In the Loge, oil on canvas, 1878
Two paintings from the show stood out for me. “A Goodnight Hug,” a pastel, is the best showcase of her skills. It is impressionist in style, with a penetrating sense of intimacy, but it is carefully designed to avoid cheap sentimentalism. The soft, curvy shapes of the mother and child contrast with the straight lines and scratchy, broken patterns in the background, making the piece visually intriguing. “In the Loge”, 1878, another a masterpiece in design, also offers an important perspective on female agency. It features the side view of an elegant woman at the opera. Dressed in black, she is intently scrutinizing the performance through opera glasses. The woman dominates the painting, but her attention is elsewhere. The light-colored balconies curve and extend to partition the background into big shapes. Tiny figures of audience serve almost as decorations, except for one man, who is looking at her through glasses. The painting depicts a woman in public, consciously aware of her surrounding, but decided to pursue her own interests, ignoring male gaze. Her face is delicate but determined. The poster-like composition has a modern simplicity that echoes the decisiveness of the subject.
While Cassatt presented herself as a serious and dedicated artist, committed to her craft and the pursuit of artistic excellence, Tamara de Lempicka is a more colorful image in the public eye. She embodied the spirit of the Roaring Twenties. Her “modern woman” is achieved not just through her art, but also her own life style, which mirrored the Art Deco aesthetic she became known for—sleek, luxurious, and bold.
Young Woman in Green, oil on board, 1931Portrait of Mrs Rufus Bush, oil on canvas, 1929
Born Maria Gorska in Warsaw, Poland, she later adopted the aristocratic title “de Lempicka” and crafted a persona as a glamorous, independent, and sexually liberated artist. She studied under André Lhote (1885-1962), the pioneer of synthetic cubism. Soon Lempicka surpassed her teacher and formed her distinctive style, the sensual and monumental forms of the Italian sculptures with the geometric aesthetics Futurism.
Lempicka’s early works were portraits of familiar people and humble still lifes, then she moved on to explore the sexual agency through female nudes. Her clothed figures, often members of high society dressed in the latest high fashion, are set against compressed skyscrapers in the background, reflecting the opulence and modernity of the time.
La Belle Rafaela, oil on canvas, 1927Still Life of Fruit and Draped Silk, oil on canvas board, 1949
Lempicka embraced the role of the “artist as celebrity,” using her charisma and personal style to promote her work. She achieved considerable commercial success, with her paintings selling for high prices and attracting the attention of wealthy patrons. However, her popularity waned in the 1940s as artistic tastes shifted. Her 1941 show in San Francisco was an attempt to revive her popularity. It featured her paintings of people in distress due to the war, as well as some religious pieces. The artworks seemed contrived and inauthentic, and the review was mixed. Her later works saw a return to an overlooked subject – still lifes, with more polished skills. As the aesthetics moving on to an expressive display of brushstrokes, her high finish and renaissance invisibility fell out of fashion.
Kizette on the Balcony, oil on canvas, 1927
The paintings I like the most in the show are those where Lempicka used her daughter as the model, represented by “Kizette on the Balcony,” a piece that brought her first recognition. Unlike Cassatt, Lempicka married and had children, but she tried hard not to be seen as a mother. When “Kizette on the Balcony” was shown in Paris, it was simply titled “On the Balcony.” However, there is a sense of intimacy and sensitivity that makes this piece endearing. The young girl sitting on the balcony fills the plane, forms a diagonal relationship to the confines of the frame. This dynamism add liveliness to the painting. The smooth curvilinear shapes of the body set against the crowded sharp-edged geometric buildings in the background, symbolizing the contrast between childhood and the mature world. The girl’s presence is almost towering, and her expression inquisitive. There is wondering, but no hesitation.
Both artists presented modern women of their own time, albeit through different approaches and with different intentions. Cassatt’s pursuit of artistic excellence and her commitment to a more “appropriate” subject for a woman artist helped secure her status as a major figure in Impressionism. Lempicka’s approach to promoting her art through a glamorous life style may have hindered a more serious critical appraisal of her work. Cassatt presented herself as loyal to the practice of art. Lempicka chose to live through it. As an amateur artist living in a time with fewer restrictions for women, the exhibition begs the question of how a woman presents herself in a professional world and what one should prioritize as an artist – something I don’t often think about. Perhaps, this is one of the most enduring questions left behind by these shows.