EDUCATION & STATEWIDE PARTNERSHIPS     |     FOR ADULTS     |     FOR TEENS     |     FOR FAMILIES & KIDS
FOR TEACHERS & STUDENTS     |     FOR STUDENT & PROFESSIONAL ARTISTS

A Pensive Impression

Carlos A. Martinez

Following a night of uneasy dreams, Pierre awoke with a start and went directly to his newest canvas to inspect its tones by sunlight.

The vibrant colors shifted vividly before him, creating the same type of spectacle that had, since the previous spring, excited artists in and around France. The critics had named it Impressionism, and its masters could make disjointed brushstrokes dance on the canvas like moonbeams on windswept waters.

Although Pierre saw merit in the form, he was already beginning to wish for more from his paints. It was obvious to him that Claude and Edgar knew, more instinctively than he, how to work this trendy style. His own hands, he considered, might be better suited to portraits, or sculptures.

For the moment, however, Pierre examined his newest work in the sunny studio. His model, Gabrielle, was depicted in the shiny wet oils of the painting, wearing a smart black dress with a crisp white collar beneath it. Gabrielle’s hair was drawn back to reveal a delicate ear decorated with a single pearl. Her right hand reached up to rest on her cheek, which was so pale that it reminded him of the fine china he’d painted as a youth in Limoges.

The memory of precise art on bone china stirred a sour nostalgia in him. At 34, that youth seemed long past, and the years between Limoges and Paris lingered now only as a lonely list of achievements and regrets.

As the morning moved on, Pierre found himself drawn, over and over, to Gabrielle’s face. The black spot that marked Gabrielle’s eye was focused outside the painted scene, on the garden beside the villa. In it, Pierre was sure he saw a vacant stare of irrepressible sadness which stirred, in him, an almost palpable guilt.

How could he have been so enamored of brush strokes and color contrasts that he had missed the bleak outlook he was capturing? How could he have been so intent on achieving a masterful impression that he had allowed Gabrielle to be drawn away from the small room, into the dangerous distance, to be ravaged at once by phantoms lurking just outside the frame?

He decided at once that when next he saw her, he would apologize for his insensitivity. And so, when Gabrielle arrived at his studio later that day, dressed once again in black, her hair drawn back and her ears highlighting the same pearls she’d worn the day before, he said, without thought, “I am very sorry.”

“Sorry?” she asked.

He gestured toward the work. “About the painting.”

“It’s wonderful,” Gabrielle remarked, focusing on it. “What will you call it?”

“I have decided on Pensive,” he replied. “In light of my subject’s binding sorrow.”

“Sorrow?” she said, and smiled curiously. “I assure you, sir, I was not unhappy at all. To be frank, I can provide no account of my thoughts while you were painting, as I haven’t the slightest recollection of what they were.”

Pierre shook his head to clear it, and looked over his canvas once again.

“I see.” he said, but he didn’t see at all. What dark fantasy was it that he’d trapped there in the oils? What fleeting sentiment had he painted without intent? And, more importantly, to whom did it belong?

After a short while, he said, “La Songeuse, then. For my day dreamer.”

“Yes.” Gabrielle replied, satisfied. “That’s it exactly.”

Based on Pierre Auguste Renoir's Day Dreaming (La Songeuse), 1875
Virginia Museum of Fine Arts

Beyond the First Impression Main Page