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Art & Thought: Monet’s Water Lilies at the MoMA

posted by ChickSpeak
Sunday, February 21, 2010 at 2:06pm CST

On a sea of gold, there is a bridge of fire. The sky is raining flame. Every part of the canvas is drowning in brushstrokes of gold and red, as if consumed in its own paint. Even though a whirlwind of colors engulfs the whole piece, I can still trace the elegant silhouette of a footbridge, as it spans from one embankment to the next. I can take solace in the dark blues, whites, and greens that counterbalance the hot mess of colors in the water and sky.

I can even imagine in my mind the sight of this footbridge as the artist may have witnessed it in real life. In the evening time, just before the sun is ready to set, and the whole world feels as if it has fallen into a net of velvet and gold, there is a time in each precious day when nature is unafraid to show off its beauty, when everything becomes illuminated in a halo of light. The artist Claude Monet has captured this moment in his work, “The Japanese Footbridge”, which depicts between thick swirls of paint and casual brushstrokes a barely discernible bridge-like structure.

This piece was only one of the many breathtaking selections offered at the Museum of Modern Art exhibit aptly titled “Monet’s Water Lilies”. Like countless others before me, I was already a fan of Monet even before setting foot in the gallery. When I was in the third or fourth grade, I remember telling my father how I could easily duplicate Monet’s painting, “Agapanthus”, which unbeknownst to me was a work over six feet tall. My father, amused with my self-confidence, said that not only would he take me up on that offer but he would also provide me with the canvas, the paint, and the brushes.

Of course, when the day came for me to begin working on my “copy” of Monet’s ”Agapanthus”, I balked at the size of the six and a half by six feet canvas my father had prepared especially for the occasion. After admitting that I was in no way capable of duplicating Monet’s masterpiece, my father offered to help me create a painting that was in the style of Monet, a project I leapt at. Three months later, we had completed a huge work that was representative of Monet’s style, though it truthfully fell short in every other department, failing to capture Monet’s artistic vision and technical expertise.

The day I visited “Monet’s Water Lilies”, I was again faced with the painting which “haunted” me so many years ago. Standing face-to-face with the work, I was overwhelmed with how large and impressive it was in real life. As with Monet’s other paintings, the flowers surface like a dream between strokes of light and dark grass blades. The petals, though wonderfully rendered, are not the focal point of the piece. Rather, the viewer’s attention concentrates on the mess of leaves, outlined in blue and white, which wrap each purple blossom in a bouquet of intangible green ribbons.

Seeing the painting in person for the first time in my life, I was awed by the unfinished quality of the work. Some parts of “Agapanthus” appeared crude and haphazardly added at the last minute. Others radiated the kind of detail in color and shape, which made Monet a true pioneer of Impressionistic painting. While “Agapanthus” was perhaps the most personal piece for me in the collection - for both good and bad reasons - it was the centerpiece of the exhibit, a 40-foot-long triptych of creamy pinks, greens, and blues that took my breath away.

The first panel of the triptych, which depicts fluorescent green lilies gliding across a dark blue pond, melts effortlessly away into the second panel, where lilies budding tiny pink blossoms drift on fluffy white clouds. The third panel is a darker echo of the first panel, bringing together deep greens, blues, and even browns to create the faintest glimmer of water lilies floating away.

On the opposite wall, there is displayed another favorite of mine, also entitled “Water Lilies”. It reminded me of a silk scarf dyed in a glissando of bright colors (pink, yellow, sky blue, light green) that my mother used to wear. This painting and the triptych were created in the last twelve or so years of Monet’s life, though they would serve as the larger portion of his legacy, opening up an entire movement of abstract painting which would gain momentum after the chaos and tragedy of World War II.

When I boarded the bus to return home, I was again reminded of “Agapanthus” and how my father had forced me to learn the hard way that even the most unfinished and arguably crude of Monet’s paintings required a mastery of color, technique, and individual artistic vision. Stepping through my basement door, I felt as if I had just woken up from a dream.

Though my father was gone, hospitalized in a local clinic after an accident, I felt content with the memories “Monet’s Water Lilies” had brought back for me. I spent several hours that night just digging through all the old furniture, supplies, and cardboard boxes we kept in the attic. Buried beneath baby clothes, spineless books, and chipped china was a six and a half feet by six feet canvas: the Monet my father and I attempted so many years ago.

For more information, please visit the exhibition’s website. Located on the second floor of the museum, “Monet’s Water Lilies” will be on display until April 12, 2010. This is the first time that the Museum of Modern Art has featured the entire mural-sized triptych in its new building.

Katherine J. Chen is an English major at Princeton University with a certificate in Creative Writing. When she was much younger, she used to confuse Monet with Manet, but eventually learned the difference between the two.