I saw this beautiful painting by Renoir last week at The Getty. The whole Impressionist part of the gallery left me speechless. The soft colors and attention to lighting in each picture was captivating. The Impressionist style of painting is my favorite simply because each piece feels like a memory - hazy, beautiful, lacking in detail but full of lingering emotion. As I stepped closer to examine the details of this piece, I noticed the gradual de-evolution of the painting from a dream-like scene, to a sea of randomized, harsh brush strokes. From close up, the chaos of colors had me wondering how this mess was so beautifully arranged only a second before. It occurred to me then that this painting provided an interesting parallel - even though our lives seem haphazardly layered with a mix of vibrant joys and tragedies, each stroke of God's hand is part of a grand picture best viewed in full. We are God's greatest work of art. I walked away with an unexpected sense of clarity. I wonder what my humble stroke looks like on this big canvas of life...
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