Rushing Brook c. 1904 - 1911

Editor: John Singer Sargent’s "Rushing Brook," made sometime between 1904 and 1911, just hums with the lively energy of water cascading over rocks. It almost feels…cool, somehow. What do you see when you look at it? Curator: Ah, yes. The coolness – a synesthetic masterpiece! I see Sargent, liberated from portrait commissions, diving headfirst into the joy of pure observation. Imagine him *there*, en plein air, battling the sun and midges, driven by an urge to capture something fleeting and real. Tell me, do you see how the watercolor almost dances with a life of its own, as if it too wants to flee the scene, and continue downstream? Editor: Definitely. The paint is so fluid, not at all controlled. Curator: Precisely! Notice the confident brushstrokes, the almost careless way he suggests forms rather than defining them. And that palette – blues, greens, purples – it’s less about the *actual* color of the brook, and more about capturing the *feeling* of it. Almost like capturing an emotion rather than a picture, I’d argue. Editor: I can see that, actually. Like he’s translating sound and movement into colour. So, is this typical of his landscape work? Curator: Sargent often favored this spontaneous, almost breathless approach, letting the watercolor bleed and mingle on the paper. I sometimes wonder if these were more akin to diary entries for him. Raw, unfettered, utterly personal, like catching fireflies. Editor: That’s lovely. It feels much more immediate than his portraits. I am seeing this brook with my eyes and mind at the same time! Curator: Yes, isn’t it? And I suppose it reveals an intimate, playful side, far removed from the formality of the commissioned portraits he was best known for. A window into the artist’s soul, maybe?