Harvest 1911

Natalia Goncharova's *Harvest*, now at the Vrubel Museum in Omsk, feels like it’s been pieced together from shards of memory and pure imagination. The colour palette is intense, like a dream you can’t quite shake off—yellows, oranges, blues. I imagine Goncharova in her studio, wrestling with the canvas, each stroke a negotiation between what she sees and what she feels. What was she thinking, layering these angular forms? The sun, or is it a star, looms large with these menacing spikes, and this crescent moon looks like a serrated blade. This isn’t your typical landscape; it’s something wilder, more primal. The paint isn't trying to hide. It's right there, thick in some places, thin in others, each layer building up a surface that vibrates with energy. This reminds me of other painters who weren't afraid to break the rules, like maybe Marsden Hartley or even some early Picassos. It's like they're all talking to each other across time, each pushing the boundaries of what painting can be.