The Japanese Bridge 1925

This is Claude Monet’s “The Japanese Bridge” at the Musée Marmottan Monet, a mirage made with paint. Imagine Monet there by his water garden in Giverny, his easel planted firmly in the soil, feeling the air pregnant with moisture. I can feel the painting coming into being through repetitive brushstrokes, each dab a concentrated effort to capture the ephemerality of light and reflection. It’s all greens, yellows and browns. And then you notice the water lilies, floating like rosy smudges, reflecting light back into the atmosphere. The bridge itself, a dark line dissolving into the foliage. Monet was obsessed with trying to see and record what he saw. This piece really speaks to me about the process of seeing itself. What does it mean to try to grasp a world that is always shifting? He shows us that maybe the most we can do is appreciate a fleeting impression. And isn’t that what art is all about?