Autumn 1949

Pyotr Konchalovsky's painting *Autumn* seems to have emerged, brushstroke by brushstroke, with a technique that reminds me of pointillism, but with less regularity and perhaps more freedom. The colors are saturated—golds, oranges, reds, and greens—mixed to conjure the vibrancy of an autumn day. I imagine Konchalovsky standing before his easel, squinting at the landscape, then dabbing at the canvas with a loaded brush. He must have felt the brisk air and the heavy stillness of the scene. Look at how he’s built up the surface with these tiny strokes. It's almost as if the paint itself becomes the leaves rustling in the breeze. There's a gorgeous rhythm. And those cows grazing in the field? They are rendered with the same loving attention as the foliage. Did you notice that Konchalovsky has signed it on the lower left? It reminds me of the landscape works of the Post-Impressionists who were similarly concerned with the sensation of color and light. It's all a big conversation, isn't it? With a touch of ambiguity, this allows for infinite readings.