Still Life with a Plate of Cherries 1887

Curator: Painted in 1887, Paul Cézanne’s "Still Life with a Plate of Cherries" presents a tableau of humble delights, rendered in oil on canvas. It's part of the collection at LACMA in Los Angeles. Editor: The first thing that hits me is how vibrant those cherries are against the more subdued background. Almost shockingly red! Curator: Absolutely. Cézanne plays with that tension deliberately. Look at how he handles the light – not with photorealistic accuracy, but to build volume and structure. What's interesting to me is how he flattens the space. He gives us a scene, certainly, but what makes this particularly fascinating in the Post-Impressionist moment, is its simultaneous embrace of surface and depth. Editor: Exactly. It’s like he’s inviting us to touch the canvas, feel the weight of those forms, but also asking us to accept that this is paint, a construction. It also makes you feel a bit seasick. I can't really pinpoint a single, fixed perspective! Curator: Well said! Consider the role of the objects: the slightly rumpled cloth, the ordinary plates, the simple fruit. He's elevating these everyday objects, asking us to see their inherent beauty and significance, just through the act of painting them, it has a radical element when taken against the historic art scene. He takes some domestic, easy delights, and invites us into an intimate world with them. Editor: The setting—those vague shadows behind the objects—they suggest a mood. A moment caught, perhaps, that’s more about the feeling than the specifics of the space itself. Almost melancholy in its simplicity. But still, those cherries *pop*! Curator: His brushstrokes, even, possess a palpable physicality, a directness. Cézanne gives us this experience by deconstructing art historical dogmas about painting. Editor: Yes, this invites us to explore our own relationship with everyday beauty. We can engage without needing historical background, and focus more on emotional and immediate artistic language. Curator: Exactly. A lovely meditation for the contemporary audience on how beauty does not have to announce itself—it just has to *be*. Editor: You've given me a lot to consider—the cherries might just be my gateway fruit now.