Pitcher c. 1936

Frances Lichten made this study of a pitcher with watercolor, and you can see the whole history of painting right there in its translucent layers. I can imagine her patiently building up the form, stroke by stroke, letting the color pool and dry, then adding more. It's like a slow, deliberate dance with the medium. Those botanical motifs—the delicate swirls and tiny flowers—they’re not just decoration. They’re a way of seeing the world, of finding beauty in the everyday. I can see the artist in her studio, completely absorbed in the task, lost in the details of light and shadow, maybe thinking about other still lifes, Chardin, maybe Morandi, and how to make this pitcher her own. Look at the way she suggests the luster of the gold trim. I bet she struggled to get that just right, maybe even messed it up a few times before finding the perfect touch. It’s all part of the process, that give-and-take between the artist and the painting, each informing the other. It’s such a generous thing, this conversation between artists through time.