Winter Landscape 1989

Constantin Piliuta painted this winter landscape, probably in 1981, and it feels like a memory, not quite real. The strokes are soft, almost tentative, creating a scene that's more felt than seen. You can almost hear the quiet of the snow. Looking closely, you can see how the paint is laid down in layers, not thick, but with enough body to catch the light. It’s like Piliuta was building the scene, stroke by stroke, finding the forms within the paint itself. Note the trees. They're not just black lines, but built from many little marks. I can see him, standing in front of his easel, thinking about the space *between* the branches as much as the branches themselves. The color palette is incredibly restrained, mostly whites and grays, with just a hint of the warm houses to stop you from being overwhelmed. Piliuta reminds me of Morandi. Both had an incredible eye for the everyday, turning simple subjects into something really beautiful. Ultimately, art is about this kind of conversation, isn't it? Different artists, different times, all speaking to each other through the language of paint.