Miasteczko 1926

Tadeusz Makowski's "Miasteczko" seems to float, suspended in a kind of ochre dream-state. I can imagine Makowski layering thin washes of paint, letting the canvas peek through, building up this little town like a memory. What does it feel like to be him, squinting at a far away place? There's a real tenderness here, a feeling for the way light hits the roofs, for the silent dignity of the church tower watching over everything. It’s an intimate landscape, like a private thought made visible. He captures that strange mix of solidity and fragility that towns have, how they stand there, worn by weather and time, but also how they could vanish in an instant. It makes me think of the work of other painters like Balthus, with the way they capture a kind of timeless, slightly melancholic feeling in their landscapes. It’s almost like Makowski’s saying, "Look, this is here, this is real, but it’s also fading, so let's really see it."