Badende mit blondem, offenem Haar 1903

Renoir made this oil painting of a bather with loose blonde hair. The canvas seems to just breathe with warm light, mostly yellows, pinks, and creams. I can imagine him in his studio, dabbing and stroking the surface, trying to capture the way light falls on skin, almost like he's sculpting with paint. Look at how he renders the hair: flowing, cascading waves of color, each strand rendered with such care. There’s this one little touch, right where her fingers meet her hair, a spot of pure white that just sings. When I look at this, I can’t help but think of other painters who have tried to capture the human form, like Titian or Rubens. It's like Renoir is in conversation with them, adding his own voice to the chorus. Painting is such a wonderfully ambiguous, embodied form of expression, isn't it? It doesn’t try to tell you what to think. It just asks you to feel.