Portrait of the Artist's Wife 1917

Here we see Egon Schiele rendering his wife in watercolor and pencil, letting the medium bleed and run to describe her form and mood. Look how the colors seem both vibrant and muted—ochres and oranges, reds and blues. I can imagine Schiele hunched over the paper, urgently capturing her likeness. What do you think he saw in her face? The way he renders her hands feels particularly charged, doesn't it? Like two creatures grasping each other for comfort or support, or maybe even just trying to figure out what to do next. There's something vulnerable, almost raw about it, which makes me think of other artists like Munch. The thin paint seems to emphasize the delicacy of the moment; a tender portrait of his wife, but also, maybe, a kind of self-portrait? It's like he is asking, "What does it mean to love and be loved?" By creating a space for these ambiguities, painting invites us to reflect on our own experiences.