(Wrapped Oranges, William J. McCloskey, 1889, Amon Carter Museum, Fort Worth, Texas)
I've never been a huge fan of
still-life paintings.
It's not that I don't appreciate their
quiet beauty.
It's just that they never have any
people in them.
And I find people to be endlessly
interesting.
But then the day came when I was
standing smack dab in the middle of the Amon Carter Museum in Fort
Worth.
OH......MY......STARS!
I was instantly blown out of my socks
by the dramatic, simplistic beauty of a painting entitled “Wrapped
Oranges.”
There is absolutely nothing that I do
not adore about this painting!
William J. McCloskey painted wrapped
oranges many times over the span of his career.
In fact, he seemed to be unusually
devoted to this limited subject matter.
Some believe he was on the hunt for
artistic perfection with his multiple images of wrapped oranges.
It would certainly seem so, anyway.
We know that decorative, table top
still lifes were popular during the Victorian era.
These colorfully composed arrangements
usually consisted of fruit, flowers, vegetables or a combination of
those objects.
And let's face it, you can't go wrong
with most of Mother Nature's productions!
Indeed, you can not open an interior
design magazine these days without seeing many references to
“organic” decorative design.
Elements in nature calm our spirits and
uplift our souls.
That's why they've been popular
throughout the ages.
Here's a short list of some better
known “organic” objects:
Water.
Trees.
Grass.
Plants.
And my personal favorite,
Shells.
All of these natural elements have been
painted gazillions of times since the days of Eve.
And rightly so.
They are restful.
They are beautiful for the human eye to
behold.
That's apparent when we see McCloskey's
brilliantly painted oranges.
However, perhaps the most fascinating
fact about these oranges is this:
Four of them are wrapped in crinkly
white tissue paper.
Why?
Art technicians might use the word
“contrast” to explain McCloskey's decision to use the white
paper.
And contrast there is!
We have additional information from the
Amon Carter about this artist's motives:
“McCloskey imparted to each specimen
a distinctive character. The tissue paper acts as a veil or drape,
both suggesting and subtly altering the oranges' color and form.”
Just look at that partially unwrapped
orange in the background of the painting.
It looks as if the top portions of the
paper have been suddenly unleashed and flung into the very air
itself!
To me, those white paper protrusions
look like dog ears standing at attention.
We can't avoid noticing them, can we?
That's why I find this painting to be
so visually exciting.
That brilliant white paper is covered
in tiny creases and folds.
This artistic device lends crackly
texture to those oranges.
Where does the light fall in this
painting?
Most of the light is focused on the
orange nearest the black background.
To be specific, it falls directly on
the paper that still enfolds the orange.
But it also falls on each of the
wrapped oranges in this painting.
The color white draws light to itself.
Perhaps that's why a car salesman once
told me:
“White is the number one color choice
of car buyers. When we sell a white car – which is frequently –
we call it a “white sale.”
Mr. McCloskey seems to know a thing or
two about our innate attraction to white, doesn't he?
What about the unwrapped oranges?
For one thing, they're definitely in
the minority in this work of art.
They look like dyed-in-the-wool
oranges.
Their color perfectly offsets the stark
black background and the brilliant white of the tissue paper.
That lends further drama and life to
the painting.
Let's talk about that gorgeous table
top for a minute.
Someone has been doing some serious
polishing!
Or maybe it's just a spectacular
varnishing job.
Either way, the gleam of that table top
allows the five foreground oranges to have added time in the visual
spotlight.
We could even say that those oranges
are basking in their mirrored, reflected glory.
I don't know about you, but I'm pretty
sure Mr. McCloskey wouldn't mind that assessment.