A Morning of Joy
Pretty and pink
Fine outing yesterday morning, to see the Raoul Dufy show at the Palazzo Cipolla down in the centre.
There are those who sniff at Dufy; too pretty, too illustrative, nonsense like that. Although I am no expert, I do find an awful lot to like and an awful lot to look at.
The most astonishing, to me, was a section of flowers and bouquets that are remarkably fresh and free, the essence of the plants captured in a few loose brushstrokes that are strikingly vivid.
The strong colours on which the paintings were hung was off-putting at first, not least because one cast shadows sometimes. Once I got used to the contrast, I began to appreciate the juxtapositions, and the fact that the focussed lighting occluded the wall signs, many of which were strategically placed so that only a very short person could make full use of them.
In addition to paintings and drawings there were also fine examples of Dufy's work in other materials, including some wonderful fabric designs. One strange note, for me, was that his paintings of Sicily were uniformly rather dark, as opposed to the lightness of many other landscapes. Perhaps his normal palette looked washed out under the bright light of the island.
The exhibit made much of Dufy being “The Painter of Joy” and maybe that is what puts serious-minded people off him. I’ll take joy over misery any day, with an equally joyful lunch at the Perroni beer restaurant just down the road to complete it.
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