Musings. Ex Libris

* Egon Schiele, Seated Woman with Bent Knee (1917)(Portraitures are often deemed pale in comparison to other more elaborate forms of fine arts. Even the most quotidian can flourish into something wondrous, such fact is however sadly overlooked. Schiele was long notorious for the zigzag strokes when delineating human’s distorted forms. Striking a rather impertinent pose the viewers are invited to gaze at the woman’s intimate parts. The salient point of this portrait seems to be focused on the reveal or the disguise of the woman’s thigh, either of which the viewers are uncertain of what the woman is intended to act. There are still so many to be plucked out of Schiele’s painting- besides the thigh, the steely gaze of the eyes and the sketchy handling of the feet. The monstrosity of a statuette existence looms.) She stares into the front and falls silent. Gaze exudes no sentiments nor expression, both eyes resemble stones rather than flints that obstruct stubbornly anyone who wishes to ob

* James Tissot, A Little Nimrod (1882) (Tissot’s paintings are often overshadowed by a veil of disquietness despite their seemingly idyllic setting. The innocent child-play depicted slowly creeps into a Lord of the Flies-esque malice. Three children feign prostrate under the defeat of the victor, who draws a sword ready for another bout of ruthless slaying. The distorted body of the child on the right makes the game seem more realistic than playful, the mother, however, is moved to a rear end to prevent from witnessing the imminent dreadful outcome.) Little Jim dreads to tell everyone that he has left little John on the playground. A surprise little Jim initially intended to plan yet when the dusk sets in his fear rises, rises like the sunset-red that seems to emerge amid the coming darkness, only one knows that the redness is doomed to fade away. Little Jim could feel the dusts gathering around his feet when he sped away from little John, who was obviously too engrossed in his picture

* Johannes Vermeer, Officer and the Laughing Girl (The unconventionality of this painting lies in how the viewers can only get a partial view of the man, who is suggestively in depth conversation with the smiling woman. The window is ajar while lights flood in the room, encroaching unto everything except the viewable part of the man's face. Whoever is trying to surmise the man's facial expressions will remain a doubtless fool.) What makes a good story sound if the world is already packed with sounds? He seats her cosily in a room robbed of all possible noises, except the regular pendulum-swings of the man, who promises the girl to tell the tale no sooner. The tale unfolds and speeds faster than the gusts lilting on the man's tongue, spanning widely from the child who was lost from the rose that ailed. An excellent tale needn't veer too far from its quotidian matter to make it exciting. The man has traveled far enough to dismiss the chimerical account of amusements, for