My beloved GoMA opened its doors again today, and I can't wait until Monday when I'm going to go and seek the purple balloons all on my own and not say a word for hours. And because I am too tired to post meaningful prose tonight, even though I want to, I thought I'd share one of my favourite artists. This was a new discovery last year, if an artist who lived and breathed before my grandparents were a twinkle in an eye let alone a yolk sac can be called new.
Konstantin Makovsky was a Russian artist, born of a painter. Like my beloved Preraphaelites he had a penchant of drawing from real life, amongst the classic subjects. He used light and shade almost as a precursor to the European Impressionists and he painted women with beauty. I don't know uch about Russian art, as I've never taken the time before to study it, but I have plans. Especially due to the way that Makovsky paints the expression of the women. I'm not sure I'm in love with his exuberant use of pastels, but for the eyes, I can forgive.