The Progress of Love

Detail of Happy Lovers (1760) by Jean-Honore Fragonard


My love for Rococo art is well documented. Frequently, during museum excursions, my friends have sighed with resignation or rolled their eyes in disdain when I gleefully exclaim, "I'm loco for Rococo!!!"

Perhaps my favorite Rococo master is Jean-Honore Fragonard, born on April 5, 1732. The vibrant colors, soft figures, dreamy landscapes, these all make for a delightful fantasy realm of lighthearted eroticism and whimsical play. If, by magic, I were pulled into the environs of any painter's aesthetic settings, I would want to travel to Fragonard's pastoral and abundant world of beauties.

The local museums don't have many of his works, but the few that they do have are fun pieces. The Happy Lovers at the Norton Simon is one of my favorite paintings in the collection.

Detail of the Fountain of Love (1785) by Jean-Honore Fragonard

So, let's spend a few moments appreciating the gentle grace of Fragonard's lyrical images, the poetic prettiness of his art.

Winter

Winter (1755) by Jean-Honore Fragonard


A new season begins, Winter, my least favorite time of the year.

The holidays are rarely "happy" for me. I'm not prone to depression, but late December and early January do bring on some spiritual doldrums. Maybe it's the light. Maybe it's the cold. All I know is that it takes a whole lot of eggnog to bring me some seasonal cheer. ;-)

And the flowers are so few. The bounty of color that I wish to see in the gardens is muted, with only a handful of hardy floral gems on view. But, at least, I still have art and music.

Detail of Winter (1896) by Alphonse Mucha

One way in which I deal with the Winter Gloom is by staying busy. I often overpack my schedule, visiting museums, gardens, galleries, performances, lectures, and any activity that will keep my mind from straying into the shadows. Yeah, it's a form of escapism, but it does the job. By early February, I can feel my spirit lifting up, anticipating the beauties of Spring, just about fifty days away.