THE PIANO LESSON
HENRI MATISSE, 1916
Okay. This one, you need the year. It's 1916. France is deep in the war. Matisse is home, which is exactly where he doesn't want to be. He tried to enlist when it started. Even bought the boots. And they sent him back. He's got a bad heart. His mother and brother are trapped behind German lines. His two boys are nearly old enough to be called up. So he sits there, while the world burns. And he paints his kid at the piano. Now look at the boy. Watch what he does to him. A grey shadow drops down from the music stand and eats into his face. Takes an eye. His own son, half-swallowed, right there on the canvas. And it's not just the boy. The grey is everywhere. The walls, the floor, the piano, all gone cold. The only scrap of life left is that sliver of green out the window. The garden, shoved to the edge. A kid practicing piano. An ordinary afternoon. And it comes out looking like dread. You can't really know why. But look at the year he's having. Hard not to feel the fear getting into the paint. Maybe when you're this scared of losing people, you can't keep the grey off even your own kid. There's a metronome on the piano, ticking. Doesn't care about the war. Doesn't care about the boy. Doesn't care about any of it. Just keeps time. And Matisse, who can't fix a single thing, sits there and paints his son. With the grey already taking him.