We are searching data for your request:
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.
During his life, Vrubel managed to work in almost all techniques known to mankind. He wrote with a brush, painted with a pencil, used all the paints that were tucked under his arm. He was constantly looking for the best way to reflect reality in art and never stopped at one thing. He even sculpted sculptures and participated in the life of the theater - constant intense activity, indefatigable energy were his companions and his defining features.
"Feast of the Romans" is not a full picture. This is a sketch made in pencil and watercolor, unfinished and leaving a feeling of some kind of surrealism. Some details have been worked out to the smallest detail - the face of a dormant man, a musical instrument in the hands of a woman - while others are barely outlined and break into emptiness without regret.
The whole picture seems to be drowning in a foggy haze, but this leaves more of a feeling that the moment was snatched by the artist from the past and thrown onto the paper as a whole than a feeling of pernicious incompleteness. It is present, but is more of a supplement revealing the meaning than a disadvantage.
Three people in the picture indulge in relaxation and do it for a long time. The woman is no longer playing, her fingers are not on the strings, but relaxedly locked into the castle. She looks into space, bowing her head slightly, as if hoping to see some meaning in what is happening.
The obese man was napping right above the plate - the bowl of wine in his fingers tilted dangerously, ready to fall out and roll on the floor, fortunately, there was no more liquid in it.
The third man ponders. He has a strict profile, his face is impossible to see.
All these people look as if they are terribly tired of themselves. As if tired of meaningless rest and boredom, as if they were already indifferent to what would happen next.
They have food, but they are not able to appreciate it. They have them themselves, but they are fed up with conversations.
And their empty feast drowns in the haze of time.
Painting Arrived on Vacation