BREATHNAIGH

Pronounced bra-nug.
A tumblr from same dude as breathnaigh.org.

“When I first painted it in 1918, Christina’s World hung all summer in my house in Maine and nobody particularly reacted to it. I thought, “Boy, is this one ever a flat tire.” Now I get at least a letter a week from all over the world, usually wanting to know what she’s doing. Actually there isn’t any definite story. The way this tempera happened, I was in an upstairs room in the Olson house and saw Christine crawling in the field. Later, I went down on the road and made a pencil drawing of the house but I never went down into the field. You see my memory was more of a reality than the thing itself. I didn’t put Christine in till the very end. I worked on the hill for months, that brown grass, and kept thinking about her in her pink dress like a faded lobster shell I might find on the beach, crumpled. Finally I got up enough courage to say to her, “Would you mind if I made a drawing of you sitting outside?” and I drew her crippled arms and hands. Finally, I was so shy about posing her. I got my wife Betsy to pose for the figure. Then it came time to lay in Christine’s figure against that planet I’d created for her all those weeks. I put this pink tone on her shoulder—and it almost blew me across the room.” —Andrew Wyeth, 1965

“When I first painted it in 1918, Christina’s World hung all summer in my house in Maine and nobody particularly reacted to it. I thought, “Boy, is this one ever a flat tire.” Now I get at least a letter a week from all over the world, usually wanting to know what she’s doing. Actually there isn’t any definite story. The way this tempera happened, I was in an upstairs room in the Olson house and saw Christine crawling in the field. Later, I went down on the road and made a pencil drawing of the house but I never went down into the field. You see my memory was more of a reality than the thing itself. I didn’t put Christine in till the very end. I worked on the hill for months, that brown grass, and kept thinking about her in her pink dress like a faded lobster shell I might find on the beach, crumpled. Finally I got up enough courage to say to her, “Would you mind if I made a drawing of you sitting outside?” and I drew her crippled arms and hands. Finally, I was so shy about posing her. I got my wife Betsy to pose for the figure. Then it came time to lay in Christine’s figure against that planet I’d created for her all those weeks. I put this pink tone on her shoulder—and it almost blew me across the room.”

—Andrew Wyeth, 1965

7 months ago 869 notes
Tagged with:  #Andrew Wyeth
  1. krivljanie reblogged this from tamburina
  2. unlearnart reblogged this from wannabedryad
  3. meanderingmoonlight reblogged this from thenormadesmond
  4. theflamingcurmudgeon reblogged this from thenormadesmond
  5. greenlikes reblogged this from aubreyludgate
  6. nowheregirl91 reblogged this from stevenspielburger
  7. the-book-sniffer reblogged this from confettidreamer
  8. its-all-up-to-the-stars reblogged this from confettidreamer
  9. bitchyoudrunk reblogged this from stevenspielburger
  10. itnevergetsbetterever reblogged this from we-are-broken-statues
  11. cynthiamichelle2010 reblogged this from thenormadesmond
  12. we-are-broken-statues reblogged this from f0rk-and-knife
  13. f0rk-and-knife reblogged this from confettidreamer
  14. gedobe reblogged this from transaquam and added:
    1918 Christina’s World Andrew Wyeth
  15. confettidreamer reblogged this from amaranthinehaze
  16. bronwynpascale reblogged this from stevenspielburger
  17. taylorvandgrift14 reblogged this from thenormadesmond
  18. salmonbella reblogged this from plantgrl
  19. armedwithdeath reblogged this from pinkfairyarmadillo
  20. thenormadesmond reblogged this from stevenspielburger