struggle for recognition
When you get to the hall where the paintings of Gauguin hang, you find yourself in a special world of images, mysteriously flickering colors, slow rhythms. Everything here is unusual – the sky is golden, the earth is red, yellow, pink. There is solemn peace throughout.
Stuck in motionless poses near the huts of the woman, not moving, a fisherman sitting by the boat, squatted mother with a child. The monumental figures of people are connected with nature and seem to be a part of it. Continue reading