夜のドニエストル川

Chelmonski had made his name on movement: teams of horses tearing across the Ukrainian steppe, hunts and birds, everything caught mid-gesture. This is the far end of that life. He painted it in 1906, living quietly by then on a farm west of Warsaw, and it looks back to the Dniester, the slow river of the southern borderlands he had ridden through as a younger man. Here he lets almost all the detail go. Land and sky are laid down as broad bands of grey, lilac and faded pink, the water a pale bend seen from above. What holds the whole thing together is the light low on the horizon, a misty gleam of the sun going down over a stretch of country that seems half-asleep.