Late Painters: Matisse Papier-découpé: form filtered to its essentials Henri Matisse When his hands could no longer hold a brush, Matisse turned to paper and scissors: “painting” with cold metal carving heavy gouache like a knife through butter, shearing shallow reliefs. The liberation of image from paper. And my left hand, too, betrays me, mysteriously cramping, twisting like a snail in a shell. No relief but to pry my fingers back into the shape of a normal hand. And so the dance goes on. Confined to chair or bed, Matisse’s “seconde vie” lasted fourteen years, as he learned to use white as a negative space, working paper like a sculptor cutting through stone. This is where I’d like to be working, reducing the buzzing complicated world to its pure essence, ridding myself of arabesques and complexities, summing up the dance of my life in simple forms. Barbara Crooker Barbara Crooker is the author of many books of poetry; The Book of Kells and Some Glad Morning are recent. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies, including The Bedford Introduction to Literature, Commonwealth: Contemporary Poets on Pennsylvania, The Poetry of Presence and Nasty Women: An Unapologetic Anthology of Subversive Verse. www.barbaracrooker.com
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The Ekphrastic Review
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September 2024
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