A Paris Confection
This picture makes me deliriously happy. Strong words, I know, but there are so many layers to this painting, it’s like nibbling on a wonderful treat. The first layer, and likely most important, is I found it while hunting at a flea market with a dear friend. Our friendship -deep conversations, treasure hunting and art exploring – is a balm to sooth my soul when I am feeling frayed. She is my “bad influence” friend, encouraging me to splurge on fun treasures we find. This one, fortunately, only set me back $30, so the memories it evokes avoid the guilt of overspending.
The piece is a “paint by number” (PBN) product, dated 1964, and signed by C. Pech. These kits were very popular when I was a child, and I recall painting a few. I so enjoyed following the complex key for color placement, and as an adult enjoyed counted cross stitch for much the same reason. Believe it or not, I did tend to follow the directions, though I cannot swear to it. My quilting friends just collectively raised their eyebrows, as following directions is not my strong suit (though swearing definitely is). I sewed from a young age, and would invariably get in a muddle. When I would ask my mother for assistance, she would get frustrated as I never followed the pattern directions with much diligence. Even now I can hear her stressing how important following directions was. A good lesson, certainly, but not one that seemed to resonate for me. In a Paint By Number project, there are no formal rules – if you feel like painting in blue, off you go, hunting the spots the blue color will go. No one cares about directions!
Regarding the idea of “paint by number” artwork, I wondered about their creation. According to the Oracle, in the early 1950s, Dan Robbins, a Detroit-based commercial artist at Palmer Paint Company, was given a task to find a creative way to sell more paint. In response, he created the first ever Paint By Number kit. My new find, while dated 1964, was done in lovely 1950s colors, and has a sweet, Impressionist imagery.
Much like a candy treat, Art History is the rich center of this find. The work made me think French Impressionist and my curiosity as to why had me recognizing the work’s inspiration. The PBN kit is reminiscent of a famous work of art at the Art Institute in Chicago: “Paris Street; Rainy Day” by Gustave Caillebotte (1848-1894). The piece is huge, gray and rainy, with dark somber colors. I confess that during the many years I toured school children through the Art Institute, I hardly gave this painting a glance. We all have a time in our life when we miss something from our childhood - whether a location now much changed, or a part of daily life now gone. That is what the Caillebotte painting is expressing, the loss of his community. (If you have a spare moment, you should read the Art Institute’s notes on this work: https://www.artic.edu/artworks/20684/paris-street-rainy-day).
And so, I turn back to my $30 flea market treat. Memories of a cathartic trip to Paris during a very dark time in my life have left me loving Paris. There is nothing to definitively place the PBN in Paris, but I feel fairly certain it is. The composition is similar to Caillebotte’s, with the triangle building slightly left of center, the groupings of people, and the buildings anchoring both left and right edges of the canvas. There is a sole lamppost over the main figures’ right side in both scenes. The PBN adds a tree to fill the canvas, chopping it off at the top much like Caillebotte’s lamppost. And in both, there is a sense of cobbled streets and rainy weather. But the mood is so tangibly different! My paint by number has decided to make the rainy day a lovely Spring, instead of a dreary gray Fall. To offer a warm, inviting scene to step into, instead of a somber scene to skirt around. Spring flowers brighten the sidewalk, and tempting “Confection” is written directly into the work.
The mood of my day just lightened, and my parental worries temporarily took flight. I laughed with my friend as we talked with the vender. The woman had no idea it was a paint by number piece, and my friend proceeded to show her some telltale details (apparently the tree is a giveaway). I happily paid my $30, we picked up our conversation where it was interrupted for our sojourn into the booth, and carted my confection home. Deliriously happy indeed, though I may need to go brush my teeth from all that sweetness.