In November I was fortunate to find myself in Washington DC for a few days. Amidst a hectic day of walking to every historical landmark deemed essential by myself to see in person (because I had never been to DC before) in the 30 degree weather that is just violent to my Southern California trained skin, I devoted a few hours to strolling through the National Gallery. The featured exhibition, Andrew Wyeth's Looking Out, Looking In, tugged me into its corridors.
The collection featured many paintings of an old New England home, from within gazing out, or from out peering in. Windows here are the star of the show. Standing in front of each painting is standing in front of a window, staring into the minute moment Wyeth preserved forever.
The highlight for me was the painting, “Wind from the Sea.” A weather touched window is open, facing the sea that lies just visible outside the window, out in the world that the artist has separated viewer from. No figure is present in the painting, but still the painting breathes. The frigid sea wind has just exhaled into the room, through the window, freezing the lace curtains in permanence. Out in the field, tire tracks are seen tailing off towards the sea, but no vehicle is visible. This adds to the ghost quality presented to the viewer with the transparent curtains that drift out, reaching towards you.
“Wind from the Sea” captures with perfection that moment when you are standing alone. The world appears empty, and yet is so full. So full of thick loneliness. Your mind drifts out towards the horizon and suddenly you feel as if there is someone else beside you. Only there isn't.
