Monet's Glasses

Some time ago a Monet exhibit came to Washington. The review captivated me. The paintings in the exhibit, the reviewer explained, came from the final years of the artist’s life. They were muddy. At least as Monets go.

A text panel explained that by that time in his life, Monet had lost much of his sight to cataracts. The paintings from that period reflected his defective vision. (As Monet noted in a letter to a friend, “…my poor eyesight makes me see everything in a complete fog.”)    

The paintings by themselves, the reviewer went on to say, left only questions, like, what the heck are these things?

But then came the story.

There, in a glass case, exhibit-center, was a pair of Monet’s specially-tinted spectacles, through which he was able to see at least well enough (with one eye) to paint beyond the time that nature had allotted him.  

The inclusion of that one detail, Monet’s glasses, transformed the exhibit from a showing of lesser paintings by a great artist to an affecting story—a whole story-- about vision and the artist’s will to create.

In that one detail, the exhibit creators moved the story from a single-dimension Who-What construct:

Monet in his last years painted a lot of muddy pictures

… to a dynamic three-dimensional Who-What-Why construct:

A nearly-blind Monet in his last years struggled to create, wouldn’t give up, hated the glasses, but needed them to connect the boundless vision of his mind with the limited vision of his eyes.

Sometimes, when it’s clear something is missing from a reporter’s story, the piece that unlocks it all, I mention the exhibit, and ask, “So, where are Monet’s glasses?”

More often than not, there is a slight startle, then a blink of the eyes.

Clear eyes.