A Journey Through Monet’s Water Lilies
written by: Etya Krichmar
When I entered the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City in the late 1970s, the air, steeped in the reverence of polished stone and old paper, enveloped me. Then, I saw a forty-foot cascade of colors from Monet’s Water Lilies. It pulled me in and held me hostage, taking my breath away. I could not stop staring because it did not look like a painting. The Water Lilies mural was a living and shimmering world.
The light of the water evoked the incredible scent of summer in me, and at that moment, I could almost hear the garden in bloom whisper secrets hidden inside the pond. Time slowed down as the weight of history and the lightness of pure wonder, with its almost audible rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of nature, surrounded me.
Since childhood, flowers have fascinated me. Facing the canvas, I recalled the long-gone afternoons when I saved my lunch money to buy a small bouquet for Mama. I remembered the sweet, heady aroma of fresh blossoms mingling with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil. The taste of those simple, joyous moments was like the first sip of cool lemonade on a scorching day, a burst of relief and happiness that warmed my heart. These vivid and tender memories filled me with nostalgia and gratitude, reminding me how I found beauty and love in the smallest gestures.
Later, when we studied art in school, I was enamored with Claude Monet’s surreal depiction of flowers. However, I was not prepared for the day I saw his art in person. The Water Lilies mural inside the museum created an immersive magic experience that transported me to Monet’s water garden in Giverny. Mesmerized, I lost myself in a sea of vibrant hues and delicate reflections. An eternity seemed to pass before a gentle tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality. Turning around, I saw an older woman whose eyes reflected the same quiet wonder I felt. Her name was Claire.
An immediate friendship and connection occurred when Claire revealed that she had once visited Giverny.
Her eyes shone at the memory when she said, “I can never forget this place. It felt surreal. I was lucky to see the indescribable beauty that nearly took my breath away.”
“I’m so jealous. Can you tell me if Monet’s painting truly captures it?” I asked.
“More than you can imagine,” Claire replied wistfully.
We sat before the mural while she talked about her experience at Giverny. Diligently, Claire described the harmonious balance of colors, textures, and scents. She spoke of the azaleas, irises, bamboo, and water lilies she encountered while walking in this enchanting place. Claire also talked about the stepping stones, lanterns, and rustic fences as if Monet had deliberately placed them before he painted the landscape.
Listening to her, I realized that Monet’s paintings were not just impressions of nature but emotional sceneries filled with echoes of light, movement, and time captured on his canvas.
I turned to Claire, my voice softer than before. “You make me feel like I’ve been there.”
She smiled as if she had been waiting for me to say it. “That’s the thing about art,” she said. “It takes you places you didn’t even know you needed to go.”
Claire’s vivid recollections echoed in my mind when I left the museum. As I wandered the streets of New York City, I thought of Monet’s enchanted Giverny. In my mind’s eye, I followed Claire along winding paths to the Japanese bridge. I felt the essence of Monet’s vision evoked in the blooming wisteria framed by a tranquil pond and the delicate interplay of light and water as I stood there. I pondered the transformative power of art and its uncanny ability to reach into the core of our being to awaken the dormant parts within. Art connects us to memories, dreams, and even our hidden desires.
Reflecting on Water Lilies, I realized I wasn’t just admiring beauty whenever I encountered a masterpiece like Monet’s. I was reconnecting with the pieces of myself that had been scattered by time. This introspection filled me with a renewed sense of purpose, a gentle reminder that art continues to shape, inspire, and transform who I am.
“It is no wonder people call Monet’s Japanese-inspired garden at Giverny a masterpiece of landscape design. It is not just a place to visit. It is a feeling, a dream made real. Infused with Claude Monet’s unique artistic vision, it blends the principles of traditional European and Japanese gardening with a flair.” Claire’s voice resonated in my head.
For the first time, I understood art wasn’t merely something to admire. It was something to feel and carry with me long after I left the museum walls. I realized that beauty wasn’t just in an artist’s brushstrokes but in how we allowed it to shape us by stirring something profound inside. Then, I made a vow to take that beauty with me to remind me that art doesn’t just capture moments; it transforms us.
As I stepped inside the subway, away from the bustling city streets, the quiet serenity of the museum still clung to me. I reflected on my visit and my new friend, thinking about Monet’s timeless pieces, which bring joy to millions worldwide. Did he ever envision that the Japanese-inspired garden at Giverny would provide endless inspiration and offer a tranquil retreat from the outside world to many?
Since that day, and for the rest of my life, I have carried Monet’s world with me—not just in my memory but in my heart. Ever since art has stopped being something I have observed and has become something I have lived.
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