One of the most interesting things about the paintings of Grandma Moses is just how they represent a by-gone era. She's not painting the middle of the 20th Century. She's recreating a nostalgic mid- to late- 19th Century. And given her resilient life from that time, it is perhaps a wonder that she also made those times feel mostly safe, mostly full of warmth and family and belonging. Three ideas that are narcotic in their appeal.
But there is another sublime theme that finds itself arising time and again in her paintings. That of the pending storm. A moment when everything must stop and move into "batten down the hatches" mode. It's a curious juxtaposition. But not one without a fundamental cognitive footing.
For years I had my students create an Autobiography by answering a series of questions about their lives. The first question was "What is your first memory?" 90% of the time, it was a negative recollection: A broken bone, a death in the family, an accident, a mistake, a punishment. This taught me how powerful hurtful things are in determining who we are as adults. How, when our lives are interrupted by forces beyond our control we remember. We all remember the storms.
Grandma Moses also recalled the Rainbows...
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