Rowing Under Rembrandt's Bridge

Today, in an attempt to brighten my imagination, I looked at a painting by Rembrandt for a while. It was quite good, and worth the time that I spent just staring at it. I spent only about fifteen minutes, which is no great effort of concentration. Even that was a bit difficult, though. My mind kept wandering from thought to thought, and I had to keep bringing it back to the painting. It’s said that a picture is worth a thousand words. I’m sure someone could write a thousand words on this painting, but I’ll write only a few.

The subject of the painting is a small bridge over a small river. The bridge is somewhat in the background, and on the left there is a narrow dirt path leading up to it. I think that there are footprints on the path, but it’s tough to be sure; the picture isn’t the best quality. On the right side of the bridge there are some huts and a grassy expanse. Also, to the right of the bridge, even further in the background, there is a radio tower; no, wait, I think it’s a steeple. Yeah, probably a steeple.

The time is sunset, and only a bit of the painting is bright with the pale gold of the sun. A few tall trees in the middle of the painting are glowing golden green. The whole ground and the sky on the right of the painting are in darkness. In the sky there appears to be storm clouds. The contrast between the right and left parts of the sky is impressive and affecting, and the golden glow in the west makes the rest of the painting seem even darker. In the black clouds, though, there are flecks of gold paint. I’m not sure what this is, but I think maybe these flecks are also in the bright part of the painting but are there harder to see. These flecks of gold paint might be Rembrandt’s device for suffusing the very atmosphere of his paintings with golden light, for his painting “The Philosopher” is bathed in the same light.

In the river there are two rowboats, each with two passengers. I imagined myself in the boat that is passing under the bridge. This painting is beautiful, but I think that if I were in one of the rowboats that Rembrandt was painting, I wouldn’t notice the beauty around me. Being immersed in the beauty, I would have grown accustomed to it and forgotten it, like I forget about the air that I breathe or the wife I live with.

I just took a deep breath and it was sweet, oh so sweet. His beauty is all around you: in your cow patch; in the colossal trees by the old folks home; on the curb outside your house; in the wide expanse of diamond sky above your driveway; in the hills outside your dining room window; in the small patch of backyard where your dogs run around. Take a long look and you’ll see it.