Tamara De Lempicka
Maternità

The first figure that would emerge at the mere thought of maternity, regardless of a mother's social status, is probably that of a woman who would willingly leave little room for her own aesthetic appearance, with the decisive intent of reserving it for the little one she holds to her breast. She might appear neglected, with conventional clothes but possessing a sentimental energetic charge that she must and wants to transmit to the infant in her arms. A Madonna, who nourishes the virgin aura surrounding the child with the sole force of maternal love, noticeably stronger than any electric discharge.

The complexity of maternity, or at least of a sequence that guarantees its tenderness, assumes, through the "bejewelled" vision of Tamara De Lempicka, an unsuspected sweetness, perhaps inconceivable, or which you would hastily attribute to an external element. The Polish artist, who made extensive use of black and/or cold colors, managed nonetheless to bestow upon each work a material richness capable of distorting its soul, taking the commonplace image in the spectator's mind by surprise and altering their emotional state.

The Madonna by De Lempicka has well-groomed hair, perhaps polished with a special ointment whose scent can be perceived. A remarkable pearl adorns the bob at the end, where on the opposite side, a tuft dominates as if it had escaped the coils of a comb or the bristles of a bone brush. The face is perfect, as if covered by a foundation I wouldn't rule out, and the lips are enhanced by the artificial color of a bright lipstick. De Lempicka's art lay in "pastelizing" the colors during the application on canvas. Each image seems covered by a thin layer of wax, shiny, in some cases plastic. A moldable wax, soft, inviting enough to want to squeeze it with the hands and then shape it on every image. Effective is the contrast of the background on the nightgown that drapes over the woman's semi-nude shoulders. The impression is that the fabric is just resting, being lush, rich with soft, thin drapes where one might perceive even a subtle erotic component, swept away, however, by the presence of the child intent on sipping the mother's milk, and wrapped in a well-embroidered, well-crafted blanket, suggesting good craftsmanship and a fine fabric.

I find it difficult to read the gaze. Seen quickly, it might appear sad, but I don't want to think that. Otherwise, the work would be enveloped in a dark context that's hard for me to imagine. Upon closer inspection, from the right eye, from the perspective of the viewer, a hint of sweetness is detectable, less evident in the left. A sensation that would be erased considering the detail of the hands. Two angel wings delicately laid to protect the little one. It seems there's an invisible cushion of air separating the right hand from the breast. There seems to be nothing compressing it for more nectar to flow. The other hand is just brushed by the infant's blanket and with the same delicacy rests on the tiny body to support it. Delicacy highlighted by the total absence of wrinkles on the blanket or pronounced shadows to define the depth of the finger pressure, with carefully enamelled nails, on the fabric. Two feathers.

Little love, small Madonna with a vacant gaze.