The Evening Star

Georgia O’Keeffe, Evening Star no III. 1917. MoMA

Our theme for this week has been the night sky: we began with the celestial bodies of Clanjamfrie, hummed along with songs celebrating light and dark; were cheered by Polka Dots and Moonbeams, and reflected on the resonant activity of stargazing. I thought I’d conclude our theme with another Making Light aesthetic icon. . . . or icons, plural: Georgia O’ Keeffe’s Evening Star series of 1917. That year, O’Keeffe was working as an art teacher at a college in Canyon, Texas, and was also beginning to discover her deep aesthetic affinity with the landscapes of the American Southwest. After work, she’d walk, enjoying the wide skies, and spaciousness of her new surroundings. Of this time she later wrote:

We often walked away from the town in the late afternoon sun. There were no paved roads, no fences, no trees. It was like the ocean, but it was wide, wide land. The evening star would be high in the sunset sky when it was still broad daylight. That evening star fascinated me. I had nothing, but to walk into nowhere, and the wide sunset space, and the star. 

Georgia O’Keeffe, Evening Star no VI. 1917. Georgia O’ Keeffe Museum

O’ Keeffe’s Evening Star is likely to be Venus: often the first of the planets to appear in the night sky, and which sometimes shines with a strange, ineffable brightness. You can see Venus’ strangeness, and striking luminosity, I think, in this photograph of Tom’s, shot a couple of weeks ago.

O’Keeffe’s Evening Star paintings definitely have that profound strangeness, and luminosity.

Georgia O’ Keeffe, Evening Star no V. 1917

I love the way that, as a series, O’Keeffe’s Evening Stars so powerfully suggest the creative impulse of an artist to return to the same compelling subject: a subject whose ideas she is addressing, working through, and bringing out into the open, through broad brushstrokes, bold undulating abstract forms, and striking washes of colour.

What do you think of the way O’Keeffe has chosen to represent the transition between day and night? Do her unusual, abstract depictions of a celestial body, shining in the evening sky at sunset speak to you? If so, what do they say?

Georgia O’ Keeffe, Evening Star no VIII. 1917. Yale University Art Gallery.

To me, O’Keeffe’s Evening Stars convey a feeling of extraordinary abundance.

Georgia O’Keeffe, Evening Star No. VII, 1917. © Georgia O’Keeffe Museum.

To me, they say that while the Texan sky’s vast expanse, its “wide, wide land”, might seem to suggest an idea of empty space that that emptiness is, is in fact, always-already full. . .

. . . that where nothing seems to be, a shining star might prompt you to look and see that, really, everything is there.

This is very much the way I try to look at winter: a season with associations of nothingness and emptiness, but which, if you look carefully enough, can really sing with its own this-ness, it’s own fullness, its own abundance.

You can see the progression of 8 of the 10 watercolours in the Evening Star series in the wonderful book that accompanied a recent exhibition at MoMa, Georgia O’ Keeffe: To See Takes Time (2023).

What are your favourite artworks depicting stars and the night sky?


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