As I reflect on my own practice in 2025, I keep coming back to artists whose lives were shaped not just by what they created, but by how they saw the world. Pierre-Auguste Renoir is one of those artists. His work feels joyful and alive—but what I find even more compelling is the way he chose to live and work, especially in the face of challenge.
Renoir believed that art should be beautiful. That may sound simple, even old-fashioned, but in a time like ours—when so much art is expected to be urgent, edgy, or politically charged—it’s refreshing to remember that joy, tenderness, and pleasure are valid, even radical, subjects.
“I just let my brush go; I try to paint my joy, my feeling.”
There’s a warmth in Renoir’s work that feels deeply human. He painted people—friends, family, everyday scenes—not as symbols or statements, but as living, breathing beings. And that reminds me that even now, when so much is mediated through screens, art can still be intimate. Personal. Close.
Renoir’s commitment to painting didn’t fade, even as his health did. In his later years, he suffered from severe rheumatoid arthritis. He couldn’t walk easily. His hands were twisted. And still—he painted. He had brushes strapped to his fingers. Helpers moved the canvas for him. That resilience humbles me. It makes it harder to justify the times I put off painting because I’m tired, distracted, or self-critical.
There’s also something beautiful in the way Renoir never stopped evolving. His style shifted—sometimes subtly, sometimes dramatically—but he never lost that core sense of affection for life. Even in pain, he saw color. He saw beauty. He believed in making something that lifted the spirit.
Renoir’s life reminds me that art doesn’t have to shout to be meaningful. It can be gentle. It can be beautiful. It can be kind. And honestly, in 2025, maybe we need more of that, right?
