Pierre Bonnard 1867 – 1947
Take those flapping clothes. I wonder what could be lovelier than a line of pink and jonquil rompers, gay little socks, pastel baby blankets. And showy sheets, bright bath towels, flowered luncheon cloths blowing on a line have as much beauty as a modern painting, for the eye that can see beauty. Basement indeed – who wants clothes dried in the basement when the dazzle of sun and the sweet of fragrance of fresh air are wasting outside?