There's a particular kind of tiredness that doesn't go away with a weekend. You keep going because everything needs you, and resting starts to feel like something you have to earn.
Art history is full of people at work. But some of the most moving paintings show the opposite: the moment someone stops. Look at them when you need permission to do the same.
Vincent van Gogh, The Siesta (1889–90, Musée d'Orsay, Paris)
A couple of farm workers lie asleep in the hay at midday, the woman curled up, the man stretched out with his hat over his eyes. Their sickles lie beside them, their shoes have been taken off. Van Gogh painted it after a drawing by Millet, during his stay at the asylum in Saint-Rémy. It's one of the most peaceful paintings he ever made: work set down, bodies surrendered to the heat.
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Jean-François Millet, The Angelus (1857–59, Musée d'Orsay, Paris)
At dusk, in a field, two peasants hear the church bell in the distance and stop working to pray. Their heads are bowed, the basket and the fork set aside. Whatever your beliefs, the painting shows something we've almost lost: a daily moment when everything pauses, at the same time, for something larger than the task.
Vilhelm Hammershøi, Rest (1905, Musée d'Orsay, Paris)
A woman sits with her back to us in a pale, almost empty room. We see only the nape of her neck, her dark dress, a bowl on the sideboard. She isn't doing anything. That's the whole point. Hammershøi gives her, and us, a moment that doesn't need to be useful.
Frederic Leighton, Flaming June (1895, Museo de Arte de Ponce, Puerto Rico)
A woman sleeps curled on a marble bench, wrapped in a glowing orange dress, the sea shimmering behind her. It's the deep, heavy sleep of a hot afternoon. Look at how completely she has let go. Not a muscle is holding on.
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A five-minute rest with a painting
Choose the one that feels most like what you need. Sit or lie down. Look at it for one minute, then close your eyes and imagine yourself inside it: the warmth of the hay, the sound of the bell, the cool of the room, the sea air. Stay there for three minutes. Then come back slowly.
Rest, in a letter
If you'd like a gentle place to start resting, The First Letter is a short sensory meditation on receiving a letter, to read or listen to wherever you are. It's free, and comes with a sample of my magazine, "(meditating) On Art". Five quiet minutes that don't need to be earned.
Remember to take as much time as you need, and meet me at the next one.
Love, Evi