Hannah Goldfield’s “Tables For Two: Il Fiorista,” in this week’s issue, mentions one of my favorite artists: “Daytime is perhaps the best time to eat here; the beautiful dining room, designed by the architect Elizabeth Roberts, with a psychedelic pastel motif hand-painted on the walls by the artist Leanne Shapton, is especially lovely in natural light.”
A few years ago, I posted a note here called “Shapton’s Shapes,” in which I said,
Even though Leanne Shapton’s blue-and-cream watercolor of two “vintage clothes hangers” appeared in the magazine more than two months ago, (see "Recently Favorited," September 21, 2015), I find myself still thinking about it. The images are recognizably clothes hangers; likeness hasn’t been abandoned. Yet, they’re also pure shapes, as simply and fluidly painted as Chinese calligraphy. Are clothes hangers beautiful? I didn’t think so until I saw Shapton’s exquisite watercolor. I guess that’s what draws me to it. It embodies what, for me, is one of art’s main purposes – “to give the mundane its beautiful due” (John Updike).
Shapton’s ravishing watercolor collection The Native Trees of Canada (2010) is one of my favorite books. Next time I’m in New York City, I want to visit Il Fiorista, order one of its botanical tipples (the Drunken Sunflower sounds enticing), and soak up the ambience, including those lovely Shapton-painted walls.
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