Majestic and spectacular, and at the same time fleeting and private. They stretch across the sky, yet only exist in a single point. Rainbows—everyone sees them differently.
Pale green hills dazzle against a lead-gray sky. In the foreground, two beggar girls sit on the grass. One has just turned her head to look over her shoulder. Behind her, a double rainbow extends over the nearby buildings. The second girl, older, has her eyes closed and her chin slightly raised, as if listening to something in the distance, an act of flamboyant disdain for the colorful phenomenon. The secret is revealed by the title of the painting by John Everett Millais: “The Blind Girl.”
The sun, seeming to shine from behind the observer, warms the blind girl’s face. She is calm, combing the soft grass with one hand, and squeezing her companion’s hand with the other. Although the expression on the other girl’s face is not visible, one can guess that it is full of delight, perhaps tainted with fear at the sight of the storm clouds behind the rainbow. On the one hand, immersion in a nature devoid of light; on the other, fascination with a dramatic weather spectacle. Looking at this picture, we can’t help but wonder which of these experiences would allow us to “see” more. Millais gives his answer: on closer inspection, the sign hanging around the older girl’s neck reads “Pity the blind.”
Dual Arcs
A skilled eye
