I’ve seen these lovely paintings by Toulouse-Lautrec before, but until I read this post by Mackenzie, which adds a whole level of melancholy:
“These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalisation and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.
And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other–cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been.”