Sawmill, Outskirts of Paris

Just outside Paris, where busy streets fade into rolling hills and thick greenery, Henri Rousseau found this modest scene worth capturing in 1893. A sawmill sits nestled among the slopes, its slanted roof and wide windows soaking up the daylight. Along a winding path, a small figure dressed in dark clothing makes their way somewhere, maybe home. Trees and dense foliage crowd nearly every inch of the canvas, giving the whole picture a hushed, everyday feeling. This is the sort of ordinary spot people would stroll past without a second glance.

Rousseau came to painting the long way around. He spent his working years as a toll collector for the city of Paris, which earned him the affectionate nickname "Le Douanier," or the customs officer. He picked up a brush seriously only later in life, and since he never had any formal training, his pictures carry a flat, slightly awkward look that critics once loved to poke fun at. That same plainspoken honesty eventually won him fans, though, including young Picasso, who admired the fresh way Rousseau saw the world.

Though he is best remembered for his wild jungle scenes, Rousseau never once set foot in an actual jungle. Down-to-earth views like this sawmill were far closer to the life he really knew. The painting is a reminder that he could find something quietly worth recording in the familiar outskirts right around his own city.