Sierra Nevada

Goats wander across a dry hillside, some grazing, a few resting, one white animal standing out against the brown backs of the others. Behind them the land drops into a valley and rises again into the ridges of the Sierra Nevada, the range that looms over Granada in southern Spain. Even in the warm season the highest peaks keep their snow, and Sargent catches that odd pairing of scorched golden slopes below and pale white summits above. The brushwork is fast and loose, especially in the scrub bushes and the animals, which are suggested with a few flicks rather than carefully drawn.

John Singer Sargent made this during one of his trips to Spain in the 1910s, at a point in his life when he had grown thoroughly tired of painting rich people's portraits. He famously complained about the demands of "paughtraits" and turned instead to landscapes and travel sketches, working outdoors in oil and watercolor with no client to please. That freedom shows here. The painting has the feel of something made quickly on a hot afternoon, with the light already shifting. The goatherds are barely there, just small dark shapes among their animals, which tells you what Sargent was actually interested in: the shape of the land, the heat, and the strange cool line of snow floating above it all.