Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic Unlock the Editor’s Digest for freeRoula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.I learned recently that the third Monday of January is called Blue Monday and is supposed to be the most depressing of the year. Many of us can feel more down than usual as we return to work after the festive period, especially if we also have difficult things happening in our lives already. Last week I called a friend I hadn’t spoken with in months. We had been playing phone tag and when we finally got a hold of one another naturally the first thing he asked me was “How are you?” “Fine, how are you?” was my instinctive response. It took him a little longer to reply, and as he hemmed and hawed a bit I said, somewhat jokingly: “Oh you’re going to give me a real answer.” To which he immediately said: “Of course. I haven’t got time for anything else!” I already knew him as a straight talker, and it made me wonder why I hadn’t been completely honest from the start. I wasn’t feeling particularly fine, and I also knew he was the sort of person with whom I could be transparent. We ended up speaking for almost an hour, during which we both shared some of the downs we were experiencing, not in a self-indulgent, gloomy kind of way, but in the spirit of open acknowledgment. Funny enough, this forthright conversation made me feel better. It didn’t take my blues away but it did remind me of something I very often forget: that it’s OK to not always be OK. It got me wondering more broadly about why so often we’re unable to be candid with one another during those periods in our lives when we’re having difficulty meeting the world head-on.There are few paintings that convey such an immediate sense of weariness as the 1985 painting “Blue Monday” by the Alabama-born artist Annie Lee. A woman in a white nightgown sits on the edge of her bed in a room painted in various shades of blue. The clock on the nightstand reads five o’clock. She has just woken up for the day. Her head is bent low to her chest and there are no features visible on her face. It is her body language that does all the speaking. She supports herself by resting each hand outstretched on the bed on either side of her. Her legs are open, and her nightgown falls between them. She has managed to put on one slipper; the other waits until she can gather the energy. Lee often painted scenes that depicted her direct experiences or observations of life. She worked at the railroads in Chicago and was an art student at night. Rising early every day was part of her routine. I am drawn to the painting’s blue colour palette because of how it invites different interpretations. These tones might represent the blue light of early morning or the perspective of someone so drained by the routine of struggle that life seems to have lost its vibrant colour. Then there are the many ways in which the colour blue has held meaning within African and diasporic cultures, either as a symbol of moods and feelings or an emblem of love, royalty and spirituality. “Blue Monday” seems to have acquired a certain cult popularity. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen this painting referenced in an article or social media post. I think it is because so many people can relate to the feelings it evokes. I am drawn to it because it speaks to times when life can seem like a continual drudgery, and one has to find strength to keep going from one morning to the next. And yet, the woman in the painting remains undefeated. The calendar on the wall says June. She has found the resources to make it through half the year already. Sometimes I think we forget that it can be admirable and praiseworthy simply to make it through a challenging season of life. Endurance is an underestimated characteristic. Picasso’s 1903 painting “La Vie” (“Life”) was created during his Blue Period, which spanned 1901 to 1904, when the artist produced largely monochromatic works that centred on depictions of people on the fringes of society. This stylistic shift was thought to have been prompted by the suicide of his close friend Carles Casagemas, and it coincided with a time in young Picasso’s life in which he was struggling with grief, depression and poverty. Some suggest that “La Vie”depicts the stages of life from birth to old age. To the left side of the painting is a young couple clinging to one another. Picasso supposedly gave the man the features of his deceased friend but he has also positioned the figure with his left foot stepping forward and his index finger extended as though he is moving towards something. It is as if in art, Picasso depicts his friend as having chosen a different future, a different way forwards. I am not as familiar with Picasso’s Blue Period as I am with his later works. But it is easy to understand why this part of his oeuvre is considered so important. Besides the stylistic innovations — the influence of the 16th-century artist El Greco, for example — Picasso’s Blue Period seems to explore the very human themes of grief, poverty, despair and shame with compassion. It is inspiring to consider that these works emerged from Picasso’s own season of struggle, that rather than succumbing to his blues, he mined them for what he could, creating works that remind us that such themes are part of life. “In Deep Winter” is a 1923 painting by Austrian painter Richard Freiherr von Drasche-Wartinberg. It’s a landscape scene of a small river set against a forest in the dead of winter. The main channel of the river is centred on the canvas and seems to flow from where we, the viewers, are standing. Snow is packed on both banks of the river and we can see a house in the upper left corner of the composition. Otherwise the scene is desolate. Bare trees extend into an overcast winter sky. There is a blue tint to the painting, like so many winter days. This is a work that illustrates both the harshness and the beauty of winter, a season in which many people experience the blues. On a recent snow day I woke up and knew that I needed to get out of the house, that moving my body would help me make it through the day a little better. In my local park, the walkways were slushy and difficult to navigate. I was forced to stand still and assess my route, so that I could eventually make my way to an easier path. It reminded me that, during life’s cold, dark stretches, when the future seems uncertain, it often helps to stop and acknowledge where we are, before inching ourselves towards a clearer route ahead. Maybe there’s always an invitation and a sense of promise hidden in the deep winter, as in the painting where the stream is still flowing, albeit at a slower pace. Likewise, no matter what might be happening in our individual or collective experiences, life invites us to move forward, to find the best flow we can. [email protected] out about our latest stories first — follow FT Weekend on Instagram and X, and sign up to receive the FT Weekend newsletter every Saturday morning
