Henri Duhem. Last Light - Winter, 1917.
What is harder to see here than colors and light: He had just lost his only son to war, gone through an enemy occupation, and was about to lose his wife as well. He would be called on to serve in the administration of recovery, a horrible experience, and he wrote a book about it called The Death of a Home. Still, he kept on painting, for decades more. To me all that seems to peek through those branches, once you know about it.