We don’t normally stop to consider the display cases in our local grocery store when we’re hurrying through. How much thoughtful composition and visual order are at work, how the objects within have been carefully arranged, lit, and repeated. We consider least of all the glass barrier itself, which—like a painting—invites the familiar relationship between viewer and the framed thing that is viewed.

Art is all about attentiveness, and Wayne Thiebaud was a painter of remarkably generous attention. He regarded, and helped us to regard, uniquely American vignettes of abundance without descending into critique or irony. In this painting, the cakes are commercial, made to be sold. None of this is hidden. But whereas one person might view a bakery display case—or a deli counter, or a gumball machine—and think drearily of banal, excessive consumer culture, Thiebaud saw the kind of pleasure that requires neither apology nor nostalgia. An even-keeled yet delicious pleasure, elegantly edited to stand alone.

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To me, his paintings are some of the most palpably satisfying of any artist. And it's all in the looking; that’s all it is. Thiebaud simply looked, carefully and patiently, and in doing so, he showed us that the world is worth taking time to consider, and that we ourselves are capable of sustained attention. Most of all, he showed us that our world, just as it is, has not exhausted its meaning, and never will. It isn’t asking to be redeemed. It’s just asking to be noticed.

This post is part of The American 250, a series featuring 250 objects made by Americans, located in America, in honor of the country's 250th anniversary. 250 words on 250 works, from January 1 to December 31, 2026.

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