5 December 2009. Sun in December, no complaints. Wind from the hills, palm fronds.
Bonnard. His impressive smudges, nudged along a vector of patience and true belief. Belief, yes, but in what? Quiet, perhaps, and the play of warm and cool--a moment's sunlight on a southern balustrade, spot of warm white and yellow gold illuminating the rose-violet shadows. Who can say--words are nice, but the essential pathways of the optic nerve will out. Was he joshing--the techno-speak, as with Thomas Eakins, the opthamologist--seen by chance, scored prism in his hands...
Learners take note, the horizon beyond...
No comments:
Post a Comment