A flock of crows fly through the copse. They do not stop to marvel at the cherry blossom. That is not their idea at all. The crows are not to be trifled with. Filleting the copse is nothing for them. They are on a mission to elsewhere. Blossom, on the other hand, conducts itself in quiet grace - almost without moving. It's almost a byword for transient beauty. Some think these things are not newsworthy. But they resonate. |
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Yesterday I sat next to one of the copses on our local green and looked at the congregation of trees and their tonal differences in the gloom. Today, I thought I'd steal something from Vlaminck's 'Arbres a la maison bleue' https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-5650345 to achieve a Fauvist effect of the scene in sunlight.
Today I revisited one of Mike Svob's acrylic painting exercises which I followed a few weeks ago, 24/3/2024. I wondered what would happen if I tightened a loose approach. After some improvisation, I think things ended up slightly surreal - and I lost the scattered sun and the softer 'edges' which had been the focus of the tutorial.
Two watercolours of beach stones. They existed in wet places long before they were gathered on my table, and will, no doubt, be here long after I'm gone. There's something spiritual? about using water to re-create them. "What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water." Lines 19-22 of 'The Wasteland by TS Eliot, 1922
Further paintings of stones: march-03rd-2021.html ; holding-a-stone-like-a-heart-in-the-hand.html
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