Saturday, December 10, 2011

Not a day to force paint on a paint brush

As discipline as I am when Thursday comes round for plein air painting, it was not a day to force paint on a paint brush.

Indoors, I really tried to paint from a colleague's small color photograph: a marsh scene.  It wasn't meant to be though.  When I returned home, I wiped the canvas panel clean with a rag soaked with turpentine.  I then scaped my palette down to the color of bone.

Because... I really wanted to paint out in the Garden of Eden today.

To stand tall among the swirling grasses and embracing trees

To see all the luscious, earthy details, to gather in all with hawkish eyes.

There! On a distant horizon, set upon its arc; an angel

Observes, ponders then lifts a glistening brush

To the canvas made from the most delicate woven threads

of spider webs, friends' fine hairs, spittle and ocean mist

and paints a most glorious new day.

Good bye my gentle friend.

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