To me, the world is a painting. Peachy sunsets that create candy floss clouds and syrupy skies, and fluffy sheep that make dot-to-dot on otherwise all green landscapes.
Standing on a beach I see the individual sweeps of a paintbrush in the sea that crashes down in millions of different shades of blue: from a near black to brilliant white horses cantering onto the shore. There are gentle dabs of colour added here and there across the thin strip of sand between the waves and the dunes.
The dunes themselves are a different story. Their grasses have been painted very precisely; a thin brush and a small amount of dark green paint was all that was needed. Individual grasses were added on meticulously and there was great precision with every brushstroke.
Shells were given the detail that could have been devoted to the stars, while families who picnic and build sandcastles remain faceless and distant, staying within the confines of their familiar circles and not venturing out in case they meet another human.
A cityscape is very particularly done. Each evening light must be given a glowing haze and each street corner given the dusty edges and concrete canvas that has become expected of it. Each rooftop has to be uniquely defined, yet should blend in together so that they appear as one.
What is an abstract, but a visual representation of the human mind?
What is a portrait, but an outsider's perception and judgement of it?
To me the world is a painting. Or is it that a painting is a world?
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Standing on a beach I see the individual sweeps of a paintbrush in the sea that crashes down in millions of different shades of blue: from a near black to brilliant white horses cantering onto the shore. There are gentle dabs of colour added here and there across the thin strip of sand between the waves and the dunes.
The dunes themselves are a different story. Their grasses have been painted very precisely; a thin brush and a small amount of dark green paint was all that was needed. Individual grasses were added on meticulously and there was great precision with every brushstroke.
Shells were given the detail that could have been devoted to the stars, while families who picnic and build sandcastles remain faceless and distant, staying within the confines of their familiar circles and not venturing out in case they meet another human.
A cityscape is very particularly done. Each evening light must be given a glowing haze and each street corner given the dusty edges and concrete canvas that has become expected of it. Each rooftop has to be uniquely defined, yet should blend in together so that they appear as one.
What is an abstract, but a visual representation of the human mind?
What is a portrait, but an outsider's perception and judgement of it?
To me the world is a painting. Or is it that a painting is a world?
