Friday, August 14, 2009
Judgement and Calm
Witnessing the perfect mornings here, from our rented back deck, and seeing the softly shimmering haze that renders the mountain ridges ethereal and lovely every single day, no matter the weather, I understand why painters need to paint these mountains...why each painter may need to find the right way to portray the delicacy and transparency of the light that transforms mere dirt and stone into magic....it's a challenge, any artist would want to answer the call of.....i wish I could paint.
The act of true painting is miraculous to me, and certainly magical, as I have written about before: how do the real artists get living images, with life breathing through the eyes and faces of their subjects, from gross pigment and linseed oil? How do a combination of dabs add up to the image of something that convinces the viewer that what they are looking at is a real person that lives, or has lived? Well, I feel the same about the soft,stirring experience of what I've been seeing from this back deck every morning this week: how is it even possible that what I see is real? And how do painters even begin to capture its deep nature?
Because so many painters - or would - be painters _ are compelled to try, - there are shops and shops and more shops lining the streets of the region with countless attempts on sale. And every so often, one sees the real thing: a surprising and gifted capture, a personal interpretation of the true experience of the mountain sunrise....and this is good. But, of course, nothing beats the real thing...even my feeble attempt to describe it with the flabby paintbrush of my words: these morning mountains are a mystical event every single day.
An ambitious hummingbird just flew super - sonically by my ear! Hey there little thing! The only brightly colored thingon this deck are the words "ASHES ONLY" painted in red on the side of the grill's silver trash can, and no nectar there for you....
And while we're on the subject of local fauna: we went to take a bag of garbage out to the sutrdily constructed wooden garbage bins on the edge of the driveway, and we discovered that something had been there before us on a raid! The extremely heavy cover of the bin had been ripped open - along with its solid steel latching - and the plastic garbage can had been flung out of the wooden bin, IT'S top taken off and garbage examined, devoured and floung down the hill! Claw marks stripped the sides of the wooden bins, and we discovered that bears may well enjoy the salty treasures of Cheese Puffs, for each bag we had emptied and thrwon away was licked clean, and torn in the oddest variety of ways! WE HAD A BEAR ATTACK OUR GARBAGE BINS!!! And he or she treated the sturdily built wooden bins like they were paper!
Suddenly the quiet woods surroundin the house felt filled with danger and I hurriedly helped Peter collect the strewn garbage back into its cans and I locked the doors of thehouse firmly behind us as we snuggled down for a restful evening....yikes. BEARS!
I am so NOT a nature person.
Though I'm glad the bears seemed to enjoy what we had to offer.
What will today bring?
The act of true painting is miraculous to me, and certainly magical, as I have written about before: how do the real artists get living images, with life breathing through the eyes and faces of their subjects, from gross pigment and linseed oil? How do a combination of dabs add up to the image of something that convinces the viewer that what they are looking at is a real person that lives, or has lived? Well, I feel the same about the soft,stirring experience of what I've been seeing from this back deck every morning this week: how is it even possible that what I see is real? And how do painters even begin to capture its deep nature?
Because so many painters - or would - be painters _ are compelled to try, - there are shops and shops and more shops lining the streets of the region with countless attempts on sale. And every so often, one sees the real thing: a surprising and gifted capture, a personal interpretation of the true experience of the mountain sunrise....and this is good. But, of course, nothing beats the real thing...even my feeble attempt to describe it with the flabby paintbrush of my words: these morning mountains are a mystical event every single day.
An ambitious hummingbird just flew super - sonically by my ear! Hey there little thing! The only brightly colored thingon this deck are the words "ASHES ONLY" painted in red on the side of the grill's silver trash can, and no nectar there for you....
And while we're on the subject of local fauna: we went to take a bag of garbage out to the sutrdily constructed wooden garbage bins on the edge of the driveway, and we discovered that something had been there before us on a raid! The extremely heavy cover of the bin had been ripped open - along with its solid steel latching - and the plastic garbage can had been flung out of the wooden bin, IT'S top taken off and garbage examined, devoured and floung down the hill! Claw marks stripped the sides of the wooden bins, and we discovered that bears may well enjoy the salty treasures of Cheese Puffs, for each bag we had emptied and thrwon away was licked clean, and torn in the oddest variety of ways! WE HAD A BEAR ATTACK OUR GARBAGE BINS!!! And he or she treated the sturdily built wooden bins like they were paper!
Suddenly the quiet woods surroundin the house felt filled with danger and I hurriedly helped Peter collect the strewn garbage back into its cans and I locked the doors of thehouse firmly behind us as we snuggled down for a restful evening....yikes. BEARS!
I am so NOT a nature person.
Though I'm glad the bears seemed to enjoy what we had to offer.
What will today bring?
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