Yesterday was Holi. The festival of colour - bright hues, sweetness, a heralding of Spring ... So to bring some more colour into the day I decided I'd dig out the ol' easel and a have a bit of a jolly...
That set me thinking; while I was retrieving the tools of the trade from behind the bed, where they're stowed I was thinking about inspiration. Every painting starts with something, a need, an idea something set off like a flashbulb in the dark. At first there is nothing, or maybe something dull and passive , tunnel-like, beckoning yet not enticing ... And then all of a sudden, out of the blue, out jumps this vibrant image, luminous in its intensity ... . Then, just as quickly as it came, the vision blurs and disappears; the image recedes. It's as if the flash is a vision of foreverness - it has been forever and will be for ever after ... it was here before the Universe itself and has seen all its perturbations - the painting that I can even hope to reproduce is but a feeble shadow - a mindless corruption and yet a reflection of me in the vastness of infinities stretching beyond and more.
Anyway, regardless of that, I start trying to capture what I think is my part in the vision that was ...
1 comment:
true.. inspiration does seem to be a glimpse of the interminable viewed through the fragile lens of a mortal .. and the masters did seem to reproduce those moments well. You're on your way :)
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