Open the window to a different view

If I were a young writer searching for my voice would you listen and comment on my veracity in tone and text?
I could be standing on the stone in the river watching the river move slowly on. I could watch and tell you of the upstream... the otters, the arching willows, trout sleeping in dark pools. no, I could not see the rapids and the waterfall, a few miles further on.
I am downstream, looking back at the beautiful falls; the river pounding on the slippery rocks under the foaming water. I stand on a sandy beach eroding as I watch the falls.
I am old, I remember clinging to the rock above the falls. I remember how the current of time swept me down stream and the only mercy was the rock I could cling to as I listened to the crashing river.

click to feed fish

Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Man of constant Sorrow


The Old Man in Sorrow
(On the Threshold of Eternity)
Saint-Remy, April-May1890
Oil on canvas 81x65cm
Otterlo, Kroller-Muller Museum


      The pain and remorse goes without saying. The old bald bearded gray haired man head in hands clenched fists I can almost hear his sobs. He sits on a rush chair it sits on a bare wood floor in front of a roaring fire. The man is dressed in blue. Somehow his little laced brown boots look so pathetic. Vincent was so sympathetic, does he see himself in the future, regretting so many lost opportunities. The fire seems to be devouring ghosts. His head seems heavy. His back is bent. His shoes are worn. One wonders what he has done, or what has happened to him. Perhaps he has lost his wife or child. All of the sadness of the world is embodied in this painting.  

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