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

A thought about Vincent's Works


Avenue of Poplars in Autumn


Nuemen, October 1884
Oil on canvas on panel,
98.5x66cm
Amsterdam, Van Gogh Museum




    The blue sky seems remote over the lane long shadows stripe across the leaf scatted drive and the empty house is turning it’s back to the lonely exile who is close to the open gate. It is like a dream a nightmare. It is like the scream but silent and haunting. It says you can never go home, and who would want to anyway? The secrets are deep and mute in this frightening painting. It is from an early period and painted of Vincent’s childhood home.
     Along the path behind the figure there are sunny golden patches. In the house there is a window that seems to watch the lane and the traveler.
     Looking at this painting gives one the feeling of the bottom of the sea somehow, the figure and the lane seem submerged. The weight of the air is felt. The end of the day is near, the end of the season is at hand and the beginning of a adventure is immanent, the gates are open.
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