Naturally Beautiful
THE ESSENCE OF A PAINTING
I can identify with this portrait in so many different ways.
The unique brushwork itself, projects the contrast between the
intense energy of living in process and the natural chain of
events that lead me to this very point. Harmony stand beside
me interpreting the scene on it’s own terms. Each stroke of his
technique is fluent and natural as the lift beneath a butterfly
wings on a cool Spring day.
Each color make the plants and willow leaves come to life,
but aged with vigor and spice they create vivid pastels that
mask the terrains in a way that only a few of us would dare
to comprehend. Miraculously I can vision huge weeping willow
trees bending gracefully beneath a mountain’s peak, right next
to fishes swimming in the spirit nourished streams that flow
over rocks and sand, between trees and soil, beneath clouds
and rain, far far beyond the great lakes…Somewhere hidden
behind the jagged cliffs which lie silently beside fields of hope
that stretches as far as the eye can see.
The rainbows translucent essence enhances the artist touch,
which allows the ultra violet rays of the sun to praise natures
mild intent. The order is quickly extinguished by urban tapestry
and lights; thus, we speak of sculpture, literature and music as
a source of expression. Vaguely can I recall a time in my simple
existence of such beauty and mystic. Or a song filled with passion
or a whisper so sweet.
This picture reminds me of a time in my life when I wasn’t
really sure. It’s the anchor of a play, a fisher’s lure. Such a
conversation piece at a period when man has digressed, my
confidence saved by nobleness. Should I stand against this?
My dying pain…my only wish. It brings me sadness when rains
in contrast, from harm to bliss. Will the colors fade off the canvas
of life? Will I count the waves from a pier tonight?
On an evening exact, I’ve been called to speak. Not to criticize
my fellow man from his faults or to ridicule his speech. A cause
to be free, as I lapse back in time. I can feel a virgin in the wind and
taste the passion of her mind. At last, I pray alone on my knees adrift’
at night, and watch the sunrise as it sleeps on the horizon…i dare recite.
Maestro
STREET JUSTICE 