This is my 30th painting since I started painting again:
I showed the underpainting in my previous post, but here it is again below. Since I feel like I am in a bit of a rut, I thought to take it easy and just make a copy of my Painting #11, which I showed in this post.
As you will see if you compare the final painting (above) with my Painting #11, the final images are quite different. As soon as I started on this latest image, something steered me in another direction toward something less realistic, more romantic, abstract and diffuse.
To really appreciate the final image, please view this post on an iPad or high resolution tablet. On my laptop computer, the image looks spectacularly unimpressive.On my iPad, it looks a bit more like the real thing, which I am fairly happy with despite my moodiness.
The green grass peaking through the struggling landscape is barely visible in the last light and the shadows are deepening and full of dark warmth. I have walked open fields like this often in last light. The image is imagined but in my mind the landscape is real. Perhaps you have also observed how, in nature, away from artificial light, the light and dark dance on a knife edge just before night takes over.
I had a book a long time ago in which there was a short story by Rilke called “A story told to the dark”. I no longer have the book, but I memorized the starting lines. When I Googled the story just now I did not really like the translation. I liked the one in my memory better, it went something like this:
I wanted to put on my coat to go and visit my lame friend Ewald. But I had lingered over an old book, and evening had come, as in Russia spring comes. A moment ago, the room had been distinct, even to its remotest corners. Now everything is cast in shadow as if it had never known anything but darkness. Everywhere huge dark blossoms opened, and luminous gleams danced about their velvet calyxes as if on dragonfly wings.
Rainer Maria Like – A Story Told to the Dark