This is a view looking south east at a spot I pass during my morning walk. Most of my paintings of scenes along my morning walk look north west, with long shadows in the direction of the sunlight. Here the scene is partially back-lit, with the light coming at an extreme angle from the left.
The source photo is shown below. When I took the photo, I thought the clouds would be the main focal element. But as the painting unfolded, I was more attracted to the warm color on the barberry bushes leading from the foreground backward. In my painting, the barn looks a bit too much like a house to me – I may work a bit more on that.
I was thinking about Tomas Transtromer’s poems. Spring is here. Thrush and Blackbird are out. Each morning I awake with a song on my roof.
The Man Awakened by a Song above His Roof Morning. May rain. The city is silent still as a sheepherder's hut. Streets silent. And in the sky a plane motor is rumbling bluish green. - The window is open. The dream of the man stretched out sleeping becomes at that instant transparent. He turns, begins to grope for the tool of his consciousness - almost in space. Tomas Transtromer, trans. Robert Bly, in The Half Finished Heaven
Which reminds me of what T.S Eliot wrote in Preludes:
... You lay upon your back and waited; You dozed, and watched the night revealing The thousand sordid images Of which your soul was constituted; They flickered against the ceiling. And when all the world came back And the light crept up between the shutters And you heard the sparrows in the gutters, You had such a vision of the street As the street hardly understands;
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