Landscape on canvas paper. Also an invented landscape. I start with a wash of thin Raw Sienna into which I wash Red Oxide with random wild strokes. I then take a cloth and wipe away some shapes and stand back. If I am lucky, a landscape like this one steps forward…
A poem by T’ao Ch’ien, translated by David Hinton:
UNTITLED I couldn’t want another life. Tending fields and mulberries— it’s my true calling. I’ve never failed it, and still, against hunger and cold, there’s only hull and chaff. I never wanted more than a full stomach. All I’ve asked is a little rice, heavy clothes for winter and open-weaves for summer heat. But I haven’t even managed that. O, all this grief cuts deep. And character is fate. If you’re simpleminded, life’s ways elude you. It’s the inner pattern: no one’s likely to change it. But then, I delight in even a single cup of wine. David Hinton. Classical Chinese Poetry: An Anthology (p. 119). Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Kindle Edition.
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