With a painting attached, translated…
When I was younger, there would be a foreign painter, with brown sideburns, looking very kind, teaching the audience how to paint in oils.
I’d often followed his trained strokes, grazed along on the canvas.
Without a photo, nor with a sketch either, he’d first, colored in the skies, then, used the sapphire blues boldly, painted out a lake, then, continued, to shape up the mountain peaks, the snow, the clouds and the fogs, then, he’d, painted the reflection of things on top onto the surface of the lake, like he was, cutting, severing the reality from the imagined, the two worlds.
and here’s that painting that’s inspired all of this, from the newspapers…
After working hard, sweating it all out, believed, that the existence of beauty is only in the imaginations.
Who said it once, that all interactions in the world are, meeting up after a very long while?
As I’d traveled in person, to the scenes in the painting, I was, moved even more so.
The intersections of what was real, and what was made up.
I’d, sat down on that giant rock, just stared, like I was, painting that picture again inside of my memories.
Then, I’d, flipped it upside down, and, hung it again, before my own eyes.
And I’d proved, that beauty, really do, exist.
So, you got all of this, from watching someone paint, and, because you’d made a visit to the place, it’d made you, even MORE connected to the artist’s work, and that would be, pursuing beauty, in the most active forms, by taking yourselves there, to the place that inspired the painting in the first place.