It all started, they say, by a journalist of Charivari in 1874.
But the picture that suggested the name, Monet's portrayal
of the harbor at Le Havre, christened by the artist
"Impression Rising Sun" was painted in 1872!!
It's not so much the "Water lilies at Giverny"
as the point of order according to Monet
that bits of light and paint, frills and knots of color
transform the blobs and trails of blurry shapes into
water-lilies, jonquils, wisteria and weeping willows.
I stand wide-eyed at the precise moment caught,
in the juxtaposition of pure colors on canvas that
combine only in the beholder's enchanted eyes.
Purity of form, full in expression, of dynamic brilliance
to counteract the confused paleness of my own memoir.
Fleeting transformations of skies, waters, trees and grass
captured in the hazy landscapes of Ile-de-France.
Of skies filled with shifting clouds, the shimmering
reflections on the flowing rivers of the Seine and Oise.
Radiant faces of Renoir's women, living in paradise .
Naked bodies dissolving in the penetrating light,
and faces which express nothing but the artless
pleasure of living in a world of soft, intense light.
Jubilant are the colors of Van Gogh's flowers .
But my favorite is "Café De Nuit". In red and green
he deliberates the terrible passions of mortal beings.
I like his dramatic landscapes panoramas of a threatening sky,
and fields shuddering with anxiety, whipped by vicious winds.
Fleeting impressions are somehow imprinted .
captured in the artful strokes on the canvas,
woven into the fabric of my imagination .
These cobblestones, these streets, down over the
avenues, boulevards, bridges and quays of Seine
I know from a hundred years ago.
A long lost memory of a stroll with a lover,
among the trees beside the flowing Seine,
arm in arm holding an umbrella in a distant city .
Mita Das is a scientist, an artist, a poet and a mother. She spent a decade studying air pollution and acid rain before turning her interests to social entrepreneurship and being a full time mom.
Trackback(0)
TrackBack URI for this entry
Comments (3)
Subscribe to this comment's feed
written by Mita, 2008-01-25 12:07:50
Thanks Partha. The experience of reading a good book or looking at a beautiful painting is evocative. I wrote this poem after my first visit to the famed art museums of Paris many years ago. My father is an amateur artist and I had grown up seeing all these paintings in books .. but nothing had prepared me for the experience of seeing these marvelous art works with my own naked eyes!!
-
- +0
-
-
written by P. Desikan, 2008-01-25 02:16:30
Dear Mita,
Reading an absorbing book of history or fiction too can be like looking at a marvellous period painting.
Are they beautiful words in right positions in appropriate context? Are am I living the experience of what those words manage to tell me about , at a different location, in a different time?
Are these just bits of light and paint, frills and knots of color aligned in dots and specks, ridges and furrows along with blobs and trails of blurry shapes? Or are they water-lilies, jonquils, wisteria and weeping willows?
Or cobblestones, on somehow familiar streets, down over the avenues, boulevards, bridges and quays of Seine?
Regards. Partha.
Reading an absorbing book of history or fiction too can be like looking at a marvellous period painting.
Are they beautiful words in right positions in appropriate context? Are am I living the experience of what those words manage to tell me about , at a different location, in a different time?
Are these just bits of light and paint, frills and knots of color aligned in dots and specks, ridges and furrows along with blobs and trails of blurry shapes? Or are they water-lilies, jonquils, wisteria and weeping willows?
Or cobblestones, on somehow familiar streets, down over the avenues, boulevards, bridges and quays of Seine?
Regards. Partha.
-
- +0
-
-
Write comment
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
Now here's something profoundly wise realized by an amateur artist painting a tree. He said :
To really paint a tree you have to FEEL its growth as a painter yourself. So, you have to start from its roots, the dark subterranean soil from where it struggles for existence.
Then the trunk, where it survives to stand its ground. To bring out its struggle for survival, you've got to bring out the twisted, gnarled bark.
Then you've got to end your painting at its leaves, which are reaching out at the sunshine for sustenance. Only then can you paint the beauty of the leaves.
I heard these wise words in 1991 February.