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- Playful things -
Collection
My
house is creation; my house is built from inside
out. I open each new window on my soul in secret
to the onlooker; my art find eternal renewal in
the enveloping beauty around me. Today, I open
the shutters on playful sources they need the
sun to flow and bloom.
My
still lives refuse stillness Life regains the
upper hand on the slow death leaking between the
strokes of my paintbrush. What are my choices?
Desperately, I tried to master my technique,
respect the law of the Art, and follow a rigid
discipline of ordered figures. It is a lost
cause.
Life is alive waiting, wanting. Who am I to deny
it? Still life, you are now metamorphosed in
playful things. From a frozen scene, a spark of
mischief transforms stasis in a twirling
carousel.
Small creatures tiptoe around, harvesting crumbs
of happiness falling haplessly in their path. A
colored storyboard unravels and your imagination
chooses the content and the end. So many
observers,
so many adventures. And from a single,
simple fragment, the intuitive beginning takes
shape and form. Then texture, color; a fruit
appears. Other shapes shimmer. Some focus is
mandatory.
The brushes define the design. More details .
And suddenly, inexorably, a little mouse: let
the adventure begin. At last a perfect balance
between freedom and speech, between texture and
definition: My still life is no longer still but
alive.
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