TANGLEWOOD
All that figurative matter, all those ideas of power and
lust : I am thinking of you in the backlight, sheer and
shimmering, some white cloak over your shoulders.
No more than that, blunthead, this is 'art'. All those
fey fellows clamoring, all they do is sketch you with
charcoal on their coarse paper boards.
-
The key, I notice, to good landscape painting is a
progression of colors off to the horizon. That line of
distant mountains, arrayed in rows receding outward -
the farther off they are, the lighter their color and
tint.
Those things closest to the viewer bear the most color
and strength; things farther off can fade out and be
faint.
-
I like the idea of that. In every aspect of life, that can
be worked into whatever occurs. I am still watching
you, fortunately quite up close. Near to me. And,
oh, so vividly colored. You are as unlike the
Berkshires as a cat is unlike a dog. For these
small favors, I am quite happy.
-
I may soon swoon. Your vivid pinks and
idle flesh-tones are enough, I say here,
to make me shudder and faint.
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