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jducoeurPerfect moments deserve recording:
The sky overhead is Blue. Neither light nor dark, but that brief shade in between that is simply and platonically Blue. Laid gently onto it is a cirrus patch of dusky rose.
To the West, the background turns to a bright aqua. Squatting on top of the trees is a shockingly orange troll of clouds, opaque to the eye but transparent enough to let the filtered and reddening sun turn it into a spotlight onto the world.
And drawing a line from the other to the one is a lone jet, spitting neon behind it, its contrail so vividly pink that it could be a line of puffy paint sketched onto the canvas, and illuminated by a great black light that leaves the background dark as it lights up the art...
The sky overhead is Blue. Neither light nor dark, but that brief shade in between that is simply and platonically Blue. Laid gently onto it is a cirrus patch of dusky rose.
To the West, the background turns to a bright aqua. Squatting on top of the trees is a shockingly orange troll of clouds, opaque to the eye but transparent enough to let the filtered and reddening sun turn it into a spotlight onto the world.
And drawing a line from the other to the one is a lone jet, spitting neon behind it, its contrail so vividly pink that it could be a line of puffy paint sketched onto the canvas, and illuminated by a great black light that leaves the background dark as it lights up the art...