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30x40 oil 2014
Toward evening the long rays of the Scandinavian summer sun turn vistas into haunting perspectives. This is related to the beguiling mirages and tricks the desert can play on the eye--but a corollary or reversal. While the high desert turns distant knobs into lunar landmarks one foolishly thinks are near, in the fjords and woods of Norway landmarks can seem overly large, heaping a greater distance to a view that really is not so far away. The stillness and lapping waves add to the uncanniness.
When one paints for a few hours on site, with great concentration, not all is quiet. Fairly spirited dialogues ensue for me--acquaintances who comment and kibitz over the canvas. One who came along during this painting was the rotund Giorgio De Chirico, one of my favourite painters, most seminal a century ago. Perhaps the ship peaking over the low-lying skerry recalls a melancholic locomotive puffing away, strangely placed over a piazza. Too, I let myself go with viridian in the distant hills. (He was so partial to that color.)
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