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OIL PAINTING
OIL PAINTING
Oozing through the tube the gaudy paint
splotches, the canvas
widening, floating across the sheet of white
it stops, as the brush sweeps its gooey mass
in a big circular form,
the thickness varying the depth of colour,
it meets another splotch of contrasting colour,
they meld, combine and race round
making a scratching sound
that has a sense of urgency and splash,
to produce another amalgamate of pigment,
feathered in to the structure of the cloth.
The beginning,
the virgin white now broken,
feverishly, the painter sketches in the main areas
of the composition, the uprights strong,
the horizontal stripes,
the rounded centres, the sharp pointed angles,
he fills in the shadows, the accents of shape
one against another and stands back
to take a better look at the whole.
With excitement the colours are blended,
the main harmonies and contrasts thought out
vaguely, then with focussed mind
like that of a fencer defending himself,
the artist begins his work,
a dab here, many dabs, like doing a dance,
the sound, a rhythm like that hidden in poetry,
sensing the spirit of the gestures
that enhance the shapes,
the contrasts painted with a satisfaction
that only he will have,
it may be transmitted to the viewer
if done with verve and panache.
The smoother harmonious areas
like big still pools, rest in their hues,
while the jagged lines cut through
like the sound of the train rails
squealing round a corner.
Dots of flower-like patterns staccato
the rain-drop-like areas,
waves of undulating sweeps of the brush
form natures growth and fall,
details of finer touches diffusing the light,
dark parts sink into the deeper coloured distance
beyond the painting,
the yellow stands out in front,
the reds and purples half way between,
the blues float along
and the browns and black, stand stark.
Style / type:
Free verse
Editing stage:
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Comments
Rett
Sun, 2012-06-03 13:30
Nordic
I love this very much. It just seems to me, it reads better rearranged as I did below and with the deletion of the final verse. Just my humble opinion. I love it.
The beginning,
the virgin white now broken,
feverishly, the painter sketches in the main areas
of the composition, the uprights strong,
the horizontal stripes,
the rounded centres, the sharp pointed angles,
he fills in the shadows, the accents of shape
one against another and stands back
to take a better look at the whole.
Oozing through the tube the gaudy paint
splotches, the canvas
widening, floating across the sheet of white
it stops, as the brush sweeps its gooey mass
in a big circular form,
the thickness varying the depth of colour,
it meets another splotch of contrasting colour,
they meld, combine and race round
making a scratching sound
that has a sense of urgency and splash,
to produce another amalgamate of pigment,
feathered in to the structure of the cloth.
Oozing through the tube the gaudy paint
splotches, the canvas
widening, floating across the sheet of white
it stops, as the brush sweeps its gooey mass
in a big circular form,
the thickness varying the depth of colour,
it meets another splotch of contrasting colour,
they meld, combine and race round
making a scratching sound
that has a sense of urgency and splash,
to produce another amalgamate of pigment,
feathered in to the structure of the cloth.
Respectfully,
Rett
"If all printers were determined not to print anything till they were sure it would offend nobody, there would be very little printed. " Ben Franklin
loved
Sun, 2012-06-03 22:44
Ma'am beautiful painting canvas poetry
If you permit me to say Ma'am
you earned a great respect and admiration when you commented on my
Wait for me
poem
then I wrote as Istan...
a name given to me by you..
and you were not too happy with my vocab
there-after .
You declined to read more of mine thence ,..
now my critics say...
I have come a long way ..
would you like to share your current views
If I may request ..
It will be a feather in my cap
only if you so feel..
my sincere regards
loved
believe
Mon, 2012-06-04 01:56
GREAT !!!!
I am an Oil Painter ; and this poem is GREAT!
I Love it,
well formulated and the poem flows beautifully !
Very well done, www. raymacart.com.au
Nordic cloud
Mon, 2012-06-04 07:01
Thank you to Rett and 'believe'
I think you are right Rett when I ponder thought on it, I am always wanting to start with the gooey stuff and get the colour, before taking the time to think about the composition etc, eager to get going, like the fencer I have been.
And 'believe' That's lovely that you enjoyed this, you know exactly what I mean in it, I know.
What painting do you do, or is that difficult to describe? I have done a good deal of water colour, but loved the oil, real turpentine oil, the smell, the slow drying, the way it reacted to the brush r the palette knife, was great fun; with nature as my muse in poetry in dance, in painting, I paint influenced by her movements and patterns, but not always anything recognisable as a flower, a tree or whatever; perhaps more with its spirit than reality.
As you say Rett, the last verse is weaker, and perhaps ends a little weak too, I shall see.
Yours Ann of Norway.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
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