Monthly Archives: Juli 2013

Monet, a Revelation

Holiday brings me back to my favourite Monets.

First time learning his art, it was some kind of revelation. It was so mind-blowing, breathtaking moment. I immediately thought, “he’s the best…”

 

Image

The Woman in The Garden

 

Can’t think of words that would ever able to deliver my feelings, seeing this painting, but after forever i finally come up with one: ADORATION.

I know, Monet (1840-1926) is all impression, and sunrise. But it isn’t his mega historical painting that later gave birth of the very infamous nickname of him (and become quite an era of group of painters) that i want to display as my best impression Monet, no pun intended. First look at the Woman in The Garden and it practically took away all my consciousness, blew my mind in a split second.

Of course it was Camille Doncieux who was being the model, like almost all his work before all the water lilies rampage, but i found it different than any other Camille paintings. The focus now isn’t her, but the garden. As the woman seen to stare in awe at the beautiful garden, we invited to also look at the same direction. The gentle, detail, yet vivid brush strokes captivated me in a flash. We can envisage easily of some bright day in France, in a garden of an old manor house, owned by some Comte or such.

Though the look Camille gives for the garden was clearly admiration, and we feel the same worship at the same time, it seen for me that the painter itself ALSO felt adoration while doing the work. The title itself gave it away, that it was the woman the creator wanted to exhibit, not solely the garden. But despite all things, somehow the garden painted in such a way that it stood up almost immediately, like it stole all the attention.

Maybe i’m just rambling. Maybe i am, but still… beside The Cliff at Etretat and Oat and Poppy Field, The Woman in The Garden remains as my best Monet painting of all time.

Midas, King of Phrygian

I don’t want to be King Midas.

 

When His Majesty turned his own blood to a stone...

Turning one’s own blood to a stone… Not much of a deliverance as we hope for, eh, Your Majesty?

 

He overlooked everything he had until he lost it all. No way in hell i wanna be a person who’s not being grateful and only knows how to oppose. The grass is always greener on the other side would be quite the understatement of the century in this case.

When i wrote this, my mind sailed to a man named Santiago El Campeon. Who doesn’t know him? An exceptionally modest yet gallant character from Hemingway’s novel back in 1952 who steals everyone’s heart by his endless bravery and faith. The fictional fisherman who battled out every day in the Gulf Stream is the antithesis of the typical real-life wealthy man who has almost everything in the world but still manages to find shortcomings every time.

I’m somewhere between nowhere and goodbye, in some dark, twisted place far between those two Legends. I’m not as fortunate as King Midas (in term of fortune, pun intended) and not having a shack wrapped around me to fight cold at night either. I just know that Santiago is everything so many today’s kids are not. His actions, governed by his belief in an unstated pride of a man, leads to the furthest road from being such an blind schmuck ass, like me.

Sometimes.

Well, i’ve got offered things many people would lose a limb to get hands to it, but i still set my eyes up there, reaching something higher, and higher, and higher. While keep losing what i already had. Chance, age, vanity. Am i morphing into ungrateful little bitch, who bounds to see nothing outside her expectations, though it’s kinda like elephants in the room? No freaking way.

I know i was born stubborn and this obstinate pigheaded is something that came naturally, but line is drawn with a reason. I have no right in hell to criticize people like King Midas, cuz well, kettles would want to have a word with such pot.

Before this rambling can hurt our eyes even more, i think i ought to stop.