At 5:30 am during the brumal months, when only a hint of dawn is breaking, faint ruddy ribbons of sun creep past the horizon.
And when a second cup of much needed coffee is consumed, our kitchen becomes a haven for brilliant light. (Mind you, even without the joe, the room is still bathed in golden hues.) As the sun crests the treetops, unexpected shadows are produced, such as this exquisite silhouette of a dried yellow rose, it’s shadow echoing the countenance of a praying mantis.
I am rather fond of dried bouquets, and this other image is a still life I painted, of a red rose bouquet suspended from an old door. I found the portal in a trash heap, cut in two, and so with one of the panels I covered the surface in an impasto style, rendering the bouquet’s shadow in washes of acrylic. I kept the hardware intact, and thought the metal and peeled paint added texture as well as memories of bygone days.
Dried bouquets possess a certain mystique and elegance, a twinge of melancholy, and a wistfulness of something long gone but still cherished. I think they are just as beautiful as fresh bouquets, sometimes even more so.
And this last image? Well, that is good ol’ Boo, one of our three cats, a black behemoth who loves to bathe in sunbeams. He is quite a character, and the shadow and light create an intriguing pattern.
When a winter sun remains low in the sky, lovely long shadows are cast, presenting to those who seek such visuals a chance to glimpse the intricacy and majesty of shadow play.
Copyright, Paul Grignon, All Rights Reserved.