Florida Plein Air oil paintings,
stormy landscapes, hurricanes,
travel.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Daily Painting 310 Royal Poinciana Work in Progress
This isn't finished yet, its 24 x 30 inches, I am getting too old to do a big one in one day any more.
3 comments:
Anonymous
said...
Dear Lory,
Congratulations for your beautiful paintings! They are marvellous! I write poetry and have the site "Poesia de Ilona Bastos" - Poetry by Ilona Bastos - http://br.geocities.com/ibbaptista/ In this site I show a painting with each poem, and I chose your wonderful "The Neighbor's House on Indian River Drive" to put with my "A esta hora os pássaros não cantam" -"At this hour the birds don't sing". I've written an English version of the poem so that you can understand it (since the original is in Portuguese):
AT THIS HOUR THE BIRDS DON’T SING Ilona Bastos
At this hour the birds don’t sing. Just the indolent, slow murmur of the wind Gently playing with the leaves In a lazy, warm breeze…
Then, the silence… Followed by the sounds of the heat: The echo of the sea in the cars far away, The roll of a crushed paper sheet Almost at my feet, following me, The hidden singing of a cicada, The unexpected and single line of melody Of a bird, the thirsty pant of the dog, Tired, feeling warm, pulling always, Blindly led by an invisible trail…
Painted in lilac, a jacaranda in the shadow – Its green, trimmed, fresh foliage Suddenly dancing in the wind! The others, burning in the sun, silently With no colours, no sounds, Deserts of naked branches. And then, the silence again…
In this silence of Summer there is however poetry Immanent in the smallest details Like the soft, almost familiar crackle Of the tires when they advance safe And predictable on the stone paving, Or the way they resonate as peacefully go away Self confident, willing, accelerating Towards distant lands, Rocks and beaches, sparkling waves, Marvellous views, never ending plains…
And here, with me, this attentive search of sounds Over the dense silence, the pant of the dog, The dull banging of my steps on the road, Looking for that Portal to distance, Sweet happiness, amazing revelations In this enigmatic scenery of Summer In this precise and astonishing hour When birds don’t sing.
Lisbon, 2007-07-06
Please if you don't agree with your painting being in my site, please tell me and I will immediately change the picture. It would be a shame, because your painting is beautiful (as all your paintings, in fact).
Thank you very much for your kind words. It’s my pleasure to have your beautiful painting in my site. This painting, in particular, reminds me of Estoril, a beach near Lisbon ( http://www.estorilcoast-tourism.com/default.aspx ) , and brings me memories of childhood and happy times. Best wishes, Ilona Bastos
3 comments:
Dear Lory,
Congratulations for your beautiful paintings! They are marvellous! I write poetry and have the site "Poesia de Ilona Bastos" - Poetry by Ilona Bastos - http://br.geocities.com/ibbaptista/
In this site I show a painting with each poem, and I chose your wonderful "The Neighbor's House on Indian River Drive" to put with my "A esta hora os pássaros não cantam" -"At this hour the birds don't sing". I've written an English version of the poem so that you can understand it (since the original is in Portuguese):
AT THIS HOUR THE BIRDS DON’T SING
Ilona Bastos
At this hour the birds don’t sing.
Just the indolent, slow murmur of the wind
Gently playing with the leaves
In a lazy, warm breeze…
Then, the silence…
Followed by the sounds of the heat:
The echo of the sea in the cars far away,
The roll of a crushed paper sheet
Almost at my feet, following me,
The hidden singing of a cicada,
The unexpected and single line of melody
Of a bird, the thirsty pant of the dog,
Tired, feeling warm, pulling always,
Blindly led by an invisible trail…
Painted in lilac, a jacaranda in the shadow –
Its green, trimmed, fresh foliage
Suddenly dancing in the wind!
The others, burning in the sun, silently
With no colours, no sounds,
Deserts of naked branches.
And then, the silence again…
In this silence of Summer there is however poetry
Immanent in the smallest details
Like the soft, almost familiar crackle
Of the tires when they advance safe
And predictable on the stone paving,
Or the way they resonate as peacefully go away
Self confident, willing, accelerating
Towards distant lands,
Rocks and beaches, sparkling waves,
Marvellous views, never ending plains…
And here, with me, this attentive search of sounds
Over the dense silence, the pant of the dog,
The dull banging of my steps on the road,
Looking for that Portal to distance,
Sweet happiness, amazing revelations
In this enigmatic scenery of Summer
In this precise and astonishing hour
When birds don’t sing.
Lisbon, 2007-07-06
Please if you don't agree with your painting being in my site, please tell me and I will immediately change the picture. It would be a shame, because your painting is beautiful (as all your paintings, in fact).
Best regards,
Ilona Bastos
Thank you very much Ilona, I am honored to have one of my paintings illustrate your lovely poem!
Best Wishes, Lori
Dear Lori,
Thank you very much for your kind words.
It’s my pleasure to have your beautiful painting in my site.
This painting, in particular, reminds me of Estoril, a beach near Lisbon ( http://www.estorilcoast-tourism.com/default.aspx ) , and brings me memories of childhood and happy times.
Best wishes,
Ilona Bastos
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