Serenity
Aug 9, 2018
Fractal branches
drawn with Chinese brush strokes,
lightly touching the canvas of the sky;
a moment ago, the sunlight splashed in the corner of the west,
now it 's sloping down from the compound wall; the solitary soul is walking still.
It's a joy to be alone
when you know the evening is closing in,
but you are well in time to be home for the tea.

Jan. 3, 2016
Originally shared by anu x
John Atkinson Grimshaw
Stapleton Park near Pontefract Sun (1877)
Private Collection

. . . . .

John Atkinson Grimshaw (6 September 1836 – 13 October 1893) was a Victorian-era artist known for his city night-scenes and landscapes.

John Atkinson Grimshaw was born 6 September 1836 in Leeds. In 1861, at the age of 24, to the dismay of his parents, he left his job as a clerk for the Great Northern Railway to become a painter.

Grimshaw's primary influence was the Pre-Raphaelites. True to the Pre-Raphaelite style, he created landscapes of accurate colour and lighting, vivid detail and realism, often typifying seasons or a type of weather.

~ extract from . . .
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Atkinson_Grimshaw

. . . . .

John Atkinson Grimshaw
English painter. He specialized in a distinctive type of nocturnal townscape, usually featuring gaslights and wet streets, and Whistler said of him, ‘I considered myself the inventor of Nocturnes until I saw Grimmy's moonlit pictures.’ 

Grimshaw's paintings, however, unlike Whistler's, are sharp in focus and rather acidic in colouring, although often remarkably atmospheric. They were very popular (in spite of the fact that he rarely exhibited at the Royal Academy).

~ text source: The Oxford Dictionary of Art and Artists (Oxford University Press)

. . . . .
Image from http://www.wikiart.org/en/john-atkinson-grimshaw/
. . . . .
#Art #JohnAtkinsonGrimshaw
. . . . .
Photo
Shared publicly•View activity

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An Abstruse Symbol

Image
And I wish this was a dream a cherished dream come true. And as I think this thought I also knew the real is never the conceptual. The dream , a world without a practical consequence, a word, a thought under erasure. Does it hurt to think and dream, a world where nothing is a sin, where nothing begs for forgiveness, where I create myself and immediately dissolve before time, the hunter tracks me down and nails me, puts me down under a selective square of a parody of what I made of me. an abstruse symbol, a watery grave where everything flows , nothing is held. And in the very moment of saying this I know, how I yearn to create a body, a body that I could call You, a body, a You that will give me a name, a name that will never be erased Shared privately • View activity The Cloberth +1 Food for thought. Thank you + Sushama Karnik   REPLY  Nov 13, 2015  Sushama Karnik + The Cloberth Thank you very much that it...
Read more

Horse Sacrifice : Significance Tighe, Sushama, Sheikha

Image
  The universal significance of horse-sacrifice: 'ashwamedha' in Vedas: "We mortals who owe our Self to Time are performing a sacrifice ceaselessly. The Dawn (Usha) is the head of the sacrificial horse ; the Sun his eye, the wind his breath; his open   mouth the universal Fire (Agni), and Time, measured by our human parameter as year is the body of the sacrificial horse; the sky his back, the atmosphere his belly, the four quarters his ribs, the seasons his limbs, the half months and months his joints, days and nights his feet, the stars his bones, the clouds his flesh." An excerpt from <Yajnyawalkya> by   Sushama Karnik 3 5y 5 years ago Like Reply Edited Active Sushama Karnik Tighe O'Donoghue Ross  I thought this archetype would be of interest to the imagination and intuition of the artist in you. 3 5y 5 years ago Like Reply Tighe O'Donoghue Ross Sushama Karnik  tremendously so...there must be some link back to the Indo European connection...in Gaelic S...
Read more
  . I was like a sleeping sea. You woke me up and the storm blew through. I shake my waves, I sink my ships; I climb to the sky and punish stars... I'm ashamed and hide between my folds, I go crazy and kill my fish. Don't look at me with fear... You wanted it... Alfonsina Storni
Read more