A painting is not thought out and settled in advance. While it is being done, it changes as one's thoughts change. And when it is finished, it goes on changing according to the state of mind of whoever is looking at it.
Saturday, 17 July 2010
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
With their backs to the world
"In the begining it helped.It was a comfort.Then everything got worse.My nerves were shot,I grew afraidof everything.I drank even morejust to calm myself down,but then I got nervous again,so I drank even more,and finally I was just a nervous wreck..."
" I came close to losing grip totally,and realised I had to put aside the bottle for good."
painting
By Emma Lazarus, 1883
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"