The outside meadow has fallen silent. Seeds fallen to the ground slumber. Decaying stems and deteriorating leaves occupy space once rich in flower and beast. Where have they gone, the spiders, the butterflies, the bees – the bugs of plenty for the habitual birds. The tiny wren and the bold robin mere songs from deep within the evergreen honeysuckle – eyeing the movement of worm or beetle.
The studio is cosy and work is abundant. Masterclass finished for the day, students merrily on their way. Brushes still react to the paint and press of the artists departed. Work drying in situ. The outside feels distant – barriers of warmth cosset the body within this space.
As the paint eases on the paper, the scent of oil and varnish soothe the air, take a step back and ruminate. There is time in doing nothing but observing. Look with mind open and loosen the orders of your own command.
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