Sometimes I remember places I visited in a not so recent past and of which only shreds of memory remain. It is at this point that imagination takes over and hides the abstraction of a landscape. So the mountains for me who am a man of the sea. A distant snow-capped mountain dominates other heights made of rock and earth and a patch of water remains, as if it were the sign of a small lake. And my memory is enclosed within the emotion that colors and brushes continue to give me and without which no painting would ever take place.
Oil
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Sometimes I remember places I visited in a not so recent past and of which only shreds of memory remain. It is at this point that imagination takes over and hides the abstraction of a landscape. So the mountains for me who am a man of the sea. A distant snow-capped mountain dominates other heights made of rock and earth and a patch of water remains, as if it were the sign of a small lake. And my memory is enclosed within the emotion that colors and brushes continue to give me and without which no painting would ever take place.
Oil
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