| Medium: oil on Strathmore 12" x 18" Title: Diaghelev |
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THE WIND IS CHILLING; AND ALABASTER WALLS IMPRISON YOU. IT IS INCARNATE, STIFLING, DEMEANING, THE MEMORY IS TENSE: MOOD IS ABNORMAL, NOTHING IS RIGHT, AND MORNING WILL NOT COME. AT LEAST, IT WAS SEEN THIS WAY. THE HEAVY MUSIC LAY PONDEROUSLY ON TOP; NOT MUCH COULD BE HEARD, EXCEPT THE TERSE DRUMBEATS, A RHYTHM OF MARCHING FEET; A STRANGE FUNERAL QUALITY: VOICES, MANY SINGERS; BOTH HIGH AND LOW, MALE AND FEMALE; INTERMIXED, SAD, WITH REACHING AND SUBSIDING INTENSITY. THE MUSIC OF MY LIFE, I THOUGHT; AND I PONDERED THE ENIGMA OF KNOWING. |