Water Lilies, by Terri Jones
Art galleries are always a treat to my senses. Sculptures, with graceful curves, beckon to be touched. Large spacious rooms, where pictures line the wall like soldiers standing at attention. Soft lights, give off a warm glow to splashes of color. Silence; so thick, you could cut it with a knife. To me, art galleries are a place of serenity. Waves of peace wash over me replacing life’s noise and confusion.
This day was special! My eyes mesmerized by strokes of paint in tranquil shades of blue and green. A canvas filled with a watery garden of sunlit flowers. The graceful beauty of Weeping Willows hang over head, bowing down in awe of this majestic place. Splashes of pink and crimson on cobalt blue draw my eye deep into the artist’s soul. A bridge leading nowhere; maybe a corridor to another place and time. Leaves, in varying hues of green, are randomly scattered across the water. They dance among clouds that appear like reflections in pools of glass. The water pulls me in, making me feel as though I could plunge below the surface into a realm of tangled lilies.
The painter, a bold experimentalist, must have spent hours in his aqueous garden filling canvases with Lotus and Nymphaea. Using swaths of paint to stir emotion. Playing with light as if he were God. Unlike the other impressionists of his time he celebrated the landscape and its ever-changing beauty. Each brush stroke, uncompromising, unyielding, calling to those, who would ponder the glorious view.
It is late. Moments have turned into hours. The time has come to leave this tranquil place and return to life’s noise and confusion. I was tempted; for a moment, to disappear into the painting that captured my imagination. I will go–and return another day.