natalia-st-lawrence
“Cloudy eyes watch a perfect world,” I said; a pithy description of my life thus far – for, each morning I wake to a blur of color; the shapes around me, objects and persons, seem entirely undefined – I emerge from bed the impressionist painter: forms, colors, or tones of an object are lightly and rapidly indicated. Blemishes are erased and the world is cleansed of detail; I only know the immediate aspect of character and of presence; the illumination of light. The brush strokes are short, and honest to the figurative; they capture essence, not physicality. I hold the world’s potential in this moment; I am the realist; I understand that things develop.
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