Wednesday, March 22, 2017


This picture will have to stand in for (it can't do justice to) the landscapes we drove through on our little trip up to Saratoga Springs, across to Bennington, and back to Brooklyn. Early or late on a bright cloudless day, these wooded hills blanketed smooth in clean snow offer contrasts of white and near-black lines of a dazzling beauty and precision. Beholding them I felt I had seen such loveliness in art. But where? Grandma Moses? Currier and Ives? Brueghel? Hiroshige? Nope... It's like the clarity of a print with the fulness of oils.

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