Here is a magical glowing evocation of that morning when a young man stood on a hill watching a faint wind suddenly disturb the grasses and managed to make it stay there forever. Now we can stand there too and watch the grass flowing in the wind. This is to escape time and experience eternity.
It is a lovely painting, but not traditionally my cup of tea. I say this because I want you to understand that when I say that this painting speaks to me I mean it without an ounce of sentimentality. I bear no great desire for the countryside of my youth, indeed it is not even the country depicted herein, but when I tell you that I have never been so immediately overwhelmed by a work of art I mean it with the utmost sincerity. Though lying up sick in the wee hours of the morn, upon first encountering the image of this work I was struck by the smell rain on the wind so suddenly that I quite wholly forgot what my first, fleeting impression was. Having grown to manhood on the Great Plains of North America this scene is at once intimately familiar. That what I encountered was a digital reproduction of the work only speaks more highly of the power that can be held in a simple image.
Thank you for exposing me to this work.
Ikr. Imagine how much better the real thing would be.