Monet, Monet, Monet…

Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.

Claude Monet, painter (14 Nov 1840-1926)

claude-monet1monet-paintings-the-japanese-bridge-1899woman-with-a-parasol---madame-monet-and-her-son,-claude-monet_thumb[1]

I had the enormous pleasure of viewing some of Claude Monet’s works, along with examples of works of other European artists, including Vincent Van Gogh and Piet Mondrian, at the Auckland Art Gallery in – I think – 1976.

It was an Experience.  Prints do not compare with the original.

I wanted to be an artist.  I married an artist, studied Art in Wellington, hung out with artists, and for a time I produced a few works, some of which I liked, even though they were very derivative, or perhaps to put it more kindly – heavily influenced. But I was not talented, nor was I willing to pay the Price that artists must pay.  Though ultimately I paid it anyway, as all must, it seems.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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