bud sheen

So subtle, it’s impossible to capture
(oh, I mean to “translate”*) and
it only lasts a couple of
days. A vague sheen of pink,
maroon, pale green, the phenomenal infancy
of a variety of leaves disturbs
the somber walnut-colored hillside. A vista
I would never dare to paint.

It’s almost ominous and yet deeply
affecting; annually expected yet always unbelievable.

*
In general, though, I believe that the “spirit of place” we value so highly cannot entirely be put into a painting by design. No amount of analysis or planning will ensure that looking at the painting will feel like being there. When that does happen it is more a matter of the painter having been fully present in the place and not preoccupied by self-concern.

Maybe this is why the word capture makes me cringe when it is applied to painting. You’ve heard it, I’m sure: “The artist captures the moment in watercolor …” “The fleeting light is captured forever …” “The subject’s personality is captured in a few swift strokes …” Captured, tortured, and held for ransom. What are we, pirates? I prefer to think of painting as an act of translation, a much more civilized activity.

from Watercolor Painting: A Comprehensive Approach to Mastering the Medium, by Tom Hoffmann