When I see a painting, what do I see?
A man, a woman, a garden, a tree?
Perhaps there’s a mountain in the distance,
But soon I reflect on the existence
Of a facet of the work much greater:
The vision and mind of its creator.
A picture is a window on ideas
Which bubble up and percolate for years.
They finally express themselves in paint,
Which slaps on and hardens with no complaint,
And then the canvas, brightly lit, reveals
An image close to what the artist feels.
Creation is a product of the heart.
Do not look at a painting; look at art!