From Rote

Do you wonder what goes on in the mind of an artist who is painting a masterpiece? To be able to evoke feeling by means of lines and colors is amazing. The giftedness that produces a work of art is also a miracle.

Leonardo da Vinci once said:

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” 

In my attempt to understand the genius of painters, I wrote this poem. The following is humbly submitted in an attempt to understand the mind of the artist, and the muse that won’t let him go…

 

From Rote

The master sat on his stool, his paints with him.

The colors were handpicked by the master’s hand,

and the canvas was spread out before him.

 

The blue was a true one, from the sky.

The red, a heart that is bleeding,

The pink, a love that won’t die.

The black, a night without an ending.

And all the other colors, from the finest

of the stars commingled with his suffering.

 

Matched by the orchestra that plays in his heart,

now, his baton must sway with his feeling.

But no, oh, the lady is fading,

and no color can restore what is going — is gone.

 

The master sat on his stool with the most beautiful colors

to paint a memory.

 

(c) Ruth Solitario, 19 September 2010

Revised on 14 April 2020