I don't draw a lot of landscapes, not just because I'm shit at it, but also because if there's any landscape I want to draw, I can't quite capture its beauty (so yes, okay, probably because I am shit at it). I am also not particularly greatly enamoured by landscape paintings, unless there's something to them - an aura of otherworldliness, pleasing and beautiful - to replace the tumult of emotions experienced while actually viewing something that mesmerising in real life.
I think it's a little harder for me to fully enjoy a recreation of the visual wonders of real life that is made for the same sense through which it was first experienced - better to be reminded of what I saw by a sound, a smell - a little snatch from the background - something I never consciously registered.
What I'm getting at is that the quaint, hidden wonders of a place are what attract me to it, what makes me want to see more of the world and find the magical little nooks in it. The emotions that come with these experiences, and the joy you get reliving them - I love these feelings, and I want to collect them all in my mind, to be pulled out, one by one, starting with how the taste of mint ice cream now reminds me of that cafe in St. Petersburg, or the smell of greenery and more greenery reminds me of my grandparents' house, or even how the memory of that one time I went to Crocodile Bank with my father and brother reminds me of the shadows of the trees on the ground, sunlight slipping through the leaves - a painting of light on the ground.
Today, I was sitting on the terrace of my aunt's beach house, staring at the oh-so-close ocean, thinking of just one thing - how much I'd like to take a gap year to travel and explore and experience over and over what I was experiencing then - the same inimitable mix of emotions osculating with my soul.
I don't deny college will be fun, and I don't deny that maybe now is not the time, but the sea was beckoning me with its shimmering waves, and I couldn't help but be taken in by the sound of them hitting the shore.
I think it's a little harder for me to fully enjoy a recreation of the visual wonders of real life that is made for the same sense through which it was first experienced - better to be reminded of what I saw by a sound, a smell - a little snatch from the background - something I never consciously registered.
What I'm getting at is that the quaint, hidden wonders of a place are what attract me to it, what makes me want to see more of the world and find the magical little nooks in it. The emotions that come with these experiences, and the joy you get reliving them - I love these feelings, and I want to collect them all in my mind, to be pulled out, one by one, starting with how the taste of mint ice cream now reminds me of that cafe in St. Petersburg, or the smell of greenery and more greenery reminds me of my grandparents' house, or even how the memory of that one time I went to Crocodile Bank with my father and brother reminds me of the shadows of the trees on the ground, sunlight slipping through the leaves - a painting of light on the ground.
Today, I was sitting on the terrace of my aunt's beach house, staring at the oh-so-close ocean, thinking of just one thing - how much I'd like to take a gap year to travel and explore and experience over and over what I was experiencing then - the same inimitable mix of emotions osculating with my soul.
I don't deny college will be fun, and I don't deny that maybe now is not the time, but the sea was beckoning me with its shimmering waves, and I couldn't help but be taken in by the sound of them hitting the shore.
Sunlight slipping through leaves. One of my favourite things too. Except I like the path it takes to reach the ground. Little shimmering strands of gold dust. But light paintings on the ground :) you have given me something new to love. And I live only for such things :)
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