Only wide enough for a barca and two gondolas to pass—this canal of mine;
only deep enough to let a wine barge slip through; so narrow you must go all the
way back to the lagoon if you would turn your gondola; so short you can row
through it in five minutes; every inch of its water-surface part of everything about it,
so clear are the reflections; full of moods,oil painting on canvas, whims, and fancies, this wave
space—one moment in a broad laugh coquetting with a bit of blue sky peeping from
behind a cloud, its cheeks dimpled with sly undercurrents, the next swept by
flurries of little winds, soft as the breath of a child on a mirror; then, when
aroused by a passing boat, breaking out into ribbons of color—swirls of twisted
doorways, flags, awnings, flower-laden balconies, black-shawled Venetian
beauties all upside down, interwoven with strips of turquoise sky and green
waters—a bewildering, intoxicating jumble of tatters and tangles, maddening in
detail, brilliant in color, harmonious in tone: the whole scintillating with a
picturesqueness beyond the ken or brush of any painter living or dead.
These are some of the joys of the painter whose north light is the sky, whose
studio door is
never shut, and who often works surrounded by envious throngs, that treat him
with such marked reverence that they whisper one to another for fear of
disturbing him. canvas paintings for sale
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