Pissarro sat to paint outdoors this early spring day. It is a scene of waiting-anticipation. That's more a Spring sky than a Winter sky. Maybe we can sense the damp air moving those clouds along. A flock of birds seems to travel with the wind. The trees have not yet leafed out, but the snow has melted. The grass has begun to green again. But the flooding suggests the ground is still frozen beneath the surface. The fence along the edge of the orchard needs repairs after the winter wind and weather.
And you know what's wonderful about these paintings: they are for everyone. You don't need specialized language or intellectual skills to appreciate them. They are always alive - possessing a power to resonate with the personal life of the viewer. All we have to do, is stop and look.
And you know what's wonderful about these paintings: they are for everyone. You don't need specialized language or intellectual skills to appreciate them. They are always alive - possessing a power to resonate with the personal life of the viewer. All we have to do, is stop and look.
We may admire this painting and even feel a little regret, "I love the way Pissarro can paint reflections in water. Oh, I wish I could paint like that." Or, we might allow the painting to touch some inner place of anticipation. Perhaps some neglected soul-place that is waiting to be opened up and evolved. The 13th century Persian mystic, Rumi, wrote:
There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled. There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled. You feel it don't you?"
May I encourage each of us to answer the poet's question. Perhaps this is why we have this Lent.
