• Reflections

    The Art Of Saturday

    The sunrise looked as if it had been painted by Bob Ross. First, a deep crimson line was stroked across the horizon, behind the trees. By the time I had started the coffee, the unflappable old painter had taken a wide, dry brush and blended in some yellow and turned the eastern canvas into a benign lampshade glow. Ol’ Bob used to astound me with the rapidity with which he wielded a brush or knife to produce startling effects. And so it is with sunrise and sunset and clouds — by the time one fetches a camera with which to record the moment, the entire scene can shift. Each microsecond…