Lynn

“The buildings, limned in black, are the same vivid blues as the painting’s sky—Prussian, ultramarine, cobalt. Lanterns in their windows create little boxy panes of bright yellow. Above the horizon, amid spinning eddies of foreboding cloud, shine bright, magnificent stars. Pablo examines them from only a couple of inches away and can tell they were made from quick, curving flicks of the artist’s wrist using thick impasto. There is an urgency in these manic brushstrokes that Pablo admires, the whirling together of rapid streaks of pure bold color squeezed straight from the tube. The blues are intense, the mood rueful, throbbing, eternal. “Don’t punch a hole through the thing, would you? It’s not mine,” squawks Vollard, suddenly at the entranceway behind Pablo. “Just a little something borrowed from a collector friend.” “I have never seen anything like it,” Pablo, still mesmerized, says at last. “I expect not,” Vollard replies. “If you can paint the same, though, perhaps you’ll become rich before this man’s estate does. A Dutchman, dead now, a suicide, I believe. They never found”
― Luke Jerod Kummer, The Blue Period

“Joe and I”
― Louise Douglas, The House by the Sea

“they were made from quick, curving flicks of the artist’s wrist using thick impasto. There is an urgency in these manic brushstrokes that Pablo admires, the whirling together of rapid streaks of pure bold color squeezed straight from the tube. The blues are intense, the mood rueful, throbbing, eternal. “Don’t punch a hole through the thing, would you? It’s not mine,” squawks Vollard, suddenly at the entranceway behind Pablo. “Just a little something borrowed from a collector friend.” “I have never seen anything like it,” Pablo,”
― Luke Jerod Kummer, The Blue Period

“midnight it is in full bloom, and by morning it is gone.”
― Annette Gendler, Jumping Over Shadows: A Memoir