I found a shallow pool of fading light up the Canyon.
It is much quieter here than New York.
The sketch is quick and the photo is bad.
I’ll take it back to the City and see what happens.
There’s something here, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
A second drawing reveals more potential.
It still doesn’t feel like much.
Where do I start?
Albert Pinkham Ryder and Caspar David Friedrich are arguing with each other on my left.
While they are distracted Georgia O’Keefe and Forrest Bess are on my right, chuckling, and quietly nudging.
Albert bellows, “less color” Caspar yells, “more drama” Forrest says, “close your eyes and look inside” Georgia says, “follow the form.”
Albert squints and yells, “thicker paint!” Caspar groans, “not that” Forrest whispers “what the first one said” Georgia says, “follow the fade.”
Albert says, “more drama” Caspar rolls his eyes, “now you agree with me?” Forrest says, ”now add some color” Georgia says, “follow the light.”
Albert falls asleep, Caspar stares off into space, Forrest is busy tying a fishing line, Georgia says, “now you can start.”