Where the river inexplicably ends, viewed from behind the edge, continuity disappears, certainty evaporates, firmness plunges into the void. Gazing past the wire fence into the pool below I forgot everything.
Painted at Belmore Falls.
The Two Waterfalls:
Shown in the third image are two versions of the same painting - the first a snapshot taken just before the onset of a sudden violent storm; the second is the actual finished painting.
First version. Here the river, or idea of the river, is painted white and dominates the canvas. It could be a syllable or a white letter fallen from the sky. It is cool where the water plunges into the ravine and all of summer seems condensed in a single dewdrop.
Second version. The dramatic portrayal of the ‘southerly buster’ as a hooded titan hurling stones (crystallised lightings) and invading the calm serenity of the day.
I prefer a tranquil depiction and yet if a storm hits I must paint it. What is said must be said. And besides, beneath the surface of the painted storm is the hidden presence of the original reverie.