I love the painting and to paint over, I spent most of my time studying the works of artists who have impressed me particularly. Among these there is one that represents for me an inexhaustible source of emotions and feelings that I have slowly discovered: "The hay wagon" by John Constable.
As a child I saw this painting in several copies scattered to homes of relatives and friends and I had the impression that time chasing me. I saw this picture many times, that I'll hardly notice it, until I found myself in front of the canvas at the National Gallery in London. It 'a work of 130 cm to 185 of 1821. There before me, for the first time, it was revealed in all its beauty.
The work exudes a grandeur and an incredible peace of mind. Colors carefully measured in various shades of green water at the center of the canvas gives a sense of inner contentment that reflects the calm, the dog barking on the shore and the sky gives the owner a source of light that rules over everything.
negligent sense of abandonment to nature, that confused with its tones and rhythms, the serenity of the time given by the slow flow of a man who almost never went away from his house.
do not know exactly how long admired the painting, but before long, since I was almost alone beside the painting.
An Englishman, seeing my total immersion, he asked me what I thought of the work. I said in my English school but correct, that was a work that had accompanied me since childhood, I loved the author for the colors he used, to the breathtaking landscapes he painted. I was surprised that asked me news of his fellow painter and they told me that the world is not an expert in the field of an Italian best, because Leonardo docet.
When he went away again and put my eyes on the canvas, a sense of peace took me completely so that no volermene staccare.L 'work for me had something special, a peace that brings me back to the places of childhood, a world was still in my old mente.Il Lott looked like my grandfather and how not to see my dog \u200b\u200bin the Sentinel. I imagined the furnace in the house of the grandmother with big pots on and off the thread of smoke like the little house on Lott. If I had not been called, because they were already all out, I might have remained attached to the canvas.
If we let ourselves be seduced more by art, we can understand many things about ourselves and realize all the beauty that surrounds us and that we have within us but which we do not give voice, because very often is drowned out by everyday life and by most of us off.
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