Art kan never outdo or surpass nature's own way of expressing beauty, it can however try to interpret or explain. I'm not at all content with this thistle-softpastel, but I'm showing it anyway. When I was little I used to paint WITH thistles and paint made of "puréed" grass or flowers or mud and water... yet, when I'm sitting in front of my working desk with the opportunity to choose between hundreds of pastels I still can't seem to find the right nuance for the "flowerbrush".
.
"Funny. It reflects no green" he says, the one I always complain to about things I don't understand - like colours. "Petrol, perhaps. But no green".
.
Maybe that is why, in the middle of the summer, when my eyes are overflooded by green, green and green again (yes, I've been mowing the lawn this afternoon!) I need the thistles - not to drown and to wake me up.
.
Because they reflect no green.
The way my blue eyes do.
Even if they're not really blue at all.
.