Flecks of Foam by Henry Golden Dearth, 1911
The story goes that he spent years painting quiet, brownish landscapes, then late in life switched almost overnight to thick, crusted paint like this — and apparently it baffled the people who'd been happily buying the brown ones.
Erisava: This much paint feels like it's hiding something. What's your take?
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts!
There's a red umbrella in the middle of it all, and somehow that's the calmest part.