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Dec 8, 2023
Media: Oil on canvas
Size: 10x8 in
This summer, I spent a couple of days in Venice. In spite of the thousands of images all of us have seen and all those "cliche" things all of us know about it, the city exceeded all my expectations. Originally, I planned to visit some museums, but the moment I saw that water of unbelievable blue-green shade with reddish reflections of the houses splashing in it, I changed my mind. I didn't want to miss a single moment of watching this miracle, so I just spent two days wandering the city, trying to stay away from the tourist crowds, which turned out to be not as difficult as I expected. I took hundreds of photos and kept thinking that I would try to paint them as soon as I got to my studio. Still, the time went by, and I haven't painted a single Venetian painting (though I did a lot of pencil sketches even before I returned home). I think the reason is that it's much more complicated for me to paint something that is obviously "beautiful" than some ordinary things. When I paint old shoes, I can do whatever I want to make them look interesting, while when painting a rose, I "just" need not to spoil the flower that is already gorgeous. For some reason, the second task feels much more intimidating. So for a few months, I kept browsing through my Italian photos but couldn't get the courage to try to paint any of them. And finally, I felt that it was now or never. I chose one of the simplest compositions: just a door facing the canal with that magical blue water. Here it is.
This summer, I spent a couple of days in Venice. In spite of the thousands of images all of us have seen and all those "cliche" things all of us know about it, the city exceeded all my expectations. Originally, I planned to visit some museums, but the moment I saw that water of unbelievable blue-green shade with reddish reflections of the houses splashing in it, I changed my mind. I didn't want to miss a single moment of watching this miracle, so I just spent two days wandering the city, trying to stay away from the tourist crowds, which turned out to be not as difficult as I expected. I took hundreds of photos and kept thinking that I would try to paint them as soon as I got to my studio. Still, the time went by, and I haven't painted a single Venetian painting (though I did a lot of pencil sketches even before I returned home). I think the reason is that it's much more complicated for me to paint something that is obviously "beautiful" than some ordinary things. When I paint old shoes, I can do whatever I want to make them look interesting, while when painting a rose, I "just" need not to spoil the flower that is already gorgeous. For some reason, the second task feels much more intimidating. So for a few months, I kept browsing through my Italian photos but couldn't get the courage to try to paint any of them. And finally, I felt that it was now or never. I chose one of the simplest compositions: just a door facing the canal with that magical blue water. Here it is.
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