Something fantastically subversive about clouds this morning, viewed from the bus going up Uxbridge Road. What worlds away from the small, frightened boy in an over-sized school uniform sitting next to me - the ticket inspector - the people punching fiercely into their mobile phones.... The clouds promise other worlds, in fact, beyond the bus window.
Yesterday's lunchtime Veronese at the National Gallery had a cloud-strewn sky. (Is there a Veronese without a stormy sky?) Plus dogs: The Supper at Emmaus (about 1555).
A large, aristocratic family surrounds Christ's supper after his resurrection. Everyone is clutching something; the painting swirls with movement.
Particularly love this lady on the right - clearly the matriarch of the household, impassive, resigned, thinking oh no what now.
Yesterday's lunchtime Veronese at the National Gallery had a cloud-strewn sky. (Is there a Veronese without a stormy sky?) Plus dogs: The Supper at Emmaus (about 1555).
A large, aristocratic family surrounds Christ's supper after his resurrection. Everyone is clutching something; the painting swirls with movement.
Particularly love this lady on the right - clearly the matriarch of the household, impassive, resigned, thinking oh no what now.
