InferosOrga
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22.05.2020 08:38
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I have seen self-portraits of some painters recently, and I suddenly realized that I am not looking at paintings, but the soul of a painter! ����The inscription has seen Raphael ��s self-portrait, and it is fascinating. The generation of painting sage depicts himself so calmly and indifferently, like the angel he wrote, harmonious and bright, beautiful and elegant. His eyes were quiet, he seemed to speak, and the corners of his mouth were like Yang Feiyang. The arc is more mysterious than the Mona Lisa. He used a black dress and a black hat to decorate himself like the Virgin Mary in "Our Lady of Sistine", with a slight sorrow in the quiet and unconventional look. Like a mirror, it reflects the inner calm and free and easy. Compared with Raphael's leisurelyness, Boucher's self-portrait appears somewhat "artificial". But is this Boucher's "fault"? In the 18th-century France, in the palace of Louis XV, Rococo art "dominated the world". In order to cater to the luxurious and erosive life of the princes and nobles, he put it bluntly to "mix food and drink", Boucher pushed Rococo art. Towards the climax, making it from a casual, relaxed and comfortable style to a flamboyant, synonymous with extravagance. His self-portrait, despite its beautiful colors, was full of helplessness and raised the corner of his mouth awkwardly, like a frightened deer. Because of his talent, he could only be used by Mrs. Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV, for a lifetime. I also saw the self-portrait of modern well-known painter Xu Beihong, about thirty or forty years old. I wrote on my face arbitrarily, full of arrogance and loneliness, just like the horse under his pen. Ken is bound by a little bit Marlboro Gold, full of heroism. But compared to them, the self-portraits of Munch and Van Gogh fascinated me more than the self-portraits of Munch, a face full of melancholy and a thin body, and behind him, a suffocating, fog Dim gray. In "Scream", he painted himself as a monster whose face was twisted into a triangle, its eye sockets were hollow, its body was fuzzy, and it was like a ghost like a skeleton like a corpse. Behind him, the blood-red sky and the dreaded river are filled with creepy blood and terror. At this time, Munch covered his ears with his hands, and his eyes radiated fear and restless light, and his large open mouth seemed to shout out an inexplicable, helpless and suffocating hysterical cry! Beside, Munch's two friends were far away, without giving him the slightest comfort. In this painting, it is not difficult to see Munch's painful heart and indifference. Although Van Gogh's self-portrait is not terrifying, it is even more distressing-the old pipe is dangling from his mouth, and his head is wrapped in shocking gauze-he has only one ear and his face is skinny. The newly-grown, thin stubble is even more decadent. The look in the deep eyes was chilling. Does he see his own sky? I saw it, but it was gray. No one would believe him. They thought he was crazy. It is neuropathy. In Van Gogh's view, he is lonely, lonely, and embarrassed in the world. No one can hear his cry, only that ear, so he cut it and no one can see him for help. Whenever I see these two paintings, my heart hurts! The characters on the screen are on the verge of collapse, with a look of anxiety and pain! Despite the smoke and dust after years, I can still feel, who knows them, and who knows them? Compared with the other works of the painters, I prefer their self-portraits, because they are themselves Newport Cigarettes Coupons, not beautiful, not shining, but they are their most real faces, and they are the most primitive look deep in their soul They know what they need and do not need. Turn out a picture from the dust-a self-portrait of my childhood-immature and plain, wearing a blue cloth Marlboro Cigarettes. I think now, I will still draw a woman in common clothes. She sits in front of the window and looks away. Her eyes are filled with joy and sorrow, calm and calm, with pain and happiness. There are vermilion in the world, and there is snow in it. And there was a beam of sunlight on her head, illuminating the big, slightly misty eyes. Give yourself a self-portrait, or look at someone else's self-portrait, and you will see Yi's soul. --postscript |
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