I love to study the many things that grow below the corn stalks and bring them back to the studio to study the color. If one could only catch that true color of nature - the very thought of it drives me mad.
Andrew WyethRead
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.
Interpretation
The quote expresses a preference for the beauty and hidden depth of the winter and fall seasons.
Andrew Wyeth conveys an appreciation for the winter and fall seasons, highlighting how the bare landscape reveals its underlying structure and essence. He suggests that beneath the surface beauty, there is a deeper narrative or story waiting to be uncovered, inviting readers to look beyond the obvious and appreciate the subtleties of nature.
In practice
In a speech about environmental awareness, one could use this quote to illustrate the hidden beauty of nature.
I love to study the many things that grow below the corn stalks and bring them back to the studio to study the color. If one could only catch that true color of nature - the very thought of it drives me mad.
Artists today think of everything they do as a work of art. It is important to forget about what you are doing - then a work of art may happen.
I'm not at all interested in painting the object just as it is in nature. Certainly I'm much more interested in the mood of a thing than the truth of a thing.
When you pollute a river, it's a supreme injustice to those who are downstream and those who live in the river who are not human beings.
When I was 7 and went to the zoo with my second-grade class, I saw chimpanzee eyes for the first time - the eyes of an unhappy animal, all alone, locked in a bare, concrete-floored, iron-barred cage in one of the nastier, old-fashioned zoos. I remember looking at the chimp, then looking away.
Nothing is more consonant with Nature than that she puts into operation in the smallest detail that which she intends as a whole.
A flower's fragrance declares to all the world that it is fertile, available, and desirable, its sex organs oozing with nectar. Its smell reminds us in vestigial ways of fertility, vigor, life-force, all the optimism, expectancy, and passionate bloom of youth. We inhale its ardent aroma and, no matter what our ages, we feel young and nubile in a world aflame with desire.
Back and forth she went each morning by the river, spring arriving once again; foolish, foolish spring, breaking open its tiny buds, and what she couldn’t stand was how—for many years, really—she had been made happy by such a thing. She had not thought she would ever become immune to the beauty of the physical world, but there you were. The river sparkled with the sun that rose, enough that she needed her sunglasses.
The question is, are we happy to suppose that our grandchildren may never be able to see an elephant except in a picture book?
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