Autumn morning in the vineyards of Saint-Emilion
The red dawn has embraced the vines, warming the sinuous curves of the sleeping vines with its first golden glow. She timidly raises the black sky which rested on the vines like a sheet, and the light of day wraps her arms around the leaves of Saint-Emilion. The twilight has raised its ashy wings which drowned the whole country in its jet shade. The warm breath of dawn feverishly stirred the tawny colors that stretch and yawn. Kiss of clear fire, morning passion, the awakening of autumnal nature is exhilarating. The nascent intoxication of vineyards thirsty for astral liquors perspires from the canvas to announce to all spectators the beginning of mystical fairies. Only colors and lights are invited to the ephemeral party.
This canvas captured the moment, freezing the dawn in a revealing snapshot, like Daphné du Bernin metamorphosing under the dumbfounded eyes of the beholder. Fleeting, furtive, the day that discolors the night, is not an easy prey to catch. The sun god, Apollo, arrogantly despising the sacred Olympian of nocturnal darkness, does not take hold of the woods until the carefree world is still dozing. He passionately pursues his beauty, who will turn into illuminated vineyards at noon in his arms. You have to be a very early passenger to see him wander without embarrassment under the divine mysteries of nature. Or if not, it might be enough to display this canvas with dignity in your joyful home, so that every day, you will be admirers of the clandestine passage of the great god of dawn. If this work seems to you boringly frozen, pass in front of it, and then you will revive all the energies of the vineyards, like an early passer-by waking up the silence. Life calls for life. Every morning is a rebirth, a spring, a movement, a consecration of all nature to the creative gods, a purification of the air. Do you hear Baudelaire, hidden under these Bordeaux foliage, declaim these divine towards “Happy the one whose thoughts, like larks, towards the heavens, in the morning take a free development, which hovers over life and effortlessly understands the language of flowers and dumb things. ” The dawn of autumn on the vines of Saint-Emilion is a heightening of optimism, a rebirth, a burst of hope after the night and before winter, a fleeting flash of happy solitude, a must before daybreak ...
|Location||Saint-Émilion en Gironde (France)|