When walking along the water's edge, white clumps may be scattered about. The dirty white bones of large fish are widely scattered around. The bones are usually scattered at the end, broken apart by crows. As I was walking among them, I stopped in my tracks. I saw a whole, clean figure left behind. The moment I saw it, the paintbrush in my head was busy. If the lines were curved, they would be rounded. If shadows were added, they would be thick. The shiny areas are used to express hardness, and the shadows of the dents are also drawn separately. The shadows under the bones are used to measure the distance from the ground by their shading. The diffuse reflection of light is essential and changes its appearance significantly. There it resides, and soon it may even wind and smell. It may already be blackened and sunken tomorrow. A little piece of flesh on it is evidence that it was alive. I can't stop writing, thinking of a living, moving figure. Life is not a straight line. It is made of curves. Painting makes me understand this.
