Through my bedroom window I look at clouds illuminated by the full moon and study the puffs of subdued white, yellowish-lavender, and pink pillows floating across the sky. An occasional star peaks through the mist as clouds are ushered along by the wind. Laying there, I feel a little like Vincent may have felt when he took brush to canvas and created his rendition of what he observed in the heavens on that starry night in southern France.
Not only was it Vincent's imagination that created the painting so many generations have adored and continue to adore. Perhaps his imagination was aided by the moon playing with the clouds and by the stars playing their game of peek-a-boo that imprinted on Vincent's brain his interpretation of what he saw taking place in the heavens on that starry night. Vincent enjoyed a wondrful, starry night.
It is three o'clock in the morning and the clouds are getting brighter as the moon moves toward the west. What I am observing through my bedroom window is a light-show powerful enough to let Timothy Leary set aside his mind-altering experiments and savor
what the heavens are delivering overhead.
Mounting camera to tripod I attempt to capture what I am
observing in the heavens, just as Vincent captured on
canvas with oils what he observed in the heavens on
that starry night in France. My image will not be as
vibrant as Vincent’s, but just as Vincent worked his oils,
I will work the image in the darkroom so I may share with
others what my mind's eye savors on this starry night.
Arrest your concern, I will not cut off my ear; at least not
on this wonderful morning. There are photos that must be