Claude Monet Painting At The Edge of The Wood, by John Singer Sargent
{first thing is the light, her dress, the leaves, and more subdued, his hat and shirt and that band of sunlight behind the trees, then you see his sleeve, awkwardly disappearing. but it goes into the painting, into his canvas, his hand is going into his canvas. a little corny, but its the awkwardness of love. this painting radiates love, of Monet, of color, of the woods, and like all great art, of life. see the arch of color supported at one end by the still, angelic figure of Monet's soon-to-be wife. and the other end of the arch held by the trees rising from Monet's canvas and Monet himself. those brilliant flashes above them, and the perfect cauldron of his palette. her patience, his intensity. lucky Sargent to know that moment, lucky us for his genius effort.}