Post by CAILEIGH SANDRA DALES on May 21, 2010 22:11:36 GMT -5
A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament.
The lines of the landscape called her, drew her into the their depths for the second day. The colours of the greens of the grass and trees under the sun and the darkness of the shadows, had the pencil tracing across the semi- white page of paper within one of her 100 page sketch books.
Her slim fingers smudged with a little bit of pencil gray as she lifted it to brush her hair out of her face as she worked. Caileigh her self sat just out side the path into the woods. A picnic table as her art desk. Her jean clad legs tucked under the seat as she focused upon her art subject.
Her hand brushing across the page as she kept moving the pencil over her drawing. She tilted her head to the side, her hair creating a curtain on her left side. The look on her face was serene as she drew. She dropped the pencil on the table and turned to the satchel bag beside her. She reached inside and pulled out folder with the sketches from yesterday's roughs. Caileigh opened the folder and went through the levels of the woods that she drew the other day.
Placing the pages on the ground she went back to drawing only this time the pencil within her hand was of the colour green. She went to reach out for one of her close up of the trees, when a gust of wind sent the pages out of her reach and across the grass. Caileigh sighed, put the pencils in her satchel before standing and moving after the pages as they blew about.