Snowfall on Mont Ventoux, ©John O’Grady, 2013
Acrylic on Panel, 6″x 6″
$100 with free shipping
The summit of Mont Ventoux is now shrouded in snow and it glistens in the deep blue Provençal sky.
As I was coming back from Avignon yesterday evening, it dominated the landscape.
I got to thinking about the snow falling silently on the Giant of Provence and how quiet it must be up there as night fell.
Then in a stream of consciousness, I thought of that painfully beautiful part in the final paragraph of The Dead:
“Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland.
It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, further westwards,
softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves.
It was falling too upon every part of the lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lay buried.
It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns.
His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling,
like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”
The Dead
James Joyce
Don’t you just love snow?
John,
This is gorgeously atmospheric, almost impressionistic. It has a temperature and mood — even a sound. Just beautiful.
And that quote is one of my favorite passages by Joyce.
Josephine,
Thank you, that is very kind of you, it was one of those paintings that painted itself, so rare. The passage is one of my favourite too, so moving
wonderful effect. I can almost see the snowflakes swirling
Thanks a lot Eoin
I agree with JR – it does have a mood and a ‘sound’ which is snow. Beautifully done John.
Thanks very much Christine
Cold winter night, cold winter dreams… For me, it’s freezing but cheeful at the same time.
Like the Ventoux, impressive but familiar !
Hello Jean-Claude,
thank you very much for the comment, it is like an old friend solid and always there, just the same I imagine,as when Petrarch climbed it all those years ago