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蔚蓝色的星光透进窗户,空白的画布,松节油的气味,冥想在空间里弥散开来。对我而言,拿起画笔涂抹就像是孩童时摆弄泥巴一样,亲切、平淡而自然。深埋在心灵深处的记忆一旦被唤醒,便渗透进生活,转化成情感,调入斑驳的油泥中,点点线线、块面黑白、捉摸不定的痕迹、飞翔的思维、朦胧的树、静静的鱼、奔跑的鸟、还有说不清的图像、那是一种抽象的喜悦与幻想的光芒,我用这种象征呻吟着自己的情感,释放着自己的激情。艺术是可人的,让人颤栗的,使人感动的,予人欢悦的,达·芬奇的典雅,米罗的童真,凡·高的热烈,八大的不驯,我痴迷于这种感觉。
The blue star penetrated the window, the blank canvas, the smell of turpentine, and the meditation spread in the space. To me, picking up a brush is just as fun, dull and natural as when playing with a child. Once buried in the soul of the memory, once awakened, it infiltrated into life, into emotion, transferred to the mottled mud, a little line, block black and white, unpredictable traces of flying thinking, faint trees, static Still fish, running birds, and unspeakable images, an abstract ray of joy and illusion, I moaned my emotions and released my passion with this symbol. Art is pleasant, trembling, moving, joyous, Leonardo da Vinci’s elegance, Milo’s innocence, Van Gogh’s warmth, the eight rebellious, I’m obsessed with this feeling .