SIX PIGEONSposted by federico cortese
Oil on paper. Original sold. When I was a young boy I danced like a madman following the tune of an old vinyl of my parents, "Point Me at the Sky" by Pink Floyd. I didn‘t understand the lyrics, I didn’t know that the song was about a pilot that crashes for a fault on his plane. I figured it was an exhortation to take the flight. In the bright contrast of the hot summer afternoons, I saw the black silhouettes of birds flying against the backdrop of a clear sky. I saw the leaves of the plants filtering the sunlight, and revealing the consistency of their veins and in some cases the shadow of a small frog, motionless, resting on them. To the tune of that song, watching some fish caught in a basin of zinc, I imagined them free and strong in their river, darting happily in the glow of the August sun.