Golden Renaissance Apples

Copyright 2014 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved... more

by RC DeWinter

Title

Golden Renaissance Apples

Artist

RC DeWinter

Medium

Painting - Digital Oils-paintography-photopainting

Description

Copyright 2014 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved

The other night I was sitting on the couch listening to music from the old days. So many memories, and I was sliding into melancholy...
Next thing I knew I was walking down a cobbled street in a city I didn't know. Clearly I was out of place. Not only was I in an unfamiliar location, but in a very different time as well. Judging from the buildings, the absence of any modern transportation and the dress of the people, I would guess it was sometime in the 17th century. I turned my head this way and that, hoping to spot something or someone familiar. I wasn't paying attention to my immediate physical surroundings and bumped into an elderly man, knocking a package from his hand. Russet-gold apples spilled onto the cobbles and rolled in every direction.
"I'm so sorry!" I cried. "Let me pick these up for you."
Crouching, I chased the apples through the street, dodging and weaving between carts and people. When I'd retrieved them I returned to where the man was standing and wrapped the apples in the paper they'd spilled from. He looked stern and annoyed and I didn't blame him. Suddenly he laughed, a harsh loud bray.
"Don't distress yourself," he said. "It's clear that you are 'een vreemdeling.' And your clothing...I have never seen the like."
I looked down at what I was wearing and understood his bafflement completely. I was wearing a long-sleeved pullover, a pair of black denim jeans and suede boots. Every other woman on the street was layered in various garments, all underpinned by a long dress.
"I am intrigued," he said. ""Let us go down to the 'wijnhuis" and talk a bit."
Cradling the rewrapped apples under one arm, he took my arm with his other hand and, without speaking further, steered me a few hundred feet down the street.
We entered a large dark establishment. I found myself in a noisy, smoky tavern. My companion led me to a small table in a far corner.
He pulled a pipe and a pouch from a pocket. Packing the bowl with dark, strong tobacco, he leaned forward.
"So tell me, who are you and how did you come to be here?"
"I am nobody special, just a poor dauber and scribbler. And I don't know how I got here," I answered, miserably embarrassed.
"You paint!" my companion shouted. "DO you paint? I paint!"
Even though the tavern was crowded and the noise level was high, heads turned. A tall, youngish man walked over and clapped the older man on the shoulder.
"Oh yes, you paint by skirting around the directorate of the guild," he laughed. "And yet we all secretly acknowledge you as the master."
"Oh quiet, you fool," answered my companion irritably. Nodding in
my direction, he continued, "Pay him no attention, it's nothing but a bothersome folderol. Jealous narrow-minded fools taking their revenge by way of my financial troubles."
The light bulb finally came on. I was in Amsterdam sitting with my idol, Rembrandt. I remembered reading of his legal and financial embarrassments and how his mistress and son set up an art dealership, naming the great master as an employee, so he could continue to work. I was mortified that I had mentioned that I was an artist in the presence of one of history's great geniuses with a brush.
"So tell me," he continued, "what do you paint? Portraits, landscapes? Perhaps pretty still lifes of fruit and flowers?"
"Believe me," I said earnestly, "my work is not worth discussing."
"Oh none of that," replied Rembrandt. "You must show me some of your creations." He shoved the parcel of apples across the table.
"Here, take these. Arrange and paint them. A simple study just to show what you can do. I give you six days. Return here with the piece on the seventh day so I can see what you have done."
Flustered, I stammered, "I'm not sure I can..."
"Of course you can!" he insisted, misunderstanding my response. I meant to tell him that I didn't know how I could get back to wherever it is I was, but he thought I was trying to beg off doing the painting altogether.
I took the apples and said, "I can't promise to come back, but I'll try."
Even as I spoke, the noisy tavern and the great man faded and I awoke with a start to find myself still sitting on the couch, the music from the old days still playing in the background.
The very next day, even though it had all been a dream, I went and got some apples that looked as much like the ones Rembrandt had given me as I could find.
Then, envisioning how an artist of the Dutch Golden Age might have portrayed them, I set to work. Here I show you my 21st-century attempt.
~ copyright 2014 RC deWinter

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apples, fruit, food, vintage, golden apples, yellow apples, still life, classical, wall art, warm, warm colors, autumn colors, warmth, rc dewinter, dewinter

Uploaded

July 20th, 2014