Was straightening the art books at the store yesterday, and I opened an Andrew Wyeth book. Images just caught me, and I sat on the floor and tried to linger over them. Savoring them. (Helga -- hubba hubba).
I loved his father's artwork (N.C. Wyeth) when I was kid. We had King Arthur and Last of the Mohicans and Robin Hood and all that. (Not sure if he did all those, or I may be thinking of Howard Pyle as well.)
Thing about art books. You have to take the time to examine each picture, soak them in.
And who has time for that anymore?
I have all these cool art books and even I don't have time to really look at them. I'm going to try to make time. Pull them out on slow days and leaf through them...
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