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a beautiful tribute. i liked wyeth's work. i liked his grasses and the way he painted fabric...he made everything so touchable.
Thanks, cat. The severe modernists have a problem because there wasn't a jagged line in his painted world--not enough gloom, despair, mankind facing an eternal silence after death. Wyeth liked things in their solitude; he imagined them when no one was looking. Ideal, perhaps, but his was a supreme fiction equal to Wallace Stevens words-for-objects.
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