One of the best moments in autumn is when a big flotilla of
leaves falls from some tall, handsome, colorful trees on your block, neighborhood, or
especially right in front of your house, spreading their still vibrant colors
all over your pavement.
Those
leaves will dry out, and the color will fail until all the fallen leaves appear
uniformly 'brown, old, dead' or any number of unattractive appellations.
But that
time is not today.
When the leaves come down it's time to look at them. All over town they're creating
compositions, textures, ephemeral works of color shape, patterns, and mixtures
of all these elements on the canvas of earth's surfaces. Those surfaces in densely
populated ares are generally hard, impervious. But for a week or two, they'll
appeal to the senses.
Artists try
to achieve some of the same effects in museums -- ephemeral, changing,
disappearing -- with light machines, timers, filters, varieties of shadow and
light, and natural materials that fade over time. But nature, the tilt of the
earth, the apparent revolution of the sun spinning sine curves through the years,
does it every year and all the time. Autumn is one its more stunning
effects.
The same
effect, a stunning transformation of the look of surfaces, this sublime cultivation of
appearances, is duplicated in the trees. And while many leaves are on the ground,
still many more remain in the trees.
It's a good
time to look at them.
We won't have these color transformations to drink in much longer.
We won't have these color transformations to drink in much longer.
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