Flower Wallpaper Tumblr Hd Black and White Widescreen Download for Mobile images designs: Purple Flower Wallpaper

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Purple Flower Wallpaper

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Source:- google.com.pk

“I like to see purple flowers, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look

on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad.” Such are the

musings of Lucy Snowe in Charlotte Brontë’s last novel Villette. And therein lies the paradox

of both the empirical bouquet – the flowers we may gather from gardens -- and their painterly

representations. These representations constitute one moment in the genre of still life, which is

known in French as nature morte or “dead nature.”

McCarthy’s source images are taken from instructional photographsin 1960s flowerarranging manuals, from which she also derives titles such as Hogarth’s Curve, referring to the

shape that the arranged flowers form. But while she gazes backward at the showy inscrutability

of these images, she also transmutes them through the tactile and mercurial medium of paint,

imbuing still life with the variegations of nature morte. In McCarthy’s hands, the decorum of

the sixties’ housewife is delivered with the troubling zoom and clarity of dreams. In this way,

she investsthe small or domestic genre of still life with the looming drama of the imagination or

the unconscious -- the nearly choral tones of the Freudian death-drive. Sometimes this is

accomplished by way of global color: her twinned instances of a Victorian Slipper are, in the

first instance, deathly cool – “[g]rayed in, and gray,” in Gwendolyn Brooks’s words-- and then

fierily hot, as if pressing two sides of a fairy tale coin. At other moments, we perceive such

consciousness in the shadows thrown by the flowers and their vases; in the seminal Hogarth’s

Curve, for example, the shadows are nearly animalistic in their provenance, foreboding in their

inchoate connotations.

McCarthy’s dream, moreover, isforemost a dream of paint. So again in Hogarth’s

Curve, her flowers are painted with the eerie smokiness of a Baudelairean fleur du mal; a vase of

dahlias is rendered in the black and white of ghostlier photography. But punctuating the

diagonal of the flowers’ curve are two buttery, flame-tipped, nearly liquidated blooms that foil

the formal drama of the black and white composition; they are discrete sunbursts within a tonally

constrained structure. The curve, of course, remains intact: what exceeds structure also upholds

and instantiates it, in a phenomenon that is similar to foot substitution in metrical poetry. For

McCarthy, this is the moment of paint’s insistence within a formal composition. McCarthy’s source images are taken from instructional photographsin 1960s flowerarranging manuals, from which she also derives titles such as Hogarth’s Curve, referring to the shape that the arranged flowers form. But while she gazes backward at the showy inscrutability of these images, she also transmutes them through the tactile and mercurial medium of paint, imbuing still life with the variegations of nature morte. In McCarthy’s hands, the decorum of the sixties’ housewife is delivered with the troubling zoom and clarity of dreams. Sometimes this is accomplished by way of global color: her twinned instances of a Victorian Slipper are, in the

first instance, deathly cool – “[g]rayed in, and gray,” in Gwendolyn Brooks’s words-- and then

fierily hot, as if pressing two sides of a fairy tale coin. At other moments, we perceive such

consciousness in the shadows thrown by the flowers and their vases; in the seminal Hogarth’s

Curve, for example, the shadows are nearly animalistic in their provenance, foreboding in their

inchoate connotations.

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