Field of Paint

The sun sheds it’s warmth on our little wooden house, which lies so perfectly near the tiny stream. The water is fresh and in abundance, as if there were a rain fall not to far back. The colors of the house, oranges, yellows, and whites contrast greatly with the nature look of he rat green giants that my their home behind it. The sky is in happy, and full of a nice docile baby blue. Big puffy clouds crowd the sky, and cushion the heavens. A man walks by with his team of black horse and wagon of supplies. The wagon looks aged, and has reminisce of mold on it, alluring to his many trip across the stream. He heads off into the plush green fields, where tree are free to grow where they like. The thought of that warmth of the sun, clashing with the feel of grass on my neck as I lay there starring at the sky, sends me a spin tingling sensation.
The critic I read about was mainly focused on telling how this picture awestruck others, and there for contributed another series of good paintings. He goes on to say that the picture is indeed different from any other that a French Romanticism would paint. He talks of its color and its pose, and makes allot of the point that I have made above. In order for his critic to be appropriate I would think we would have had to had some kind of major schooling, in the field of art portrayal. painting