From On High: after John Russell's Toul Rock (Guibel Rock) 1904–05

He sets his easel on the grassy sward by yellowgorse and wandering heath, above mudstonebattered into grey cliffs. On canvas, the broken

headland becomes blue with brilliance,the aluminate to shine on the sea's mood.

He grinds more pigment with oil, a little resin;he'll have each pure without loss, each to last(light-fast, weather-fast) so the sun's rays

are always just so. There's Toul Rock withits window on the water, shimmering.

Two decades he's known the bustle and calmof bays and inlets, red sails and fishermen;himself a sailor, a boat-builder. He brushes

for an impression as rich as the real: the houseand garden for Marianna his love, their five sons

and Jeanne. Each touch, each edge and spreadthis way and that, he'll square with his flat daband stroke into every nook: their simple lives

on Belle-Île. Not Paris, nor Sydney, it's herehe can paint their everyday. Yesterday's ride

with Marianna, the children at play, the flowersat Goulphar, the boats. He's here at the heightof his artistry en plein air. Like our best days

of giving, he'll frame this and have us inthe high-key flow of an unfading summer.