Mark pol
2 min readApr 6
Reflection of the wet streets

It’s raining. Spring is waiting, she doesn’t want to get wet. My studio is gloomy. The melody of the drops against my window reinforces that gloom. The blank canvas talks to my melancholic mood. I look at the drops on the window of my studio and the randomly formed patterns.

People flee under or without an umbrella past my window. In my mind I therefore see the work of Gustave Caillebotte “Rue de Paris, temps de pluie” from 1877.

A gust of wind sweeps the rain stream from the window. I sit still in front of my easel and listen to the tapping of the rain.

The rain clouds pass over the land. The change of the outside light changes with my mood.

The client has placed me in a dilemma. The umpteenth sketch is on paper. Still no sketch to discuss.

The wind and the rain are heard. Nature does not sketch. Nature is a system of endless successive evolutions. Of highly complex interactions between interdependent ecosystems. Rain is an undeniable part of it.

Put my sketchbook aside. Hm, some hail in between the rain. Walk to the window. See hail pellets hanging in a cobweb right outside my window. Take my cell phone, open the window and take a few macro pictures of the hail pellets hanging in the web. Window closed.

New sketch, yes!, now I have it. Appointment client.

Stomach demands food. Walk to the kitchen. Make scrambled eggs.

Spring is still waiting as the rain slowly recedes.

Sunbeams slip through the clouds. Silverlining. Nature paints with light.

Spring sits sulking in a corner indignantly. She wanted to show off her colors in that light and flaunt her beauty.

In the distance, dark streaks emerge from the clouds. There the rain still wets everything.

The streets in my neighborhood still gleam in the sunlight. In the reflection of the wet streets, the world gains a dimension. As in Jean Béraud’s painting “Boulevard Poissonnière in the rain” from 1885. Cars, people and animals play a shadowy game with everyday reality.

Pull my gaze away from the window and put my cell phone in my pocket.

My appointment! Get the car keys. Step across the puddles to my car.

Leave Spring in wonder.

Mark pol

I am an artist:painter. I paint and draw. Its a kind of figurative surrealism. www.saatchiart.com/markpol