"Barry N. Malzberg and Jack Dann - The Starry Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Malzberg Barry N)

Rachel copies the exploding stars and the flaming cypress tree and buildings of the
little town underneath the stars. She has already printed the title carefullyтАФTHE
STARS NITтАФand is now working to make all of the little buildings just right. She
has already copied The Bather in this room and from the second floor she has
copied part of a very big painting, Water Lilies. If Mommy and Daddy will let her,
Rachel plans to copy ten paintings this afternoon. She has listed The Bather in front
of her book as already copied and is almost ready to enter The Stars Nit. When
Rachel is big, she plans to have copied all of the paintings in this museum into five
or ten sketchbooks just as big as this one. And when she is old like Mommy and
Daddy, she will sit and look at all of her drawings and remember just the way the
paintings in the museum looked.

Mommy and Daddy are not far away, only a few steps, but Rachel might as well be
upstairs or at home for all the attention they are paying her right now. They are
talking to one another and shaking their heads and holding hands in their way,
looking at another Van Gogh painting. Mommy is saying something about color
theories, but to Rachel it is only a murmur she can ignore. Just like the people in the
painting are ignoring the exploding stars. They are all in their houses, not even
looking outside, most of them sleeping.

Rachel needs to finish her sketch soon so she can record the title in her book and go
on to another painting. She will not leave the museum today until she has ten
paintings. When she is home she will examine all of them, but this is the one, she
already can tell, that she will like the best.

The air is so blue, and the exploding stars so large and so yellow. She has never
seen stars like that. Maybe she is growing up and learning to see them in a special
way, like Vincent Van Gogh.



┬╖┬╖┬╖┬╖┬╖
In the Moment: Brooding

Vincent knows how Seurat would have painted this. A million dots, a hundred jolts,
a mathematical equation devoid of emotion. He would have brought to The Starry
Night what Seurat always brought: promise and selfishness. Georges saw only
himself in everything and needed to break himself into essence, into golden scintallae
тАж into infinities of methodical points and dots. That was Georges' great secret, but
Vincent could see through the dots. Seurat pretended to see, but saw only himself
тАж and his "method."

Which is why Seurat could not have done this. Stabbing at the canvas, opening the
stars like flowers, Vincent proceeds. His easel is positioned in front of the barred
window of his room in the asylum of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole in Saint-R├йmy. The
walled garden below is composed of purple and green shadows. The morning star
blinks in the coruscating sky above, and behind him a table lamp casts its own
revelatory shadows across the floor and walls. Slowly, nothing more now than the
instrument of his design, he paints. His brushes are thick with ultramarine, cobalt,