Critique on a Painting

Starry Night ~by Vincent van Gogh

This famous piece of art called The Starry Night is by Vincent van Gogh.
The mood that the entire painting sets is dreamy. The subtle but the fantastic contrast set by the type of strokes used, in spite of the same value(thickness) of the brush used can be seen in Gogh's depiction of objects of natural origin and those, which are man-made.


If you see with a detailed eye, the Cypress bush in the foreground, the rolling hills, the swirling clouds and even the stars are depicted using Rolling strokes of the brush, thus highlighting their flexible and changing nature. While, the Town Center, the houses and other buildings (being man-made) are painted using straight, fast strokes showing their staunch, stubborn nature.


The placement of the Cypress bush in the foreground, the amazing interplay between the dark and light strokes in the same layer, gives a wonderful sense of depth( i.e the 3rd dimension) in this painting.


The stars have a point origin and a bright glow around them. this lends the dreamy effect to the painting. Also, noteworthy is the way he painted  the moon, which has a outer-worldly charm and glow.
Gogh could've painted the bush in the foreground shorter ( than the town center's spire), but he painted it long enough, so that it reaches for the skies, thus giving more importance to nature.

Night Mountain Wind

Craned my neck and saw the full moon.

Shining away with all its glory.

Borrowing all it could from the Sun; 

which was nowhere to be seen so soon.

      Through the dark woods, I waded my way;

      followed and guided by this stray;

      so bright and sketchy, with messy-white a sheen.

As my feet shuffled past the dark shrubbery,

did I realize that alone was not me.

      Twisting and whirling, around itself;

      there was something else; which made its presence felt;

      by sending a chilling wave down my spine.

No, no, not animals; they don't have me scared.

'cause at this time around, we all had the Jungle shared.

In a whistling flow, it gave a gentle bow, 
ruffled the leaves up, and then let them go.

.

The Night Mountain Wind brought the night mountain chill

which threatened the warmth that backed my power of will.

I climbed upon a ridge which itself jutted by

and saw the night valley sing a lullaby.

Night Mountain Wind : poem by Aditya Mantha is work licensed under 
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Onslaught of Rain

Earth was heated by the day's sun.

It was sultry, it was stuffy, it made me sweat.

The air became heavy. 

The subtle, ever-so-sweet musky fragrance filled the space.

      Perspiration vanished, 

      Fresh air gushed into my lungs.

      I scanned the heavens, full of hope;

      They had flashed and had sung;

The never-before-seen leaves now sprang up.

The dry dead leaves which lay abandoned,

began dancing in festive circles

      The galloping wind tickled the giggling leaflets;

      from heaven joined their friends, the droplets.

      A cold, moist one fell, and then another;

      and in a cascading avalanche, came a zillion others;

      quenching the thirst left by the sultry weather.

Like a thousand tablas together, they roared.

The Earth was elated to receive the showers;

welcoming the tiny guests like her own seed.

Onslaught of Rain: the poem by Aditya Mantha is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

The Bombay Connection

How I keep going from you ..............away.
Once to Vizag, and then twice to ......Chennay.
But I'll keep coming back to you
my dear, my love - My Bombay.


                       It rains here like it does nowhere else;
The clouds casting innumerable........Magic spells;
                      a cup of Cutting................................... Garam Chai,
accompanied by Pakode..................- deep fried;
                      A long walk along the.........................Marine drive;
Get drenched in the rain and then....get dried;
                      Its sheer awesomeness gets me........Petrified;
I hear the wind whistle and listen to it cry.


Flood in the monsoon, 
sweat in the summer it may.

               I'll keep coming back to you - My Bombay.