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More thoughts on works by Caspar David Friedrich from the Hermitage.

The Dreamer sits on a window ledge of a ruin.  He is not inside the ruin nor is he outside the ruin.  Inside the ruin are dead trees, while outside life thrives.  The dreamer looks sideways, neither out of the ruin nor into the ruin.  Is this not true of a dreamer, of someone who lives half in the metaphysical realm and half in the physical world.  It is a delicate balance.

Morning in the Mountains, completed in 1821-1823, speaks of a misty, grand expanse.

In The Giant Mountains, 1835, Friedrich uses the mist in the mountains to separate the mountains and fall into the river that weaves a winding path through the scene.

Sunset (Brothers), a physically tiny piece that is powerful on a sensory and psychological level.  The landscape is simple in detail, yet has an amazing light created by reflection off of water.

Seashore (Nets) has a warm, glowing horizon line that draws the viewer into the lonely scene void of humans.  The scene is quiet, created with subdued, complimentary purple and yellow.  Birds create slight movement toward the sun or moon in the sky.

A mist creates a different kind of depth in Night in Harbour (Sisters).  A church and the masts of boats is all we see.  Why is there a Jewish star at the top?

Natural substances, both great and small, reflect similarities that are noticeable upon reflection. The other night as I was studying the texture of the bone in front of me, I pondered upon how the cragginess of the bone was reminiscent of a rocky mountain in a landscape. How the mountain hid a molten center of power and how the bone encases a storehouse of life. The advantages of the bones come in their mobility and the manner in which they relate to each other. They are not static or mounted to the ground.