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Timothy Donnelly


Pink Lotus



It’s safe to say that a great painter of seascapes also has to be

     a great painter of the sky, as demonstrated by Lane’s canvases

depicting Gloucester Harbor, of which there are many, but one

     in particular makes his aptitude for capturing the evanescence of


the air above water abundantly clear. Here, it’s late afternoon

     or early evening, tide low, weedy stones along the shore

just visible through the surface, two fishermen with their backs

     turned to the viewer, one in blue with a fishing pole and the other


lumbering in red, possibly hauling a barrel off, or onto, the rowboat

     hurled up onto, or among, the docks. Exactly when or where or what

everything is and what it’s doing isn’t as definitive as the overall

    impression, which is of a precariously pale pink hovering over all


the abovementioned, and more: six discernible ships in the harbor,

     others on the horizon, Eastern Point a sliver in the distance

and in the center of it all, but to the left, the tiny Ten Pound Island

     with the lighthouse keeper’s dwelling anchored to it like a barnacle


as the light rose haze feathers into an analogous shade of blue

     the way the mind does when a hardship loosens, or in the pause

after long exertion, the heaviness of everything subsiding even slightly

     briefly exciting the pieces of oneself into a single joyous vapor.

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