When I see illustration like this the first thing that comes to mind is that the artist had to slow down. Had to describe to himself what he was seeing. Had to listen to what he said. And then, and only then, used the description and not the vision to compose the result.
“Tell me what you see.” The recently stretched canvas demands in a tone that echoes my Mother’s when admonishing me to ask, “Please.”
I dip the brush into red and brush a circle.
“Oy! Again with what you thought you saw.”
Word count: 93