When all’s said, and done, if civilisation drowns the last colour to go will be gold – the light on a glass, the prow of a gondola, the name on a rosewood piano as silence engulfs it. And first to return to a waterlogged world, the rivers slipping out to sea, the cities steaming, will be gold, one dip from Bellini’s brush, feathers of angels, Cinquecente nativities, and all that follows. (more…)
In the foreground we see time and life swept in a race toward the left hand side of the picture…