Читать книгу Albrecht Dürer and me - David Zieroth - Страница 14

Nicholas Lanier, 1628, by Anton van Dyck

his long nose and wary look, cocked

right elbow, left hand casual on a rapier

poking back from the sparkle on its hilt

and the brightest mark? his wide forehead

below an abrupt line where brown curls

shine and announce pride, head’s width

of blue sky softly clouded, sun-streak burning

above a background of fake ruins

and the focus? Lanier’s lips, straight and stern

ready to sneer, yet showing beneath refinement

how many times he has been bruised

(note the hint of green at the left temple)

hairs on his red moustache curving up above

his pointed beard ready and set to quiver

he sat seven days for van Dyck, and both

clearly relished that wide swath of rich cape

tumbling down from his left and out of which

bulge his arms in red-striped fabric

such a pleasure to paint that the artist

could manage in an afternoon, highlights

of folds easy compared to the eyes some

call cold, others unarmed, the gift of art

to reflect and reveal each viewer accurately