“Hand-worked flashes of pigment, the very passage of bristles visible -- and then, at a distance, the miracle, or the joke as Horst called it, although it’s really both, the slide of transubstantiation where paint is paint and yet also feather and bone. It’s the place where reality strikes the idea, where a joke becomes serious and anything serious is a joke.” Donna Tartt. The Goldfinch
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