l'atelier chez monsieur plaskett

a small inconspicuous building of medieval lineage on the rue pecquay hosted the general atelier of le vieil artiste, he who often hides within his own conversant paintings...
therein reigned sonorous gilt mirrors reflecting clusters of crystal tears dropped from the effusive chandeliers while ornately carved arches hung idly around the serene marble busts that rue sentinel over his works on view:
a blue pastel man plays the piano; a stern sea captain sits stiffly at a table; monsieur's flattened breakfast is served by the opened window where the bananas and a melon confront a vagrant pot of tea, and the three wide-mouthed jars sing a sweet, sweet chorus...
florid tulips bunched in a bottle tease the indignant brushes all crowded heads down in a can, fuming at their state of indecorum...
everywhere in a chaos of colours unruly paint mixes in blobs that smear and spill with voluptuous abandon, ready to be stroked onto the next waiting canvas.

'l'atelier chez monsieur plaskett' by g. verster, 2005