I parked myself on some stone steps on a bend in the canal, charmed by the late afternoon light. The pigeons were curious observers. I took a photo of the spot too, and later, back home, I marveled at the difference between the photo and the painting. Because I had sat there for an hour plus and studied what was in front of me...the texture of the bricks on the left, the glassy play of the water and the reflections, the cascade of the greens on the right coated on top with hot sun. I could go on and on, my point being that the slow and careful study of a scene while painting leaves a long lasting memory, far better than the snap of a photo.
