Day one hundred and sixty-seven: It’s too bad smells can’t be painted, because the fragrance of the peonies I sketched this evening is glorious. So it the subtle explosion of pale pinks in the hundreds of petals that form each blossom. It would have taken me all night to complete a naturalistic representation of these two buds (let alone the refracted transparency of the bottle green vase!), so I stuck with a simple impression in the hopes of relaying these flowers’ splendid color if not their true, intense beauty.
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