Every time I'm home and hear bleating, I start to make grand plans. The sheep farmers have come again to honor me with their presence.
Early in the morning, I was already bothering the white bleating clouds, but the sky was cloudy, so all the sheep were snoring nicely in the dark, hidden from the sun.
After a while, though, the clouds ran off, and the harsh light lit up their wool to a bright, warm, creamy color, which matched with the birch tree in the background, the only thing that beautifully disturbed the scene - was the black sheep of the family, screaming in a bright red.
I value this painting, because it reminds me that a feeling of colour without overpainting or unnecessary detail can achieve a beautiful airy atmosphere.
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