An oasis of coolness in the charged atmosphere of the days, the exhibition of paintings by the English painter F.J. Featham at the V. Mylonogianni Art Gallery. I spent a long time in the Hall, not wanting to go out into the street, into the air, into the coolness of the spring evening.
All of this was generously given to me by the landscapes, the waves, the trees - especially the trees - in Featham's 30 watercolours, which contained all the joy that nature gives you.
I felt a great need to stay there longer to see and experience the immediacy of a true work of art. I tried in vain to find some flaw, even a small design error, a little muddying of paint. Instead, I began to wonder if the works of art before me were engravings from old English, topographical prints by R. Wilson, which I had loved to browse through as a child. As I left, much later, I thought about how this art space, this time, gave me a thrill perhaps stronger than ever before.
