Last night, I watched the light of a television flickering through the broad windshield of this residential vehicle, and marveled at the wondrous extravagance of it all. What high-tech hermit crabs some humans have become!
Then I went off to Webshots and gathered this album of paintings by Camille Pissarro from the year 1875. Now, in the grey dawn, I see the glossy motor home still parked up the street, and I wonder what Pissarro would have made of it. Could he even have figured out how to paint such a strange thing? A century an a quarter have wrought such changes as I'm sure would have boggled the minds of the peasants he painted working in the sunlit fields and wandering the shady woods around Pontoise and Montfoucault. Pissarro was one of the first truly modern painters, and yet his world seems as far away as the age of the medieval churches that loom over many of the scenes he painted. It is a world that will never be seen through the windows of a motor home. Only art, or imagination, can be that wide.