A Painter’s Ode to Autumn
By Lorette C. Luzajic
All around me, collective sighs sound a sad farewell to summer. But the second that the inferno-tinged air turns crisp under the sunlight, I come alive.
Photo by Daniel Medalie
I love everything about fall, from September’s grandiose Vogue extravaganza issue, to the crackle of tumbled leaves underfoot, to the jumbled colours of the harvest. The tapestry of autumn is a rich and seductive fuel for creativity. It is a time for dark denim and teal scarves and a swipe of matte burgundy lipstick; for long walks with my camera through the cemetery or woods. It is the time to take a few watercolours, ochre and sienna, to head to the deserted beaches.
Rusty Alchemy – Lorette C. Luzajic
Summer is sexy, but autumn’s sensuality runs deeper. My senses are wide open and wild. Beauty is everywhere. From the sleek shiny chestnut brown of men’s footwear to the heft of a thick orange leather handbag to the heady aroma of roasting coffee in a busy, dizzy café, fall’s smells and textures are charming and unhurried. Fall is velvety in a shared Chianti; it is a scarlet moon and the slippery mouthfeel of eggplant; it is crunchy Empire and Spartan apples, and spooky masquerade, and the bluest skies of all the seasons.
Perfect fall shoes designed by Gonzalo de Cardenas
The scents and tastes and touch of autumn are a bittersweet bloom, heralding the pending closure of another year, and yet never have colours been so vivid. Who could ever tire, year in and year out, of the fall foliage? My northern Ontario turns into a spectacular fire, for which some artists and photographers have veritably donated the days of their lives.
Talisman – Michael Shemchuk
Photos by Victor Eredel
Summer is bright; winter’s austere serenity blankets the world with blinding white, and spring’s pinks and daffodils herald a stirring world, poking hopefully from that sleep. But fall- the autumnal palette blazes rusty and shiraz and copper; it grows more subtle with muted tawny bisques and ivories and cream; then spills a cornucopia of corn, of chrome and gold and crimson and garnet and ruby and turquoise; from the gentlest apricot leaf through electric tangerine moons, from salmon to walnut and round again to coral; autumn is auburn; it is mahogany, cocoa and henna, ecru and cinnamon, sorrel and terracotta; its waters glitter vermilion and amber reflections in malachite pools, in peacock and sage and viridian. Autumn mornings dance in bottomless purples, then coral flush; autumn disrobes its pumpkin sunsets for inky plum nights and moody blues.
Harvest – Ted Byrne
Still Life: Leaves – Rose Elle
City Layers Photograph – Lorette C. Luzajic
The daylight fades early, leaving endless hours for browsing dusty old bookshops, for poetry, for Earl Grey and spicy clove candles, for simmering chunky stews. Autumn is an open window by my easel; the gentle drifting perfume of plant decay, of smoke and pine and horses and crisp apples. It is here where I spend the best days of my life, long hours hopelessly lost in saffron and caramel.