"Rudy Rucker - Hieronymus Bosch's Apprentice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rucker Rudy)

itself.”

“My point is that I want to know if you’ve been inspired by hallucinations from brown bread.”

“Were your crippled drinking companions painting triptychs?”

This was leading nowhere. Studying the picture in progress, Jayjay admired Bosch’s facility at turning
realistically rendered objects into bizarre beasts. Here was a jug that was a horse, a tree that was a man,
a ship that was a headless duck. “Everything’s alive,” he said, returning to their common ground.



“Yes,” said Jeroen busy with his brush again. “Few understand this. I’m glad we share the knowing.”

“Very soon a change will come to ‘s-Hertogenbosch,” said Jayjay. “Everyone will be able to speak
clearly with objects, just as they do in my California. That’s what I’m—” he broke off. He’d been about
to reveal his plan to play the harp. But it would be better to approach her alone, lest Bosch make some
objection.

After awhile, Bosch ran out of paint. He took Jayjay downstairs and demonstrated how to make paint by
mixing ground pigments with oil and beeswax. And then, unexpectedly, he gave Jayjay a painting lesson.

“Here,” said Bosch setting a rectangle of wood in front of Jayjay along with a brush, a palette and four
pots of paint: white, blue, yellow, red. “I want you to learn to paint foliage. I have a particular model in
mind. Wait.”

The master walked back through the house, greeted Aleid, proceeded into the back garden, and
returned carrying an enormous uprooted thistle plant, complete with purple flowers and downy seeds. He
squashed the thistle down on itself, making a mound.
“You’ll paint this, and you’ll learn to do it right,” instructed the artist. “I’ll watch for awhile.”

Jayjay experimented with mixing the colors to make some good shades of green, sketched in the vine,
and added the leaves. The result was inchoate and soggy.

“At least you work fast,” said Bosch. “Now let the light come down like snow.”

Jayjay tried brightening the tops of his painted leaves and vines, but the wet oil paints slid and wobbled,
with muddled results.

“Think ahead so you don’t need layers,” said Bosch. “Mind the light.” He produced a rag and rubbed all
the paint off the wood. “Try again.”

This time, Jayjay worked with a broader spectrum of shades. He liked mixing the oil paints, liked the
alchemical way the colors changed. His new leaves looked quite tolerable.

“Now for fantasy,” said Bosch. “Paint more than you see. Let the shapes dance.” He swept his sinewy
hands through the air, limning sweet curves.

Jayjay tried extending the tendrils of the vine he’d drawn, and this went well enough, but when Bosch
asked him to add seedpods and little birds, the thing turned into another brown pudding.