landscape: fresh air painter with easel, canvas, palate, --stopping--puts brush down and takes out pen, writes across preliminary sketching of (windmill, mountains, fields?): “painters have made seeing a landscape, or painting a landscape, impossible, because they can now see only other paintings, and paint only other seeings.  painted ourselves into to a dried thinner-smelling world of caked bristles and empty tubes, hundreds of wooden frames floating down streams of watered colors.  like writers can only write about written-scapes, crumpled paper trees, wind from flipping pages, ink waterfalls, paragraph topography.  how to get them to see land, not landscapes?  forget actual, start from dark vacuum, saber of  moon through snow, grid of frozen lake, purplish profile left side of three mountains, single tree twisting my initial.

links: windmill, wooden