论文部分内容阅读
书房里,淡淡的颜料味还在,人却不在了。“喏,你要不要看一看?”七月黄昏,年过八旬的朱碧琴笑得像孩童。儿子说她糊涂了,晚饭过后,谁也不认得。中饭前,她倒问,“咦,你爸怎么还不回来?”此刻她递给我的是沉甸甸的也许不曾磨灭的记忆:《踏花归来——吴冠中师生坝上采风摄影集》。“那是我父亲第一次允许别人拍摄他在外写生的状态。”相比画册中老画家的激扬投入,头发花白的吴家三子吴乙丁,平和中透出一丝倦意。
Study, a touch of pigment still, people are gone. “喏, do you want to have a look? ” July evening, over eighty years of Zhu Biqin laughed like a child. Her son said she was confused, no one recognized after dinner. Before lunch, she asked, “Hey, how is your dad not coming back?” “At the moment, she handed me heavy memories that might not be obliterated: . ”It was the first time my father allowed others to take pictures of him writing sketches.“ ”Compared with the thrilling input of the old painters in the album, the grizzled Wu’s third son, Wu Diding, peacefully reveals a sense of weariness.