I have in my hand a small red Poppy... It is an intensely simple, intensely floral flower. All silk and flame, a scarlet cup, perfect edged all round, seen among the wild grass far away like a burning coal from Heaven’s altars. …No sparing of colour anywhere - no outside coarseness - no interior secrecy. [It is] painted glass; it never glows so brightly as when the sun shines through it. Wherever it is seen - against the light or without light - always, it is a flame, and warms the wind like a blown ruby. – John Ruskin, artist and critic, 1875
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker