Wyeth, Pumpkin Hill, 1977
There’s witchcraft and hidden meaning there. Halloween and all that is strangely tied into it. For me, the paintings have that eerie feeling of goblins and witches out riding on broomsticks — damp rotting leaves and moisture — smell of make-up — as a child, the smell inside of a pumpkin when a candle is lit — the feel of your face under a mask walking down a road in the moonlight. I love all that, because then I don’t exist anymore.
Andrew Wyeth
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