The compulsory art class back in school had a certain consistency about it. The art teacher’s “paint a landscape” instruction would trigger what could be called photocopied creativity: Brown peaks, sometimes sharp, sometimes mound-like, with a dash of white atop for snow; an undulating green terrain; a little cottage with a door in the middle, windows by the side and a tree nearby; a duck pond in front of the cottage or else a stream running from the mountains; a couple of birds; a cheerful sun; and blue skies pinned with white, cotton-like clouds — the fair-weather
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