Mynydd Troed

The mist rolling off the mountain in the early morning reminds me of Monet's depiction of dawn at Le Havre where he seemed to paint a boat floating in the town centre. It led to early critics to doubt his technical ability. Later the art establishment's judgement of the great Impressionist could not have been greater.
This image of the mountain is a rare glimpse of the opposite of what is usual.

We are all in the habit of, giving to what we feel a form of expression which differs so much from, and which we nevertheless after a little time take to be, reality itself.

Our vanity, our passions, our spirit of imitation, our abstract intelligence, our habits have long been at work, and it is the task of art to undo this work of theirs, making us travel back in the direction from which we have come to the depths where what has really existed lies unknown within

Proust