bleeding sunlight

I can talk to paintings. Or rather, imagine myself talking to paintings. Each time I step onto the hallowed grounds of a museum, I prepare for a conversation. There is no clinical insanity involved. I treat each and every painting like a complex being I need to understand. Certainly, there are those which remain beyond my attempts. There are also paintings which are understandable at a single glance.

I will attempt to explain the need for conversation. Why, to me, it is so necessary and urgent.

You can go up to the girl you like, barring the need for courage, and tell her “I love you and I want to marry you”. You go up to a painting, it will say “I’m not for sale, goodbye.” You leave the painting you really like and hope it will be there at the museum the next time you visit.

It is precisely that lack of permanence in the relationship that makes it more urgent to discover what it has to say. What it means to you.

I’m going to a museum right now. I will spend a long time there.

From my friend's blog. An amazing thinker, and feeler (I mean this in an emotional context), and has a blog which needs some love. (If the friend in question wants me to take this down I will in a flash though)

0 Comments: