I confess…
There was a small stain on the windowsill
which I edited out of the picture.
I feel so unfaithful to the
brilliant rusty drip in the
bottom left corner of
Girl in Chemise,
Pablo Picasso,
1905.
That
little streak
is so beautiful,
it twists the brain
like an ice cream freeze.
Category: imago/poema One comment »
June 20th, 2009 at 2:50 am
Yes, yes, what is clean without the dirt;
beautiful rose without hard egregious stains of
siennas and umbers; shocking violets, complementary greens;
broad, rough, dark paint strokes against
delicate and nuanced surfaces of
knife smoothed pastes caressed
by outlines here,
negative space
there.
You
my dear
are a romantic
when you contemplate Picasso’s
masterpiece, Girl in Chemise, marking
his optimistic Rose period of 1905.
To admit to editing speaks
of your honesty, though
such edits in
art are
common.
Why
do you
see beauty in
the rust stain of
either your photograph or Picasso’s
painting? Can it be from what
it is or what it’s not? Or
can it be in the context of each?