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Sitting by our dining table, I look at the hand painted porcelain wall dish I was holding dearly.
I am amused.
It was that of my favourite Klimt painting.
I smile to myself.
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The Kiss.
I have not seen it in real life, though I know someone who literally stood in front of it for as long as she could. Staring.
It is not hard to imagine myself doing the same.
It is not unlike what I was doing there, while sitting by our dining table. Staring.
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I don't remember where I first saw it. A book? Poster? No idea. But somehow, I never really forgot it.
Maybe I was even consciously trying to find it again.
Seeing reproductions allowed me to later figure out what it was called--and who's work it was.
Apps as we know them today were not available to me then. Besides, it was not like I had a picture.
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Sitting. Staring.
I was holding thoughtfulness realised.
 |
| from someone who listens and remembers |
This was a gift from our dear friend, Gela.
I'm touched. Really.
Associations.
Selecting this, out of all things was a decision bore out of multiple conversations shared between us spread over what could have been years.
- My love for Klimt
- When I go to museums, I can't bear to buy a canvas print because I feel it is wrong
- Despite #2, I would love to look at something that reminds or represents specific art pieces
- I am excited to decorate our home, but don't want to rush buying things
- My husband and I choose, think and re-think every single thing that comes into our home very carefully because we have limited space and it should be filled with things we love
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Bull's eye.
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There is one other thing from Gela, I will reserve that blog entry for another day.
