Of course there is no such thing as an instant masterpiece. At least that’s what I tell myself. Consider this Nativity scene by Botticelli (you’re going to want to click on the picture to see it larger. It really is magnificent.)
Mystical Nativity by Sandro Botticelli, c. 1500
Yeah, not exactly Painting Lite. I love Botticelli. I love his colours; love the slightly awkward draping; love how his works show the beginning, rather than the mastery, of light and perspective. As someone whose painting skills don’t extend far beyond following the directions on a tin of Benjamin Moore, I’m in awe of his ability to recreate faces and depict emotion.
I’ve been trying to write all weekend. The idea is there but the focus is lacking. The focus is currently holed up in the sand dunes of Libya where it’s being held hostage by several to-do lists and the soundtrack to “Hello Dolly!” As soon as I start writing what I’d like to say I remember that I have to organize my closet and then I find neglected gym clothes and I feel guilty for eating ice cream for lunch so I start doing sit-ups and then I am tired so I take a nap and when I wake up I have to make invitations for a Christmas party but oh wait! First I have to sing “Put on Your Sunday Best!” at top volume, from memory, whilst dancing around the kitchen waving the spoon that I should be using to stir the risotto and realizing that oh, geesh, I am not wearing pants and my kitchen blinds are wide open.
Which is to say, maybe I am trying to do so many things at once that none of them are being done well. (Except for my song and dance routine. It is stellar. My neighbours can now attest to it.) I look at a painting like the one above and I remember the need to be still, the need for quiet moments and a calm(er) mind. I’m gearing for you, Serenity. In the meantime, I have dinner to burn, trains to catch, and a dance routine to teach Mr. Joseph. I can’t be Dolly without my Louis.
