I remember the first time I saw this painting hanging in Boston's Museum of Fine Arts:
I couldn't take my eyes off it. I stood there staring at it for what seemed like an hour and returned weekend after weekend to see it again. Finally I broke down and bought a copy of it to hang on my wall, though it never quite seemed to do justice to the original. The color isn't right; the copy doesn't even include the whole image. But what is it that I like so much about it? At first I thought it was just another sappy reminder of an ex-boyfriend who I hopelessly wanted to pursue his painting, but in retrospect I don't think that's it. When I look at this painting now, I see it as a symbol of the union of feminine and masculine, of light and dark, right and left. I see a meeting of minds, a union of souls, a love that bears fruit. I did take an art history class once in college and I know some of the ways in which art is analysed, but I don't really have a knack for it. Like poetry and music, in art, I like what I like. I like what hits me just so. I'm surprised to find that this painting still has an impact on me.
By the way, for those of you who were surprised to hear that I am living in Boston, I'm not surprised that you're suprised!! I haven't been that easy to figure out lately, but finally I decided that this is what I want. I was waiting to send an official announcement until I find an apartment, so... hopefully that's not too far off. For the time being, I'm staying in Wild Turkeyville, otherwise known as Jamaica Plain (which is, yes, an outskirt of Boston : ))