You should start by going to the museums alone. Always alone. You do not want anyone to disturb your thoughts on Kokoschka by asking inane questions like: why is his face melting? or: what does it mean?
No, your trips to the museums are all about you. You will wear the loudest, clackyest pair of high heels you own to alert your favorite paintings you are coming to visit them. You will not read the little plaques telling you that Manet’s Luncheon on the Grass was painted in 1863. You already know this. You will get a funny feeling in the deepest part of yourself because you looked at Magritte’s hooded Lovers for too long. You will put your face inches away from Seurat’s work until your eyes water and you are dizzy in the dots. Walk away, and notice that everything you see is really made up of a million tiny dots. Now look closely at Matisse’s wife and you will see that the world is really made of globs of wrong-color paint.
You will secretly not mind that Thomas, the security guard, is following you. He is suspicious of how close you stand to the paintings. You think that he follows you because he is in love with you. You will know that he never reaches out to you because you are the girl who has no space in her heart for people without titian red hair and phthalo blue eyes.
*April 2008
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A Collection of Short Works by M.Cheever
2 comments:
Aw, Mish, that was very good! I like your writing a lot. Seriously. You should try submitting some more of these to online publications.
this is absolutely beautiful. i feel like i say that about everything you write, but it's the truth.
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