this was the first painting as you walked in. it was quite big and would make a nice addition to someone's rumpus room.
introducing - the artist goethe-tischbein, a painter in a long line of painters who painted his friend, goethe, as they hitched their way across italy on their way to naples. he painted his friend goethe, icon of the romantic spirit and german geist, in all his glorious splendour in what must have been a labour of love. of his artist friend - goethe scribbles a few lines in his diary - "we are so well suited that it is as if we have always lived together." goethe-tischbein immortalises his friend on canvas, his friend gives him a cameo in his travel diary - italienische reise. Some time later, the two parted ways.... and goethe-tischbein is remembered today for this portrait of his foppish friend.
"thank you, please
Paul MeyerheimGerman 1842-1915
The jealous lioness c.1885-90 (Die eifersüchtige Löwin)
oil on canvas49.6 x 69.0 cmStädel Museum, Frankfurt am Main -Acquired in 1903
grrr. i am woman. hear me roar. I
Max LiebermannGerman 1847–1935, lived in France 1874–78
‘Samson and Delilah’ (Simson und Delila)1901-oil on canvas151.2 x 212.0 cm
Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main -Acquired in 1910
grrr. i am woman. hear me roar. II
Pierre Auguste RENOIR - French 1841-1919
After the luncheon(La fin du déjeuner) 1879 oil on canvas100.5 x 81.3 cm
Städel Museum, Frankfurt -Acquired in 1910
a couple of nice paintings done by some frenchies who are quite good. they need an agent, somebody who will market their paintings and turn these images into icons - into cards, fridgemagnets, prints, t-shirts, coasters, placemats - billboards, advertising...
no, i don't ride. i just sit and watch the people there.
and they remind me of wind up cars in motion.
the way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
and i want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
all your life's one track,can't they see it's pointless?
but just then, my knees give under me.
my head feels weak and suddenly it's clear to see
it's not them but me,who has lost my self-identity.
as i hide behind these books i read,
while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me,
with some ideal ideology
that no one could hope to achieve.
and i am never real;it is just a sketch in me.
and everything i made is trite and cheap
and a waste of paint, of tape, of time."
Franz von Stuck - Pietta
"so now i park my car down by the cathedral,
where the floodlights point up at the steeples.
choir practice was filling up with people.
i hear the sound escaping as an echo.
sloping off the ceiling at an angle.
when the voices blend they sound like angels.
i hope there’s some room still in the middle." 
Gustave Moreau - Pieta
because possibly nothing on youtube could compare to the european masters and it is almost sacriligious that i should do so...but...well...i've already admited my failures - no beauty could come from me.
the hour is late. i need to leave my office. get in my family car. drive through the sleeping suburbs. to my weatherboard house in a leafy street where my six year old is tucked in bed and my husband with my son watches the final quarter of the game and my oldest girl waits anxiously for me to come home and share the burden of her teenage angst. which sometimes strangely resembles a youtube song with the lyrics that end -
and try to just keep moving on,
with my broken heartand my absent God
and i have no faith but it's all i want,
to be loved.
and believe,in my soul
and i remember, romantic highs and lows belong to artists who travel to naples, guitarists with broody eyes and a teenage girl who stands on the cusp of adulthood and longs to spread her wings...
and i thank my little sister, the incurable romantic who disregards my timetables and my deadlines, forces me out of my self-imposed pergatory and stands me face to face with the rich heritage of the humanity to which i belong.
and that moment of recognition, my beloved and esteemed reader, is a gift that is enough...
