This morning I received a long, wonderful and moving email from one of my dearest soul sisters... or should I say 'kindred spirits' a la Anne Shirley. Yes, I've been thinking about Will and his Catherine, visiting PEI because of L.M. Montgomery, a favourite author of mine when I was a girl. And yes, I've been there.
But that's by the way.
My friend in South Africa has just returned from a visit to St. Petersburg and Novgorod. In the early 'Nineties I had the chance to go there. It's one of the great regrets of my life that I didn't get to the Hermitage then. It simply didn't make sense financially, and though I can often make a plan somehow, that time, I didn't.
She wrote in particular about seeing Rembrandt's 'Return of the Prodigal Son' and what a deep impression that made on her. She said how lucky she and her husband were to spend an hour with this painting 'with swoops of tourists settling on it for a few minutes and then rushing off to the next one'.
Hmm. In the days when we lived in London, or close enough to go up for the day, we'd often visit the National Gallery in particular. Usually I'd go specially to see one or two paintings. This meant walking into the gallery and making a bee line for that particular one. You can't imagine the strange looks people sent my way! It seems that the going gallery culture dictates you start in one room, go around that, and then move onto the next. Why, I have no idea. Sometimes now, when I go to a special exhibition, I'll retrace my steps to have another look at a particular work of art. There again, I get some very strange looks.
But really, if I really take in a good painting, live for a while with the colours, shapes and forms, I very soon feel full, and don't need twenty more.
Another friend is visiting now, which means I'll be making a trip to our gallery with her (because that's what we always do). This is a treat for me. She's an artist, and I get to look with her eyes as well as mine. I already have a chosen painting in mind!
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