Day 242

In addition to a full-sized bed, dresser, television, fireplace, lamps and huge couch, my new room has paintings hanging on the walls. The largest hangs over my bed. It's pretty noticeable, but in an uncomfortably slight way: I always seem to catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye. It's like something from an H.P. Lovecraft story, just not as obnoxiously overbearing.

Amateur oil paint-marks aside, it's mysterious and intriguing enough to warrant some thought. It illustrates the bend of a cobblestone street through part of a small town, probably circa 1915 or whenever electric lights first replaced oil lamps. The houses are all straight from whatever Hollywood set design ranch made all of the towns for John Ford movies. The ground-floor windows on one of the most prominent houses are lit, probably to be inviting; they instead make it look like the living room is aflame. The opposite side of the street--and right side of the painting--is engulfed by a blazing lamp, tilting a cone of light on the ground in a very film noir way.

The entire painting is balanced on a figure walking in the foreground. It's a woman, her face featureless and clothing plain. I can't tell if she's carrying a suitcase, is lifting her bloomers to avoid a weird red splotch mere steps away, or if she just has really huge hands. There's also a horse-drawn cart rolling in the opposite direction, the man at the helm craning his neck around. Is it because he's a pervert? Or is it because she has huge hands, or because he wants a good look as she slips on the red oil slick right in front of her? I do not nor will I ever know the answer to this.

Also worth noting: the sky shifts violently from pretty pastel blue to knocking-frigates-against-cliff face-storm blue in the thin margin over the roofs of the town. This must be an exciting place to live!

I think I like this painting. A lot.

posted, with grace and poise, by Jason @ 5/06/2007 12:08:00 AM,


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