The realm of a painting
has an interesting irony.
A volley
A chemistry
outside our realm of logic
that cancels and negates the notion of owning and understanding.
A great painting is a world of fleeting information
of knowledge.
Not the knowledge we commonly associate with
that we methodically ram in our heads to remember.
The intelligence in a painting has no such gravity.
It is like the breeze
clear and ungraspable.
You can’t own this information.
As soon as you try it vanishes.
It’s a realm where nothing is stationary
so as to make sense of it.
Where the important conversations
you have with yourself.
In this way a great painting gives us freedom from thought and the seeming imposition of structure.
It’s an essential service.