I have a lot of original artwork. I have paintings my grandfather and father did. I have a huge framed ink drawing that MMB drew. I have a painting of a Japanese woman that a friend’s daughter painted. And I have a painting I call “Paris.”
My former boss retired a few years ago and I wanted to get her a bottle of wine to send her off. I stopped at a World Market store and as I was walking to the door, I saw a banner that said 50-60% OFF ALL ARTWORK. How could I pass that up? I decided to browse a bit before I went wine hunting.
Some of the pieces were good, some were very good – but this is the one that caught my eye. I couldn’t stop looking at it. It reminded me of Paris, although I’ve never been there. It reminded me of romance and mystery and loneliness and hope, all that the same time. I just felt drawn to it, like it had a story to tell me. Or, more likely, that behind the door – or perhaps just beyond one of the balconies – was a story I needed to tell.
A few of the windows hold the suggestion of people, just shadows really. But what are they doing? What are they thinking? Is it an apartment building in Paris? Or perhaps New York or London or San Francisco? Or maybe it’s a small apartment building on a pretty street in a small town no one has heard of. I feel intrigued and I want to know more each time I look at it.
In my old place, I had it on the wall as you walked in to the room, so it was the first thing I saw. The Japanese woman replaced it and I moved Paris to my bedroom. When I moved here I put it over my bed again. I could move it to the main part of the house, but keeping it in my room feels right. I still don’t know the story it is asking me to write.
(sorry for the sloppy crop)