One painting: the original, and the memory

When I was in seminary, I bought a slide of Georgia O’Keefe’s painting Light Irises at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts gift shop. The painting is part of their permanent collection.

Years later, we bought a large poster of the picture, hanging it in my wife’s various offices for nearly 30 years. Every permanent collection needs at least one Georgia O’Keefe, and I am glad to have mine, albeit a $50 print and not the $50 million original.

I like the subtle curves and the colors.

I see more than the petalled Lady Garden others insist on pointing out, snickering. Yes, I see, and respect, that, too. But mainly, I see a beautiful picture of a flower that draws me in and makes me happy.

Serene.

Content.

I’m sure Georgia O’Keeffe would wince at my lack of sophistication.

I didn’t see the actual picture until years after I bought the poster.

For some reason, I was back in Richmond and dropped into the museum just before closing. Nothing clears the head like looking at beautiful art, even if museum guards are eager to kick you out so they can go home. I wheeled briskly around a corner and saw it on a far wall.

I froze.

After a long moment I walked across the gallery. Zeroed in on its radiance and ignoring the Thomas Eakinses and the John Singer Sargents, I approached this beauty like a man seized by a tractor beam. I stood close letting it fill my vision: curves, colors, timeless spring.

I leaned in.

I leaned appreciatively away.

I felt alive standing face to face with this magnificent picture.

The picture was smaller than I imagined. Its colors were bolder. The painting has texture and subtlety the mere print or Kodachrome slide can’t capture. The actual painting wasn’t exactly what I imagined, but what old friend ever is?

FRIENDSHIP DAY

Last Sunday, Aug. 2, was National Friendship Day.

I missed it.

But I won’t miss dropping my friends a note or making a call to old pals. Friendship is delicate, perhaps like a blooming iris.

Treasure it.