As I wound my way throughout the local ReStore I caught a glimpse of this painting in passing. I turned the corner from the room it was in not having fully taken note of what I had seen. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. All that ran through my mind was Black. Gold. White. Bold. I turned back.
I stood in front of it mesmerized. Hanging high up on the wall amidst decaying china cabinets and no longer loved 80's formica it looked strangely out of place. It looked fine. Grand almost. Perhaps because an oversize Mona Lisa hung a few feet down framed by a selection of poorly done florals. More likely because the frame alone was worth 10x the price tag hanging from it. The gold and black combination was indeed beautiful but those quirky little flowers are what truly stole my heart. Like a strange little bouquet of sea anemones, their stark whiteness bursting from the dark background like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I was smitten. I was in love.
I have never felt emotion from a piece of artwork. I have admired paintings, found them to be lovely at times, but never felt captivated or so moved by a piece of art. I am the woman with a home full of framed black and white photography. To me, they tell a story. Candid photos capture emotion and make my heart swell with their beauty. But brush to canvas? Never.
I paid no mind to the idea of where I would put it. Where I would hang it. When something moves me this powerfully, all those minute details have a way of working themselves out. I just knew I could never forgive myself if I walked away without it. It was meant to be mine.
P.S. When they took it down from the wall I was thrilled to discover it is an original oil painting! Now, to make out the artists name....