I found the girl once again trying to climb into the canvas, this time with various brushstrokes that goes into various directions. I followed her, as if she was luring me deeper into her own world, only to then consume me like a female spider does after copulating with a male spider. I become part of the art, consumed art, art consumed. She had a yellow dress on, my favourite colour. The yellow dress reminded me of a very distant dream, one in which a girl with a yellow dress ran deeper into a pure white field. Wild grasses, dandelions, white wildflowers. She fell into the pure whiteness, dandelions consuming her, the wild grasses flowing like water over her, and the smell of a thousand white flowers coated her. As she stood up, she became part of the landscape, she became the clouds, the new flowers, she became nature.

While art tries to imitate nature, she transposed nature on the canvas, and now she lured me deeper into her trap so that I could also become art, nature, paint on canvas. We walked through galleries and galleries, picking artworks that suited her eye, only to then place everything together in such a strange combination that I could not fathom what her intentions were. Yet I did not care as my desire to become her artwork overwhelmed me. And I gave in, as my world became one with her yellow dress.

I took a couple of photographs, in my now “reverse-portrait” style. The girl looked at the art, while I looked at her. A girl in a yellow dress, looking at art, contemplating the meaning of life. I hope that you enjoy these photographs and some poetry that I intersperse between the photographs. Without further ado…

Postscriptum, or Yet Another Gallery

We visited various art galleries on a recent trip, and I had to take some photographs of the girl in a yellow dress. She was more beautiful than the art, so I took a bunch of photographs of her. If we were not in such a rush, I would spend the whole afternoon looking at art and looking at her looking at art. Meanings and interpretations flowed through us, but we could not make sense of anything. But this is part of the process, drenching oneself and subsequently drowning in art without finding any stable meanings.

In any case, I hope that you enjoyed these photographs of the girl I could not write.

For now, happy photographing and stay well.

All of the photographs used in this post are my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and Nikkor 50mm lens. The writings, musings, and poems are my own, albeit inspired by the girl who I could not write looking at art.