Wednesday, September 12, 2012


I heard this story once. During World War 2, in Saint Petersburg Russia, the Hermitage Museum had safely evacuated their collection of masterpieces, and the walls then were devoid of canvases . Only the frames remained, like book marks calling attention to an absence.  Some soldiers wandered in from the cold,  thinking to spend time looking at art, but they found instead empty walls, and a custodian guarding the halls. The custodian, not wanting to disappoint them, decided to describe each composition, each painting to the...viewers...who simply stared at the minimal and bare wall imagining in their minds, a painting no longer before them. Soon a following of visitors grew, and each day they'd gather to words alone, the custodian's verbal translations which detailed and evoked some resemblance to imagery. Two worlds, of two senses, each nested within another. 

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