Love is messy. And horrible and selfish and bold. It’s not finding your perfect half, It’s the trying and reaching and failing. Love is being willing to ruin your good painting for the chance at a great one.
So we have done bad things! But maybe, sometimes, good can come from bad. If you hadn’t, if I hadn’t… maybe none of these paintings would be found! Maybe is like… huge fucking weather system rolling over and we just get blown, and maybe is fate or… why give name?
“…if a painting really works down in your heart and changes the way you see, and think, and feel, you don’t think, ‘oh, I love this picture because it’s universal.’ ‘I love this painting because it speaks to all mankind.’ That’s not the reason anyone loves a piece of art. It’s a secret whisper from an alleyway. Psst, you. Hey kid. Yes you.”
The Goldfinch directed by John Crowley based on the 2013 novel by Donna Tartt
A great sorrow, and one that I am only beginning to understand: we don’t get to choose our own hearts. We can’t make ourselves want what’s good for us or what’s good for other people. We don’t get to choose the people we are.
“About three things I was absolutely positive: First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.“ Twilight (2008) dir. Catherine Hardwicke
So we have done bad things! But maybe, sometimes, good can come from bad. If you hadn’t, if I hadn’t… maybe none of these paintings would be found! Maybe is like… huge fucking weather system rolling over and we just get blown, and maybe is fate or… why give name?
