Gemini 20. Night in a museum. Shadows seem to be moving in the paintings.
What the artists had intended was different, more or less, from the paint which ended up on the canvases. What most people didn’t know was that these intentions – all of them – were also imbedded there, beneath the paint, along with all the imaginings of all the eyes that had ever gazed at the canvases. Especially for the older works this constituted many thick layers sleeping beneath the paint.
And so, at night, when the museum rested, the other layers came forth – no one knew why. Some said it was the Moon that pulled them out, others said it was the paintings themselves that grew tired of their sameness and craved to become something new.
A certain guard, with exceptionally fine eyesight, had grown accustomed to seeing all this happening as he roamed the museum’s halls through the night hours. He wouldn’t dream of telling anyone what he witnessed. He kept it as his own private gallery, infinitely bigger than the one others saw. If and when they were ever ready, and desired to, they might enter it too.
The closer one looks into a fish bowl the more it appears to be a veritable sea teeming with life.
Irnad had a fish bowl in his laboratory that contained a whole sea. It it swam tiny whales, gigantic octupi, and ships lost in storms, as well as tropical islands where the ships might have landed if they were lucky. The thing is, few could see these things when they looked. “Can’t you invent a magnifying glass for us so we can see all the things you say are there?” asked a student. “The trick is not to make them all bigger with a glass,” answered Irnad. “You need to make yourself smaller.”