Des Moines felt like home when I found the Rothko. Felt more like home as soon as I found someone to understand and appreciate it. To admire it with another was quite lovely and personal. I do believe it's perfect. And that this painting alone reminded me why art is relevant and controversial and unkind. And it is both moving and makes me feel uneasy. It is curious and terrifically beautiful and vague.
I fell in love with Rothko and Des Moines simultaneously.
I know this canvas' secrets, lines, colors and edges. I have studied it, studied by it and been captivated by it. I missed it's shape and shades.
So today we meet again. (and discretely in front of the new guard I took a blackberry photo.)