Color Your Thoughts

Here’s today’s excerpt from an amazing romantic artist, named Goya.

It had happened so frequently, that when the pattern repeated itself, Jane was immune. Her misfortunes were life, the air she breathed, all that she knew. A man can sit inside a woman’s soul, and devour her at will. Not every woman allowed a man to hold that power, but Jane did. She welcomed them into her, pampered, fed and diapered them as they sat throwing darts at her heart for sport. Like wild beasts they would feed off her compassion, kindness and selflessness. The Romantic artist Francesco de Goya depicted it perfectly in his Sabbath painting, El Aquelarre. Seven visible witches surrounded a He-Goat with horns as long as its body, offering their skeleton-like offspring under the moonlit, setting sun sky, over the sand. The women look almost hypnotized in their trance, and gaze upon the beast with wonder and enthrallment. The He-Goat represents Satan. This is confirmed by its black impressionistic brushstrokes, and red-tinted eyes. The crows circling overhead do corroborate matters. Jane stared at the oil on canvas in prolific reflection. She would visit her favorite museum in Madrid every Tuesday. The Museo Lazaro Galdiano held many works by Goya, and Jane felt each time she’d visit, and look upon the canvas’s she’d discover a new object or space.


“What do you see?”An elderly male voice crept up behind her.


She turned and took a quick glance at the director of the Museo in profile. With fear of looking too eager, she did not disrupt her current pose. She stood straight, statue-like, with her arms to her side at rest. She cleared her throat as softly as she could.


“I see a man.”


There was a pause that seemed almost infinite.


“You see what Goya sees?” The director asked.


Jane cocked her head slightly toward the old man. She had a response, but thought twice before she spoke. Gram taught her that if she were caught off-guard into conversation with an admirable person she should discreetly twirl her tongue in her mouth before she spoke. She did as instructed. “With the up most respect Director, the first time I looked upon this painting, I saw what Goya saw. The second time, still, I saw what Goya saw. The third…fourth….fifth etc. Same result…”


“Ahora?”  Now?


After a short silence Jane said “I am so offended by your inquiry that I am seeking my own interpretation, Director.” She did not take her eyes off the painting.


The director cowered, very aware of her peripheral vision, and turned his heel. “Only doing my job Senorita,” he grinned on his way back to his post.


Thought provokingly yours,
Tory Talayi