
Tango– 1999
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
–Leonard Cohen, Dance Me to the End of Love
I was looking at the painting above, Tango, yesterday in my studio. It was a piece that was sold back in 1999 but came back to me in 2015 when I found it online as part of an estate sale from a deceased collector in central Virginia. It was a favorite of mine when it was painted and getting it back was exciting. It was a thrill to see that it was just as I had remembered it and maybe even better. I wrote about regaining this piece and two others from that sale on this blog back in 2015.
But looking at it yesterday, I was suddenly hooked by a detail I hadn’t noticed before. In the first gap between the entwined trees there is what appears to me to be a miniature version of the basic composition, with the green of the hills separated from the golden yellow of the fields by the white gap. This was pretty much the basis of most of my paintings from that time.
It’s a small thing and not one that detracts at all from the overall feel of the painting. But I now find myself immediately going to that small detail and finding a bit of delight in it. It feels like there is a small window into the inner world of the intimacy between the two trees.
This little detail adds a degree of pleasure to my enjoyment in this painting. Part of the tango we do with art we love. We find small bits and details within that enthrall us and make that piece even more special in our eyes. I can generally find some such small detail in any piece of my own and in the works from others that speak to me.
Like a secret softly whispered in the ear…
Here’s a video set to a Leonard Cohen song that very much is in the spirit of this painting. This is Dance Me to the End of Love.
I’m glad you got this one back. It’s lovely. While my first thought was of the bindweed that wrapped itself around my rain lily, this also evokes the common sight of huge vines wrapped around our trees. Three forms: one dance.