January 28, 2010
i am in love with georgia o’keeffe. two weeks ago, i went to go see the o’keeffe exhibit at the whitney; the exhibit was closing that weekend, so we had to wait on line outside for an hour and it was uncomfortably crowded once we actually got inside. but it was entirely worth it when i turned a corner and found myself staring at the original red canna painting. let me explain: i’ve had this irrationally intense attachment to that painting ever since my senior year of high school—despite never actually having seen the original piece before. my art teacher had tasked me with the job of painstakingly recreating red canna on three cabinet drawers in one of the art rooms. i was sort of in love with this teacher, so i poured my heart into the project. i sat on the floor for days at a time, struggling to get the ripples in a petal just right. this piece basically single-handedly sparked my love affair with everything o’keeffe: all the rich, vibrant colors, the seemingly seamless gradations, the gorgeous flowing shapes. and then i was there, inches away from the real thing—it felt kind of like what i think meeting a celebrity might be like. i wanted to get closer, close enough to touch it; but there were guards in every room, and i wasn’t ready to be forcefully escorted out of the museum just yet. so i stood there, overwhelmed with this strange emotional connection i felt towards what was essentially a piece of colored canvas on the wall. and suddenly, i started to notice all the imperfections in the painting; from up close, you could see the brush strokes and the places where the colors didn’t blend entirely and the texture of the canvas underneath everything.

i am in love with georgia o’keeffe.

two weeks ago, i went to go see the o’keeffe exhibit at the whitney; the exhibit was closing that weekend, so we had to wait on line outside for an hour and it was uncomfortably crowded once we actually got inside. but it was entirely worth it when i turned a corner and found myself staring at the original red canna painting.

let me explain: i’ve had this irrationally intense attachment to that painting ever since my senior year of high school—despite never actually having seen the original piece before. my art teacher had tasked me with the job of painstakingly recreating red canna on three cabinet drawers in one of the art rooms. i was sort of in love with this teacher, so i poured my heart into the project. i sat on the floor for days at a time, struggling to get the ripples in a petal just right. this piece basically single-handedly sparked my love affair with everything o’keeffe: all the rich, vibrant colors, the seemingly seamless gradations, the gorgeous flowing shapes.

and then i was there, inches away from the real thing—it felt kind of like what i think meeting a celebrity might be like. i wanted to get closer, close enough to touch it; but there were guards in every room, and i wasn’t ready to be forcefully escorted out of the museum just yet. so i stood there, overwhelmed with this strange emotional connection i felt towards what was essentially a piece of colored canvas on the wall. and suddenly, i started to notice all the imperfections in the painting; from up close, you could see the brush strokes and the places where the colors didn’t blend entirely and the texture of the canvas underneath everything.