Sunday, November 28, 2010

Divinely Beautiful

I don't think of myself as a particularly acquisitive person, but I do have a (mostly unindulged) passion for art glass.  So of all the things I saw in San Francisco, this square platter I found (in Bloomingdale's, of all places!), done by Swedish glass artist Bertil Vallien for Kosta Boda, is what resonated most.

I loved it: loved the colors, loved the mask, loved the figure in the center and the way the light reflected off the piece... I especially appreciated the ladder (which you can barely see in this picture) that's angled on the right, as it echoes a favorite photograph I took years ago. 

Somehow art works like this one look a bit like God to me: beauty so intense feels like truly divine inspiration.  But of course, the piece was WAY out of my price range (although if I had sold a couple of my metal pieces in this month's gallery show, I'd definitely have been tempted to use the money to purchase it!) -- though, frankly, I'm not sure, even if I had it, where I'd put it... 

So thank heaven for my camera, and for the kind saleslady who despite corporate rules allowed me to photograph the piece (Bloomingdales execs, if you read this, think of it as an ad for your store and for Vallien and Kosta Boda!).  Because at least I have this image to feed and inspire me.  Which it does.

And, on a fairly unrelated note, may I just say what a joy it is to be home again; to be able to sleep in my own bed, wake at my normal time, drink my own coffee and putter around in my favorite fleece robe; to read and meditate and blog without having to either wake my family or listen to loud muzak in a hotel lounge. 

I understand, intellectually at least, that everything is God and is of God.  But the truth is, I'm not really all that enlightened, and it can prove challenging for me to stay centered and serene when surrounded by Black Friday shoppers (our hotel was in the heart of San Francisco's shopping district), the grit and grime of city life, the holiday challenges of family dynamics, and the high noise levels of a typical urban environment.

Here's what I wish I knew to my core:

"I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass,
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign'd by God's name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know wheresoe'er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever."
  -- Walt Whitman, in 365 Nirvana

Yes, this platter felt like a letter from God.  But I'll know I've finally learned to see when I can feel that letters from God are everywhere, not just in divinely beautiful works of art.  Someday I hope to see that everything is divinely beautiful.


M.L. Gallagher said...

Thank you Diane for this post.

I have struggled these past few days to stay 'unemotional'. As we've done more Christmas WishList interviews, as we held our art show with clients at Wild Rose Church, as young David, 19, spoke of his life, I have struggled to 'see God'.

You just reminded me -- he is there in every face, he is there in my own face -- He is each and every one of us.

Thank you my friend.

I'm glad you're home safely tucked in your own special place.

I see you. You are divinely beautiful.

S. Etole said...

Thank you for this ...