Friday, December 31, 2010

jardin majorelle

It was the color blue that wouldn’t let you go, matte and vivid, a cobalt to combat any other cobalt; this blue was going to win no matter what.  And it won my eyes like sudden sun, constricting them in depths and curiosity.  Majorelle must’ve been a lover without abandon to paint such intense blue on his home.  He would have been someone I’d like to have been friends with.  I believe it was a natural dye from the earth, as synthetic as it appeared, it enveloped you while throwing you, electric and chalky and absolutely uniform, it expanded while standing still.  The shutters were yellow and the foreground palms whispered the sweetness of afternoon teas.  Around each bend were huge pots of the same color blue or sulphur yellow and tucked into those pots were needle ferns and soft tickly arms that looked like feather dusters, and they'd perch at the ends of trellised alleys of figs and jasmine.  There were racquets of philodendron, cacti and palm, carpets of succulents and aquatic varietals, and swarms of plants from four continents.  Rockets of bamboo- huge forests of ankle thick bamboo- went shooting to the sky.  Idiots and lovers carved their initials into them and I thought of the Romans defacing Egyptian pyramids in their own vanity in their own time.  Magnolias kept everything familiar, repeating themselves throughout the garden, while a long narrow wading pool stretched from the entrance to Majorelle’s striking and unmistakable home.  The army of greenery was an impressive troop to be seen, but they were no match to the punch of Majorelle's blue.


When someone you love loves you deeply and you have the permission to love them deeply, that is when your life starts meaning something.  I got the impression that Majorelle was as intense a lover as he was a painter and how he put meaning to his life by giving himself the permission to express his love.  I daydream of taking a nap in his home, and waking up as his patient and spoiled lover:  I turn over and look out the window- not a sight of blue inside, as I'm not threatened or helped from the sight of it or the absence of it.  I am living in its gentle ferocity, in life's greatest force of give and take.  In love.







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