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Thanks Dr. Brenner.
I'm a victim of the Chinese example phenomenon, though beneficially so. Not very arty at all.
I inherited some Chinese scroll work, hung as panels. They combine nature and historical personage themes and are lovely. They are objects to me, I don't read or know any story.
However I also have a Chinese Mandarin's sleeve, a magnificent thick slab of silk 14" wide by 45" long. Hung on the end of his robe, its got a thick black border and on the panel of cream silk are embroidered the most exquisite garlands of tiny pale flowers, birds and a watercourse. About every 10th time I walk by the light is right and my aging eyes espy the delicate individual stitches, by their thousands, that comprise one bird or flower.
I am told that this one sleeve is the work of the product of several stichers, likely very young children, labouring a year or so.
When I look up close at a flower or bird, I'm drawn to the birds, one is drawn into the imagined setting, mildly intoxicated, and then delivered to considerations of the tiny hands, the young soul that wrought such beauty, for such purpose, in such times. These tiny strands of antique silk transport me to a place of beauty and sadness and smallness I don't often go.
I generally come to from after about 10 minutes or so.
Thanks Dr. Brenner.
I'm a victim of the Chinese example phenomenon, though beneficially so. Not very arty at all.
I inherited some Chinese scroll work, hung as panels. They combine nature and historical personage themes and are lovely. They are objects to me, I don't read or know any story.
However I also have a Chinese Mandarin's sleeve, a magnificent thick slab of silk 14" wide by 45" long. Hung on the end of his robe, its got a thick black border and on the panel of cream silk are embroidered the most exquisite garlands of tiny pale flowers, birds and a watercourse. About every 10th time I walk by the light is right and my aging eyes espy the delicate individual stitches, by their thousands, that comprise one bird or flower.
I am told that this one sleeve is the work of the product of several stichers, likely very young children, labouring a year or so.
When I look up close at a flower or bird, I'm drawn to the birds, one is drawn into the imagined setting, mildly intoxicated, and then delivered to considerations of the tiny hands, the young soul that wrought such beauty, for such purpose, in such times. These tiny strands of antique silk transport me to a place of beauty and sadness and smallness I don't often go.
I generally come to from after about 10 minutes or so.
Isn't sentience and culture wonderful!
Posted by: Charles I | 13 March 2011 at 04:27 PM