A box at the bottom of a cabinet held nearly a hundred small portraits. They were painted by the same person, a young girl for her art class. Some of the portraits have bits of fabric and lace sewn on to them giving a three-dimensional effect. I cannot imagine how these 1900s paintings came to be at a second-hand store. They had to be someone's grandmother or great aunt. But then maybe the person was alone, and when she died nobody was there to inherit or lay claim to her belongings instead her home was packed up and sent to a second-hand store, which is far better than the dump.
I count my lucky stars that I saw the box at the bottom of the cabinet.
Here are a few of the paintings from Mademoiselle.
I will post more in the days to come.
I have taken the liberty to add dry flowers to the portraits.
I love how dried tulips seem to freeze frame in ballet mode.
When you put fresh tulips in a vase of water just leave them,
when there is no longer any water let them remain as they are for another week or two or three.
Eventually, their tender petals gracefully take a pose and remain that way forever.
Well until you toss them.
They marry well together do you agree?
Older meets old.
See some of the lace and the threads around her neck where some lace must have come apart.
Nothing lasts forever except that which is left behind.
That is why ephemera is endearing to me, in its delicate fragile nature it holds an evident story.
Nothing lasts forever even the petals of flowers fade, yet they sing bravely for us.
Such is the gift of love fragile and courageous.
Steadfast and true.
Here is to taking that which we love
out of the box,
out the cupboard, out of the drawer, as well as
letting bloom that which we have buried in our hearts.
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