About a year ago, someone commented on one of my instagram pictures, and again. Then someone else said this. I had never heard of Morandi, and after a little googling I thought wow, thats boring, why this clumsy composition. Almost offended, ha. But over the months the works of this man got to me, as if there had been planted a seed that was growing. The light on common objects, the arrangement of things, yes.
So I googled again, and noticed people have written articles about whats been lingering in my head: As he watched light move on surfaces, tracing curves and indentations, he seemed to understand the inner life of objects. ‘The inner life of objects’, thats very nicely spoken. The jugs and stuff on his paintings indeed look alive. Modest, punished, shy, pretty, quiet or awkward. Awkward, thats the feeling I’m connecting with, I guess. After further reading of the mentioned article I came across this: As Thiebaud observes: Morandi suggests we are all single in this world, hoping for independent repose.
Exactly. And with that comes the feeling: I’m not alone.