Friday, January 18, 2008
“Liefde Baart Kunst”
He didn’t draw just her, his love Saskia.
He sat with her, posing in the mirror, too,
because the etching would be reversed, he knew,
and the same light, shadows, was his idea.
Or, rather, truth—one thing, and res omnia—
was his idea. Her, true. And their love, true.
Starting from perfection was all he could do.
The perfection of being with Saskia.
“Love brings forth art”—the Dutch took it for granted.
Centuries later his art makes the case plain.
Has anyone drawn, conceived, more from the heart?
People who don’t, won’t, love create things slanted
in the direction of craft, of now, of pain.
Art leans toward, through, forever. “Love brings forth art.”