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Pastimes : La Galleria -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Snowshoe who wrote (28)	8/19/2001 6:43:09 PM
From: Carolyn	Respond to of 268

The Annunciation by Sandro Botticelli Uffizi Gallery, Florence televisual.net

To: Snowshoe who wrote (28)	8/22/2001 12:42:22 PM
From: Biomaven	Respond to of 268

Here's a better view of the Vermeer: ibiblio.org This has to be one of my favorite pictures. I had the good fortune to see it on a recent trip to the Netherlands. The Mauritshuis is a wonderful little non-crowded museum in The Hague. It also has Vermeer's "View of Delft." (I also saw the Vermeer exhibit currently in London - fantastic pictures, but huge crowds). Peter

To: Snowshoe who wrote (28)	1/6/2002 2:25:42 PM
From: SusieQ1065	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 268

Like stepping into a Vermeer painting... what a delicious little novelette....i've just finished it... "You must wear the other one as well," he declared, picking up the second earring and holding it out to me. For a moment I could not speak. I wanted him to think of me, not of the painting. "Why?" I finally answered. "It can't be seen in the painting." "You must wear both," he insisted. "It is a farce to wear only one." "But-my other ear is not pierced," I faltered. "Then you must tend to it." He continued to hold it out. I reached over and took it. I did it for him. I got out my needle and clove oil and pierced my other ear. I did not cry, or faint, or make a sound. Then I sat all morning and he painted the earring he could see, and I felt, stinging like fire in my other ear, the pearl he could not see. The clothes soaking in the kitchen went cold, the water grey. Tanneke clattered in the kitchen, the girls shouted outside, and we behind our closed door sat and looked at each other. And he painted. When at last he set down his brush and palette, I did not change position, though my eyes ached from looking sideways. I did not want to move. "It is done," he said his voice muffled. He turned away and began wiping his palette knife with a rag. I gazed at the knife-it had white paint on it. "Take off the earrings and give them back to Maria Thins when you go down," he added. I began to cry silently. Without looking at him, I got up and went into the storeroom, where I removed the blue and yellow cloth from my head. I waited for a moment, my hair out over my shoulders, but he did not come. Now that the painting was finished he no longer wanted me. I looked at myself in the little mirror, and then I removed the earrings. Both holes in my lobes were bleeding. I blotted them with a bit of cloth, then tied up my hair and covered it and my ears with my cap, leaving the tips to dangle below my chin. When I came out again he was gone. He had left the studio door open for me. For a moment I thought about looking at the painting to see what he had done, to see it finished, the earring in place. I decided to wait until night, when I could study it without worrying that someone might come in. I crossed the studio and shut the door behind me. I always regretted that decision. I never got to have a proper look at the finished painting. ~Tracy Chevalier, excerpt from Girl with a Pearl Earring, the Novel.