On a trip to Vienna as a young man. I walked into its huge art museum, the Kunsthistorisches, not having a clue. I knew next to nothing about art. When I walked into one of the galleries, I was met by a series of paintings of a girl. A girl in huge, widely-spread dresses. The dresses looked like they must have taken years to make. And probably a day to get into. But they were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, these dresses. The face of the girl who wore them wanted to talk to me. Who was this painter?
Just imagining how long it took to dress the poor child in her gorgeous outfit. And how she was trained to obedience, patience, succumbing to the will of others. And how sumptuously Velazquez recreates the fall of those fabrics. But what is she holding in her left hand?
She's got her father's face.
Just imagining how long it took to dress the poor child in her gorgeous outfit. And how she was trained to obedience, patience, succumbing to the will of others. And how sumptuously Velazquez recreates the fall of those fabrics. But what is she holding in her left hand?