matisse's goldfish (1912)
it was the summer of 1994, i was leaving russia alone after studying there for a semester. i had a few days in moscow and spent one of the them wandering the halls of the fantastic pushkin museum, where this wonderful painting hangs in a wonderful, large room that's full of other matisse paintings. strangely, i found myself alone in the room, standing there before the wonder that is the dance. i turned around and across from me, there it was, goldfish.
i approached slowly, savoring the moment and savoring the fact that i had it all to myself, even the mean old guard lady who usually sits on a stiff chair in the corner was elsewhere. i could scarcely breathe. i got closer and closer to the vibrant colors. and then, there i was, standing close enough to touch it. i could actually touch it, there was no glass, just the thick layers of paint that matisse himself laid on the canvas. and no one there to stop me.
so, i did it. i touched it, gently and just with my index and middle finger of my left hand. right there in the leaves near the pink flower of the lower right corner. i felt a nearly electrical thrill pass through me and i felt transformed, even if just for a moment. i had literally touched greatness. and i didn't get caught.
