The painting by Alex Grey hangs in my family room downstairs. I bow to the two people nearly every day. It feels right to do that.
Is it two lovers? A parent and child? Best friends? I don’t know. The image goes beyond the particular to the universal. We, all of us, are meant to hold each other in such reverence.
Are the noses too close, ignoring the standards of personal space?
Does Alex showing the arteries and veins so intimately reveal bad taste? Surely things need to be well-covered, preferably with skin and clothing.
If the two people really enjoyed each other, shouldn’t they be smiling widely? All we see are gently upturned lips.
Is that the Earth and moon? What they doing there, distracting us?
If they have to hug, why don’t they do it in a normal way? No hand on top of the other’s head.
Finally, the eyes. It’s pretty uncomfortable holding the gaze like that. Right? Not so direct, please. And what’s with the line of light between? Artistic license, I guess.
What do you say, friends and neighbours?
Just about right