By Anna Garthwaite | Posted: Monday June 6, 2016
By Michael Crosson
Message from the Artist
So delicate, yet so strong. You would think that too if you saw it.
Standing out against the world, isolated in its beauty.
So natural, so perfect, if you moved just one bit, it would stand out like a black stain on a silk cloth.
The folds, so random but at the same time perfect, outlining its dignity as it stands up in a pot unworthy for this cargo.
The colour seems to absorb the sunlight but instead of holding it in, it is like a mirror.
Its fragile petals radiating golden sparkles, putting a bright spot in the room.
The stem, supporting the royal crown, bends and wavers under its royal weight.
However, it does so with an integrity found only in kings or queens you would read about in faraway lands,
but this beautiful plant has a crown that surpasses all kings and queens that have been and will be to come, here or in other worlds.
You can smell the presence of the living thing, emitting an aroma that spells out power yet kindness, strong will yet meekness.
The smell consumes the room, but does so indiscreetly, in the background, some would say.
Such things like these should be preserved, not put on show, yet at the same time, this flower, even while put on display, dominates this small space. Even when it is being used, it does so on its terms. This is true strength.
The person who chose to use this beautiful piece of artistry from an unknown artist for itself has failed. This flower has drawn attention to itself in a subtle, understated way, proclaiming its unknown artist, glorifying his work.
It brings a light to the dour room, creating a black hole of beauty that sucks in all light and uses it to bring a new perspective to this little attic. Even the sun seems pale in comparison to this wonderment of nature.
Human creations seem to fight for recognition, but fail miserably. Empty vases, with no meaning, stand guard to nothing but their selfish vanity, while dull, cobweb-encrusted paintings leans against the wall as if needing support after seeing the majestic plant that stands proud and tall in the centre of this frightfully inadequate stage. This flower is out of this world.
How could something so perfect come from a war ripped, sadness filled hole that we live in? This beauty has a depth of sadness to it, as if seeing all the tragedy going on and mourning for those who have worn the brunt of it. It does not rejoice that it is outstandingly stunning, instead it feels the pain that real people are feeling in faraway places.
It is a messenger to the world, sent by some unknown postage service. The person who wrote it is also sharing the pain other families feel. The message reads, ‘You may mock me, imitate my works, twist them to suit your purposes, but you will never create something like them. You have fallen short of what you can be. You fight and tear up things you have built. Why?
However, I witness and feel your pain, and all I say to you is this.
Stop fighting. Put down your weapons and make peace instead of war. Grow instead of reap. Build instead of destroy. Love instead of hate.