I was remembering...

He had a table in his front sitting room, he had had it made,,, thick glass over trays of bags of pigment, the hottest pinks of india, and all the other colors that make that pink look its best.

We would hold one up for him to look at, the heaviest drawings I'd ever touched, real existing paper and paint. "What should I call it?" he would ask us, ,,we never answered, just waited to hear what he would come up with.

Something about love. he would say, it's about the things moving, being said, between the figures. Mother and child, "Mama and bebe" he would name it, remnants of French, love in many languages.





Image from laliberteprints.com.