Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:


How seriously we take our family! In this stance we are not unimpressionable, doubts leveled against us jar and offend us, but it seems unthinkable to us that they could rock our foundations (this familial gravity is quite universal. Sometimes it is more a wish or a dream, pathos or kitsch, but even this magnification and elevation cannot in any way impair its profound power). We are fond of this gravity in the same way that we are fond of our baby, it is what makes it even possible for us to love him, just as inversely it is the baby who puts us in the position, not of getting serious (when necessary) but of remaining in the state of seriousness (not having left it in the first place). And so, in the museum today, when we arrive at the painting, The Holy Family in a Wreath of Flowers and Fruit, the effect on us is almost magical. Are we dreaming this serene and gaily colored gravity, which is not being exposed to any ironic interjection, any conceited carping or supercilious mockery (as though that were the most worthwhile reason to go to a museum on a workday)? Untouched, this seriousness fills the space around us and within us, a fulfillment that is not unrelated to the proscription against touching the painting on the wall, and to the command always to maintain a certain (even if only a small) distance (though the wish to lean toward it more closely is not interdicted). (The baby in the painting does not look holy at all. He has a parrotlike face whose seriousness has slipped into distress. He is sitting in a semi-erect position on his mother’s lap and is reaching for her breast. Our baby sits up too. He raises a hand and waves at the picture. He’s waving good-bye.)





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