Paintings that Mean too Much to Me

or, don't learn about life from art; or, here be monsters; or, the clockmaker died a long time ago and we can never be who we were again

I would say something about all these pieces but I really don’t have the language to describe what I feel when I look at them. Maybe someone else does.

I know nothing about paintings. I don’t even like many of them. But I feel certain ones very strongly.

The Lovers, Rene Magritte

The Red Tower, Giorgio de Chirico

Nostalgia of the Infinite, Giorgio de Chirico

The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun, William Blake

The Death of Marat, Jacques-Louis David

Burial of St Lucy, Caravaggio

Saturn Devouring His Son, Francisco Goya

Pine Trees, Hasegawa Tohaku

At World’s End #22, Hiroshi Senju

Story on the Loyalty of Uto Yasukata, Utagawa Kuniyoshi

Zdzislaw Beksinski