Woman Pouring Water

(after a drawing by Ghirlandaio) We see that it was dashed off in a trice, without a trace of reticence or nerve. The contrapposto thigh, the shoulder’s curve, are perfect. Nothing wasted. All precise. And yet it has the power to entice, with just a hint of maidenly reserve; vitality and vigour, volatile verve, it offers us a glimpse of paradise! There’s movement in the stillness. Chimes unheard, the breeze, unseen, that’s ruffling the flounces, are ghosts in the machine: thus Vergil’s Word, the gentle kiss of gesso, makes, announces the life that’s in those folds and clefts and flourishes. The Word’s made flesh - and what it strokes, it nourishes.