Keep Your Treasures and I'll Keep Mine

Our treasures: the common, the rare, the kept behind closed doors, or open for the world to see. When we think of our treasures, most of us can think of one or several. Sometimes, when we look at it or them, when the world zeroes in and it is only you and I, or them and me, they might as well hold a truth that must be, believer or not, divine-given.

This is my favorite piece from Karl Gussow (1843 - 1907), a German realist painter and professor known for using designed brushes that enabled him to try and get as real(ist) as possible with his paintings. The Gussow-Pinsel is a painting brush that has a flat, rectangular shape and short, dense bristles. In addition to the brush, according to Kunkelfineart, he used a technique that involves the "use of transparent glazes placed in juxtaposition to areas of impasto" ("Carl Gussow," Kunkelfineart, kunkelfineart.de).

Impasto or "mixture" in English is a painting technique where paint is thickly put on the canvas or surface one is painting on so that the brushstrokes are visible—think Van Gogh if you need to visualize how it looks.

If you look through his artwork you can see personality and moments of human life that are captured still and forever alive.

The painting "Portrait of a Scholar" above exhibits realism, I think, through the pinks and reds in his nose and eyes. The beard displays the brush strokes used to shape it—not entirely realistic, but combined with the colors in the face and the facial expression conveying an inquisitive nature, and even the positioning of the body, turned away from the viewer, hinting at an introverted personality, nearly complete the story of who this man might have been. His treasure, in pure speculation, would probably be his journal filled with his thoughts and ideas.

Honesty, I like the portrait above because it reminds me of me. All day. Everyday. And I am sure, when this man woke up, he wasn't fully aware of the red mark that stained his cheek for a little while. I also hope that someone told him where his glasses were upon waking.

The treasure could have been just this. A nap found in a moment of quiet.

A moment can tell us the beginning or middle or end of a story. In the painting above, we are presented with three significant features: the old man with a cane, dressed entirely in black; the wreath he holds, adorned with white flowers and a white bow; and the environment, the flower shop where the purchase was made and the person who likely created the wreath. It doesn't take much for us to weave a narrative or to wonder if his treasure is the one receiving the wreath.

And that moment is also present in the painting "Old Man's Treasure". So, let's go back and take a closer look.

You can feel the plumpness of the fingers of the woman in the yellow headscarf—fingers attached to a hand that works, cleans, and cooks. Notice the rips and tears in clothes that may have been stitched and fixed over and over again throughout the years—hand-me-downs from generations of farmers and shepherds or handmade from cloth bought cheaply, found, or salvaged from far-gone fabrics. There is no richness in monetary means.

As the older gentleman, with dirt under his nails, gazes down at the tiny creature in his hands, a subtle scratch marks the interaction (lovely little detail that can be missed). Yet, despite this, his face radiates with sincerity. In his grasp, he holds not just a creature, but a newfound friend, companion, and source of love—his treasure.

In a world where pretty surroundings and happy feelings may be scarce, our treasures serve as beacons of hope, solace, purpose or, at least, a smile twitching the corners of our lips.