I sit in a mood of reverie.
I brought to Art desires and sensations:
faces or lines, certain indistinct memories
of unfulfilled love affairs. Let me submit to Art:
Art knows how to shape forms of Beauty,
almost imperceptibly completing life,
blending impressions, blending day with day
C.P. Cavafy, I brought to art. Collected Poems.
Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Edited by George Savidis. Revised Edition. Princeton University Press, 1992
He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now
he studies it in detail. He has painted him in a
grey unbuttoned coat, a deep gray; without
any vest or any tie. With a rose-colored shirt;
open at the collar, so something might be seen
also of the beauty of his chest, of his neck.
The right temple is almost entirely
by his hair, his beautiful hair
(parted in the manner he prefers it this year).
There is the completely voluptuous tone
he wanted to put into it when he was doing the eyes,
when he was doing the lips…. His mouth, the lips
that are made for consummation, for choice love-making.
Constantine P Cavafy, 1863 – 1933
Picture Of A 23-Year-Old Youth Painted By His Friend Of The Same Age, An Amateur