Walter's Art Museum

By: August Rosenthorpe

Last Saturday 

I went down to Baltimore  

On a journey beyond  

Those kissing gates   

That conceal my art’s lore 

As it fades into the mist of a misty moor 

Trapped under the wood of a wooden floor 

These gates hide the self-portrait of me 

I’ve never even seen before 

What if I could change it? 

Erase their smudge of graphite   

Somehow, I make it worse  

As the darkness spreads even more 

Covering up a great deal 

Of the painting I yearn to reveal 

I can’t help but mourn the death  

Of my incomplete sketch  

Now I’ve become nothing  

But a lonely and hollow wretch   

Are their palettes finally filled? 

No longer with dust, 

But all the scribbles of life they’ve instilled  

And all the colors of August  

They’ve slowly yet brutally killed  

What if I embrace it? 

Blend every failed attempt in life 

Into symbols of art’s medium 

Displaying only a memory of past 

To shape a future Elysium   

Like the ones I saw  

Hanging on the walls 

At Walters Art Museum  

What if I could chase it? 

Glide my splayed brush 

Across a broke, bleak canvas  

Restoring that forgotten sense  

Of vibrance and happiness  

And filling in the negative space  

They form inside of me 

Maybe then, a real artist—I could be 

A real love story they’d all see 

A real dream… “At last, I’m free” 

Like the great Raphael 

An aesthete who valued grace  

An angel of healing   

Whose art evoked jealousy 

From the man who accused him of stealing  

Thus, he’s deemed a copycat  

He’s called a thief 

Yet still, 

The skills he possessed 

Were favored by the priest  

And over time,  

It made The Divine One seethe  

Blessed were his angel wings 

Attaching themselves to excellence 

Resisting the change 

Of his artistic essence   

He worshipped The Divine One, 

Yet never showed repentance  

For there was something else  

More worthy of praise: 

Raphael’s own independence  

Sweet Raphael, please tell me 

How do I embrace  

Those who condemn  

Like in School of Athens 

Where you stood 

Among influential men 

Far from The Divine One 

Who separates himself 

From the rest of them 

He looks down 

As you look ahead, without him 

He knew all along 

That your God-given light 

Could never be dimmed 

Despair splatters on marble 

Drying up the watercolor 

He struggled to mend 

It's the reason why 

During his long and fruitful life  

He never truly had a friend 

Don’t you see, Raphael? 

You chased that human ideal  

You maintained beauty 

Through art 

And depicted a kind of love  

That was real 

Even if it was something  

Michelangelo couldn’t feel 

And I await the day  

That feeling will come 

The day I’ll paint the colors of beauty  

And let their hatred grow numb 

That day, we’ll meet again   

And we’ll both be shining  

As bright as the sun 

But for now,  

You’re just someone 

I remember fondly  

From Walters Art Museum.