Tree of Knowledge, No. 7B

I was supposed to be looking closely at the
paintings. How the rainbow-colored trunk looked

like a train track. How af Klint made these eight
Tree of Knowledge paintings in 1913, after

four years of not working, after 193 Paintings for
the Temple. How the rainbow track was different

on each side, how the right track had small
dots of white paint on it. Above the track,

a naked man bowing down to a child and woman.
All I could think about was the uselessness of

hope. I always assumed the trees knew everything,
but af Klint knew they are of knowledge.

To be of something means to write oneself out of
the frame. All this time, I thought we were the

object and the source. But we are neither, just of
life. By the time I made it to the second

painting, all the others were blank, except the
one in front of me. Nothing ahead, nothing

behind. I looked and wanted nothing, nothing
wanted me. The painting became a tunnel

through the wall. My new eyes could only see
a few feet in. I could see things moving beyond

that, but not what was moving. I wasn’t yet
ready to crawl in. To enter the tunnel, I had to

bring my eyes in, but leave my hunger behind.
I wasn’t yet sure how to leave my hunger behind.