The Disciple

(In memory of Claude Monet)

Oil on canvas

120 x 90cm, 2023

When the meal was over, we left. As my two friends were walking together, Wilde took me aside:

     “ You listen with your eyes,” he said to me rather abruptly. “That’s why I’m going to tell you this story: When Narcissus died, the flowers of the field asked the river for some drops of water to weep for him. ‘Oh!’ Answered the river, if all my drops of water were tears, I should not have enough to weep for Narcissus myself. I loved him!’ ‘Oh!’ Replied the flowers of the field, ‘how could you not have loved Narcissus? He was beautiful.’ ‘Was he beautiful?’ said the river. ‘And who could know better than you? Each day, leaning over your bank, he beheld his beauty in your water…’”

Wilde paused for a moment…

     “‘If I loved him,’ replied the river, ‘it was because, when he leaned over my water, I saw the reflection of my waters in his eyes.’”

Then Wilde, swelling up with a strange burst of laughter, added, “That’s called The Disciple.”

We had arrived at his door and left him. He invited me to see him again. That year and the following year I saw him often and everywhere.

— André Gide, Oscar Wilde: Reminiscences