I am tickled pink by religious kitsch, and my beloved knows it well. This morning I got a postcard from her showing a youthful Jesus kneeling on a grassy knoll in front of some improbably broken rocks and staring dreamily upwards. Actually, he is not kneeling. His left knee is raised awkwardly, but his right leg is straight and very short. He must be an invalid. His arms are thrust forward and his palms are open to the sky. His scrawny hands are very like an ape’s, their short thumbs attached to the thinnest of wrists. Red-haired and bearded, he wears a flabby white robe, over which a thick, red rag is draped implausibly, as though it is made out of lumpy dough. There is a fuzzy ray of light coming toward him from an overcast sky, over which “Happy Easter” is written in Croatian. And in gold lettering. A couple of tipsy trees with tiny leaves are shown in the background. The painting is so hopeless that I cannot tear my eyes from it. It is easily the worst painting I have ever seen. And it certainly is the one that I have studied the most meticulously. In fact, it has been propped up in front of me on the dining-room table ever since I collected this morning’s mail. Who says religious kitsch is not effective?!

Addendum (April 12, 2008)

I was wondering for quite a while who from my mailing list should get the “Happy Easter” postcard. In the end, the winner is Ivan Jakovčić, the governor of Istria. This was my beloved’s suggestion, too. On the back of it I pasted the last piece I wrote today, “Real Estate” (April 12, 2008). It covers my beloved’s original message: “I love you.” Together with the bungling religious kitsch, my tangled piece will only add to the governor’s bafflement. And he deserves loads of it, to be sure.