It was love-at-first-sight. I’m hopelessly in love with our pair of two hundred year old tigers. They are paper thin, wrinkled, and torn in a few places, but they’re the cutest tigers on earth.
After many years of collecting, then selling some of the most beautiful and endearing pieces of man’s creations, I know better than to fall in love. In fact, I’m surprised I am attached to so few things. I buy each piece of art or furniture for David Alan Collection because it has soul, quality and beauty. I also know I am only the steward of these pieces until the next owner shows up to claim that piece. That’s my job, my life, my love.
These tigers are a rare exception. These tigers own me. I’m theirs until they let me go. I surrender to their power and charm. They were painted from a verbal description before a photograph or a realistic likeness of a tiger was ever seen by the artist. They were imbued with human traits, expressions and emotions.
For now, they are mine and I am theirs, in mutual loving bondage as they tell me fantastic tiger stories when no one else is around. After all, they are shy by nature, one man cats.
