Love at First Sight

I will admit that my cold, feminist heart didn't believe in love at first sight. The kind of love that makes it impossible for you to pull your eyes away. The kind that haunts you. The kind that you think about in the wee hours of the morning when you are fighting sleep. The kind you find yourself talking about to complete strangers. That love that presses you to find out a name. A number. Anything.

Well, it finally happened to me. My love? This painting. I tried my best to soak it up during my visit to the High Museum of Art a month or so ago, but I couldn't get enough. I think about it all the time:
What was the pattern?
How were the symbols ordered?
What colors were the frames?
How were the frames connected?

The worst part is that I have no idea who the artist is. I thought I would remember. I should've written it down.

There it is. My Love at First Sight.