Here I am, avoiding another
task. I have to critique another’s
writings for class tomorrow. And I don’t
want to. I must, but not at this
moment. I have finished one critique and
it was tedious labor of I don’t know what.
I’m not a published author, want to be though and understand my membership
in this informal “Meet up” social group requires that I give and take helpful
pre-publishing advice from total strangers.
Purpose of joining is to
expand; socially and professionally.
It’s been too long sitting on the fence of what to do next.
So while I am avoiding my
promises, I hopped on the internet and searched framed art for sale. It’s a totally cheap, neatly arranged package
of endless inspiration. Don’t even have
to change out of my moose slippers to view the world’s contributions. My current address limits my ability to
physically travel to galleries and museums within a reasonable day’s driving
distance. How fantastic to be able to
point and click. Even the few local
collections can be visited 24/7 from my computer screen. Occasionally, I still tune in to see what
television programs offer when needing a more personal or guided tour of
exhibits. Haven’t gone so far as to rent
a DVD though, but just might.
I remember “Kodak Presents”
travel presentations…went with my grandmother.
Always held at the university’s auditorium, they were an annual
highlight for us.
She always planned
excursions. Loving all things
educational, she perused the newspaper, clipping out advertisements and making
lists of upcoming events. If the subject matter was appropriate for a preteen,
she’d extend an invitation. Now, her definition
of appropriate might have been questioned, because one time, we ended up in the
campus theatre watching an Italian foreign film about the Crucifixion.
Thankfully, there were subtitles and I read most of them when not hiding my
eyes.
So, growing up I had
unlimited opportunities to see what’s out there and I am thankful that those
memories keep me in constant forward motion in the hopes of continuing my
informal education. Daughter of an
educator who married an artist and said artist had an interest in Chinese
history, I had no chance of missed opportunities. It was almost normal for our home to be
filled with interesting people who had been to interesting places.
Art, in my opinion, is
present always. It’s in the deliberate
design of slippers at bedside. It’s in
the positioning of the toothpaste on the brush.
It’s in the collage of dogs within the border of the rug at fireplace’s
edge. I’m surrounded by it. It is my joy.
The natural world is a gift of art from a higher power. The manufactured and intentional art is a
gift of that same higher power. I am lost and unfulfilled without it.
In my home, I have
inspiration drawers and closets and once empty spaces between cabinets on the
floor. All projects for someday. It’s a modest collection and I’m not going to
expand its size beyond my estimated life span. No one else, here to named in my
Last Will and Testament, will ever be able to understand my reasons for keeping
the varied collections. So I promise to
complete them as soon as I can figure out why I bought them in the first place.
This brings you to the point
of my story…a small collection (maybe 7; always odd number) of keys. One of them is a working skeleton key (to
someone else’s door),
some are from the charm and
jewelry section of a local art and craft store and the rest are from the only
designated junk drawer in my house, so they’re definitely mine. The collection has been carefully chosen for
a framed shadow box. I changed my
mind…the collection has been carefully chosen for a painting of a framed shadow
box, I think.
All the keys are together in
a zip lock bag in a drawer of my desk. So now I need a background for the
grouping. My current choices are:
newspaper, a page from Merriam Webster, fabric, painted canvas, sketch, photograph,
stained glass, wood,
decoupage, dried flower
arrangement and any and all borrowed inspirations from the recent internet
search. Well, now that I think of it, maybe the arrangement of the keys will
dictate which background to use.
I can’t go forward in my
creativity. I’m stuck with my current
train of thought; which is why “keys”? What is the significance? It must be a
pertinent and deliberate answer to my ongoing search for purpose.
Keys are tools. They’re no
use on their own they must be paired with locks. So the mystery evolves. Why locks? Subconsciously, I may be
repressing something. I generally do not lock anything; not my house, not my
car, not the cabinet where I hide the M and M’s. I don’t want to delay access by
unlocking. Now, if I were to be
responsible for something of yours, which you normally lock, I would comply. My
life, however, is no secret - hence no need to keep you out. My things are just
that and if they disappear, the memory of ownership will suffice. I have no use
for delegation to future generations, if their respective memories want to include
things I had, so be it.
Keys are also an explanatory
list of the symbols on a map or chart.
Ok then,
now I am a map; road, world,
atlas, bike path or trail? The endless combinations here are sufficient to
entangle the left (logical) side of my brain.
Another definition is
something that allows someone to achieve a desired goal. This would include the
intangible variety of keys. Education comes to mind or perhaps
invention; maybe sheer dumb
luck. Goals at any age are a good reason to get up in the morning. Short term
(more appropriate for the over fifty crowd) and long term are the choices. Let’s
see, my short term goals include creative expression. In my bucket or (on my bucket list) are a
gallery showing of my paintings, complete memorization of any Rachmaninoff
composition, learning flower designing and/or interior design ( to the point of
earning potential) and inviting old hippies to share nirvana with me. Long term?
None at present. My comfort zone
is in the here and now.
So let’s go back to just keys
and locks. But then again, there are
endless kinds and sizes of locks; doors (interior, exterior, jail cell, root
cellar, and car) and padlocks (big and tiny), ones to gain entry to diaries, windows, lockboxes, munitions lockers, guided-missile silos…Oh my g…..
I don’t think I really know why “keys”.
I think I’ll let the artist within struggle with the bigger picture or
let you see the finished project and pass the responsibility of interpretation
on to you. In the meantime, I’ve got
details to contend with and no time to consider my choice of the subject matter.
The elements of design within the art form will reflect who I am creatively.
Spirit has delivered the following message: “You a creative soul. Take
your gift and let it shine. Share joy….for
it is the key to your divinity”.
Ah, now I understand.
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