April Awakening: Day One 🌧️☁️
I wasn’t having the greatest Monday in the world. Maybe I’m a little bummed at the bad weather. Maybe I’m upset that I can’t smoke for thirty days. Maybe I’m sad that I have to work and I can’t just be hanging out in my hometown. I can look for reasons all day. Or I can just take the importance as it happens my way.
Earlier, I took my ten minutes outside on this cold, overcast April day, not looking for anything in particular, but feeling jealous at a girl walking by smoking a fat joint. I sighed and put my hands into my newly-gifted Friday the Thirteenth-themed sweatshirt and kept looking around, noticing the church nearby had some kind of public art gallery viewing. Today was the second-to-last day it was available, so I took a little walk and viewed it. It was a scant collection of pieces related to the seven deadly sins. It was actually kind of neat how this little New York moment was so close by to where I was, and it didn’t feel like an act of divine intervention brought me there.
The exhibit was interesting. The pieces were supposed to highlight the contrast between the sins and the virtues, and I guess for the most part that’s what they did. But I’ll be honest, I can’t really tell when I look at art. I just see a bunch of stuff that I didn’t think up. I was respectful; I read each blurb next to each piece to get into the artist’s head a little. But I just couldn’t see what they were trying to portray. There was one that was supposed to signify a butterfly’s journey from caterpillar to cocoon to final product. But I just saw one big orange splotch on the canvas. I squinted, trying to gather something from the brush strokes, but nothing noteworthy was coming.
While the word “pretentious” did cross my mind a few times, something else did too. Is what physical artists do so much different than what I do here? I’m constantly on the search for meaning. I just do it with words, not a canvas. At least these artists have a physical representation of their art. I just have a bunch of words I hope make sense when it comes down to it.
I’m wondering if it’s just a fruitless practice to pretend like everything is significant when sometimes things just are what they are. There isn’t any hidden meaning. Nothing earth-shaking led’ me to the church today, just the promise of going outside. No cues guided me, no meaning came of it. Whatever intention the artists had, they can only hope you see it if you choose to. I’d rather choose my own meaning for things instead of relying on what’s out there to point me in the evidentiary direction.
Hopefully this revelation is a good sign of things to come either way. Especially after receiving art that was made just for me.
One Comment