Thursday, January 17, 2013

To Beauty


Most of this winter has been gray.
Everything is gray and I remain fascinated.
I am fascinated, but I do not find it beautiful.
I know what is beautiful because I have seen many paintings.

I have seen many paintings of landscapes.
I have not liked very many landscape paintings.
It is not the same as seeing that landscape
with your own eyes.

This is true to me and I believe many people would disagree.
They have every right to disagree with me,
but I know that they are still wrong.
It is not the same as seeing that landscape
with one's own eyes.

This is why I do not draw landscapes.
I know they are beautiful because I have been there.
I know that anything I would draw
would not be the same as seeing it
with one's own eyes.

I know that I dwell on ugly things.
I look around at everything I have painted,
drawn, glued, smeared on cardboard,
and admit that I dwell on ugly things.
I dwell on them because where some express disgust,
I only feel and occasionally express indifference.

A confession: I am proud of myself for my empathy.
I do not know why, but I have thought about it.
A lot. Jesus. A lot.

When I see something ugly and feel nothing,
I soon ask myself why? Why not empathy?
Then I start to draw.
I become intellectually fascinated.

Everything is gray and I am still fascinated.
I am fascinated but I do not find it beautiful.
I do not want to fall into darkness again.
I need something beautiful to dwell on.


    Do you remember how you felt when you looked upon that calm and reflecting silver blue mountain lake for the first time?
    I hiked two hours through delightful mountain landscapes while sunshine and rain engaged in a tug of war battle above me. I had a goofy smile upon my face the whole time. A big goofy simpleton drenched in mountain rain wearing a silly smile and inappropriate shoes. When I saw that calm and reflecting silver blue mountain lake, I instantly knew it had all been worth it.

I had the feeling that I am assuming you have also felt.
I have not felt that way for a very long time.
When I saw you, I felt that feeling.
Every time I see you I feel that feeling.
I feel the same way I felt sitting at the edge
of that silver blue mountain lake.

I feel that in a person instead of a landscape.
I have always enjoyed drawing people.
Drawing limbs. Drawing hands. Drawing eyes.
Necks are difficult.
Feet are troublesome because I am always assuming
they are actually hands.
I keep telling myself I am drawing toes, not fingers,
but some dumb thing in my head and hand
keeps telling me that no, I am wrong,
those really are hands. It is frankly, obnoxious.


This was suppose to be much shorter than it is now.
Things keep coming up.
My mind processes things in an odd way.
I have to purge a lot of nonsense
before I can get to the point.
The point is...

Ah! I think I forgot what the point is.
I can not think of what the point is,
but I feel it every time I see your face.
That feeling can be startling
when one is not expecting it.

Aaron C. Molden

No comments:

Post a Comment