To Beauty

Winter:

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.
Apathy.

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.


Spring:

    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.


Now:

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.

Sincerely,
Aaron C. Molden