A Common Thread (54)

I am not sure if this is a common trait among people. When I complete a long and satisfying project, I need time away. Time away from an easel after I sign a painting. Time away from the kitchen after cooking all day. Time away from the computer screen after a design or an essay is complete, even though that is my favorite activity of late. I will not look to step away for long if the project is not finished to my satisfaction. The challenge to get it perfect will lure me back again and again. Then I want to get away.

I always need time away from people after company leaves. I wonder how common that is.

Murray the painting is coming along slowly. I drew him on the canvas and the drawing sat idle for days. I painted a lovely background and that sat for days. I painted the shadows of his face and body with his adorable paws crossed in front of him and that sat for days. It was like each step was a monumental achievement and I needed to step away and take a break. I miss the adrenaline rush I had two months ago, propelling me through every activity to completion. Perhaps I am finally finding my retired old lady pace. What am I in a rush for, really? I do hope I receive a paying commission for a pet portrait soon, but until then, there is no rush to get Murray up on my wall. He follows me about the house during the day and sleeps curled up against my body every night. He is already King of the Manor in real life. Perhaps I just work better under a deadline. I bet that is a common thread defining many people.

I was very impressed with Vicki's Instagram post this morning. I hope she takes my comment as a compliment because I wrote it in the highest regard. Her black and white photograph of a lady cooling off at the beach could easily have been taken and developed by my father. The authentic character of this woman captured in Vicki's lens is remarkable. Perhaps because it is in black and white, there is a harsh reality to her body as she stands with her feet in the water, in a scant bikini, under a sun hat with hair peeking out of the top. It is rude to stare at people. Photographers, such as my father and Vicki, make it possible to stare at many different people in the name of art. It may only have taken a second for the shutter to open and capture that image, but Vicki's Instagram followers were gifted with lots of time to stare and reflect. As a teenager, I went to a museum with my parents to see the white plaster people by George Segal. I remember the moment I realized that they must have been cast on real folks since they were not only perfect in detail but actual in size. You could sit on the bench next to a sculpture as if you were sitting next to a real person. You could go right up to the face of a sculpture and feel how uncomfortable it is to disregard the polite distance we all know to keep between others. While I don't usually search out deeper meanings in my museum visits other than how the art personally affects me or whether or not it inspires me to go home and create my own art, George Segal's plaster people made me consider the human condition. Are we all born with the social awareness to keep our distance or to not to stare at others? Let's hope that is a common thread that runs through most people. George Segal made an artist statement about human nature with plaster humans. And Vicki's camera may have been rude for a split second but she gave us a generous window of time to reflect on life. That is art.