I have long accepted that I am artistically challenged, in the sense that visual arts have no effect on me. Rather than taking that issue on by direct frontal attack, I prefer an indirect, flanking movement. That is, it seems preferable to stretch the definition of what "art" is.
The other day, my dog and I were bicycling by the Rocks. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a dog and a half dozen small children frolicking on the rocks. Talk about the indirect approach! There is a lot to be said for catching things on the edge of your vision.
Something about it fired my imagination. It made me turn in to the campsite and give the parents a compliment. Then the magic moment fizzled: the campers didn't know I was the host, and they thought I was intruding. The dog was said to be unfriendly. Then there was an awkward silence. I looked for a face-saving way out of this embarrassing situation.
In an ordinary folding chair around the campfire, sat an ordinary camper -- a mother and dog-owner. But her reaction saved the day. I imagined her to be an artist at a booth at a summer-time art festival in Colorado. She was delighted to see that her art had caused a spurt of enthusiasm in a passerby, so she enjoyed talking to this passerby.
She seemed to appreciate my appreciation. Quickly the embarrassment wore off.
Let's hope this experience doesn't cause me to cold-heartedly ignore nice things and to avoid taking a chance with people.
The other day, my dog and I were bicycling by the Rocks. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a dog and a half dozen small children frolicking on the rocks. Talk about the indirect approach! There is a lot to be said for catching things on the edge of your vision.
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| Photo taken a couple years ago at a festival in Silver City, NM. I guess readers don't expect photos taken on the same day and at the same place as the written post. I look for photos (and why do they need to mine?) that are visual representations of the ideas I am writing about. I am not trying to document the Here and the Now. |
Something about it fired my imagination. It made me turn in to the campsite and give the parents a compliment. Then the magic moment fizzled: the campers didn't know I was the host, and they thought I was intruding. The dog was said to be unfriendly. Then there was an awkward silence. I looked for a face-saving way out of this embarrassing situation.
In an ordinary folding chair around the campfire, sat an ordinary camper -- a mother and dog-owner. But her reaction saved the day. I imagined her to be an artist at a booth at a summer-time art festival in Colorado. She was delighted to see that her art had caused a spurt of enthusiasm in a passerby, so she enjoyed talking to this passerby.
She seemed to appreciate my appreciation. Quickly the embarrassment wore off.
Let's hope this experience doesn't cause me to cold-heartedly ignore nice things and to avoid taking a chance with people.
Comments
Sounds like they were initially confused. Happens to me about 5 times a day. People always appreciate a compliment once they realize it is truly sincere. Lots of jerks out there. We're all initially suspicious nowadays.
George
I think you're right. I live in a city but am country and open space at heart. Cities are crazy....stress, hurry, rage, lack of even looking at another person; people with head phones in their own world crossing the street without even looking. Cement, concrete, wires, metal, etc. I think cities MAKE people neurotic. It's OK for me though. I read most of the day (and so the whole world is my oasis) and stay away from everyone else. I'm the neighborhood old hermit and my neighbors tell me they worry if I'm still alive in here or not.
LOL. George