Up until that moment, conversations had been, while incredibly deep, immensely affecting, and almost scarily insightful, connection had merely felt only like that which one has when meeting an interesting stranger. Fascination, undeniable interest, a feeling borderlining on attraction, best described as mystification. And then he said that the image really spoke to him. Like the other sketches he'd seen for her, he showed her the pieces that were significant in nature, the numbers, the left and the right side like the brain, the strength of each side, the meanings of her halfway-intentional symbols. The brief subjectiveness of his interpretation.
But the image carried a message; the knowledge gained from the page the protagonist of the image portrayed, the reflective pool beyond him, and the obstacles of dark-sillhouetted mountains in the distance, and the heavenly glory of the Greek-appearing pillars. The universal journey of every man, which spoke to the man at her side. How could the girl feel anything more than this honor, this awe, that had increased with his words? It was a connection from artist to artist, mind to mind. She was further mystified, further amazed. Perhaps it was her human longing for appreciation, for understanding which he had given her the first time he looked upon what she thought was random doodling. And he saw her more than a psychology textbook could ever tell her; more than her closest friends, more than her mother or father or brother, or all the other family around her.
In just a few pen sketches, he had seen a piece of her soul that she had never intentionally revealed to anyone else. She did not consider those such drawings "art" until he said so, with his words taking the images apart and putting them together all in brief conversations. Her shyness originated in naive fear of judgement, where she was usually outspoken. Family was supposed to be where one could be open. The first night was difficult.
And then came the third, with the page open, with a football game or a film int he background, and here he said that her drawing spoke to him. Her drawn images were art. The words of this man originated from an incredible mind. He spoke truth at every second that he could; so his words were true of her art.
That moment spurred the other scenes from her mind. To her definitions of self, she would finally add "artist".
But the image carried a message; the knowledge gained from the page the protagonist of the image portrayed, the reflective pool beyond him, and the obstacles of dark-sillhouetted mountains in the distance, and the heavenly glory of the Greek-appearing pillars. The universal journey of every man, which spoke to the man at her side. How could the girl feel anything more than this honor, this awe, that had increased with his words? It was a connection from artist to artist, mind to mind. She was further mystified, further amazed. Perhaps it was her human longing for appreciation, for understanding which he had given her the first time he looked upon what she thought was random doodling. And he saw her more than a psychology textbook could ever tell her; more than her closest friends, more than her mother or father or brother, or all the other family around her.
In just a few pen sketches, he had seen a piece of her soul that she had never intentionally revealed to anyone else. She did not consider those such drawings "art" until he said so, with his words taking the images apart and putting them together all in brief conversations. Her shyness originated in naive fear of judgement, where she was usually outspoken. Family was supposed to be where one could be open. The first night was difficult.
And then came the third, with the page open, with a football game or a film int he background, and here he said that her drawing spoke to him. Her drawn images were art. The words of this man originated from an incredible mind. He spoke truth at every second that he could; so his words were true of her art.
That moment spurred the other scenes from her mind. To her definitions of self, she would finally add "artist".
No comments:
Post a Comment