Sit in beauty

I am reaching out my hand; Opening up my hand, and tiny-teeny-childlike fingers reaching into the world for someone-something-anyone-anything. Reaching for everything to touch. People, women like me--naturally go on the outside of themselves for questions, answers, artistry--Something beautiful. Something of beauty of which to look at--Something of beauty to hear with hearing, ears. Maybe this is how, We know we are alive? I know people who cling, greedily and hold on tightly--As to squeeze the life out of that which, One can't let go of. That which is beautiful, breathing beauty into a world which can seem endlessly grey. I went to an art show today. A friend had a few pieces in the exhibit. I am not much of an artist. I can't draw to save my life....Not like I want to draw--Anyway. Like, one could just be good, because they want to be good? Practice, practice, practice. I know there are probably people born and possessing a gift to draw. To write, to play music. A gift which probably makes it look effortless to do. I don't make any art with my hands. At all. I feel horribly awfully terribly clumsy when I try. I love to look at art--And my favorite are the worlds favorites--Van Gogh, Monet....Da Vinci, Rembrandt, Renoir...Greatest artists ever. I could not ever be good like these artists were good, masterpiece, wonderous, heavenlike....So, I am just an appreciater--Just a looker--atter of art. I know immediately when I like a piece. I've learned to develop a vocabulary of the whos, whys and whats about something I like. More for myself than anything. Since, I am in a discovering phase of living--I thought to myself, Instead of looking at the beautiful art I like, adore and would probably even buy. I chose to look at the pieces I didn't like, And describe why I didn't like those pieces. Because it is easy to look at what makes you feel good--It is easy to appreciate art which is in agreement with you. It is easy to choose to sit in beauty. Why not ask the hard questions. Why not do the hard work? Why not take on the tough questions--For one ownself...I might learn something, about myself. Why not remember the art you don't like. So, as uncomfortable as it was to look at something I didn't like to look at--I looked at it intently. One of the reasons I didn't like this one piece in particular is because there was no mystery to the art. It was obvious to me. The artist was more interested in being heard--and using this so called 'art' as a vehicle to say what they wanted to say. It looked like, there was no feeling, and true to heart creation in the art. I was bored by the piece. It was some clippings from a magazine glued to something, and little swoops here and there--to make it look a little bit artsy. No imagination, none of their own sweat blood and tears in the art. The reason I didn't like it had more to do with the mediums and media used to create it--And, because it was a cliche....And unimaginative, obvious and cheap to me...So after the ugliness of having to look at the art to maybe even try to force myself to like it--I moved on down the exhibit to look at yet, another piece I didn't like...To describe why I didn't like it, to myself. Because who better than, I, could tell myself the whys of not liking it? To my amazement, this art which I didn't like right away---As I stood there to look at every piece and part and detail of it---I began to like it, little by little the discomfort of looking at this piece grew warm...On me. This art was odd to me, not because it was not good---Not because it was ugly---It just was not my style. This was 'Art' the artist took time, to create and put in details only they had thought of--And, every stroke of the paint brush was deliberate. I felt like I knew the artist...From the tiny details, of the feet under water...the ladies of the sea...of the tree....the fish in the water...even had little scales, flamboyant tails....colored, created, painted. I walked away having appreciated this art and artist....Maybe even liking the piece, now. What kind of person can draw? What kind of person can paint? And back to the art work I liked--I went back to look at and apprciate the 'Chosen pieces' even more. Because, I asked the hard questions. I did the hard work, went into the uncomfortableness of living....So, did the art that I liked right away--Was it really good art? Was it really, truly beautiful. And, if it was still beautiful to me, Did I really like it? All of it? What kind of person looks at art and doesn't become a part of that which they see? What kind of person looks intently, deeply, appreciating-ly (Or maybe even NOT SO) from the other side of the created art--What does a person think, feel and know from this art? Can a person know an artist from having looked at the created art---Or artistry? I am thinking about this; Because, I am thinking about the people who have been a part of my life. I am thinking of the people I will leave. Leave to not ever go back to. Not ever return to. It is over with. They were pieces of art created by the Only artist. The artist who is time...Who is love and light and can not ever, Create an art no one person--Can't-Not like. I was an art created to be by those people too. Now, pick up my frame, the work undone and overdone on me, my life and own portrait--Will move along. Did they appreciate me, As I did them? Did they like or dislike me, As I did them? Was there an intent, deep and deliberate 'opening' of the eyes--looking at the art, Look? Do not take beauty, art, mystery for granted. When beauty presents itself to you--Let it be beautiful...If there is nothing beautiful in something--Than, why isn't it, beautiful to you? Because, it is beautiful to someone else--maybe it is beautiful? Maybe this is living. Maybe this is life after all. Maybe there are no hard questions. Perhaps there is no hard work. Maybe I was not created to, Create. To paint, to draw, to affect the world in beauty...Leaving behind something grand, and deep, profound, deliberate, lights and living....Art created...from a beautiful place...To make a beautiful place? I want to draw, Man I want to learn to draw. To be a good artist--Someone might like and appreciate. Not because I have to be loved, or wanted or even appreciated--But, man I wish I could create something, too.

.......I know I've got a pencil and some paper around this place, somewhere. I know I've got ideas in my head. I know if it is all stick people...and, art with no depth or life or shading and texture and all...There could be someone out there in the world of us looker-atters...appreciaters who would look at it...And maybe grow to like it...this art work I just absolutely-positively-completely must do now....Pencil, paper, idea...Pencil, paper, idea.....spackles...