...reflections...

Tonight Andy and I were fortunate enough to make it to the Art Museum for First Fridays where we saw a giant blank sheet of cream paper displayed as art. Andy chuckled, incredulous.

Many people view art with an “I don't get it” attitude. Being completely honest, there have been numerous times when I've looked at a work of art and tilted my head from side to side like a confused dog. I find that to be one of the most fascinating aspects of art. Even while the artist is creating it, he has no control over how the viewer will receive it. It is an interactive process in which both the artist and viewer are integral players. And while I may not understand it, I feel compelled to participate.

One day, I went to an art opening for an acquaintance in an attempt to be supportive. His style at that time was to create these beautiful and intricate landscapes using just a few lines. His pen would not leave the page until the picture was completely finished. I remember gazing at all these giant pieces and feeling amazed at how everything had this sense of connectedness because it was, in fact, all connected.

I continued to gaze around the gallery at some of his smaller works when my eyes saw it. A tiny picture of a solitary flower standing alone amidst these bigger pieces. It's head drooping, it's eyes downcast, looking toward the floor. It's frail and fragile body quivering, as if a delicate breeze might blow it away. Looking weak, weary, feeling unlovely and unloved. She was completely and utterly naked and I couldn't tear my gaze away.

It was as if I was looking into a mirror.

This little flower was me. I was instantly embarrassed and ashamed and appalled. I spoke of it to no one, but quickly bought the picture and hid it in a bag, desperate only to get it off the wall lest someone should recognize me. I couldn't bear to have them know I was so weak, so frail, so unlovely.

I went home that night, hid the picture in a box and stuffed the box deep in the basement. It wasn't until years later, when the basement flooded and made quite a mess, that I rediscovered this piece.

And all those all feelings came rushing back.

Eventually, I had to deal with the things in my life that caused me to view this work in that way. By the time that basement flooded, I was well into my healing process, and I was able to look at that little flower differently. Her humble posture had become beautiful to me. Her frailty was exceptionally exquisite. And, to me, she stood resplendent in her nakedness, unashamed.

It's now on display in my home as a reminder of who I was, and who I am. I have never connected with a piece of art in the same way since. 

Have you ever had an experience like this with a work of art? Will you share it with me?

For more information on the galleries participating in First Fridays for 2014 and the free exhibitions that you can enjoy, click here.

The artist's name is Jon Sauder.