September 3, 2008 at 9:15 AM
Now I'm drawing--which is unfortunate to all the new students I accepted this fall. I like to make a good first impression, and the only foot I can seem to put forward lately is artistically handicapped: absentminded and scatterbrained, at best.My latest graphite project is large and energy-consuming. For the subject, I went close-up on a patch of dwarf dogwood so that I could draw attention to the raindrops that bejewel each leaf. As I etch the reflections and shadows contained in this little universe, I feel like I'm stepping into another world, like Bartok's Mikrokosmos.
Better yet, it reminds me of Brahms' Sonata in G. The laser precision I must wield with a sharpened pencil is blatheringly simple when compared to the demands this sonata has placed on my bow. The phrasing! I've whittled for hours, puzzling over the appropriate approach for each musical sentence. It's ugly! Or is it? What am I supposed to do with this? A thousand raindrops scatter, and I'm driven to capture each one and assemble them all into a meaningful work of art, but the final result seems forced and contrived.
Taking a break from both projects, I settle with a sigh into computer games while George watches the Travel Channel. Anthony Bourdain is visiting Japan again, and he's learning about the art of flower arrangement. His wry wit always entertains us, though for the time being I'm distracted with the keyboard. Suddenly, his words pull me to abrupt attention:
"Beauty can only be found; step aside--it's there."
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