Sunday, July 15, 2007

In the Shadow of a Norman Rockwell Existence

I have below, an essay sent to me in confidence. It is truly a compelling story, and one which I feel will stand in my mind far beyond the time that the individual words themselves fade away. But I hope that you will find it as poetic and touching as I.

During my formative years, I grew up in a small community in the shadow of a Norman Rockwell existence being envied by those who did not understand what evils could lurk therein. At an early age, far too young for understanding, art always called me to understand and thus guided me toward a future which existed only in my mind. Later, I moved to the city with my family and was challenged by the torments of the world known only to lower classes which ultimately greet each level of society in its own special way with its unwelcoming embrace.

It was not these things that ultimately propelled me to art for salvation, but rather an incidence that far exceeded the horrors I had learned from being poisoned. It was after recovering from such, an impossible feat of returning to life, that someone I trusted violated my confidence by drugging and selling me into a world I barely escaped with not only my life but not much of my mind intact either.

My son prevented my heart from becoming obdurate in my recovery, while art prevented me from exposing him to a world that I did not want him to know, but rather allowed me to greet him with the promise of something better than I had learned on my existence on this earth. It was out of my love for him that I began to paint a new world, and I have not stopped since.

Many people think I was born with a silver spoon. Often those same people scorn me when they learn otherwise. I am only happy they have never known anything different and are afforded such sanctimony. A luxury I wish I could give to my son. Though his father offers him much material comfort, he has much compassion for those who have never known such, or comfort of any kind. What more could I ask for in life than a heart such as he possesses.

Yes my son, creator and mentor of my heart, allowing me to blossom in my art to fill his garden in life.

What makes an artist is many things. What motivates art production is another. Many artists seek salvation of the world through their art, as I.


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

What a beautiful and heartfelt story. I think each of us empathise with this, regardless if we become artists or not.