Wednesday, June 15, 2011


I don't consider myself an artist but I do think I have an artist’s soul.

I mean literally...I think I have some if not all of van Gogh' s soul.

We were born on the same day 101 years apart, I'm very protective of my right ear, and I have an acute aversion to crows and fields of crows. Even the Counting Crows.

And I have to tell you, he left it in pretty piss poor condition, this soul. I've spent most of my life trying to patch all the holes in it.

To an artist, the world is all about perspective. 
The unique way of interpreting what you see and how you see it, that nobody else in the world sees exactly the way you do.
Shadow and light, size and distance; even where, when and how you stand at any given moment…all affect perspective.
Everyone has their own perspective, though not everyone realizes it. Some realize it, but don’t believe it’s important enough to mention. Some realize it and believe it’s important enough to mention, but have terrible memories and forget to mention it or forgot how to mention it, or where to begin.
But the artists, be they writers, painters, sculptors, musicians, dancers, photographers, nurses, teachers, doctors, masons, carpenters,  laborers, accountants, lawyers (okay, definitely not the lawyers and I’m on the fence about the accountants) not only recognize their own perspective, but NEED to express it to the world in whatever unique way they can, in a way ONLY they can.
Except, like I said, the lawyers, who’ll happily express themselves, anyway you'd like them to express themselves, then send you a bill.
And life—your life…their life—is all about perspective, as well. 
The places we were born; Port Chester or Rye Brook, White Plains or Harrison, Greenwich or Stamford....

The way we were nurtured, educated or not educated.

Whether or not we were forgotten and left behind in a rest room on I-90 when we were only 8 years old….
The friends we have, the friends we had, the friends we wish we didn’t have.  
The people we love. The people we don’t. The people that don’t love us (as foolish as that sounds).  
Even our favorite ice cream or peculiar aversion to corn niblets, despite the fact that we love corn on the all figures in.
Perspective…it’s ours and only ours.
Most think we all live in the same world. I think we all live in different worlds.  In fact, I think there are as many different worlds as there are people, and as many different universes as there are worlds...and so on and so on. And I know many of you are thinking right now that you’re relieved that you don’t live in mine.
I think we sometimes get upset with our boss or our spouse or our kids or our friends because even though we are all looking at the same issue or thing, we're all looking at it from a different place, from a different time…from a different perspective.
Sometimes, what makes perfect sense to you is lost on me and vice versa…and versa vice.
But nobody knows exactly what’s going on in your head (let alone mine) at any given moment, or what occurred in the past (and yes, I did say I was getting out and going to the bathroom!) that affects your perspective.  But we, too often, make the mistake of assuming that everyone does or should know.  And that’s how we get into trouble.  Nobody sees your perspective, not all the time; only you.
Yet, sometimes we do. Sometimes we click, and share part if not all of our perspective with someone else, and then we create Harmony, which is a beautiful thing, and should not be easily dismissed. 
Unless, it’s this woman, named Harmony, I once knew in Cold Spring, whose parents were old hippies and well…let’s just leave it at that.

So there you go. Something a bit different. 
Maybe you agree.  Maybe you disagree.
It’s just my perspective….

1 comment:

  1. exactly...all of it. it really is all about perspective. and definitely not about the same soul you share.


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