Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
.......
So while I was painting a pomegranate tonight, I had this last line go through my head. And then I said, "Dang it! what if I want to be a painter? huh? what then!"
I just had this sudden switch in me. Since freshman year in high school I've thought I wanted to do graphic design. If you had asked me last week what I wanted I would have said 95% vis com, 5% painting. But tonight, my friends, it's 95% painting and 5% vis com. The idea of being a painting major both excites me to the point of being ridiculously giddy, but also terrifies me a little.
I honestly feel like this is almost a religious decision. Not just a choice for my next two years, or even my career, but my life. It seems radical, and daring, and well, what I'm supposed to do. Really, it almost seems like it's what I was born to do. As much as I'm aware that I'm talented at graphic design, and as much as I enjoy the challenge of pleasing the person whom I'm designing something for, I realize that I think I am called to live a life not driven by what others think, but to show others what I think, and maybe change their minds too.
Learning about Blessed Fra Angelico and seeing his beautiful frescoes in San Marco on Monday really had a profound impact on me.
Too bring down this post to more concrete things, my work this week has been cutting apart fruit, photographing them with light coming from behind, and painting the pomegranate. I suppose it all originated with the halo, but also the kiwi and my love of fruit this semester. The pomegranate is a very complexly organized fruit, full of texture and a strong taste, a seductive smell, and a color that stains like no other. It seems like a good metaphor for me right now—a little bit confused and disorganized, but passionate—almost recklessly passionate--wild and precious.
other photos for this week can be seen here.
