My Wonderful Dream Last Night
In my dream I visited a gallery that held only my own works. It was a concrete building, vast, with few windows on the outside. It stood alone on a hill, a hulking hunk of concrete that made no attempt to blend in with it's surroundings.
The first room I entered held things I made in childhood. A green coat-hanger wreath I made for Christmas in the 2nd grade, an egg shell mouse I made one Easter, drawings and sketches from my grade school years. Next came the things I made in my early teens and early twenties. I saw things I had forgotten about; the small purple turtle, lots of writings, the x-ray of my broken finger I made into a stain glass window. Then I came to the room where the things I am working on now were displayed. Boxes, purses, necklaces, and paintings I've made and given away. Some of the items in the museum are, right now, half-finished in my craft closet. I saw them complete and now know exactly what I can do with them.
I continued on into a bigger room. Here lay things I have not done, things I have only begun to think about in my waking life. Dolls, statues, painting so huge they took up one whole wall. I could trace my own techniques, see the steps I took to create each piece. I saw faces that I do not know, places I have not been, but each piece was obviously and uniquely mine. My signature, large as life, stared back at me. I touched these things, held them, and they felt familiar.
I passed through my middle life and into the room of my golden years. Here things so amazing and beautiful waited for me that it stunned me. Pieces that defied gravity and simple physics, things that were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes. The pride and awe I felt were overwhelming.
I chose not to go farther. I did not want to see when my artwork ended or if there was anything incomplete.
I awoke with such a sense of peace. For years now I have struggled with my artistic ability. My number one problem is that I am impatient. This dream answered a burning question for me - how can I improve? The answer is so simple I can't believe I didn't know it already.
Time.
Not just that I will grow older and better with time, but that each piece in this gallery took time to make. The pieces on display were those that I had loved and labored over, not caring one bit about how long it took to do something. It needed to be right. This is what I keep forgetting. So many of my abandoned works are done so because I get impatient or because I don't know how to do what I want.
I need to take the time to learn, I need to be willing to make mistakes. Now I know what I am capable of, what I can aspire to. It wasn't a dream, it was a gift. This is a new beginning for me and I intend to make the most of it.
The first room I entered held things I made in childhood. A green coat-hanger wreath I made for Christmas in the 2nd grade, an egg shell mouse I made one Easter, drawings and sketches from my grade school years. Next came the things I made in my early teens and early twenties. I saw things I had forgotten about; the small purple turtle, lots of writings, the x-ray of my broken finger I made into a stain glass window. Then I came to the room where the things I am working on now were displayed. Boxes, purses, necklaces, and paintings I've made and given away. Some of the items in the museum are, right now, half-finished in my craft closet. I saw them complete and now know exactly what I can do with them.
I continued on into a bigger room. Here lay things I have not done, things I have only begun to think about in my waking life. Dolls, statues, painting so huge they took up one whole wall. I could trace my own techniques, see the steps I took to create each piece. I saw faces that I do not know, places I have not been, but each piece was obviously and uniquely mine. My signature, large as life, stared back at me. I touched these things, held them, and they felt familiar.
I passed through my middle life and into the room of my golden years. Here things so amazing and beautiful waited for me that it stunned me. Pieces that defied gravity and simple physics, things that were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes. The pride and awe I felt were overwhelming.
I chose not to go farther. I did not want to see when my artwork ended or if there was anything incomplete.
I awoke with such a sense of peace. For years now I have struggled with my artistic ability. My number one problem is that I am impatient. This dream answered a burning question for me - how can I improve? The answer is so simple I can't believe I didn't know it already.
Time.
Not just that I will grow older and better with time, but that each piece in this gallery took time to make. The pieces on display were those that I had loved and labored over, not caring one bit about how long it took to do something. It needed to be right. This is what I keep forgetting. So many of my abandoned works are done so because I get impatient or because I don't know how to do what I want.
I need to take the time to learn, I need to be willing to make mistakes. Now I know what I am capable of, what I can aspire to. It wasn't a dream, it was a gift. This is a new beginning for me and I intend to make the most of it.
posted by Barbarian02003 | Wednesday, March 14, 2007
2 Comments:
Growing old is one of the few things which scares the hell out of me. I know I shouldn’t think like this but when I see myself growing old I see terrible things. The bypass waiting for me, the stroke I must recover from, getting uglier, fatter, and wrinklier. Also, losing my strength which has always been a part of my life would bother me very much. I actually would rather die younger and miss all of that shit rather than have to watch myself slowly wither.
So the point of all of this is when I dream about getting older I have nightmares. I would rather have your dreams.
That's what is so odd, I, too, don't want to grow old! Even thinking about being old and infirm makes me want to pee my pants.
I don't have nightmares about it, though. I'm too wrapped up with all the scary shit happening today to dream about the future.
Tell you what, when you reach the age you want to go, come find me. I'll be your Dr. Kavorkian.
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