Artist’s View

~ Artist’s View ~

Held in two fingers just like so,
Creativity and lead begin to flow.
A jug and a cup, utensils to some,
to an artist an abundance of inspiration and fun.
Shadows surrounding pieces on a table,
to see much more the artist is able.
Light and dark, colour and tone,
each artist sees a view of their own.
Only one jug and one cup are in view,
the artists surrounding are more than two.
Their images different and yet the same,
the objects no longer boring and plain.
Images varied showing new light,
not one of them wrong, all are so right.
Without different views everything is the same,
without these minds all is so plain.
Artists are such a talented few,
bringing out beauty with a different view.

Written by Rebecca Rawson
Copyright © 2002

Thinking this morning, probably a little too deeply for what this poem is … But it struck me how much this simple little poem I wrote over a decade ago is like life in general and the way in which our perspectives are all so different from one another. Perspectives that shape uniqueness in the way we all paint or craft our lives.

During 2002 I was invited to a church group for artists. The philosophy was that every form of artist was welcome to become involved no matter their medium, be it drawing, painting, sculpting, needle work and so on. Just a group of artists spending time together while working on their own individual form of art or craft.

When I was asked if I would like to join the group based on a few poems I had written I was a smidge baffled, I hardly saw writing as an art form, and I certainly could not draw or paint to save my life.

Although, I had always enjoyed exploring various forms of art and craft that did not involve pencils or paint, along with always knowing that I was far more creatively gifted than academically gifted.

So, I took up the offer and joined the other artists one evening. I mean it couldn’t hurt, I might have actually had the opportunity to learn about some form of art or craft I could put my hand to and enjoy for a time.

On this particular evening, rather than each person doing their own individual thing there had been a group consensus to see what everyone could produce with pencils and paper. The subject matter, one jug and one cup staged in the middle of the table. I was the odd one out writing rather than drawing.

We all worked away in silence with the occasional bit of chatter in hushed tones here and there, and by the end of the evening it was quite astounding to see the variances between the works of art.

Sitting around the table each artist had a different perspective to draw from, quite literally.

Not only were there different perspectives but the form of drawing was so unique to each artist. Some chose simple line art, others sketched. Some paid more attention to the details of shadow giving emphasis to the light and dark. And then there was the question of using colour or not, which also varied among the group.

By the end of the evening I had completed this poem, having watched on as the artists in the room had brought a simple jug and simple cup to life through their art.

How boring would that evening have been if all the artists at that table had drawn their art as a result of looking through the same lens and from the same perspective!

However, thinking about this poem all these years later, now in metaphorical terms, I can vividly see a correlation between what occurred that evening and life in general.

The way in which each person has a different perspective on life, through age, experience and character traits. Differing forms of personal cognition, beliefs and inner understanding…. Each path walked through life such a personal and unique journey that no one else has or can walk with us fully every step of the way.

How much more boring would this life be, plain black and white, lifeless and uninspired if we all chose a path that was simply one perspective of the mundane!

Just a thought for the morning in reading this poem once again, maybe an insomnia induced, overly analytical introvert wandering down a rabbit hole kind of thought for the morning.

But hey, I think this one actually has merit, or maybe its just the fact I have a fascination with anything that doesn’t fit into the boring, bland and mundane of this world.

Personally I think there are few things as satisfying as sitting down and listening to someone else’s colourfully unique perspective, whether I agree with their perspective or not. Its shadow, colour, light and dark to a world that would otherwise be bland and uninspired.

If only we could all see life from the artists view, whether we are artists or not.

Categories:Creative Writing

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