I’m sitting here in the center court of a medical center waiting for my husband to emerge from the Eye Center. He’s in for his yearly exam and while it bothers me to know he’ll come out from the appointment with a headache, dilated pupils and a prescription for new reading glasses, I’ve got to admit that I’m happy I’m sitting out here and he’s in there. I tolerate a lot of different medical procedure--don’t we all?--but I absolutely cannot stand anyone messing around with my eyes. The whole idea gives me the heebie jeebies!
So, here I sit, waiting and hoping it’s going well for him. This could be one of those wasted hours, the ones we all endure because there’s no way around them. But thanks to some very talented local students, my wait is not at all unpleasant. I’m surrounded by walls of art, courtesy of the City School District Art Show.
I’ve strolled the displays, enjoyed piece after piece and marveled over the insightful use of various media. It’s given me a chance to view the world through eyes much younger than mine, to get a perspective on family life and current events that I might not have had I not been the “designated waiter” on today’s appointment.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (not really; it just seems that way!) I had a painting in a district art show. It was a perspective piece, done with pastels. I remember feeling so pleased with myself that my piece had been chosen for the show. I imagine that’s how these kids feel now, too.
It’s been a long time since I’ve opened my art box, put watercolor to paper or pencil to sketch pad. I love drawing and painting, but life is often so hectic that I put aside strictly pleasurable activities for those must-dos on my list. But sitting here has lit a fire, one that begs to be fanned with an eraser and charcoal. Before this week is out I’m going to open that art box, rummage around for something to help me express myself with color.
Tell me, do you dabble in any artistic way? Is the pastime one you cultivate regularly, or is it like my artistic interest, dusty from neglect?