Chris...
The Farm Wife, didn't expect most of this, and wondering how I got here?
Keep coming back, page six follows......soon.
I never wanted to be a Farm Wife. An artist or a writer maybe. A fine art photographer, certainly, with galleries filled to overflowing with gorgeous, thought-provoking, inspiring photographs! But here I am, a farm wife with a camera—when it’s working, that is.
A friend sent me a link to an intriguing photo web site; beautiful photographs described dramatically and eloquently by the artist. At least it seemed that way for the first few pictures. Then I began to question the extraordinary significance he found in absolutely every little detail, the melodramatic way he presented his impression of the complex, intimate thoughts of people he’d never even met. To me, he became the embodiment of all artists who take themselves too seriously, leading me to wonder…
If an aspiring artist, temporarily engaged as a farm wife, desired her work to be taken seriously, could she present it in such a way that other artists, critics and art aficionados would perceive its profoundity? My mind reeling at the possibilities, I examined my pictures with a fresh eye.
Welcome to Adventures in Art 101...
[To be read out loud slowly, in the thoughtful, yet highly emotional voice of a true artiste]
On my right the sloping banks led to the river, flowing swiftly past the outcroppings of rocks and piers. On the other side the walls rose far over my head, broad vertical fields sprinkled with splashes of color. How had the artist reached such towering heights? How had he controlled the thin, delicate brushes? As I pondered the colors and shapes in front of me, I was struck by the depth of the shadows, the fish leaping off the wall. How was it done? What did it mean? Was the fish striving to reach the river? What message was the artist seeking to convey?
The fish was just the beginning of the mysteries on the textured surfaces. Studying the lines and shadows, I wondered, did the artist see himself as outside the circle of humanity? Lost and alone, as separated and different from those around him as I felt, struggling to stay upright in the cold wind.
Turning the corner, I was confronted by an astounding sight: textures, yes, but as I'd never seen them before. A smoother background this time, with scattered bumps amid rough patches. Instead of bold colors and shadows, a delicate lavender hue, stretching far into the sky and across the river. I felt the passion of these unknown engineers and artists as they worked together to create this architectural vision.
Their spirits stirred within me as I viewed their soaring triumph.
Each time I returned to the river, I found something new to capture my imagination. On this trip, it was a mural with incredibly vibrant hues, warm, welcoming, inviting me to look even closer, to examine the artist's rough brush strokes, to run my fingers over the wall in front of me. The light that day, harsh and unforgiving, showed each nick in the woodwork, each scuff on the windowsill. I longed to know what lingered in the shadows beyond the door.
That's it for now. Writing this way is quite exhausting when my initial reaction to the murals was more along the lines of, "Wow...Cool."
Farm Wife
Aspiring Artist
Writer Extraordinaire
None of the Above
Man, are we happy out here?
