An Artful Expression

I find it very interesting the ways in which we can express our creative sides; how many avenues can be traveled to articulate just that one, seemingly pointless wave of inspiration to the world around us. I saw a photograph taken by an ostensibly well known artist in his field of skill. It’s that cityscape of Seattle in that photograph that I evidently can not bring myself to critique; so awe-inspiring, I have posted this facet of artistic flair in a location by which I can stare with passion and utter amazement. I can feel that I am there. I can feel what the man behind the camera must have been feeling at that moment and in that setting. This brings me to my epiphany.

I was running in the country. It was dusk, just before the moon was visible. I decided on this run to go without the company of an ipod. I have rarely taken part in the ritual of “just you and the road” being that I reside in the city where traffic is pretty heavy. Typically I have companionship of The Afters, Ferras, John Mayer, Norah Jones, and a compilation of other popular artist. This made for a rather inspiring experience. No melodious symbol of pop culture blaring through the minuscule earphones setting a pace and the mood for my run. I am not accustomed to running in the country at dusk.

I start my run. I’m a little uneasy due to the rarity of being without my cardio cohorts. Then a sense of peace begins to manifest. Suddenly I realize that the music that I am hearing is locusts in the trees, a distant dog bark, and the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement. Stillness is all around almost as a perturbed sense of oneness. It was nice and all the while atypical for my taste.

As I am thinking about how the sky is a picturesque visual addiction to which I can’t take attention away, I am intrigued by a dark speck on the horizon next to a large reflecting pond. I get within clear viewing distance of the mysterious speck that invaded my concentration on the sky. It was a girl; a girl expressing her thoughts in an artistic manner. Aided by a sketch pad and a pencil next to the pond in the midst of overgrown grass and weeds was one of the rarest forms of artistic display I have encountered with my own eyes. It was obvious she wanted to be left alone. I thought about this scene I had encountered the rest of my mile and a half run. What must she have been thinking at that moment and in that setting? Was she seeing what I was seeing? Was she drawing something I was not aware of? Was she alleviating the stressed of her day on a sketch pad?

I’ll never know. I don’t want to know. That’s the beauty of art. One does not have to explain themselves no matter the type of artistic avenue they choose to travel. The important thing to remember is art is art. Writing, drawing, painting, photography, music, dance, it’s all art. And there is no need to question.