This is a new painting, a still untitled 12″ by 12″ canvas. Normally when I look at such a piece I see in it something hopeful, forward looking toward a distant horizon. Destiny bound. But while I was looking at this piece, absorbing it and trying to take in its feeling, something I had read at some point came to mind. I can’t remember who said it but the gist of it was that you can’t connect the dots of destiny by looking forward– you can only connect them by looking backwards.
In other words, you can’t plan your destiny. But you can see how you arrived where you are.
This idea of connecting the dots by looking backwards was no stranger to me. That was the central appeal of genealogy for me, being able to find the trail that brought us to where we are at this moment. To see that path in some sort of view that takes what might be very mundane lives when seen individually and places them in a grand and sweeping perspective. Doing this made me feel connected with my humanity, able to see that I was not some sort of alienated being but was a part of that sweeping vision. Would I be a noteworthy part? That I could not tell.
As it was said, you can’t plan your destiny.
So looking at this piece with this thought in mind, I no longer see it forward looking. I view it as the perspective of someone who has turned around on the trail and is looking back at from where they came. And there’s a certain synchronicity in this. The sun and the water represent our evolutionary beginnings and the path, our trail though the ages.
Strangely, it doesn’t lose any of its hopefulness by taking on this perspective. In fact, I now find it comforting from this perspective, that I have a purpose and responsibility as the recipient of a task that must be carried forward, at least for my short stint here on the trail.
The dots are connected and now I can look ahead…
Redtree Times 