Early Work: Dance Hall, 1994
It takes little talent to see clearly what lies under one’s nose, a good deal of it to know in which direction to point that organ.
–W. H. Auden, The Dyer’s Hand and Other Essays, ‘Writing’, 1963
I was looking for something else this morning in my computer files when I came across the image above of a small piece done in my earliest painting days. It’s a loosely done watercolor of the old Dance Hall that once stood at a local amusement park, Eldridge Park. I painted this structure a number of times back then.
I have always skimmed by this particular piece, never taking a moment to stop and examine it with a more probing eye. Its first impression just never hit for me and I mentally devalued it as just a failed experiment. In fact, the small original is stored with a bin of old work that I keep meaning to destroy.
But something made me stop and look at the image this morning. There were many things in this little guy that I liked. The looseness of it and the spew lines at its bottom, for example. The color of the yellow of the sun where it meets the color of the roof. I found it infinitely more intriguing now than I did at that time. It made me wonder what might have been had I continued working in that manner.
That, of course, is a fool’s errand. Wondering what might have been is a futile exercise, especially in this case. This little piece served its purpose (and an important one) and was part of my creative evolution. I took parts of it with me and moved on to the next piece, already heading in a different direction, pulled by forces that might not show in this piece. At the time it was painted, I was already seeing a different future that it portended.
As a result, I gave it little thought at that time for the piece it was. It just felt like an exercise and not an entity of its own. Not the kind of thing I would ever show to anyone though for some reason I did sign it in pencil at some point. It was early on because the C hadn’t yet entered my signature.
But this morning I began to see it as its own being. And I liked it. I am not saying it is a great piece. It’s not. But it is so much more than I gave it credit for the past almost 30 years. And I am grateful for the things that it gave me then and for the unexpected pleasure it gives me now as it is.
I guess those are the best kind, those small unexpected pleasures.
And that gives me an idea for another post…
Redtree Times 