An Artist's Work

Today is my last full day in Paris, and I cannot help but think about my next step in life. In short, please don’t ask me. Thoughts of graduate school and careers are meddling around in my head ceaselessly, and no definitive conclusion has been drawn. Fortunately, I have preoccupied my time and mind with long walks in both the sun and rain, as well as incredibly long visits to museums. This morning, I visisted Musée Marmottan Monet, and I’d like to share a short, reflective point with you.

I think I understand why I like impressionism so much. It’s like an unfinished story, or a piece of work on the brink of completion; however, the paint has already dried, the artist passed, and the painting sold. Now, you must complete the piece yourself. Your imagination must actualize the work that your eyes can easily be fooled to look past.

Life is like one of these paintings. And, I am both the artist and the art. Each brushstroke is a different life event, memory, or person of significance. Each stroke adds to the bigger picture and further fills the once-bare canvas. Now, the artist’s work is not done. I must continue to add to my work with slabs of pungent oranges, ethereal blues, and the deepest of violets.

Then maybe one day, at the budding age of 80, I’ll look back and see what beautiful mess I made on this canvas of life. I will see that every brush stroke had its place, and every color had a deeper symbolic meaning behind it, which I didn’t bother to recognize in the moment.  

For now, I sit in front of my canvas, paintbrush in hand, contemplating my next move and believing that the picture will become clearer when I eventually take a step back from it all.

That last bit is an important step. When you look up close to a painting by Monet, you can’t understand it – the contortion and medaling of color doesn’t make much sense. This also rings true when we view our lives under a microscope, only focusing on the immediate present. We’d swear our actions are sporadic, maybe even reckless, with not much of a trajectory or end-goal in mind.

To ease the mind and heart, give yourself the time to retract and take a step back. Look at what white, blank space is left on the canvas, remembering there is still time for the artist to work. Then, let yourself connect the splashes of glopping paint and see the artist’s work for what it really is: your life.

Sincerely yours,
a chameleon coming to terms with returning home