it's a big bag of weird in there...

i used to have a roommate named lindsey.
lindsey went on a mission, to paris.
she taught me so many things.
but tonight i think about art.
about how art speaks to lindsey.
she can look at art and see sooooo many things.

we used to go to the byu museum of art together.

i loved the photography exhibits or paintings that looked like real life.
lindsey appreciated it all.
impressionism, cubism, modern art.
all of it.

art was her thing.
words, pictures of reality were mine.

i never could quite figure out why our minds worked so differently.
she loved it.
i couldn't see it.
jackson pollack--his work is lost on me.
ansel adams, dorothea lange ... that, to me, was approachable art.
but faulkner, fitzgerald, emerson, dickens...could stay with me forever.

i still wonder.
why art speaks to lindsey.
why music speaks to josh.
why cinematography speaks to austin.
why numbers speak to my father.
why computer code speaks to justin.
why the pounding of feet on pavement speaks to mom.
why catchphrases and market demographics speak to john.
why veins and i.v.'s and needles get bonnie going.
why certain words speak to lyndsi shae.
and others speak to megan.
and why a completely different sentence can make my heart soar.


mostly...
i love how these small differences...
make the world so amazing.
sigh. i love it.

2 comments

  1. there is a quote once said that "Art is the only way to run away without leaving home"

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  2. i love art...all forms, all mediums (media? lol). literature at times can be lost on me, but sometimes it is interesting to try and understand the gifts God gave us. like, for instance, why i was given a love for many things--languages, reading, learning, ceramics, speaking, writing, cooking--and yet sports are not my forte, nor do i appreciate them.

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