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This topic isn’t new to many of us. If you’ve taken an art history class or attended some form of art appreciation conference, fundraiser, auction, convention and the list goes on…you’ve probably seen or at least heard the topic flutter pass your ears.

But I’m not here to talk about how art enhances poetry (which it does). Or how we should see more of it in our college criteria in the way that it’s relatable to the present generation (which we should). But rather I want to give a short blurb on the curious effect of art and poetry.

I love photography. my Instagram bares testament to that. I love poetry just as much as I love photography which we know goes in many ways hand and hand. Oddly enough, I’ve only recently combined the two…and I am please to say that my paradigm has shifted entirely.

Before I focused on lightening, ambience and the potential to relay a story without words when selecting a potential subject for my daily shoots. I now subscribe myself to three questions before closing the shutter.

1. Does the image create poetry?  I don’t simple want to look at the image and think, ‘great photo!’ I need to hear riveting words trickle through my brain as if life was flowing to me.

2. Is it relatable?  I’m a pretty eccentric person. So as much as I would like think that every person should understand me…I know that’s not true. Thus I do a few test reads before posting online. It helps though we know everyone is a critic and some allowance must be given. 

3. Is it enjoyable?  There’s nothing more dismal than a boring poem that is accompany by a boring picture. Sad really. But I have found that by joining poetry with still life art…the process itself has become more invigorating. Exciting, right? There’s nothing more devastating to an artist than to lose its muse…so if it works, it works.

Yes I know…you’ve heard this before. I hope you don’t mind hearing it again.

When reality doesn't match your dreams

When reality doesn’t match your dreams

So lately, I’ve determined that I like so many others in my shoes and in the age bracket of 25-35 are at a place in their life where a dawning realization comes to the front of all things conscious and forces you to really take inventory of life’s events.

I am normally a “live by the day,” type of person, but for whatever reason unbeknownst to me, my inner man has decided to remind me that I am not in the place I visually imagined for myself. When confronting such things, I often visualized a man in his fifties who suddenly decides to leave his family, quit his job and move to another country (yes, I am being very dramatic.) But there you have that’s what I imagine so that which solid reasoning I am able to successfully push down that ever confronting thought that my ideals are actually not apart of my reality.

It’s quite depressing. Perhaps I am alone in this concept, but I have this strong assumption that I have a purpose on this earth that is uniquely suited to me and for me only to perform. I am not just a normal 9-5 office worker going through the same mundane conundrums of everyday life that I circle around continually.  Surely I will one day strike up a million dollar company (though money has never been a major concern) and feature in a magazine as a first time…”insert amazing feat here!” …Right?

I pray I am not the ONLY person looking around themselves wondering if this is all I will surmount to…are there no valuable things in me? The more I ponder, the more I panic, the more I sink into a solemn depression. Until one day, I decide that my reality doesn’t have to match my dreams. Life isn’t so bad after all. I travel, I write, I work, I take out times with my dogs, I paint, I socialize, I write blogs like this with hopes someone will read them and give me a virtual high five…and life still isn’t so bad.

I’m not making six figures yet, but I’m not homeless or in poverty. I decided the best way to avoid these personal hiccups that everyone have a tendency of calling restlessness is by first praying and appreciating what’s before me.

If I always look to the sky for a spectacular future then I risk missing the present and all the key factors and moments that could eventually lead to that future.

I can’t say I’m happy where I am. Happiness is temporal thing. But I can say I am joyfully content. Oxymoron? Contradicting? Maybe, but I never said this would be simple.

While I was reading a Japanese graphic novel, one of the character made  a comment that struck an philosophical nerve.

                       He said, “How easy it is for children to honestly express themselves.” 

He was brooding over his lack of ability to be honest with himself concerning his feelings about a young woman who he closely interacted with on a daily basis.  We might think that this type of problem is irrelevant to us as Americans, but I earnestly believe that every adult — young and old — reach a point in their life where they lose the ability to honestly express themselves concerning many factors  that make up the poetic motion of life. 

I am most certainly not completely and solely honest about all things in life and I have not yet met many who are…but like the character in the novel, I do believe that most children have the innate ability or rather innocence to verbally convey their feelings indecipherable as it may be — it is something to be valued.

These days, it seems as though values are steadily declining and honesty is becoming a distant fad.  This may not be prevalent in other cultures, but it’s a growing continuity in the U.S. 

Still I am optimistic. While many may not express themselves honestly — I feel that many of us still value the idea of honest, honor, truth — and that’s what matters. That’s what makes the difference. 

There is nothing more enduring than pure fellowship among friends and family on Easter