Imagine an artist.
He sits on a bench in a courtyard. He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He simply watches. The sky, the birds, the flowers, dogs barking, people walking, cars driving, trains moving. He just watches.
And then he goes home. He takes all that he's seen and heard and tasted and felt with him back to his workshop. He clears the table and prepares his tools, arming himself with a new canvas, a fresh brush and a clear mind. A clean slate. He constructs an image, a replication of these things that he observed from his day, from his point of view. This image, this representation of his experie
nce from that day or sometimes from previous days, this creation draws out the often overlooked beauty of the mundane, the routine, the ordinary. This image--part reality, part personality--exposes the viewer to wonders previously unseen and never before considered and invites the viewer to participate in the artist's experience.
Oftentimes the artist is credited with skill in painting or drawing or sculpting. While this is usually true, this is not his primary strength. His strength is in his eyes, his ears, his feelings. His thoughts. His perception. He sees what you don't. He sees what you won't.
This is what I try to do. I observe. I think. I write. This is my canvas.
This sitting back and watching thing.. It's a double-edged sword. It's good to be able to observe things and see the beauty in simplicity and discover things that other people miss. It's also terrible because this also tends to be my approach for the rest of my life: sit back, watch it happen and hope for the best. I like blame this on my reserved personality but in reality it's just a bad habit that I've accepted as part of who I am.
Right now I'm taking a class on article writing, and this class is pushing me to step outside of that "observing from afar" deal that I'm comfortable with and take steps be proactive and actually "get a story." I can look at something and make observations about it; that's easy. For example, have you ever noticed the way a person walks? Even if it's not a pronounced gait or limp? I pride myself on being able to pick out a friend in a crowd simply by the way they walk. I've seen enough people walking in my life and paid attention enough to recognize a certain stride and pace when I see it, even from a distance. That's just me observing. However, going out and engaging with people and 'making' a story is a whole new ballgame for me. It's still observing and writing, it's just more involving and engaging. This casual observation versus active participation in observation is sort of a personality clash for me. "It's not who I am." And it doesn't have to be. I can live with that.
It's a skill worth learning. And I intend on learning this skill, expanding horizons and broadening my experiences. At the end of the day, it still comes down to seeing, hearing, thinking, and then writing. That's what I want to do, that's what I like to do. And the more mediums I get to do that in, the better.
The perceptive artist in his workshop, the seasoned journalist in the field, the ambitious college student writing and producing from his garage. It's all art. Expression. Observation.
Gotta start somewhere.
