::// old time memory

The memory is crystal clear in my mind to this day. It was my first summer at
Northwestern University and I was on a day trip to the Art Institute. I had always had a love/hate relationship with art: loving its obvious beauty even as I hated the feeling of incapability it inspired in me, for I was unable to determine the source of such apparent beauty. “Look closer,” my knowledgeable friend instructed me, as we stood before the impressive Seurat. “What do you see?” As my eyes took in Seurat’s work, Le Grand Jatte became much more than mere brushstrokes on canvas. For a moment, I saw charm in the curve of an ankle, in the tilt of a hat; love in the lowered lashes of a woman; and in a nod to a previously unknown desire for such a moment—I subconsciously painted myself into the picture. In the space of those few moments, I learned to love art for the secrets it harbored, simultaneously hating it for betraying secrets of my own. Art became a relationship, a conversation between me and the canvas during which the mundane world faded away, leaving us to share whispered confidences. This summer, during another day trip at Northwestern, it was with a different friend that I stood before my favorite piece of art, paying homage to its secrets and our own. “Look closer,” I spoke to both the boy at my side and the canvas itself, “What do you see?”


© s.raheja


2 thoughts on “

  1. thanks for your comment….I like your site because you are so poetic and articulate and maybe even a Canadian, like I am….hehe…


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