I Think, Therefore You Are

As you walk through my front door, the first thing you see is an acrylic abstract painting that I did about 19 years ago. It's not uncommon that interpretations are made when my guests see it for the first time. There are those who see the same thing and those who have wildly different perceptions. Some takes are at odds with what I knew, felt and attempted to express at the time. Today, cosmically, they make sense.

This painting was the first I ever had an inspiration to do and, to tell you the truth, I was a little intimidated by putting brush to canvas. I had never painted before. Yet, something told me at the time that this was exactly what I needed and was supposed to do.

It started after we moved to Florida from Montreal. I felt alone and uneasy in my new surroundings. I was starting over in a strange place devoid of family, friends, familiarity and the culture I had known for my entire life. I became anxious at one point, and started suffering from panic attacks. On the verge of calling my doctor to get a prescription, something stopped me. 

To this day I still don't know how or why I came up with this, but I decided to go to the local art store and buy a canvas, brushes and acrylic paints. I chose the colors that attracted me and went home, already beginning to feel better. That night, after my son had been fed, read to and tucked in, I turned a kitchen chair upside down and placed it on the dining table - my first easel! Then I turned on the radio to a classical music station. Without preamble, save a quick drawing in a sketch book that I quickly transferred to the canvas, I began to paint.

"Happiness, emptiness, defeat, love, escape, sadness, fear, elation, acceptance, anger, hope and angst," are some of my friends' takes on the emotions behind the painting. Then there are the comments about the subject matter; "I see two snails." "Are those two ovaries?" "It looks like an owl." "Is that a waterfall?" "Looks like fire and brimstone at the bottom."

Everyone thinks they understand this painting. They do. And they don't. It is about happiness. It is about sadness. It reflects life and death. It conveys hope and defeat, elation and angst. Notice that the word or is of no consequence. Life is, after all, not one or the other. And what we see - at least what we think we see, is our frame of reference - nothing else and of no one else.

There are times when we're so sure of why we didn't get the promotion or why a friend has become distant. We look at strangers on the street, in the store, at the bank and they seem unhappy, or angry. We decide they are, so they must be. The problem here is ... we're not inside their pictures or their heads. We think, therefore they are. We limit them based on our own preconceived concepts and assumptions.

Consequently, we limit ourselves while changing the course of history.

This happens when we assume that we know their story; we shut down the possibility of getting to hear it, first hand, from the author, the originator. Without ever realizing it we change history using our own observations to alter the course of life. We are powerful beyond our own comprehension. 

Enjoy sharing your interpretations of modern art hanging in museums, or discussing the latest fashions paraded down a cat-walk, but tread lightly when it comes to matters of the mind, spirit and soul. I may be what you think I am, but chances are, I'm not.