Funny, the things you miss.

Things that don’t even seem to be in one’s recall, but somewhere in the archives of our feelings they sit there—waiting for us to notice.

I was cleaning out a storage space in my studio last week and happened upon a couple of framed prints. They were two of my first fully digital creations, and the first two pieces I had tried my hand at framing. In the years since, different prints of both pieces have been framed more professionally (again by me, after getting some framing education), in a style suitable for gallery showing.

The show pieces were well received and those that didn’t sell came home and adorned my walls. They looked fine and I didn’t think much more about it. In the ensuing years, some more of the pieces were sold, one was loaned and the walls developed bare spaces that I noticed now and again. But I was busy.

So, when I found those aging, less than perfect, dusty examples of my work I was delighted. I sure wasn’t too busy to dust them off and go park them on the naked picture hooks still punctuating my balding walls.

It was nice to see them out in the light again, but that wasn’t what really stuck me. It was the sound that pulled me up short and resonated a warm chord in my heart. I had completely forgotten how they sound.

The ‘gallery’ style framings I had done were glazed with standard window glass. But in my first framings, I had used a type of acrylic glazing.

And acrylic glazing flexes a lot more than glass as the environment around it changes. And when it flexes, it can make a wonderful light percussive sound, a bit similar to the sound a clock pendulum makes.

The sound is not metered of course, but it is not really random either. As the day warms and cools, sunlight filters in and moves on, or the rain falls saturating the air the acrylic glazing responds with a tick here and a tock there.

The sounds of these two images are soothing, reassuring, and delightful to me. The sounds remind me of the earliest days of my career move to full time art & writing, they remind me of furniture and pets that used to be, and they make me smile as I recall trying to figure out where those sounds were coming from when I first hung the pieces.

Mostly though, the sound of each print reminds to pay attention.

Reminds me that surprising things can come from very unexpected sources, and the sounds remind me of my history—which somehow fills me with a sense of wonder and joy about my today. I can’t explain that last bit, but I am endlessly grateful for the gift.

Today is the only today that I get and anything that helps me pay attention to it is nothing short of manna from heaven.

~

May you have a wonderful today - each and every day.

~

      (what is this?)

This entry was posted on Friday, May 15th, 2009 at 4:57 pm and is filed under commentary, creative writing, short stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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