Who you are, what your values are, what you stand for – they are your anchor, your north star. You won’t find them in a book. You’ll find them in your soul. – Anne M. Mulcahy
Like an invisible tether, all objects in an image or painting reflect back to the vanishing point. From a given object, you can hold up a straight edge and see the origination point from which it stems. This is the vanishing point, the place where those parallel lines appear to converge. This seeming trick of the eye is really nothing more than perspective.
Done correctly, it is those invisible lines from objects in the foreground that pull the eye to the back, providing a focal point and lending the element of dimensionality. Without it, all would look flat, or askew as if being viewed from more than one angle simultaneously.
The vanishing point lies on the horizon line to one side or the other, but rarely in the center, and often off the surface of the canvas. Like life, a little asymmetry and mystery in art is natural, and far more interesting to the eye.
One of my favorite things about pursuing new hobbies, or study in general is that you are apt to learn something which is relevant to your life in a much larger way than the subject itself.
If the vanishing point is a guiding light shaping the way forward, like the North Star, I realize I have lost sight of mine. The tapestry of my life has become askew with no rhyme or reason to lend perspective to objects or elements. Objects in the foreground are jumbled with those in the heart of the picture. The imagery of my life looks like an episode of Hoarders, where everything is packed together tightly: valued possessions, treasured memories, forgotten mementos, old to-dos.
Much as not all objects need to be kept interminably, not all commitments are good ones.
While the new year is well on its way, and I think most people are thankful for this, it is still in its infancy. I would like to believe time remains to shape what I want for this year. I have always liked this about January, the opportunity to begin anew.
January, like tomorrow, …is always fresh with no mistakes in it. – L M Montgomery
Perhaps I should give myself a break on my chaotic state given the past year. Good enough may be sufficient. At the same time, I think more than ever I need to reflect on what is important enough that I want to make time for it instead of doing whatever is asked of me.
If nothing was absolutely required and I could start with a blank page, what would I choose to add?
The idea that in reality nothing is absolutely required feels freeing, and just maybe, it is true. Time seems more finite than ever, and the list of things I am being asked to do is large.
Some days I feel I am drowning in responsibilities. But who is really asking me to do all these things? Do I really need to listen?
When I look back over the months – all that happened, things I was worried about, things my spouse and I had on our plates: working, guiding kids through virtual school, house upkeep, food planning and preparation, I am surprised to realize how much we accomplished even in a pandemic, with little control over so many things. I also know how fortunate and privileged we were in experiencing all of it.
Revisiting the things that made me happy, and the things that drove me crazy reveals obvious themes, including a love for time spent creating and time spent as a family in nature.
While there will always be much we cannot control, there are important things that I can, including what I add to the workload, and my attitude towards all of it, including the inevitable surprises that will arise.
One of my highpoints last winter was a 5-week color theory course at the local art museum. It had been since childhood that I took an art class, and I really liked the way it required complete focus, such that little else could enter my brain. It is possible doing things which are hard is my preferred form of meditation. Whatever was on my mind was pushed to the recesses as I happily donned my smock and started mixing colors.
With this revelation I was eager to repeat the experience virtually this winter. One could argue it is one more thing to do and difficult to fit into my schedule. However, two weeks into my painting interiors class, I already find myself looking at things differently, and am amazed how instruction allows non-professionals to make such beautiful paintings, and such beautifully diverse paintings, despite starting from the same image.
While this year will inevitably ask much of me, I want to consider if I have to say yes or not, if I want to say yes or not, and if whatever is being asked is truly tied to my vanishing point. In this way there is freedom, even in restriction.