Texture

A painter drags a brush stroke on a blank canvas while a student watches. The student; curious about the work to be created, sits in stillness. The canvas acquires more with each mark, and as it does, the student begins to question the artist.

“Is it a symbol for something?” the student infers.

“I suppose it may be.” The artist responds.

They both sit in stillness a little while longer.

“I’m confused, what exactly are you aiming to paint? It’s not making sense to me.”

The artist lacks a response, and continues to create. The artist makes the canvas grow brighter, lines become sharper. The student is bored nonetheless, and leaves the room.

Another student walks in, but this time, without expectations of the artist or the painting.

“Wow, incredible work, how abstract!”, the student shouts, then follows the first one out the door.

The artist laughs, nods, and continues working on the piece.

A third student enters the room and gazes at the painting for a long time. Hypnotized by the canvas, the student speaks,

“I used to have a large canvas like this one at home but never knew what exactly to paint,” the student says.

The artist replies, “Neither do I, that's why I paint now with only white – to practice brush strokes for a little while, giving the piece texture before I begin”.

How often do we let the audience of our work determine its worth? Only we may know the destination, and even that is an overstatement. The texture of our lives is equally important to the final piece as the color itself. Color is simply what may be noticed from afar.

We are each the student and the artist – of ourselves and of others. What does it serve to critique when the final destination is unknown? What's the value to provide answers for those aiming only to critique?

Perhaps texture alone deserves the spotlight.