Why Do I Do It?

People always ask me, “Why do you do it?”

Why do I study art history? Why do I go into a field without prospects? Why do I subject myself to forced graduate school? Why do I make it so difficult? 

For those of you who know me, I’m literally the living definition of a Type A workaholic. I’m OCD, frantic, over caffeinated, moving at the speed of light, always trying to think five steps ahead and overachieve. I also have exactly three emotions: exhausted, angry, or in desperate need of caffeine. 

As I wandered the Walker Arts Center today, I figured out why I do it. 

It’s for that one moment. 

Today, it was staring at "Cut" by Kara Walker. I did research on her and her connection to Michel Foucault for about a year. 

You know how you hear the hopeless romantics talk about that moment that took their breath away? The surprise gesture? The first kiss? 

For me, it’s art. 

Art is my love and my drug. I turn a corner to a new piece, and it takes my breath away. Further contemplation creates this twinge as I ponder and lose myself in the piece. I fall into it and began to feel the same emotion and the same moment in time that’s in the piece. 

It’s watching a work of video art and losing yourself. That eight minute video loop seems like 30 seconds and you just crave more. You want it to go on longer. You suddenly become one with the piece, and it creates this experience. 

It’s about the experience where you feel something because you’ve simultaneously lost yourself and found yourself in that moment. 

That’s why I do it. Because I crave that moment. Art is my drug. I need it to survive. I need my days at the museum and free time spent with art books to be complete. 

And to me, the brief moments where I feel that twinge and find myself in a work of art are priceless. To me, years of graduate school spent pouring over books so that I can understand and experience these moments is worth every second. 

Who knows? Maybe I’ll learn enough that one day, I can teach someone else so they can have these moments? 

Why do I do it? 

For the moment. 

On Rose Colored Glasses

Lately, I've felt the need to write, but I haven't had the epiphany.

Well, I had the epiphany.

In one of my bouts of insomnia, I ended up in one of those deep conversations. Per the usual.

The essence of the conversation went like this: I had to describe myself. I described myself as a workaholic who doesn't quite seem to know what they're doing and is just a little bit damaged from the past. And highly over caffeinated.

The response was the kicker. The essence of the response was, I see you as someone who has a plan and is incredibly driven, and is incredibly passionate and throws herself into everything she does; and yes, she's over caffeinated.

Me being my snarky self, I said you see through rose colored glasses.

The response? "No, I see the real you."

And to be honest, even though I'm writing at my desk now holding my India mug of coffee for dear life, I think I'm still thinking in that moment. And now I wonder, what do I see?

Do I see through rose colored glasses? Do I see reality? Or do I see things in a kind of negative fifty shades of grey? (Read: fifty shades of negativity and indifference)

I like to think of myself as pragmatic. I see things as they are. I'm critical, but I try to be honest. I would rather know the truth than to lie to myself for a feigning moment.

But I have to wonder, how exactly do we choose to see the world? Is my pragmatic view really negative? Is the rose colored view really correct? Are we given a point of view, or do we choose one?

So tell me, what do you see?

I don't think I know the answer. I think my lens changes daily. The lens is a swinging pendulum. There's something about my pendulum that tends to get stuck in one area. But I think at some point we all get stuck. It's the horrible bosses, the overwhelming amounts of homework, the failing friendships and relationships. It's a world of lines, dimensions, but no color.

But there's variety. There's another side to the world. It's not just lines. It's dimension and color. It's like a pinwheel. It's constantly moving and providing us a different color and a different view on things.

Don't get me wrong, my wardrobe is still going to be all black, or very, very dark grey.

But if you ask me, I'm going to switch to the rose colored glasses.

"I see the world from both sides. The colorful and the dark. Either way, I move forward, whether bright or dark."