I never seriously considered it before but I imagine that if I tried to describe every detail of a picture, I would need much more than a thousand words.  I do tend to be wordy, not only in writing but when I speak also.  My daughter, I say with pride, is a wonderful artist.  Unlike the pictures I draw which are not very evolved; she has the talent to bring a picture to life. 

This past weekend, I was writing a lot.  I didn’t really have a whole lot to say; I was exploring.  I had a concept in my mind, an idea, but no clear picture; I wrote about that.  Late that night, just before bed, I still was not satisfied that I had captured what I wanted to say with words.  So I doodled a bit; something I very rarely do given my limited drawing skills.  My daughter curious, bored, or heading to bed on her own, came into the bedroom and lay down beside me.  I felt a little explanation was needed, since she had now seen my admittedly poor artwork.  I tried to express to her what I wanted; I read her the words I’d written and spoke of a few extra details.  I told her, “I wish I could make pictures like you do”.  Then inspiration struck.  While I may not be very good with drawing, here was my daughter, right here by my side, interested in what I was doing; so I asked her a question.  I asked her to draw a picture.  I left the artsy details completely to her, I simply told her the elements that I needed in it to satisfy my needs.  She said to me, “Mom, I cannot draw that.  It’s all over the place.  There is too much in it and I don’t know how to bring it together.” 

What I did then was I pushed.  I didn’t physically touch her nor did I raise my voice; it wasn’t that kind of pushing.  I didn’t demand that she do the picture or try to make her feel guilty for not wanting to commit to it; after all, the picture was completely my idea.  I pushed her to just listen to me for a couple of minutes, so I could explain myself further.

I spoke to her of possibility.  Certainly she has demonstrated talent over the years; she was even accepted into a space-limited four year long, fine arts program, so the potential I saw in her was truly seen by others also.  I suggested that she had had many opportunities to draw all types of pictures over the years.  She had learned of technique, color, proportion, depth, and styles.  I was confident that she had all the knowledge and tools she needed to produce a picture; even if not mine.  I asked her to consider the possibility of trying to capture something elusive.  I surely didn’t have a clue as to how to draw motion.  I asked her to just think about it.  What kind of picture would she see, would she be able to produce, with the elements and limitations I had outlined.  I asked to think about her vision of it all.

As a result of our conversation, my daughter did begin to think and explore possibilities.  Perhaps she didn’t start out “committed” to the project; perhaps she was just sketching an idea; as I had done with my writing all day.  (I didn’t actually ask her that, I think I might later.)  I did not see her gather her tools, I was not aware of her thought process, though I imagine the idea of pleasing Mom might have been among them.  I do not know if she began in the middle of the page, or at the corners.  I do know that she started with a blank sheet of paper and an idea she was attempting to express.

I now sit here writing this, with a picture of questionable beauty proudly displayed on the wall to the left of me in my living room.   I would need far more than a thousand words to describe it.  It has every single element that I wanted in it.  I simply love it!  I think it is beautiful; a terrific piece of artwork that I know was born of love and possibility.  I’ve been trying to name it; her creation.  Perhaps that’s not for me to do.  To me, it represents wholeness, love, balance, awareness, and beauty.  In the broadest sense of the words, I suppose one might say it is a picture of our universe, for it is that too.  My daughter is not so impressed with the picture, at least that’s what she tells me.  She sees flaws in it.  She sees some of the items in it as not being entirely relevant.  She sees areas of her talent which she feels needs some fine tuning; at least, that is my view on the matter.

My daughter was able to do for me, something that I was unable to do for myself.  She brought my vision to life.  She painted the picture I was trying to create with words.  I suppose that her not thinking the picture is beautiful is a part of her journey, just as I always question the beauty of the words that I write.  I cannot say with any certainty whether she will pursue a career in the fine arts but I do know that because she is an artist; she is able to portray things in a way that some of us can only dream of.  Just as I cannot say I will have a successful career as a writer, I also know there are some stories that can only be told by me.

Questionable beauty; my writing is like that sometimes, I call it trying to capture a moment, with words.