My youngest son recently graduated from high school. It has been an emotion packed time for him, a time of awakening, and marks a transition for both of us. For all intents and purposes his school years are probably over. He may continue with his schooling at some point, or he may not. He needs to explore a little first. Find out more who he is. Some people explore safe within the laboratory of University but that is not for him- at least not yet. He’s to examine the world at large before he chooses a section he feels comfortable in to call his domain. It is an exploration he must choose on his own. His teachers will be the ones he meets by serendipity rather than boards of education.
So in many ways it is a significant moment in time. My interference will be minimal I hope. Yet I cannot sit idly back and do nothing. The mom in me is urged to commemorate this event in some lasting way. The artist in me used paint brushes.
I painted his backpack and binders resting on a chair. His hat is resting on the back. The chair casts a shadow. Yes it is a symbolic painting and of what I am not entirely sure myself. All who we are now, even as we leave it behind, creates a shadow. It creates a blurred reflection. We don’t see it clearly. It alters depending upon the viewpoint. But it is there all the same. That much I can tell you. That much meaning I am able to gleam from a shadow and a chair.
I look about the room I store my art in and I see our lives painted there. The paintings are my cave art. I am recording the happenings and events of my life much like our early ancestors did with sienna and ochre. Thousands of years may have passed and yet we mark the occasions of our lives upon walls. The chase, the hunt and the kill is what past artists recorded. I recorded a chair, a bag, books and a hat. Where is the evolution?