Can’t pretend I know an awful lot about art. Would like to and all that… but such is life. In any case, there is one painting that I keep on thinking about. In fact: looking at. It’s definitely by Edward Hopper and I think it’s called Rooms by the Sea. Here –
Boy, I really wish I could find something halfway articulate to say about it (sure would be useful in a blog, too, wouldn’t it?) Thing is, though, it’s got me in a kind of voodoo death grip. Or something.
I love this painting. I can’t look away from it. And I wish, more than anything, I could be sitting on that couch in the background – or even just right on the floor, in that sumptuous pool of light. Stare out at the sea for hours on end. The dead straight horizon that keeps it from the sky.
It would be perfectly relaxing. Above time. And a long, long way from commuter trains and the frigid winter, and the latest merry-go-round at work. From the constant, unending demands of being an adult paying bills. (Money’s far from tight – but why must we carve out so much time for its steady accumulation?)
These last few months, I’ve always been running on empty… Parenthood is an extraordinary pleasure – but it also forces you to realize, if it were ever in doubt, that we spend a crazy amount of our lives saying to our families, see you later.
In my head, this painting is that later. I can’t wait for it. I don’t want to wait for it. But I do. Just like all of us, I’m guessing. Waiting, waiting, waiting for a pool of sunlight by the sea, in which, at last, we can leave alone those many things that keep us from ourselves, think on it all, and relax.