A Kind of Adventure

It's interesting that not twenty minutes after class today, I was asked if I would like to go to an "art talk." Since non of you will really understand what that means to me personally, let me just say that I've never really been much of what you would call an "art person." It's not that I despise the stuff. I simply have never taken the time to really connect with the part of my brain that can find more interest in works of art than a simple acceptance of the skill that it takes to produce a piece. Thus, in spite of its less than adventurous tone, I found myself faced with the prospect of either opening the door and letting my anima in. To my surprise, not only was the acceptance and embracing of this surprising event worthwhile, but it gave me a somewhat different perspective on what we have been discussing in class throughout the semester.
The talk was given by an an artist who, within the first couple minutes of her talk, claimed to be enthralled by a romanticized view of nature. The use of the "R" word had my ears perking up quickly, and I found myself drawn deeply into a topic that had seemed, at first, a painful experience that I would have to endure. She spent much of the rest of the presentation talking about her artwork itself, and I was very surprised and pleased to learn that much of what she dealt with was erosive in nature, that is to say a descent, if I may be so bold as to put words in her mouth. I found myself looking at each image that she showed as a kind of pictorial representation of our own studies in literature. From shadows and reflections, to natural formations that were themselves eroded, each picture reminded me more and more of our class.
There is not much more for me to add to that. I found the topic enlightening and refreshing and will now probably return for more.