Art and Grief Around 4-ish on a Thursday morning two years ago today, I got a text message on my phone. But when I picked it up, there was no message. Still, the sound of […]
As a child I loved drawing, probably like most children that age. What I drew were horses because like most little girls, I was horse-crazy. And like most children, my drawings weren’t particularly artistically rendered. Nor even anatomically correct. In my drawings legs especially tended to move in ways they couldn’t in real life. One day my mother sat down and pointed out the error of my drawings, and drew a tiny little horse at a full gallop. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I loved it without realizing that it was aesthetically pleasing because it was RIGHT! It looked naked–she hadn’t added any mane or shading, and had barely any tail. It kinda looked like a naked chicken in a way. But it was beautiful.
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