I drew this and wrote the essay 5 years ago today. I still believe it.
The Ballerina in Your Living Room
Back in the 1990’s I taught Art Appreciation at a Community College in California. I once took my students on a field trip to San Francisco to do some gallery hopping. While in one gallery I noticed a student contemplating a certain Abstract Expressionist painting. I asked her what she was thinking and she said, “I wouldn’t put it in my house.” That statement got me thinking so I gathered up the class and asked how many others had thought that same thing. More than half raised their hands. I then said, “Well guess what? It is unlikely that that painting, or any of the other paintings here, will ever BE in your house. They all have price tags of $100,000.00 to $500,000.00.”
I continued, “Would you go to a Ballet and say, ‘Well, I wouldn’t have that Ballerina in my living room.’? Of course not. You KNOW she is not going to be in your living room. You don’t need to judge her as if she is. Actually, you don’t need to judge her at all. And you don’t need to judge the art in this room. You might enjoy the work more if you judge it less. Now let’s evaluate these paintings again, without the idea of possession and judgment in the way of our enjoyment”. We then walked around talking about the work without judging it good or bad or worthy of being over our couch. We were all much happier without the judgment.
Obsessed with Judging
I believe America is obsessed with judging and I think it’s debilitating to creativity, compassion and happiness. I don’t mean there is not a time to judge. I like talent shows and I don’t mind the judging that has to go on there. We also need to judge behaviors to keep ourselves safe. The law is all about judging, and I am a fan of the law in general. But think about how almost every aspect of American (and probably many other countries’ social life) is filled with non-stop judging.
The Non-Judgmental Tattoo
Let’s take one example, tattoos. I happen to like tattoos, yet I have none of my own. Neither does my wife. I am pretty sure none of my 4 daughters do either, but if they do, they aren’t apparent. But I like tattoos nonetheless. Why? Because they are interesting. And they aren’t mine. They are simply something I witness go by. Part of what I call the passing parade. I can witness, admire, observe, evaluate, investigate, explore, question, wonder, imagine, and otherwise enjoy a tattoo that passes in front of me. But I will unlikely do any of those things if I judge it first. Judging cuts off those things, cuts off happiness. Judgment says good or bad and done. Case is closed.
But why does the case have to be closed? What is so important that I have to render a judgment of a woman’s snake tattoo as she walks by. Why can’t I just enjoy it, experience it? What will happen if I just look at it, explore it, contemplate it’s color, texture, shape, and meaning. Why not ask her about her tattoo? Why not just let it pass without judging it? We will be happier, I know that much.
What other examples can you think of where we tend to judge quickly when there isn’t any real need to judge at all?
Don’t Judge
Here are some tattoos I have found and photographed over the years. It always makes me happy when I find one. See if you can simply explore them without judgment.
It’s not that easy, is it? But it is worth it to escape the debilitating, uncreative, unhappy prison of judgment.
How much does your soul weigh? Your personality? How about your character? Does your Passion weigh anything? What about your intelligence, how heavy is that? Have you ever had your sense of humor weighed at the Doctor’s office? Is there a spot on the medical chart for the weight of your love, commitment, insight, compassion, mercy, tenderness, diligence, patience, opinions, wisdom, spirituality?
Nobody gives a eulogy and talks about a person’s weight. What they will talk about are all those other things mentioned above. Those are the parts of you that will remain.
In the original 2016 post I wrote a longer story about a friend of mine in Russia who got herself in trouble by lying about the scale and the number on it. If you would like to read it, here is the link.
In the Book of Revelation there is a terrible dragon. Here is how it is described: “Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crown on its heads.” Rev. 12:3
Well, this isn’t that dragon. This is Antenna, that dragon’s younger sister. She’s not talked about in the bible, probably to preserve the older one’s evil reputation. Antenna isn’t terrible and evil. She’s just trying to make her way in the world.
Her name is Antenna because she was conceived on an antenna. The antenna didn’t fare too well in that tryst and had to be replaced but it still held fond memories for her mum and dad.
Each head also had her own name; Liza, Milly, Ruth, Martha, Alice, Sarah and Dorcas, which they got after their parents watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers on late night TV.
Antenna had one baby dragon with 3 heads. It was a boy named Laundromat because that is the building on top of which he was conceived. That building fared okay after just a few repairs. The 3 heads were named Babe, Lou and Joe because the father was a big Yankees fan.
Antenna had a hard time early in life because of her older brother’s terrible reputation. She always wanted to defend her brother as just being misunderstood, but it was hard when he basically was responsible for all sorts of cosmic death and destruction wherever he went.
She tried to make up for it by being very nice to everyone she met. That also was not easy since the heads all had their own personalities. Some were quite rude, some were quiet introverts and a couple were just big loudmouths. It was really quite annoying at times but she did the best she could.
She eventually moved to the northern coast of California and lived among the Redwoods where she didn’t look nearly as big and scary to those who came to visit. She worked as a rescue specialist helping to find people lost at sea or in the forest. She retired at age 812 and spent the rest of her years giving tours to Japanese tourists who came to see the big trees and dragon.
Her son Laundromat (Launny for short) became a nano-engineer with a number of high-tech start ups and had 49 patents by the time he was 531.
I drew this and wrote the commentary 8 years ago. It’s even more apropos today.
Well, Aristotle IS one of the fathers of rhetoric so who better to ask a rhetorical question, right?
Death and Maiming
It’s been a tough emotional week for me. Not anything personal in my own life but due to the events in Tucson. I love my country. I have loved it since I was a little kid and learned about George Washington. He was, and still is, in my opinion, the greatest public hero of any age.
I was 8 when JFK was killed. My parents loved him and worked for him. My father even ran for the Senate in 1962, inspired by him.
I was 13 when MLK and RFK were killed. I will never forget walking into a drug store in Darien, Connecticut after MLK was murdered and hearing a man say ‘that N***** deserved it’. I was 13 and as angry as I had ever been at that moment. I didn’t speak up and was ashamed afterwards. Since then I almost always speak up if someone says something grossly offensive.
I was 26 when Reagan was shot. I was not a fan of President Reagan but it had nothing to do with that. I respect my presidents. I start each term with each president filled with hope as if I were a naive young man. Update, 2019 – For the first time ever, I was not able to have that same naive faith after the election of 2016.
I am now 55, will be 56 in a little over a week. It’s weird, it’s almost as if this event in Tucson hurts more than the others. I know Giffords is ‘just’ a congressional representative, not a president or candidate, but it’s almost because of that that it hurts more. She ‘represents’ and it’s as if someone was trying to kill that, not just a person. Add on to that that people who had every reason to believe they were doing something uniquely and gloriously American that day suffered death and injury for no other reason than they wanted to connect to their representative.
The Power of Words
I love rhetoric and the power of words. I love how they can inspire us. I hate how they can turn us on each other. I hate how they can be used by selfish people for selfish ends. I hate how they can mask lies and evil deeds. But I think the power of good in words can overcome that power of evil. And I won’t ever give up believing that, ever.
The napkin above is light, it’s funny, it’s absurd. It’s rhetorical. I had to lighten my emotional load a bit by drawing it. Don’t forget though, that it is not a rhetorical question to ask if we can’t be civil with each other.
I drew this drawing and wrote the commentary 4 years ago today. It references a drawing and short story I published the day before. I republished it a few days ago.
Self-Esteem
I wrote a short story yesterday about a homeless woman and her daughter. The mother was confronted by a woman who judged her negatively without really knowing her. The daughter was upset about the judgment and her mother used the opportunity to explain that the judgment wasn’t based on the lady knowing them. She explained that she judged because she had some hurt in her that she was trying to get out and judging others was her way of doing that. The child was lucky to have a mother to help explain that their self-esteem came from them, not from some random person who did not know them.
Other’s Story About You
I am guessing those of you reading this have been called one of the words in the drawing above. Some are negative and some are positive, but all of them are fables, or stories. That doesn’t mean they may not have some truth in them. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. But at the most they are incomplete statements of who you are and at the least they are outright lies. Wherever they are in the arch of truth, the reason they are spoken has more to do with the person speaking than it has to do with you.
It doesn’t make their story your story.
Your Story About Yourself
When I have a model for one of my art projects I will often ask the following question: ‘What is your favorite facial feature on yourself?’ Many will answer in the following way: “Well, most people say it’s my ‘type in facial feature here’. I, in response, will say, “I am not asking what others think is your best feature, I am asking YOU what you think is.” That gets them thinking and they often, but not always, will change their answer. They might say, “No one ever says this, but I love my nose best because it reminds me of my dad.” or something like that. That to me illustrates the difference between the story you would tell about yourself and the story others may tell about you.
Trust It
Look hard for your own story in the midst of all that outside noise and believe it. Don’t let others’ story about you decide who you are.
