This assignment provided the hardest creative process of the
semester. What do I believe? It was an interesting question to ask myself,
especially with the limitations I set for myself. No social issues—I am vocal
enough about those already. And no spiritual issues—too personal for me to
share, and too pervasive in my life to narrow down. So that simply left… what
do I believe?
All my life
I have believed in the power of solitude—something instilled in me by my
parents… but also something very intrinsic to my personality. When I was in
high school we took a personality tests so that we could “think about potential
careers.” When I got the results of the test back, I found out that I was so
severely introverted that one of my suggested careers was “religious
seclusion.” Hm.
I never
really have lived that down, which I actually don’t mind. I’m very comfortable
being by myself, and so solitude was never a problem. It never turned into
loneliness. That is, until I dropped out of high school at age 16 to go to
college, realized I didn't enjoy my chosen major (English), saw all my friends leave on missions, and finally left the country myself. Basically, until real
life happened.
I wasn’t
used to the solitude being so uncomfortable. Thinking back on these experiences
I was forced to ask myself if I really thought solitude was powerful at all. It
hurt.
For the workshop
on this assignment we were asked to bring a piece of art that in someway
defined ourselves. I immediately thought of the painting “Crows Over the Wheatfield” by Vincent Van
Gogh. And once I thought of that painting, it answered my question. Loneliness
was the key to my experience with that piece of art, as well as so many others.
I spent months going to museums by myself, walking through endless Turner in
Britain Magritte in Belgium. I’ve spent weeks worth of nights staying up to watch things like Cinema Paradiso and Wallander.
I’ve spent hours lying upside down on the cough reading Hemingway and Heart of Darkness, I’ve spent hours on
the floor of my bedroom listening to Mahler and Vaughan Williams. And the
single thing that bound all of those experiences together was that my
loneliness truly allowed me to experience them.
The only
challenge then was to communicate this idea. Since my personal story takes
place in a museum, I thought of all of the great museum scenes in
film—specifically in Manhattan, where
Diane Keaton goes off on her opinions of the Guggenheim, all the while
irritating Woody Allen more and more. Museums are a great setting, and a great
backdrop for conversations, which is why I chose to recreate that experience
through my slides and the atmospheric museum audio I played. But what about my
story? The epitome of storytelling to me has long been the story “I stand here
ironing.” The rhythm of the piece is what makes it stand out. The back and
forth and back and forth. Except in my story, instead of ironing, you’re
walking through a museum. Again, I tried to recreate that experience.
Standing in front of everyone at
the Fireside Chat, I felt lonely again. Lights were shining in my face and my
hands were shaking. But I also knew it was worth it. As I said in my Fireside
Chat, “Loneliness doesn’t eat you up… it opens you up.” It was the perfect
interaction between media and myself.
