Pretentious Art

This past week we had the Geek Squad come for an ordinary appointment to install an ordinary TV to the wall.

That Kid (Paint & mixed media on cardboard)

But the most extraordinary thing happened as the two technicians entered my home and saw my walls. They were awed by my paintings that hung there and I was awed by their genuine appreciation of my art.

It made me think about my life and the people that I’ve met. Some of them have always known what they wanted to be. They ‘re that kid you grew up with that spent more time taking care of fallen birds than playing. Or the kid who liked cooking food more than he liked eating candy. No one’s surprised to hear that Sally Sue has become a veterinarian or Mary Lou has her own restaurant.

I’ve been mesmerized by them, their stories and their successes. On their walls are displayed the bits and pieces of their achievements, a dateline of a life well lived.

My walls are covered in art. Like my life, it’s a myriad collection of my work, all churned out in the last four years where I’ve produced over 80 paintings. Depicted on the canvases are moments in my life, when I’ve paused, enjoying a moment of a remembered view.

And I’ve envied other people, their clear cut destinies seem to me, to be an easy journey. Those high achievers, the dreamers and those people who have just always known what they had come into life for.

Because life for me, has been stressful. Comparable to when you enter a room, forget what you came in for, standing there unsuccessfully trying to remember and then, after you’ve left the room, to remember what it was you had gone in for… It’s not a good look and it’s not fun.

And here’s the irony, that now in my sixties I seem to have an idea of who I want to become! Wait.. what? Yes, I see where I’m going. But of course, it’s a bit of a bummer having more life behind me, than what’s ahead of me. Still it’s exciting and I’ve settled into the new me nicely. That is, I’m comfortable in my skin and I’m confident in my environment.

Part of me wonders what I could’ve done with a whole life, if I had known what I wanted to be when I came in. If only I had been one of those kids who pretended that a loose rim was a steering wheel and empty milk crates were seats, and I was a bus driver…

But of course then I couldn’t have done all the things that I did, all the bits and pieces that I’ve painted and that are hanging on my walls in my hallway.

Published by DaNice D Marshall

Pronounced Duh-NYSE. Published writer. Roxbury native, residing in Boston, Massachusetts.

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