This semester I have finally found my way back to the drawing studio for another life drawing class, and I can’t imagine a better way to cap off my senior year. Drawing was the class that originally sent me in this direction, so it feels good to come full circle!
One of our class assignments is to share with the class, in an online forum, a meaningful image we encountered during the week. Knowing you have to share these with the class keeps you more tuned in with your surroundings, and helps you maintain a critical eye. I’ve been enjoying the task immensely. I thought I’d from time to time share these images on the blog as well, and this is the first of them. The image may be shared as a photograph, or through words, or even a drawing or painting, etc.I decided to head home to visit my family a little more than a week ago, and took off eastward on I-90. There is a field of windmills just outside of Worthington, Minnesota which always catches my attention on the drive home. I’ve driven by them in rain, sun, snow and fog, and each time the experience is markedly different. As I was approaching them on this trip I realized I had not yet driven by them in the dark. The structures themselves were not visible in the blackness, but atop each windmill is a red light, which flashes on and off in a gentle rhythm. Each beacon was blinking in unison with the others, the only mark of their presence in the dark. Perhaps the most profound part of the experience was the backdrop of a perfectly clear sky dotted with stars – not as penetrating as the bright red, but unblinking. The horizon line didn’t exist. The ground was the sea, and the sea was the sky. And I started looking at the other lights that sailed or drifted by – headlights, house lights, the occasional streetlight. Then the light reflecting from the painted lines on the road. All of these are navigational landmarks in a sea of darkness. It’s a test of faith, not being able to see the road itself but trusting the lights to mark a path clear of obstacles. I felt like a navigator of old, finding his way by the stars. I felt connected to the stars themselves. They weren’t just lightyears away in the sky – they were taped to my dashboard, like directions to the home of an old friend.
I decided to create a new banner with this post, one inspired by my drive and the quality of lights in darkness.
Today’s reward for reading: Animus Vox by The Glitch Mob