Yesterday, I lived through a retrospective moment. It was one of those rare occasions in life where we get the chance to step back and take a look at who we really are. I can’t say what sort of impact this out-of-body experience has had on me yet. Only time will tell…but while that time passes, I’ll tell you a story.
Yesterday, I paid a visit to the Fresno Museum of Art. It was the opening of the new season, and the museum was holding a reception to usher in the summer exhibitions. As soon as I walked in the door and took a look around, two thoughts came to my head. First, it seemed that every wealthy patron of the arts in Fresno was crowded into the lobby. These were the cultural elite of Fresno: the doctors, the businessmen, the dentists. Second, it seemed that they all knew each other. In their zeal for conversation, many of these individuals paid no notice to the photographs that surrounded them. It was almost like the grown up version of high school, where students talk in their respective “circles”. Only this time, everyone was dressed up and had a glass of wine in their hands.
Upon observing this elegant scene, I realized that, for so long, this is what I have desired for my own future. I often imagine myself as a forty year-old man, and I generally envision myself as a successful, wealthy, and well-connected man. All three attributes were present in this gathering of the polished social elite. Truly, this is what I have craved for myself: to stand with my contacts and acquaintances in the center of a crowded art gallery, sipping a glass of merlot and discussing “elevated” subjects. It is the security of this forthcoming future which is so attractive. These art patrons did not have any real, bread-and-butter concerns; at the end of the day, they had plenty of money. Instead, they were able to pursue less practical interests, such as art. Isn’t that what success really is?
For a long time, this has been the lens through which I saw the world. I have painted a future like this for myself, and this vision always lurks somewhere off in the clouded distance of my mind. For this reason, I often fail to see that not everyone thinks the way that I do. When one is caught up in his own thoughts, he often forgets the differences that separate human beings, and he takes it for granted that we all view the world in a similar way. Caught up in my success ethic, I had fallen into this trap.
And then, I met Lynn.
We were sitting together on a bench in the center of a room. Eight nearly-identical paintings were hung on the walls; they all used a similar shade of steel blue oil paint, splattered onto the canvas to create a drifting, atmospheric effect. This was modern art at its most characteristic. One could easily get lost in the cloudy, confused mist of the paintings.
On the surface, Lynn was the same as the rest of them. She introduced herself as a “fundraiser,” the sort of woman who frequents dinner parties and auctions. Average, graying, around 50 years old. We started with the same sort of small talk that was going on all around us: Fresno, life, college. I learned that she was a psychoanalyst, one of those classic white-collar workers.
However, when we began to talk about the art, I learned that this woman was different than the rest of the reception-goers. Lynn had a genuine love of art for art’s sake. And she had certainly not come to this reception to make small talk and pursue some sort of social conquest: she was there for the art. I had asked her, “What are your general thoughts about art?” I did not expect the powerful, heartfelt response that I received. She opened with a near-cliché: “Art is not about thoughts, it is about feelings.” However, as she continued to speak, I could tell that she meant every word that she said. This was a woman who truly surrendered herself in front of every painting, experiencing them not through her mind, but through her heart.
It was in light of this direct, honest passion for the paintings around us that Lynn psychoanalyzed me. Apparently, after knowing me for only five minutes, she had been able to tell the kind of person that I truly was. The “success-ethic Eric” does not surrender himself to anyone or anything, let alone a painting. As a result, whereas the paintings around us had made Lynn feel “stark, cold, and empty,” I found myself unable to replicate that sort of emotional response. She noted this, and told me what she thought of me plainly and up-front. “You are too focused on your thoughts, on your mind. You don’t live life in the moment.”
This was the retrospective moment in question. Most of us have some sort of vague self-image, cloudy yet idealized. But sometimes, it takes another person’s observations to show us who we really are. And I realized that Lynn was entirely right. In my push for success, I often take the people and things around me for granted.
Sometimes, in the rush of day-to-day life, we forget that our identities are in a constant flux. We continue to define ourselves using the same worn-out catch phrases and diversions. The human mind has a tendency to hold on for dear life to anything that provides a bit of structure: a childhood hero, a charming personality quirk, a sense of belonging to a group. Goals for the future can be included in this category. But yesterday, I realized that we cannot let anything, even our ambitions, get in the way of our daily lives. We’ll get to the future eventually, but, in the meantime, we should enjoy the ride.
Eric Hendey is the founder of the Fresno Youth Folklore Society. His connections to the folk world are numerous, especially in the area of traditional music. Eric can commonly be found playing his banjo at the Public House on Tuesday nights. After meeting Fresno legend Kenny Hall, he has also broadened his horizons to include Old-Time music (he plays Classical and Jazz as well, on guitar and bass). Eric is devoted to the diffusion of our homegrown, Fresno arts and culture, and he works hard to promote it. Eric is a senior at University High School. 
Great essay! Thank you for the reminder to stop and really look. Not just in the art gallery, but at our own daily lives. In planning your wonderful future, it’s easy to miss all the wonderful things of the now.
As a side note, I am amazed to hear that you imagine yourself at age 40! I’m only 8 years away (gasp) and still can’t imagine it.