The World In All Its Brilliance

// February 2nd, 2010 // chagall, creativity, curiosity

IMG headpants

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In Paris I went to neither the art academy nor to the professors. The city itself was my teacher, in all things, in every minute of the day. The market folk, the waiters, the hotel porters, the farmers, the workers. They were enveloped in something of that astounding atmosphere of enlightened freedom that I had never come across anywhere else.

Marc Chagall

Do you ever have moments where the veil just falls away and the world as it is right now presents itself fresh and new?

My wife and I were out doing errands the other day and pulled up at a stoplight outside a cafe. A woman on a bicycle was propped beside our car waiting for the light to change. A couple walked, arms linked, in front of the stopped traffic. In the cafe every table was occupied, at least those visible from the street, and on each table there was at least one laptop open. One man looked through the window, checking out the woman on the bike.

I was struck by how particular this scene was to this moment, to this corner of the city, to the people present, and the activities they were doing. It was a grey Seattle day which threw a soft light over everything, and beneath the bustle of activity everyone seemed relaxed. Things moved in slow motion.

That moment will never be repeated exactly again.

Well it’s Seattle, so the clouds will probably be repeated. Never in that exact same way, though.

The woman on the bike will never lean in just that way, in just that spot, watched by just those eyes as she waits for the light to change. The relationship between the couple crossing the road will never be quite the same again. Tomorrow it may be deeper, or fonder, more fraught, or finished.

The man looking out the window might never see the woman bike-rider again. Or he may see her tomorrow, run down the road and ask her out. In a few weeks someone might even sit in the cafe reading their favourite blogs on an ipad instead of a laptop.

The light changed and we drove off. The moment of seeing, of really seeing that little scene, dropped away and a veil slipped back over the world.

I don’t remember much at all of the rest of the trip. I was caught up in my own thoughts–or conversation–for most of it. We probably stopped at a few more lights at which nothing really caught my eye, and soon enough we were home again.

But that small moment outside the cafe stays with me. It was just a plain moment, but bright in its plainness.

I read recently that when visitors came to Chagall’s studio they had to wait for him to throw on a pair of pants, because he painted naked. That nakedness shines through in his paintings, too.

I love this gesture of casting away what stood between him and his canvas.

Brief moments where I see the world clearly make me realise how muffled my view usually is. It makes me wonder if sometimes I walk around like a guy wearing a pair of pants over my head.

I’m not sure we’re even built to see the world in all its brilliance all the time. I’m sure we gather that mental clothing around us in self-protection, but I’m also pretty sure I go through life a little overdressed.

One payoff that comes from building a creative practice is that the discipline in showing up regularly to create ensures we’ll hit roadblocks and stop signs that occasionally strip away our mental clothing, forcing us to see things as they really are, if only for that brief moment as we scramble to throw our pants back on.


11 Responses to “The World In All Its Brilliance”

  1. Pearl Mattenson says:
    February 3, 2010 at 3:07 am

    Dave this is a great piece. I can totally relate to moments like this and ust wish I had the artistic capacity to capture them. But they do have a vivid quality like the light changes all of a sudden and somehow your brain knows to slow down and take a picture. They are fleeting and I wonder if we would want to live like this all the time. I can see needing to go hide from the realness if it were ever present.

  2. Michelle says:
    February 3, 2010 at 2:39 pm

    I agree with Pearl — great post! I also love her “slow down and take a picture” analogy. That’s exactly it. For me, it’s not always visual, but a full sensory picture. I think that’s what you described, Dave, the seeing that comes from inside — the way the interplay of everything I’m sensing makes me feel. By way of example, my last moment like this was Saturday morning. I woke up to the sounds of my pre-quarreling children exuberantly describing in great detail which character they would be playing in their pretend world. My husband was still asleep and I could hear his rhythmic breathing. I heard the furnace kick on and there was a sudden surge of physical warmth to complement the emotional warmth that I was already feeling as I recognized that my whole world — present and future — was right there under our roof in a few square feet of space. *Click* snapshot..

  3. Dave Rowley says:
    February 3, 2010 at 11:16 pm

    Hi Pearl,

    Yeah, it is like the brain slowing down and taking a picture. The few times this sort of thing has happened for me it’s like a moment has been seared into my memory.

    How to hold this kind of thing without being overwhelmed is a really interesting problem isn’t it?

    Hi Michelle,

    I love that rich description of your Saturday morning–I agree about the ‘full sensory picture’.

    I guess it’s like learning styles, where we each have different ways of processing information, some favour visual or auditory or kinesthetic.

    Thank you both for the thoughtful comments!

  4. Walter says:
    February 4, 2010 at 6:39 am

    It is rare indeed to see the beauty of everything. Oftentimes, our mind are so clogged that it blinds us in seeing the majesty before us. Perhaps in those seldom moments, when our mind enters a temporary halt, that we see clearly. :-)

  5. Dave Rowley says:
    February 4, 2010 at 10:58 am

    Hi Walter,

    I agree, it’s amazing how much we can block out with a clogged up mind. Thank you for reading and commenting.

  6. Kathy Loh says:
    February 5, 2010 at 6:13 pm

    I love these words: “I’m not sure we’re even built to see the world in all its brilliance all the time. I’m sure we gather that mental clothing around us in self-protection, but I’m also pretty sure I go through life a little overdressed.” Dave, reading this post was like watching an amazing slow motion moment in a film with just the right sound track. I could hear it, see it, smell it. Amazing. I really get that kind of moment and how it recedes. I especially love that you relate it to art and art to life; the creative practice and the practices of the spirithuman. Great weaving in of your own experience, Chagall, art and humanity. Yours is my new favorite blog find!

  7. Dave Rowley says:
    February 5, 2010 at 10:25 pm

    Hi Kathy,

    Thanks so much for your kind words, it’s great to know what resonated for you in the post. I love your ‘moment in a film’ analogy too. I’m really enjoying your blog too and look forward to reading more of your work!

    Cheers :)

  8. Steven | The Emotion Machine says:
    February 10, 2010 at 8:28 am

    I really got absorbed in this post. Great descriptive language – really captured my imagination – thanks for sharing!

  9. Dave Rowley says:
    February 12, 2010 at 8:38 am

    Hi Steven,

    Thanks for reading, I’m glad you enjoyed the post.

    Cheers.

  10. Maya @animalswisdom says:
    February 17, 2010 at 11:11 am

    Dave,
    Just reread this last post of yours for like the third or fourth time (all separate visits) – you describe the moment you had while stopped at the light with such clarity and realness.

    This is exactly how I feel when I am swimming in my creative moments with my writing or when I have camera in hand and have come across a beautiful piece of time/space.

    I visit your site for inspiration in creativity, to feel the kindredness of a fellow creative.

    Also, thank you so much for writing and sharing your beautiful paintings – this makes all the difference to me.

    I keep on keeping on – writing, opening my heart, just being ME.

    I will be back soon for more extreme goodness!
    Maya

  11. Dave Rowley says:
    February 19, 2010 at 8:43 pm

    Hello Maya,

    What a wonderful comment. Thank you so much for the kind words, they really mean a lot to me!

    ‘I keep on keeping on – writing, opening my heart, just being ME.’

    Isn’t that one of the great things about maintaining a creative practice–the way it’s so closely tied to our spiritual life, and our own path in discovering who we are. I’m really grateful to have you as a reader.

    Cheers,
    Dave

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