I was backing out of the driveway today when I spotted this almost ethereal dandelion growing up through a crack in the pavement. Thinking it looked sort of sweet and unusual, I decided to seize the moment and take a quick snapshot before I went on my way. Really there is nothing special about the picture. Just one lonely little dandelion spending its youth in a rift in some asphalt, wanton flower petals for company, a piece of debris for a cap. But it added a bit of pleasant minutiae to my day. Maybe like stopping to smell the flowers, it is important to be observers or appreciators of the little stuff around us. What if a painting were nothing but a canvas of a single color? And what if life were nothing but the glaringly obvious? It is the little things, the depth of shading and texture, the richness of the hues, the shapes of lines that give a painting its meaning and character. And it is in the small things, that life lies.
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Little Things
I was backing out of the driveway today when I spotted this almost ethereal dandelion growing up through a crack in the pavement. Thinking it looked sort of sweet and unusual, I decided to seize the moment and take a quick snapshot before I went on my way. Really there is nothing special about the picture. Just one lonely little dandelion spending its youth in a rift in some asphalt, wanton flower petals for company, a piece of debris for a cap. But it added a bit of pleasant minutiae to my day. Maybe like stopping to smell the flowers, it is important to be observers or appreciators of the little stuff around us. What if a painting were nothing but a canvas of a single color? And what if life were nothing but the glaringly obvious? It is the little things, the depth of shading and texture, the richness of the hues, the shapes of lines that give a painting its meaning and character. And it is in the small things, that life lies.
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